The Price She Paid Part 18

"If I say yes?"

She lowered her eyes and laughed in an embarra.s.sed way.

He was frankly amused. "You see, you feel that you're in my power. And you are. So why not make the best of it?" A pause, then he said abruptly and with a convincing manliness, "I think, Mildred, you can trust me not to be a beast."

She colored and looked at him with quick contrition. "I'm ashamed of myself," said she. "Please forget that I said anything. I'll take what I must, and I'll pay it back as soon as I can. And--thank you, Stanley." The tears were in her eyes. "If I had anything worth your taking I'd be glad to give it to you. What vain fools we women are!"

"Aren't you, though!" laughed he. "And now it's all settled--until you're on the stage, and free, and the money's paid back--WITH interest. I shall charge you six per cent."

When she first knew him she had not been in the least impressed by what now seemed to her his finest and rarest trait, for, in those days she had been as ignorant of the realities of human nature as one who has never adventured his boat beyond the mouth of the peaceful land-locked harbor is ignorant of the open sea. But in the hard years she had been learning--not only from Presbury and General Siddall, but from the cook and the housemaid, from every creditor, every tradesman, everyone whose att.i.tude socially toward her had been modified by her changed fortunes--and whose att.i.tude had not been changed? Thus, she was now able to appreciate--at least in some measure--Stanley Baird's delicacy and tact. No, not delicacy and tact, for that implied effort. His ability to put this offer in such a way that she could accept without serious embarra.s.sment arose from a genuine indifference to money as money, a habit of looking upon it simply as a means to an end. He offered her the money precisely as he would have offered her his superior strength if it had been necessary to cross a too deep and swift creek. She had the sense that he felt he was doing something even less notable than he admitted, and that he talked of it as a valuable and rather unusual service simply because it was the habit thus to regard such matters.

As they talked on of "the great career" her spirits went up and up. It was evident that he now had a new and keen interest in life, that she was doing him a greater favor than he was doing her. He had always had money, plenty of it, more than he could use. He now had more than ever--for, several rich relatives had died and, after the habit of the rich, had left everything to him, the one of all the connections who needed it least. He had a very human aversion to spending money upon people or things he did not like. He would have fought to the last court an attempt by his wife to get alimony. He had a reputation with the "charity gang" of being stingy because he would not give them so much as the price of a bazaar ticket. Also, the impecunious spongers at his clubs spread his fame as a "tight-wad" because he refused to let them "stick him up" for even a round of drinks. Where many a really stingy man yielded through weakness or fear of public opinion, he stood firm. His one notable surrender of any kind had been his marriage; that bitter experience had cured him of the surrendering habit for all time. Thenceforth he did absolutely and in everything as he pleased.

Mildred had heard that he was close about money. She had all but forgotten it, because her own experience with him had made such a charge seem ridiculous. She now a.s.sumed--so far as she thought about it at all--that he was extremely generous. She did not realize what a fine discriminating generosity his was, or how striking an evidence of his belief in her as well as of his liking for her.

As he rose to go he said: "You mustn't forget that our arrangement is a secret between us. Neither of us can afford to have anyone know it."

"There isn't anyone in the world who wouldn't misunderstand it," said she, without the least feeling of embarra.s.sment.

"Just so," said he. "And I want you to live in such a way that I can come to call. We must arrange things so that you will take your own name--"

"I intend to use the name Mary Stevens in my work," she interrupted.

"But there mustn't be any concealment, any mystery to excite curiosity and scandal--"

This time the interruption was her expression. He turned to see what had startled her, and saw in the doorway of the drawing-room the grotesquely neat and stylish figure of the little general. Before either could speak he said:

"How d'you do, Mr. Baird? You'll pardon me if I ask you to leave me alone with my WIFE."

Stanley met the situation with perfect coolness. "How are you, General?" said he. "Certainly, I was just going." He extended his hand to Mildred, said in a correct tone of conventional friendliness, "Then you'll let me know when you're settled?" He bowed, moved toward the door, shook hands with the general, and pa.s.sed out, giving from start to finish a model example of a man of the world extricating himself from an impossible situation and leaving it the better for his having been entangled. To a man of Siddall's incessant and clumsy self-consciousness such unaffected ease could not but be proof positive of Mildred's innocence--unless he had overheard. And his first words convinced her that he had not. Said he:

"So you sent for your old admirer?"

"I ran across him accidentally," replied Mildred.

