The Hundredth Chance. Ethel M. Dell

      "You needn't be sorry for that," said Jake. "No one will know except me. And I don't count."

      "I think you do," she faltered, and made a more decided effort to free herself.

      He let her go with a kindly pat on the shoulder. "Say, now, if that coffee ain't cold, p'raps you'll try a sip."

      He reached for it and held it to her without rising. She lifted the cup in both her trembling hands while he held the saucer, and slowly drank.

      Jake's eyes went with abrupt directness to her wrists as she did it. He did not speak at the moment. Only as she returned the cup he put it quietly aside and laid his hand over hers.

      "What's that skunk Sheppard been doing to you?" he asked.

      She shrank at the straight question "How--how did you know----"

      He lifted his hand and pushed back her sleeves without speaking. There was something dreadful about him as he regarded the bruises thus exposed.

      A quick fear went through her. "Jake," she said sharply, "that--is no affair of yours. You are not to--interfere."

      His eyes came up to hers and the hardness went from him on the instant. "I reckon you're going to make some use of me," he said.

      She trembled a little and turned her face away. She had used his Christian name spontaneously, and now suddenly she found that all formality had gone from between them. It disconcerted her, frightened her, made her uncertain as to his attitude as well as her own.

      Jake waited a few seconds; then with the utmost gentleness he laid his hand again upon hers. "Are you afraid to say it?" he said.

      "To say--what?" Her hands moved agitatedly beneath his till strangely, unexpectedly, they turned and clasped it with convulsive strength. "Yes, I am afraid," she said, with a sob.

      "But I asked you to marry me weeks ago," said Jake.

      Her head was bowed. She sought to avoid his look. "I know you did."

      "And you are going to marry me," he said, in a tone that was scarcely a question.

      She turned desperately and faced him. "I must have a clear understanding with you first," she said.

      "I--see," said Jake.

      He met her eyes with the utmost directness, and before his look hers wavered and fell. "Please!" she whispered. "You must agree to that."

      He did not speak for a moment, but his fingers wound themselves closely about her own.

      "I don't want you to be scared," he said finally. "But--that's a mighty big thing you've asked of me."

      Maud's face was burning. "I knew it isn't for me to make--conditions," she said, under her breath.

      A gleam of humour crossed Jake's face. "I guess it's up to me to accept or refuse," he said. "But--suppose I refuse--what are you going to do then? Will you marry me--all the same?"

      She shook her head instantly. "I don't know what I shall do, Jake. I--I must go back and think."

      She mustered her strength and made as if she would rise, but he checked her.

      "Wait!" he said. "I haven't refused--yet. Lean back and rest a bit! I've got to do some thinking too."

      She obeyed him because it seemed that he must be obeyed. He got to his feet.

      "Poor girl!" he said gently. "It hasn't been easy for you, has it? Reckon you've just been driven to me for refuge. I'm the nearest port, that's all."

      "The only port," Maud answered, with a shiver.

      "All right," he said. "It's a safe one. But--" He left the sentence unfinished and turned to the window.

      She lay back with closed eyes, counting the hard throbs of her heart while she waited. He was very quiet, standing behind her with his face to the storm-driven clouds. She longed to know what was passing in his mind, but she could not break the silence. It held her like a spell while the clock on the mantelpiece ticked the dragging minutes away. She whispered to her racing heart that the moment he moved she would rise and go. But while the silence lasted she could not bring herself to stir. She was worn out physically and mentally, almost too weary for thought.

      He moved at length rather suddenly, wheeled round before she was aware, and came back to the fire.

      "Don't get up!" he said. "You look ready to drop, and you may just as well hear what I have to say sitting. It won't make a mite of difference."

      She raised her eyes to his in unconscious appeal. "I am afraid I have made a mistake," she said.

      She saw his smile for a moment. "No, you haven't made a mistake, my girl. You're safe with me. But I wonder if you have the faintest idea now why I want you for my wife."

      The simple directness of his speech touched her as she did not want to be touched. She sat silent, her hands clasped tightly together.

      "You haven't," he said. "And p'raps this isn't the time to tell you. You've come to me for refuge--as I hoped you would--and I shan't abuse your confidence. But, you know, I had a reason."

      He paused, but she still said nothing. Only she could not meet his eyes any longer. She looked away into the fire, waiting for him to continue.

      "Say, now," he said, after a moment, "if I make a bargain with you, you won't accuse me of taking advantage of your position?"

      She winced a little. "I wish you--to forget--that I ever said that."

      "All right. It is forgotten," said Jake. "I'll go ahead. We haven't mentioned Bunny though I take it he is a fairly big factor in the case. That is to say, if it hadn't been for Bunny, you would never have taken this step."

      Maud's eyes went swiftly up to his. "But of course I shouldn't!" she said quickly. "I thought you understood that."

      "I quite understand," said Jake. "I assure you I'm not taking anything for granted. But now--I want to put it to you--supposing the impossible happened, supposing Bunny were cured,--yes, it's only the hundredth chance, I know--still, just for a moment, suppose it! Bunny cured, able to look after himself like other lads. You would be married to me. What then?"

      "What then?" She repeated the words, still with an effort meeting his look.

      He made a slight gesture with one hand. "You would stick to me?"

      The hot colour flooded her face and neck. "Of course," she said, her voice very low. "That goes without saying."

      He bent slowly towards her. "Maud, if we ever live alone together, it must be as man and wife."

      His voice was low too, but she heard in it a deep note that seemed to pierce through and through her. His eyes drew and held her own. She wanted to avoid them but could not. They burned like the red, inner heart of a furnace.

      The blood receded from her face. She felt it go. "We--need never live alone," she said faintly.

      He held out a quiet hand to her. "P'raps not. But I should like your promise to that, all the same." He paused a moment; then added: "I have sworn already to be good to you, remember."

      She laid her hand in his. She could not do otherwise. He held it and waited.

      "Very well," she said at last, her voice almost a whisper. "I--agree."

      He let her go, and straightened himself. "It's a deal, then," he said. "And now for more immediate details. You've decided to marry me, and I gather you don't mind how soon?"

      He picked up a clay pipe from the mantelpiece, and knocked out some ash against the fireplace.

      Maud watched him with a curious species of fascination. There was something in the man's serenity of mien that puzzled her, something that did not go with those fiery, possessive eyes.

      He looked at her with a smile that was half-quizzical, half-kindly, and her heart began to beat more freely.

      "We must somehow get away