Part 38 (1/2)
”Stop that!” Northrup's face was livid. He wanted to throttle Rivers but he could not shake off the feeling of pity for the man he had so tragically in his grip.
There was a heavy pause. It seemed weighted with tangible things.
Hate; pity; distrust; helpless truth. They became alive and fluttering. Then truth alone was supreme.
”I told you, Rivers, that I knew you couldn't believe me--you cannot. Partly this is due to life, as we men know it; partly to your interpretation of it, but at least I owe it to you and myself to speak the truth and let truth take care of itself. By the code that is current in the world, I might claim all that you believe I am after, for I think your wife might learn to love me--I know I love her. If I set her free from you, permit her to see you as you are, in her shock and relief she might turn to me and I might take her and, G.o.d helping me, make a safe place for her; give her what her hungry soul craves, and still feel myself a good sort. That would be the common story--the thing that might once have happened. But, Rivers, you don't know me and you don't know--your wife. I've only caught the glimmer of her, but that has caused me to grow--humble.
She's got to be free, because that is justice, and you and I must give it to her. When you free her--it's up to me not to cage her!”
Northrup found expression difficult--it all sounded so utterly hopeless with that doubting, sneering face confronting him; and his late distrust of himself--menacing.
”Besides, your wife has her own ideals. That's hard for us men to understand. Ideals quite detached from us; from all that we might like to believe is good for us. I have my own life, Rivers. Frankly, I was tempted to turn my back on it and with courage set sail for a new port. I had contemplated that, but I'm going back to it and, by G.o.d's help, live it!”
And now Northrup's face twitched. He waited a moment and then went hopelessly on:
”What the future holds--who knows? Life is a thundering big thing, Rivers, if we play it square, and I'm going to play it square as it's given me to see it. You don't believe me?” Almost a wistfulness rang in the words. Larry leaned back and laughed a hollow, ugly laugh.
”Believe you?” he said. ”h.e.l.l, no!”
”I thought you couldn't.” Northrup got up.
Around the edges of the lowered shades, a gray, drear light gave warning of coming day. The effect of Larry's last drink was wearing off--he looked near the breaking point.
”Rivers, I'll make a pact with you. Set your wife free--in my way. If you do that, I'll leave the place; never see her again unless a higher power than yours or mine decrees otherwise in the years on ahead. Take your last chance, man, to do the only decent thing left you to do: start afresh somewhere else. Forget it all. I know this sounds devilish easy and I know it's devilish hard, but”--and here the iron was driven into Rivers's consciousness--”either you or I set Mary-Clare free before”--he hesitated; he wanted to give all that he humanly could--”before another forty-eight hours.”
Larry felt the cold perspiration start on his forehead; his stomach grew sick.
Faint and fear-filled, he seemed to feel Maclin after him; Mary-Clare confronting him, smileless, terrifying. On the other hand he saw freedom; money; a place in which he could breathe, once more, with Maclin's hands off his throat and Mary-Clare's coldness forgotten.
”I'll go to her; I'll do your h.e.l.l-work, but give me another day.” He gritted his teeth.
”Rivers, this is Tuesday. On Friday you must be gone, and remember this: I've got it in my power to set your wife free and imprison you and I'll not hesitate to do it if you try any tricks. I'd advise you to keep clear of Maclin and leave whiskey alone. You'll need all the power of concentration you can summon.” Then Northrup turned to the table and gathered up the scattered papers.
”What----” Larry put out a trembling hand.
”I'll take charge of these,” Northrup said. ”I am going to give them to the Heathcotes. They'll keep them with the other papers belonging to your wife.”
”Curse you!”
”Good morning, Rivers! I mean it, good morning! You won't believe this either, but it's so. For the sake of your wife and your little girl, I wish you well. When you send word to the inn that you are ready for the business deal I'll have the money for you.”
Then Northrup opened the door and stepped out into the chill light of the coming day. He s.h.i.+vered and stumbled over a ma.s.s of rubbish. A clock struck in a quiet house.
”Five o'clock,” counted Northrup, and plunging his hands in his pockets he made his way to Twombley's shack.
CHAPTER XV
Kathryn Morris had her plans completed, and if the truth were known she had never felt better pleased with herself--and she was not utterly depraved, either.
She was far more the primitive female than was Mary-Clare. She was simply claiming what she devoutly believed was her own; reclaiming it, rather, for she sagely concluded that on this runaway trip Northrup was in great danger and only the faith and love of a good woman could save him! Kathryn believed herself good and n.o.ble.
Mary-Clare had her Place in which she had been fed through many lonely, yearning years, but Kathryn had no such sanctuary. The dwelling-places of her fellow creatures were good enough for her and she never questioned the codes that governed them--though sometimes she evaded them!