Donald did not move. “No,” he said quietly. “Bobbie stays here with me.”
“You cannot take him from me. The law will not allow you.” Her face blazed with angry defiance.
“I am not taking him from you. Your home is here. It is the best that I can provide. If you are not satisfied with it – if you leave it – you leave me and your child as well. No law can give him back to you.”
She had grown furiously angry by this time. “Do you think you can force me to do as you wish through my love for my child?” she cried.
“I am not trying to force you to do anything,” he replied. “You came here. I did not ask you to come. Whether you stay or not depends entirely upon yourself. The decision is yours.”
She turned quickly to the chair, and picked up her coat and purse.
“Very well,” she said bitterly. “If you can be determined, so can I. I shall demand my child in court. We shall see who has the better right to him.”
“You would not dare.”
“You shall see.” She started toward the door.
“You are making a terrible mistake,” he warned her.
She paused, turning to him. “No,” she said slowly. “It is you who are making the mistake. I came here with nothing but love, and sorrow, and regret in my heart. You have turned them all to hate, with your cruelty – your brutality. You have tried to hurt me through my love for my little boy, and I hate you for it – I hate you!” She swept toward the door, weeping hysterically.
“I have asked you to do nothing but what is right, and you know it.”
“No – I do not know it. Is it right to keep me from my child? Is it right to ask me to sacrifice his whole future? If that is right – I want none of it.” She placed her hand upon the door-knob, and turned it. Donald followed her, an ominous look in his eyes. “Edith – where are you going?” he demanded.
“I am going back to New London. If you have any regard for me, if you have any regard for your child, you will come to me there.” She threw the door open, and stood upon the threshold.
Donald approached her still more closely. “If you go out of that door, you go out of my life forever,” he said sternly. “I shall never come to you – of that you may be sure.”
“Very well – you – you brute!” she cried, and turned to go.
“Stop!” he cried, springing toward her.
“No. You have gone too far.” She swept into the hall.
He took her roughly by the arm. “Come back here,” he cried, beside himself with fury. “Since you say I am a brute, I will act like one.” He pulled her forcibly into the room and slammed the door.
“Don’t,” she cried, resisting him. “Oh! You are hurting me – Donald!” She looked at him in wonder.
“Be quiet!” he said. “I am not hurting you half so much as you are hurting me. I have told you what you must do, and you have got to do it.”
“What do you want with me?” she cried, still struggling with him. “Let go my arm – let go of me, I tell you! I want to go! Oh!”
“You shall not go.”
“I will! You have no right to keep me here.”
“Be quiet, I say.” He forced her toward the center of the room.
She burst into tears. “How dare you treat me like this?” she cried. “How dare you? Are you mad?”
“If I am, it is you who have made me so,” he said, in a fury. “You talk about love, and repentance, and you come here and insult and humiliate me with every word you say – with everything about you. Whom do you have to thank for that dress, that coat, those diamonds, that jeweled purse, and the money in it? West! West! West!” He swept upon her a look that made her eyes fall. “I tell you I won’t have it – do you understand? I won’t have it!”
She stared at him in absolute amazement, and, with her wonder there came a feeling of admiration, almost, at his mastery of her. Never before, in all the eight years of their married life, had she seen him as he was now – never before had he dominated her. She felt a child in his grasp, and in some strange way her anger began to leave her, and a sense almost of gladness at this primitive method of dealing with the problem which confronted them swept over her.
“Donald,” she called softly to him. “Donald!” but he did not hear her.
“You are my wife – mine, do you hear?” he cried, then tore from her arm the jeweled purse, and flung it violently from him. “Take off those things – take them off! The sight of them insults me!” He grasped the lace coat she held over her arm, and threw it aside. “He gave you this necklace – damn him!” he cried, tearing it from her neck, and throwing it upon the floor.
She looked up at him, amazed. “Donald – listen to me – please!” she cried.
He paid no attention to her. “Do as I tell you,” he commanded. “Take off that stuff – take it off!”
She tremblingly removed from her fingers a diamond and ruby ring, and another of pearls, which her mother had persuaded her to buy.
“Give them to me.” He took the rings, and hurled them across the room.
“Donald, how can you treat me like this?” she protested weakly.
“I shall treat you as I like. Henceforth I am master in this house.”
