The Brute Part 30

She stood for a long time, as though unable to make up her mind.

Suddenly she put the whole thing aside. "It is too big a question to decide off-hand," she said, walking away from him, her hands clenched.

"Donald--" she turned--"I want to see Bobbie." She took a step toward the bedroom door.

Donald stepped in front of her, blocking the way. "No!" he cried pa.s.sionately. "No!"

"Donald! Don't!" she exclaimed, alarmed at his manner.

"You cannot come in here."

"I cannot see my own child? You dare tell me that?"

"Yes. You shall not see him. You shall not go near him, until you agree to do as I say."

"You shall not do this!" she cried, her eyes blazing. "It is wrong--wrong!"

"Then come to your senses."

"Is it possible that you could be so cruel?" she asked slowly. "Is it possible that you could deprive that innocent child of his mother's love?"

"It is you who are depriving him of it--not I."

"Have you thought what it will mean, if you do this thing? Don't you know that it will break his heart? Night after night he will cry for me--for his mother--and you cannot comfort him, and all through the long days he will want me, and ask for me, and will not understand. You talk about giving him truth, and right, and honor. What are those things to him, compared to a mother's love? You shall not come between me and my boy--you shall not--you shall not!" She concluded with a burst of hysterical sobbing, then again started toward the bedroom. "Open that door!" she demanded. "Open it, I say! I want my boy!"

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-k.n.o.b, 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--d.a.m.n 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 G.o.d that you have your husband, and your child, and a roof above your head."