Throckmorton Part 10

"I like to read, but--"

"My father is a Trojan of a reader," continued Jack, "and his eyesight is really wonderful."

At this the major, with the cast in his eye very obvious, rose and walked over to where Jacqueline was sitting. Jack had accomplished his object, and ran his father out of the field. But Judith felt a sense of bitter disappointment. However, with the sweetness of her nature, she overcame her resentful feelings toward Jack, and, in spite of his boyish disposition to make people uncomfortable, really began to like him.

Throckmorton, though, was not ill pleased on the whole. It was by an effort that he had kept away from Jacqueline until then. But, after talking with her awhile, he was not quite so well satisfied. Her childishness was pretty, and the acuteness of her remarks sometimes surprised him, but there was nothing to her--she talked and thought about herself. Throckmorton tried once or twice to get her into the channel of rational conversation, but Jacqueline rebelled. She acknowledged with a pretty smile that she hated books, and that she was poor company for herself. Throckmorton felt a tinge of pity for her.

What would become of her twenty years hence--so pretty, so charming, so inconsequent?

Freke had in the mean time completed his conquest of Mrs. Sherrard.

Presently he went to the piano and trolled out songs in a rich barytone, playing his own accompaniments. This musical gift was a revelation to Mrs. Sherrard. It was not comparable, though, to his violin-playing.

Nevertheless, it was enough to turn Jacqueline's head a little. Freke sang a sentimental song, with a tender refrain, and every time he sang this refrain he cast a glance at Jacqueline.

Gradually the blood mounted to her face, until, when he stopped, she was as rosy as the morning. Then Freke sat down by her, and after that Jacqueline had no eyes for anybody else--not even Jack.

Throckmorton saw it, with a strong disgust for Freke, and with that same strange pang of jealousy he had felt before. Judith's angry disapproval burned within her, but she made no attempt to circ.u.mvent Freke until, looking around after a while, she missed him and Jacqueline both.

Judith, watching her opportunity, slipped out into the hall, and there found the culprits. Jacqueline made a little futile effort to pretend that they were looking at some prints by the light of a solitary kerosene-lamp; but Freke, who at least had no pretence about him, held on boldly to Jacqueline's hand, until she wrenched it away.

"Jacqueline, dear," said Judith, trying to speak naturally, "it is cold out here; come in!"

"I'm not cold," answered Jacqueline after a pause.

"But it is not polite to run away like this," urged Judith, casting an angry look at Freke, who, with folded arms, was whistling softly.

"I can't help that, Judith," answered Jacqueline, pettishly. "Why do you want me in that stiff drawing-room with old Dr. Wortley and Mrs.

Sherrard, and--"

"But Jacqueline, _I_ want you!"

There was no mistaking that tone.

"Go along, Jacky," said Freke, with cheerful submission. "You'll be liable to catch some dreadful moral complaint if you breathe the same atmosphere with me too long. I am a sinner of high degree, I am."

Jacqueline turned and sullenly followed Judith back, while Freke, smiling and unruffled, walked by her side. And then supper was served, but Jacqueline was perfectly distrait and could not keep her eyes off Freke, who was the life and soul of the party. The supper was after the Virginia order--very good--and so profuse it could not all be got on the table.

On the drive home there was perfect silence. Freke made one or two observations to Judith, but her cold silence convinced him that it was useless. He was not afraid of her, but he saw no good in pretending to placate her. When they reached Barn Elms and were standing in the cold hall, Judith said to Jacqueline:

"Go on. I shall be up in a moment."

"I'll wait for you," replied Jacqueline, doggedly.

"You may wait, but I wish to speak to Freke privately. I shall take him into the drawing-room."

At this, Jacqueline went slowly and unwillingly up the stairs.

Judith picked up the lamp and went into the dark drawing-room. The fire still smoldered dimly in the great fireplace. Freke took up the tongs and made a vigorous attack on the fire, and in two minutes the flames were leaping around the bra.s.s firedogs. Then he settled himself comfortably in the corner of the sofa.

Judith, although her determination was made, yet felt timid, and her heart beat.

"What excuse can you give," she asked in an unsteady voice, "for your behavior with that child to-night?"

"None whatever," answered Freke, coolly. "I am not bound to justify myself to you, nor do I admit there was anything to be excused."

"You are right in saying you are not bound to justify yourself to me,"

said Judith; "but can you justify yourself to her father and mother? You see how she is. You know what they--what we all--think of you. You are a married man, remember."

"Am I?" asked Freke, laughing. "By Jove, I wish I knew whether I was or not!"

"What right have you to fill Jacqueline's head with dreams and notions?

The child was well enough until you came. Why can't you go away and leave her in peace?"

Freke smiled at this. "I don't feel like going away," he said, "and particularly now that I see you wish me to go. I have rather different plans in view now that I have bought property here. It doesn't look well for a man to be cast off by his relations; and I intend to have, if I can, the backing of the Temples."

"But how long, think you, could you stay, if the child's mother knew of your behavior to-night?"

"That I don't know. But I wish to stay, Madam Judith; and, since you are so prudish, I will promise you not look at Jacqueline again. Will that satisfy you?"

"I will first see how you keep your promise. But I warn you, Freke, if you remain here much longer, I shall use all the influence in my power to get you out of this house. You are no advantage to the child. It would be better for her if you went away and never came back."

Freke had been sitting all this time, while Judith, standing up, pale and disdainful, spoke to him. But now he rose.

"Now," he said with sudden seriousness, "since you have expressed that hospitable intention concerning me, let me tell you something--something very interesting, that I have suspected for some time, but only found out to-night. You remember I told you of that death-struggle of Beverley's with an officer--how they rolled over and over and fought."

"Yes--yes--"

"And how the officer's horse, held by the bridle, I thought every moment would trample--"

"Yes--yes--yes!" cried Judith.

"Well," said Freke, coming up close to her, "Throckmorton was that officer!"

Freke had meant to give her one fierce pang; it was a delicious thing to him to strike her through Throckmorton; but he was quite unprepared for the result, for Judith, although young and strong, after standing for a moment gazing at Freke with wild eyes, swayed and without a sound dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

Freke, cursing his own folly, ran to her and called loudly. His voice echoed through the midnight silence of the house. It brought Mrs.

Temple, frightened and half dressed, into the room, followed by Delilah, struggling into her petticoats, and Simon Peter, scratching his wool and but half awake.

Freke had raised Judith on his arm. Something strange, like pity, of which he knew but little, came to him as he looked at her pallid face.

"You git 'way, Ma.r.s.e Temple," said Delilah, with authority. "Me an'

mistis kin manage dis heah.--Hi, Miss Judy! Open yo' eyes, honey, an'

tell what de matter wid you."

Mrs. Temple, who never lost her head in emergencies, in five minutes had Judith in a fair way of coming to herself. Freke said truthfully that he never was so surprised in his life as when Judith fell over. Mrs. Temple could not account for it either, and proposed to leave the solution to Dr. Wortley when he should be sent for in the morning. In a few minutes more Judith came to and sat up. Almost her first conscious glance fell on Freke. She gazed at him steadily, and in an instant the conviction that what he had said was mere wanton cruelty came to her. Freke himself avoided her glance uneasily.

"Honey, tell yo' ole mammy wh'yar hu'ts you," pleaded Delilah, anxious to take charge of the case in advance of Dr. Wortley.

"Nowhere at all. I only want to get to bed.--Mother, I hope father wasn't waked."