The Pest 14

The Pest 14

Marian rang and bade the maid bring the necessaries.

 

“I liked the look of you,” Mrs. Harding continued, “and it’s pleasant to

have a friendly neighbor; it’s a nuisance to be always going out. It’s a

sickening life sometimes, but I wouldn’t change it for any other. Not to

be a duchess! I did try to settle down once with a man who wanted to

marry me, but it nearly drove me crazy. The love of it’s in my blood.

Yours, too, from the look of you. There’s plenty of fun too. You meet

good sorts as well as bad, and take my tip, when you meet a good sort,

treat him well. It’s funny our living here; I believe everyone else in

the house is straight. Judging by their looks, they can’t have had much

temptation to be otherwise. Their wedding rings ain’t make-believe like

ours. A cigarette? Thanks: This is brandy! Jolly good,” she said,

tasting it; “it’d be a sin to put water in that. Here’s luck!”

 

She drank the brandy neat, with evident relish.

 

“What are you going to do to-night? Care to come out with me and dine

somewhere?”

 

“I’m afraid I can’t. I should like to, but I’m engaged to supper.”

 

“Lucky girl, I ain’t. My old man went off all of a sudden and left me in

the lurch. If I’d known he was going I’d have fixed up some fun, but he

didn’t tell me till after breakfast this morning. He’s just cussed

sometimes, and never let’s on when he will be away. Well, I must trust

to luck. Come some other night; and do come up to see me—he don’t mind

feminine friends.”

 

“I’d like to come.”

 

“By the way, my dear, while I think of it, you’ll do well to look about

you before he leaves you in the lurch. Funny thing, a year or two ago I

used to see a good deal of Georgie. He don’t stick to anyone long. He

soon got tired of me and I wasn’t too much cut up about it; he’s too

finicky for my taste. I shall never forget his face when he found me a

bit fuzzy-wuzzy with fizzy wine one night. I always called him old blue

ribbon after that.”

 

She laughed quietly, a deep, low, melodious note. Then she got up and

walked about the room, looking at the pictures and ornaments.

 

“I must say he’s fixed you up as if you’d caught his fancy strong. He

only took a furnished place for me. But don’t put all your trust in any

man’s pocket. Do you play?” she asked, sitting down to the piano. “Here

goes for a hymn.”

 

She played a catchy air and then sang the first verse and chorus of a

drinking song that then held the ear of the town.

 

“But there, I’ll be off, my dear. Georgie might catch me here and not

approve. I shan’t come to see you again till you’ve been to see me. I’ve

a sort of idea we shall be pals, I want one badly. I can put you up to a

wrinkle or two; I’ve one or two to spare,” she said, looking at her

reflection in the glass. “Oh, don’t worry to ring, I’ll let myself out.

I’m never proud, except when it pays me to be so. Good night; be good

and you won’t be happy.”

 

There was a frank _bonhomie_ about the woman that attracted Marian.

Their aims were different, perhaps, but their methods seemed much the

same. Moreover, it seemed not unlikely that she might prove helpful, and

that in some matters and on some occasions she might be a useful

adviser. Further, there was a growing lawlessness in Marian’s blood that

made her thirst sometimes to taste degradation, and this woman could

lead her to it.

 

It was now nearly six o’clock. She had promised Maddison to go round

early to the studio. She wished now that she had been free to accept

Mrs. Harding’s invitation, and made up her mind to do so some night

soon, if it could be safely arranged.

 

The housekeeper opened the door to her, and told her that a gentleman

was waiting in the studio to see Mr. Maddison. Marian nodded and went

in, expecting to find Mortimer or one of the other men who had been

summoned. The big room was dimly lit. She shut the door behind her and

went toward the fireplace, in a chair by which a man was sitting with

his back toward her.

 

He rose at the sound of her approach. It was her husband.

 

“Marian!”

 

She stood stock-still as he came quickly toward her, with his hands

outstretched.

 

But the eager joy in his eyes was met by anger in hers.

 

“How dare you come here?” she asked. “Keep away from me. Don’t touch

me!”

 

He stopped, bewildered.

 

“How did you know I was here?” she went on.

 

“I didn’t know. I’ve searched and searched for you, walked the streets

in the hope of catching a glimpse of you. Then Ellis told me he had seen

you with Mr. Maddison, so I came straight here, thinking he would

perhaps know your address. But I can hardly speak—I’m so glad.”

 

“You’d better go back and sit down again. I’ve something to say to you.

You—don’t understand.”

 

The tone of her voice chilled him as if an icy finger had been laid upon

his heart, but he did not move.

 

“What is it?”

 

She went past him over to the fireplace, and stood there looking at the

glowing logs. So he knew really nothing! Should she tell him everything?

She quickly decided not to do so unless driven to it. Turning round

sharply to him, she said:

 

“You don’t understand. I left you because I didn’t want to see you

again. Coming after me like this won’t make any difference, won’t do a

bit of good. I’ve left you and I won’t come back. You’d better forget me

as quickly as you can.”

 

“I can’t, I can’t,” he repeated. “I _can’t_. And why should I? I want

you to forgive me. I did try to be good to you, but I must have failed

miserably to have driven you away from me. I’ve been thinking over what

you said about my being selfish. Come back. Try me once more. Won’t

you?”

 

“No. I won’t. I can’t. You don’t understand. I _hate_ you. I hate

everything you think and do. We’re utterly different.”

 

With a gesture of helpless despair he turned away and began to pace up

and down.

 

She could not help pitying him.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but it can’t be helped. It was a stupid mistake

our marrying—but I didn’t know myself then. You don’t know me now. It

would be a worse mistake, though, for me to come back.”

 

“God help me. I’ve thought of nothing but you since you went away. Is

there nothing I can do?—nothing I can say?”

 

“Nothing. Nothing,” she broke in vehemently. “Nothing, I tell you. Why

can’t you believe me? It’s no use talking about it. You’d better go.”

 

He stood looking at her, but could read in her eyes only stubborn

defiance. For the first time he noticed the new brightness in her beauty

and the richness of her dress.

 

“Where are you?” he asked; “what are you doing?”

 

“I’m quite happy, or rather should be if only you’d leave me alone,” was

the answer.

 

But he persisted, there coming suddenly into his mind a suspicion of the

truth.

 

“Why are you here? The servant must have told you Maddison was out,

and—you came in as if you were at home.”

 

“I won’t answer any more questions. I told you you’d better go.”

 

“You needn’t answer. I know. I can see it in your face. You’re this

man’s mistress. You—come to this. But it’s not too late. Come away,

with me—we’ll go away—anywhere, far away——”

 

“Oh! why don’t you _go_?” she interrupted, stamping her foot, and

clenching her hands as if she would have liked to strike him. “I _am_

his mistress. Now, go.”

 

“Not without you——”

 

“You must. You’re simply making a fool of yourself. I’m alive and free

now—do you think you can get me back? Save as many other souls as you

can, but let me do as I like with mine. Haven’t you any pride? I’m

through and through what you call a _bad_ woman. I’m wicked because I

enjoy being wicked. Even if I tired of it, I’d not come back to you.”

 

She rang the bell, and before he could find his speech the servant came

in.

 

“This gentleman has left a message with me for Mr. Maddison,” Marian

said; then bowing coldly to Edward, added: “Good night.”

 

The servant held the door open.

 

Squire hesitated, and then let his eyes drop before hers and slowly went

out.

 

When she heard the outer door shut, she sat down and began slowly to

pull off her long gloves. He might come back, even to-night. She knew

how persistent he could be and felt sure he would not leave any effort

untried to take her away from the life she was leading, even if he could not persuade her to return to him.