midst of his dejected meditations he suddenly realised his daughter's presence and, considering moodily that he had betrayed himself to her, he muttered thickly, without locking up:
'Away up to your bed, you! What are ye sittin' there for?' And when she had slipped like a shadow from the room, he continued to sit by the rapidly dying embers of the fire until he adjudged that Nancy might be in bed and more amenable to his advances. Then, blind to the complete reversal of his position in the house since the days when he had left his wife to brood by the dismal remnants of a dead fire, anxious only to be beside his Nancy, he got -up and, having turned out the gas, passed slowly and as lightly as he could up the stairs. He was consumed by eagerness, eaten by desire, as he entered his lighted bedroom.
It was empty!
With unbelieving eyes he gazed around until it slowly dawned upon him that this night she had kept her word and forsaken him; then, after a moment, he turned and, moving silently across the dark landing, tried the handle of the door of that small room to which his wife had retired the room, indeed, where she had died. This, as he expected, was locked. For one instant a torrent of resentment surged within him and he gathered himself together to hurl himself against and through the door, to batter it down by the strength of his powerful and desirous body. But immediately came the realisation that such a course would not benefit him, that inside the room he would still find her bitter, more bitter and unyielding than before, more icy, more determined to oppose his wish. She had enslaved him, insidiously yet completely, and for that reason was now stronger than he. His sudden fury died, his hand dropped from the door and slowly he reentered his own room and shut himself within it. For a long time he remained in sullen silence, then impelled by an irresistible impulse he went to the drawer he had opened earlier in the evening, slowly pulled it out once more, and with a heavy brow stood staring inscrutably at the contents within.
Ill
MATTHEW BRODIE came out of Levenford Station, leaving the platform, splashed with its pale yellow lamplight, behind him and entered the cold, exhilarating darkness of the frosty February night with a lively feeling of elation. His steps upon the hard ground rang out quick and clear; his face, blurred in the surrounding obscurity, radiated nevertheless a faint excited gleam; the fingers of his unquiet hands twitched continually from the suppression of his pervading
exultation. He walked rapidly along Railway Road, through the tenuous low-lying haze above which the tops of trees and houses loomed like darkly smudged shadows against the lighter background of the sky. Towards his expanded nostrils came from across the open space of the Common, the faint aromatic odour of a distant wood fire and, as he sniffed it, filling his lungs deliciously with the tingling
savour of the air, he was permeated by a vivid sense of the zest of living. Despite the forward thrust of his mood, memories rushed across him at that acrid, yet spicy breath, and he became enveloped in a balmy dusk that was filled with strange quiescent sounds, fragrant subtle scents, and the white and liquid shimmer of a tropic moon.
His drab and evasive existence of the last six months fell away from his recollection, while he considered the glamour of his life abroad, and as if to answer the appeal of such a free and enchanting land, he further accelerated his pace and swung along the road with impetuous eagerness in the direction of his home. This haste in one who, when approaching the house in the evenings, displayed usually a flagging step, indicative of his disinclination to encounter his father, seemed to betoken an important change in the current of Matt's life. He was indeed, at this moment, bursting with the news of that change, and as he rushed up the steps, opened the front door of the house and entered the kitchen, he actually trembled with his excitement.
The room was empty except for Nancy, who slowly and tardily clearing the tea table of its dishes, looked up at his sudden appearance with an expression of surprise, mingled also with an unguarded and engaging familiarity which at once indicated to him that his father was not at hand.
'Where is he, Nancy?' he exclaimed immediately. She rattled a dish contemptuously upon the tray as she replied:
'Out for the usual, I suppose. There's only one thing takes him out at this hour and that's to get the black bottle filled up again.'
Then she added slyly, 'But if you're wantin' to see him, he'll be back soon-'
'I'm wantin' to see him, all right,' he blustered, looking at her, significantly. 'I'm not feared to meet him. I've got news for him that'll make him sit up and take notice.'
She glanced at him quickly, noting now his slightly hurried breathing, the glitter in his eye, the general concealed importance of his bearing.
'Have ye news, then, Matt?' she said slowly.
'I should think I have!' he declared. 'The best that I've had for nine months. I'm just this minute off the train. I've only had word o' the thing an hour ago and I couldna get back quick enough to tell it to fling it in that auld devil's face.'
She left the dishes entirely and advanced deliberately towards him, saying ingratiatingly:
'Was it only your father ye wanted to tell, Matt ? Am I not to know first? I’m gey interested to hear.'
A broad smile spread over his features.
'Of course you're to know! Ye ought to understand that by this time.'
'What is it then, Matt?' she whispered.
As he saw her eagerness, he swelled the more and, determining to edge her curiosity, he suppressed his own excitement, moved to his favourite spot by the dresser, and reclining in his particular manner, surveyed her with a boasting eye.
'Come, come, now. Can ye not guess? Surely a clever wee body like yourself can guess? You haven't got that trig head on your shoulders for nothing.'
She knew positively now what the purport of his tidings must be, but seeing that he was pleased to exhibit his air of consequence, it suited her to pretend ignorance, and with a charming assumption of simplicity, she shook her head and replied:
'No, Matt! I can hardly think. I'm almost afraid to say. Would it be about your father?'
He wagged his head from side to side portentously.
'No! Not this time, Nancy dear. Leave him out of the question. It's about another man altogether. Somebody younger, that can take a glass without soakin' in it, that can take a lass out to a concert and let her enjoy herself. Think on somebody that's fond of you.'
'It's yourself, Matt! Oh!' she gasped, widening her eyes, 'ye don't mean to say ye've got that post.'
'Did I say I hadn't got it?' he leered at her.
'Have ye, though ? Tell us quick, Matt. I'm that excited about it I can hardly stand still!'
'Yes!' he cried, unable to restrain himself longer. 'I have got it. The job's signed, sealed and delivered into my hands. It's me for South America passage paid free livin' and plenty of money in my pocket. To hell with this rotten town, and this blasted house and the drunken auld bully that owns it. It'll be something for him to smoke in his pipe when he hears.'
'He'll be pleased enough, Matt,' she replied, again advancing to him as he leaned against the dresser.
'Ay, glad to be rid of me, I suppose,' he answered sulkily. 'But I'm glad enough to go. And I’ll be even with him yet. He'll maybe get something he doesn't like before long.'
'Never mind about him. He's just an auld fool. I'm as sick o' him as you are. I canna think what I ever saw in him.' She paused, then added ingenuously, pathetically, 'I'm real pleased too, that ye've got the job, Matt, although although '
'Although what,' he replied largely, looking down at her soft, appealing eyes. 'Surely I've waited long enough for it.'
'Ay it was just nothing,' she answered with a sigh, stroking his hand absently, almost unconsciously, with her soft finger tip. 'It's a wonderful opportunity for ye. It must be grand for you to gang abroad like that. I can see the big boat drivin' through the blue sea, wi' the sun on it. I can just fancy the lovely place that you're goin' to Rio what was it ye called it again?'
