Youth Challenges Part 37

Now was the time for an overwrought, overtired man, clothed in no restraint, to try what surcease was to be found in the bottom of a gla.s.s. But Dulac was not a drinking man. So he walked. As he walked bitterness awoke, and he cursed under his breath. Bitterness increased until it was rage, and, as man is so const.i.tuted that rage must have a definite object, Dulac unconsciously sought a man who would symbolize all the forces that had defeated him--and he chose Bonbright Foote. He chose Bonbright the more readily because he hated the boy for personal reasons. If Dulae and Bonbright had met at this moment there would have happened events which would have delighted the yellower press. But they did not meet. Bonbright was safe in Lightener's purchasing department, learning certain facts about bra.s.s castings.

So Dulac walked and walked, and lashed himself into rage. Rage abated and became biting disappointment and unspeakable heaviness of heart.

Again rage would be conjured up only to ebb again and to flood again as the hours went by.

There is an instinct in man which, when his troubles become too weighty to bear alone, sends him to a woman. Perhaps this is the survival of an idea implanted in childhood when baby runs to mother for sure comfort with broken doll or bruised thumb. It persists and never dies, so that one great duty, one great privilege, one great burden of womankind is to give ear to man's outpourings of his woes, and to offer such comfort as she may....

Dulac was drawn to Ruth.

This time she did not try to close the door against him. His first words made that impossible.

"I'm--beaten," he said, dully.

His flamboyance, his threatricality, was gone. He was no longer flas.h.i.+ly masterful, no longer exotically fascinating. He sagged.... He was just a soul-weary, disappointed man, looking at her out of hollow, burning eyes. He had spent himself magnificently into bankruptcy. His face was the face of a man who must rest, who must find peace.... Yet he was not consciously seeking rest or peace. He was seeking her....

Seeking her because he craved her, and seeking her to strike at her husband, who had become a symbol of all the antagonists he had been fighting.

His appearance disarmed her; her fear of him and herself was lured away by the appearance of him. She felt nothing but sympathy and tenderness and something of wonder that he--Dulac the magnificent--should be brought to this pa.s.s. So she admitted him, regardless even of the lateness of the afternoon hour.

He followed her heavily and sank into a chair.

"You're sick," she said, anxiously.

He shook his head. "I'm--beaten," he repeated, and in truth beaten was what he looked, beaten and crushed.... "But I'll--try again," he said, with a trace of the old gleam in his eyes.

She clasped and unclasped her hands, standing before him, white with the emotions that swayed her.... Here was the man she loved in his bitterest, darkest moment--and she was barred away from him by unwelcome barriers. She could not soothe him, she could not lighten his suffering with the tale of her love for him, but she must remain mute, holding out no hand to ease his pain.

"I came for you," he said, dully.

"No," she said.

"Ruth--I need you--now...." This man, who had wooed her boldly, had demanded her masterfully, now was brought to pleading. He needed her.

It was plain that he did need her, and, realizing it, she saw the danger of it. It was a new, a subtle attack, and it had taken her unawares.

"I can't.... I can't.... I mustn't..." she said, breathlessly.

"I must have you," he said, with dead simplicity, as one states a bare, essential fact. Then Bonbright was visualized before him, and rage flooded once more. "He sha'n't keep you!... You're mine--you were mine first.... What is he to you? I'm going to take you away from him.... I can do THAT...."

He was less dangerous so. Perhaps instinct told him, for his pa.s.sion stilled itself, and he became tired, pitiful again.

"We've got a right to be happy," he said, in his tired voice. "You're not happy--and I'm--beaten.... I want you--I need you.... You'll come with me. You've got to come with me."

She was moved, swayed. He needed her.... She had cheated Bonbright in the beginning. She was not his wife.... He had none of her love, and she believed this man had it wholly.... She had wronged Bonbright all she could wrong him--what would this matter? It was not this that was wrong, but the other--the marrying without love.... And she, too, was beaten. She had played her game and lost, not going down to defeat fighting as Dulac had gone down, but futilely, helplessly. She had given herself for the Cause--to no profit.... And her heart yearned for peace, for release.

"I'm his wife," she said, still struggling flutteringly.

"You're MY wife." He lifted his arms toward her, and she swayed, took a step toward him--a step toward the precipice. Suddenly she stopped, eyes startled, a deeper pallor blighting her face--for she heard Bonbright's step on the stairs.... She had forgotten the lateness of the hour.

"Oh'." she said.

"What is it?"

"HE is--here."

She was awakened by the shock of it, and saw, saw clearly. She had stood upon the brink--and HE had come in time.... And then she was afraid.

Neither of them spoke. Dulac got to his feet, his breath coming audibly, and so they waited.

Bonbright opened the door. "Ruth," he called, putting what pretense of gayety he could into his voice. "You've got company. The chronic visitor is here." He was playing his game bravely.

She did not answer.

"Ruth," he called again, and then stood in the door. She could not see him, but she felt his presence, felt his silence, felt the look of surprise changing to suspicion that she knew must be in his eyes.

For a moment he stood motionless, not comprehending. Then the att.i.tude of his wife and of Dulac spoke eloquently, and he whitened.

"I don't understand," he said. The words were meaningless, pointless, perhaps, but they stabbed Ruth to the heart. She turned to him, saw him step forward slowly, looking very tall, older than she had ever known him. He had drawn within himself, and there manifested itself his inheritance from his ancestors. He was like his father, but with an even more repressed dignity than was his father's.

"You don't understand," snarled Dulac. "Then I'll tell you. I'm glad you came.... I'm after your wife. She's going away with me."

"No.... No..." Ruth whispered.

"Be still.... She's mine, Foote--and always was. You thought she was yours--well, she's one thing you can't have. I'm going to tell you why she married you...."

Ruth cried out in incoherent fright, protesting.

"She married you to use you.... Not even for your money. She married you because her heart was with the men your kind is grinding down. ...

She saw you were the kind of man a woman could twist around her finger--and you owned five thousand men.... Get the idea?... She was going to do things for them--with you. You were nothing but a b.u.t.ton she would push. So she married you--and you cheated her.... So she's done with you. You can't give what she paid for, and she's going away with me.... She LOVES me. She was promised to marry me--when she saw what she could do with you--and I let her go.... If she could give, so could I.... But I loved her and she loved me--and we're going away."

It was true. Bonbright knew it was true, but he would not admit his belief until he had confirmation from his wife's lips.

"Is this true?" he asked, quietly.

She was shaking with sobs, crouching against the wall.

"Don't be afraid," Bonbright said again, in a strange, quiet, courteous voice. "Is it true?"

"Yes," she whispered, for she could not lie with his eyes upon her.

"I knew there was--something," he said, with a little halt in his voice.... That was all. He did not look at Dulac, but stood looking at her for a moment steadily, almost with grave inquiry.... She looked from him to Dulac. Subconsciously she compared them.... Bonbright did not speak again, but turned slowly and walked steadily out of the room.... Ruth heard the outer door close behind him and knew he was gone.... Gone!

Dulac laughed shortly. "That settled HIM," he said. "Now you'll come."

She stood regarding him as she might have regarded some strangely endowed person she had never seen before. Then with a sudden, pa.s.sionate vehemence she burst out upon him:

"Never.... Never.... I'll never go with you. I'm his wife--his wife....

Oh, what have you done?... I hate you--I hate you! Don't ever dare--come near me again.... I hate you...."

She turned and fled to her room and locked the door. Though he knocked and called, though he pleaded and threatened, she made no reply, but sat dry-eyed, on her bed, until she heard him go away raging....