“You have no right – ” she began.
He took her by the arm, and flung her to the floor. “Get down on your knees,” he said, “and thank God that you have your husband, and your child, and a roof above your head.”
She looked up at him in wonder. He seemed no longer the kind and patient husband whom she had held in secret contempt because of what had seemed to her his lack of force – of spirit. Here was a man who meant to be obeyed.
“And, when you have done so,” she heard him saying, “ask Him to help you to be worthy of them. God knows you need it.” He stood over her, looking down at her with fierce determination.
She caught his glance, and her eyes fell. “You – you won’t let me go?” she faltered.
“No. Your place is here, and here you shall stay. I have stood all of this folly that I intend to stand.”
She buried her face in the pillows of the couch beside which she was kneeling, and lay thus for a long time, shaking with sobs. Into her mind had come a new emotion – a new understanding of her love for her husband. Always before he had failed to master her, to make her feel that in the conjunction of their two lives he was the dominant spirit, willing even to govern her by force, when force seemed necessary to her welfare. What had changed him so? What had caused him to keep her here, at his side, against her will? What, indeed, but his love for her? She knew it was that, knew that, had he been indifferent to her, he would have let her pass from his life without lifting a hand to prevent it. A fierce joy rose within her heart that this man desired her so greatly – that he held her, as the primitive man held his women, by the right of might. She wanted all the luxuries that had come to her – wanted them still, but, compared with the joy of realizing that Donald still loved her, they seemed as nothing.
So he had held her – meant to hold her, against everything in the world – against even herself, and her own folly. She rejoiced in the thought, and her sobbing ceased. After all – he – he and her little boy – were more to her than anything that money could buy. Had Donald temporized with her – allowed her to keep the money that had come to her, she knew in her heart that she would have secretly despised him, that in the end she would have ceased to love him. It seemed good to be home again – good to be alive. She had always wanted someone to rule her – she felt strangely humble, knowing her own weakness. Presently she raised her head, and found him standing beside her. With a swift, eager movement she grasped his hand.
“I’m so – very – very glad!” she sobbed, unable to keep back her tears. “I did not – want – to go. I never – never – want to – go away from you – again.” She looked up, her eyes shining. “Donald – do you – still care for – me – a little?” she asked, in a quavering voice. “Do you?”
Donald’s sudden burst of rage had gone. He stood looking at her with a deep sadness in his eyes. After all, she seemed so much a child. “Do you think I would take the trouble to keep you here, if I did not?” he asked.
She began to sob violently. “Donald – forgive me – forgive me!” she cried. “I shall – never go away from you – and – Bobbie – as – long – as – I live.”
He looked down, not understanding this sudden change in her. “I have kept you here for the sake of our boy,” he said slowly, “and here you must stay. But, for your sake and mine, independent of him, you must answer me one question. Were you West’s mistress?”
She started to her feet, and dashed the tears from her eyes. “No!” she cried. “Before God – no! I was just as bad, I know, for I intended to be, but that one thing I had not done.”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“Oh, Donald, I am – I am!” she cried hysterically.
“Then there is still a chance for you, and for me,” he said, his face lighting up with sudden joy.
“Donald!” she cried; “Donald!” and tried to smile through her tears. As she spoke, the door of the bedroom opened, and she heard a childish voice. “Mamma!” it said, and Bobbie rushed up to her, and threw his arms about her.
She reached down and clasped him to her breast. “My darling – my darling!” she cried, as she kissed him.
“Mamma – I’m so glad you’ve come. I had such awful dreams. I dreamed that you and papa were fighting, and I came and called, and you wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Never mind, precious. It’s all right now,” she said, soothing him.
“Papa told me if I prayed very hard for you to come back, you would – and you did, didn’t you, mamma?”
“Yes, dear,” she said; then looked toward her husband, and smiled happily.
“And you won’t ever go away and leave me any more, mamma?”
“No, Bobbie – never more.” She rose, and, tearing off her hat, flung it carelessly aside, then went up to her husband, holding out her hands. “Donald,” she said, “I am ready to do anything you wish – anything.” She appeared very happy, and looked at him with a new and almost girlish embarrassment.
He held out his arms, and took her to his heart. “Edith!” he said; then softly kissed her hair.