PAGE 23
Her Own Free Will
by
The window was covered with a red curtain, and the cosy warmth of the place sent a glow of comfort through Nan. Jerry’s efforts had not been in vain.
From this apartment she passed into another beyond, the door of which stood half open, and found herself in a bedroom. A small stove burned in a corner of this, and upon it a kettle steamed merrily. There was room for but little furniture besides the bed, but the general effect was exceedingly comforting to the girl’s oppressed soul. She sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned her aching head against the back.
What was happening at home she wondered? Her departure must be known by this time. Mona would have told Piet. She tried to picture the man’s untrammelled wrath when he heard. How furious he would be! She shivered a little. She was quite sure he would never want to see her again.
And yet, curiously, there still ran in her brain those words he had uttered on that night that she had defied him–that dreadful night when he had held her in his arms and forced her to endure his hateful kisses!
She could almost hear his deep voice speaking: “Anne, fight against me and you will be miserable, for I am bound to conquer you. But come to me–come to me of your own free will–and I swear before Heaven that I will make you happy!” Make her happy! He! She could not imagine it. And yet it was true that, fighting against him, she was miserable.
With a great sigh, she rose at last and began to remove her outdoor things. It was done–it was done. What was the use of stopping on the wrong side of the hedge to think? She had taken the leap. There could never be any return for her. The actual mistake had been committed long, long ago, when she had married this man for his money. That had been monstrous, contemptible! She realized it now. But that, too, was beyond remedy. Her only hope left was that in his fury he would set her free, and that without injury to Jerry. She had not the faintest notion how he would set about it; but doubtless he would not keep her long in ignorance. He would be more eager now than she had ever been to snap asunder the chain that bound them to each other. Yes, she was quite, quite sure that he would never want to see her again.
CHAPTER X
Jerry’s dinner was not, for some reason, quite the success he had anticipated.
Nan made no complaint of the cooking, but she ate next to nothing, to the grief of his hospitable soul. She was tired, of course, but there was something in her manner that he could not fathom. She was silent and unresponsive. There was almost an air of tragedy about her that made her so unfamiliar that he felt as if he were entertaining a stranger. He did not like the change. His old domineering, impetuous playfellow was infinitely easier to understand. He did not feel at ease with this quiet, white-faced woman, who treated him with such wholly unaccustomed courtesy.
“I say,” he said, when the meal was ended, “let’s go upstairs and have a smoke. I can clear away after you have gone to bed. Or do you want to go to bed now? It’s nearly nine, so you may if you like.”
She thanked him, and declined.
“I shouldn’t sleep if I did,” she said with a shiver. “No; I will help you wash up, and then we will go upstairs and have some music.”
Jerry fell in eagerly with this idea. He loved his banjo. He demurred a little at accepting her assistance in the kitchen, but finally yielded, for she would not be refused. She seemed to dread the thought of solitude.
When they went upstairs at length, she made a great effort to shake off her depression. She even sang a little to one or two of Jerry’s melodies, but her customary high spirits remained conspicuously absent, and after a while Jerry became impatient, and laid the instrument down.