Part 114 (1/2)
”In your situation,” said Julius, ”a refusal is sheer madness. I won't accept it.”
”Do as you like about that. My mind's made up. I won't let my wife be taken away from me. Here she stays.”
The brutal tone in which he had made that reply roused Lady Holchester's indignation.
”Take care!” she said. ”You are not only behaving with the grossest ingrat.i.tude toward your brother--you are forcing a suspicion into your mother's mind. You have some motive that you are hiding from us.”
He turned on his mother with a sudden ferocity which made Julius spring to his feet. The next instant his eyes were on the ground, and the devil that possessed him was quiet again.
”Some motive I'm hiding from you?” he repeated, with his head down, and his utterance thicker than ever. ”I'm ready to have my motive posted all over London, if you like. I'm fond of her.”
He looked up as he said the last words. Lady Holchester turned away her head--recoiling from her own son. So overwhelming was the shock inflicted on her that even the strongly rooted prejudice which Mrs.
Glenarm had implanted in her mind yielded to it. At that moment she absolutely pitied Anne!
”Poor creature!” said Lady Holchester.
He took instant offense at those two words. ”I won't have my wife pitied by any body.” With that reply, he dashed into the pa.s.sage; and called out, ”Anne! come down!”
Her soft voice answered; her light footfall was heard on the stairs. She came into the room. Julius advanced, took her hand, and held it kindly in his. ”We are having a little family discussion,” he said, trying to give her confidence. ”And Geoffrey is getting hot over it, as usual.”
Geoffrey appealed sternly to his mother.
”Look at her!” he said. ”Is she starved? Is she in rags? Is she covered with bruises?” He turned to Anne. ”They have come here to propose a separation. They both believe I hate you. I don't hate you. I'm a good Christian. I owe it to you that I'm cut out of my father's will. I forgive you that. I owe it to you that I've lost the chance of marrying a woman with ten thousand a year. I forgive you _that._ I'm not a man who does things by halves. I said it should be my endeavor to make you a good husband. I said it was my wish to make it up. Well! I am as good as my word. And what's the consequence? I am insulted. My mother comes here, and my brother comes here--and they offer me money to part from you. Money be hanged! I'll be beholden to n.o.body. I'll get my own living. Shame on the people who interfere between man and wife!
Shame!--that's what I say--shame!”
Anne looked, for an explanation, from her husband to her husband's mother.
”Have you proposed a separation between us?” she asked.
”Yes--on terms of the utmost advantage to my son; arranged with every possible consideration toward you. Is there any objection on your side?”
”Oh, Lady Holchester! is it necessary to ask me? What does he say?”
”He has refused.”
”Refused!”
”Yes,” said Geoffrey. ”I don't go back from my word; I stick to what I said this morning. It's my endeavor to make you a good husband. It's my wish to make it up.” He paused, and then added his last reason: ”I'm fond of you.”
Their eyes met as he said it to her. Julius felt Anne's hand suddenly tighten round his. The desperate grasp of the frail cold fingers, the imploring terror in the gentle sensitive face as it slowly turned his way, said to him as if in words, ”Don't leave me friendless to-night!”
”If you both stop here till domesday,” said Geoffrey, ”you'll get nothing more out of me. You have had my reply.”
With that, he seated himself doggedly in a corner of the room; waiting--ostentatiously waiting--for his mother and his brother to take their leave. The position was serious. To argue the matter with him that night was hopeless. To invite Sir Patrick's interference would only be to provoke his savage temper to a new outbreak. On the other hand, to leave the helpless woman, after what had pa.s.sed, without another effort to befriend her, was, in her situation, an act of downright inhumanity, and nothing less. Julius took the one way out of the difficulty that was left--the one way worthy of him as a compa.s.sionate and an honorable man.
”We will drop it for to-night, Geoffrey,” he said. ”But I am not the less resolved, in spite of all that you have said, to return to the subject to-morrow. It would save me some inconvenience--a second journey here from town, and then going back again to my engagements--if I staid with you to-night. Can you give me a bed?”
A look flashed on him from Anne, which thanked him as no words could have thanked him.
”Give you a bed?” repeated Geoffrey. He checked himself, on the point of refusing. His mother was watching him; his wife was watching him--and his wife knew that the room above them was a room to spare. ”All right!”
he resumed, in another tone, with his eye on his mother. ”There's my empty room up stairs. Have it, if you like. You won't find I've changed my mind to-morrow--but that's your look-out. Stop here, if the fancy takes you. I've no objection. It don't matter to Me.--Will you trust his lords.h.i.+p under my roof?” he added, addressing his mother. ”I might have some motive that I'm hiding from you, you know!” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Anne. ”Go and tell old Dummy to put the sheets on the bed. Say there's a live lord in the house--she's to send in something devilish good for supper!” He burst fiercely into a forced laugh. Lady Holchester rose at the moment when Anne was leaving the room. ”I shall not be here when you return,” she said. ”Let me bid you good-night.”