FullReads

“Yes,” she said. “It was an accident.”

“How do you know?” he asked.

She answered him instantly. She had not realized till then that she was fighting the flames for his soul. The knowledge came upon her suddenly, and it gave her strength.

“Because I know that you love me,” she said. “Because–because–though you are cruel, and though you may be wicked–I love you, too.”

She said it with absolute sincerity, but it was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. To tell this man who was half animal and half fiend that he had not somehow touched the woman’s heart in her seemed almost a desecration. She saw the flare of passion leap up in his eyes, and she was conscious for one sick moment of a feeling of downright repulsion. If she had only succeeded in turning his savagery into another channel she had spoken in vain; or, worse, she had made a mistake that could never be remedied.

Abruptly she felt her courage waver. She shrank at last.

“I want you to understand,” she faltered; and again, “I want you to understand.”

But she could get no further. She hid her face against him and began to sob.

There followed a silence, tense and terrible, which she dared not break.

Then she felt him bend lower, and suddenly his arms were under her. He lifted her like a little child and sat down, holding her. His hand pressed her head against his neck, fondling, soothing, consoling. And she knew, with an overwhelming thankfulness, that she had not offered herself in vain. She had drawn him out of his hell by the magic of her love.

IX

When morning came Mercer departed alone, and Curtis was left in charge. Sybil lay in her room half dressed, while the latter treated her injured arm.

“You ought not to be up at all,” he remarked, as he uncovered it. “Have you had any sleep?”

“Not much,” she was obliged to confess.

“Why didn’t you stay in bed?”

“I don’t want–my husband–to think me very bad,” she said, flushing a little.

“Why not?” said Curtis. And then he glanced at her, saw the flush, and said no more.

She watched his bandaging with interest.

“You look so professional,” she said.

He uttered a short laugh.

“Do I?”

“I mean,” she said, unaccountably embarrassed, “that you do it so nicely.”

“I have done a good deal of veterinary work,” he said rather coldly. And then suddenly he seemed to change his mind. “I was a professional once,” he said, without looking at her. “I made a mistake–a bad one–and it broke me. That’s all.”

“Oh,” she said impulsively, “I am so sorry.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Not till he was about to leave her did she manage to ask the question that had been uppermost in her mind since his entrance.

“Have you seen Beelzebub yet?”

He paused–somewhat unwillingly, she thought.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Is he”–she hesitated–“is he very bad?”

“He isn’t going to die, if that is what you mean,” said Curtis.

She felt her heart contract.

“Please tell me!” she urged rather faintly. “I want to know.”

With the air of a man submitting to the inevitable Curtis proceeded to inform her.

“He is lying in the loft over the stable, like a sick dog. He is rather badly mauled, and whimpers a good deal. I shall take him some soup across presently, but I don’t suppose he’ll touch it.”

“Ok, dear!” she said. “What shall you do then?”

“Mercer will have to lend a hand if I can’t manage him,” Curtis answered. “But I shall do my best.”

She suppressed a shudder.

“I hope you will be successful.”

“So do I,” said Curtis, departing.

When she saw him again she asked anxiously for news; but he had none of a cheering nature to give her. Beelzebub would not look at food.

“I knew he wouldn’t,” he said. “He has been like this before.”

“Mr. Curtis!” she exclaimed.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s Mercer’s way. He regards the boy as his own personal property, and so he is, more or less. He picked him up in the bush when he wasn’t more than a few days old. The mother was dead. Mercer took him, and he was brought up among the farm men. He’s a queer young animal, more like a dog than a human being. He needs hammering now and then. I kick him occasionally myself. But Mercer goes too far.”