"I know," said the little general. "My men picked you up at the pier and haven't lost sight of you since. It's fortunate that I've kept myself informed, or I might have misunderstood that chap's being here."

A queer, cloudy look came into his eyes. "I must give him a warning for safety's sake." He waved his hand in dismissal of such an unimportant trifle as the accidental Baird. He went on, his wicked eyes bent coldly and dully upon her: "Do you know what kind of a house this is?"

"Stanley Baird urged me to leave," replied she. "But I shall stay until I find a better--and that's not easy."

"Yes, my men have reported to me on the difficulties you've had. It was certainly fortunate for you that I had them look after you.

Otherwise I'd never have understood your landing in this sort of a house. You are ready to come with me?"

"Your secretary explained that if I left the hotel it was the end."

"He told you that by my orders."

"So he explained," said Mildred. She seated herself, overcome by a sudden la.s.situde that was accompanied not by fear, but by indifference.

"Won't you sit down? I am willing to hear what you have to say."

The little general, about to sit, was so astonished that he straightened and stiffened himself. "In consenting to overlook your conduct and take you back I have gone farther than I ever intended. I have taken into consideration your youth and inexperience."

"But I am not going back," said Mildred.

The little general slowly seated himself. "You have less than two hundred and fifty dollars left," said he.

"Really? Your spies know better than I."

"I have seen Presbury. He a.s.sures me that in no circ.u.mstances will he and your mother take you back."

"They will not have the chance to refuse," said Mildred.

"As for your brother--"

"I have no brother," said she coldly.

"Then you are coming back with me."

"No," said Mildred. "I should"--she cast about for an impressive alternative--"I should stay on here, rather."

The little general--his neat varnished leather and be-spatted shoes just touched the floor--examined his highly polished top-hat at several angles. Finally he said: "You need not fear that your misconduct will be remembered against you. I shall treat you in every way as my wife.

I shall a.s.sume that your--your flight was an impulse that you regret."

"I shan't go back," said Mildred. "Nothing you could offer would change me."

"I cannot make any immediate concession on the--the matter that caused you to go," pursued he, as if she had not spoken, "but if I see that you have reliability and good sense, I'll agree to give you an allowance later."

Mildred eyed him curiously. "Why are you making these offers, these concessions?" she said. "You think everyone in the world is a fool except yourself. You're greatly deceived. I know that you don't mean what you've been saying. I know that if you got me in your power again, you would do something frightful. I've seen through that mask you wear. I know the kind of man you are."

"If you know that," said the general in his even slow way, monotonous, almost lifeless, "you know you'd better come with me than stand out against me."

She did not let him see how this struck terror into her. She said: "No matter what you might do to me, when I'm away from you, it would be less than you'd do with me under your roof. At any rate, it'd seem less."

The general reflected, decided to change to another point: "You made a bargain with me. You've broken it. I never let anyone break a bargain with me without making them regret it. I'm giving you a chance to keep your bargain."

She was tempted to discuss, but she could not find the words, or the strength. Besides, how futile to discuss with such a man. She sank back in her chair wearily. "I shall never go back," she said.

He looked at her, his face devoid of expression, but she had a sense of malignance unutterable eying her from behind a screen. He said: "I see you've misunderstood my generosity. You think I'm weak where you are concerned because I've come to you instead of doing as I said and making you come to me." He rose. "Well, my offer to you is closed. And once more I say, you will come to me and ask to be taken back. I may or may not take you back. It depends on how I'll feel at that time."

Slowly, with his ludicrously pompous strut, he marched to the drawing-room door. She had not felt like smiling, but if there had been any such inclination it would have fled before the countenance that turned upon her at the threshold. It was the lean, little face with the funny toupee and needle-like mustache and imperial, but behind it lay a personality like the dull, cold, yellow eyes of the devil-fish ambushed in the hazy ma.s.s of dun-colored formlessness of collapsed body and tentacles. He said:

"You'd best be careful how you conduct yourself. You'll be under constant observation. And any friends you make--they'd do well to avoid you."

He was gone. She sat without the power of motion, without the power of thought. After a time--perhaps long, perhaps short, she did not know--Mrs. Belloc came in and entered upon a voluble apology for the maid's having shown "the little gentleman" into the drawing-room when another was already there. "That maid's as green as spring corn," said she. "Such a thing never happened in my house before. And it'll never happen again. I do hope it didn't cause trouble."

"It was my husband," said Mildred. "I had to see him some time."

"He's certainly a very elegant little gentleman," said Mrs. Belloc. "I rather like small men, myself."