Canadian fiction; Maine -- Fiction; People with disabilities -- Fiction; Poor -- Fiction
"Swipe me!" he croaked hoarsely. "Pipe de eyes on de Doc! Dere'll be
somethin' doin' now!"
--XIX--
THE SANCTUARY OF DARKNESS
There was a grim, merciless smile on Madison's lips; and a whiteness in
his face windowed the passion that seethed within him. He stood
motionless, listening, in Helena's room. He heard the automobile going
away again; then he heard Helena's light step in the hallway
without--and the smile died as his lips thinned.
But she did not come in--instead, he heard her go into the Patriarch's
room, heard her talking to the Patriarch, and bid the Flopper go to the
kitchen and make her some tea. Then the Flopper's step sounded, passing
down to the rear, of the cottage.
The minutes passed--then that light footfall again. The door of the room
swung suddenly wide--and closed--there was a cry--and Helena, wide-eyed,
the red of her cheeks fading away, leaned heavily back against the door.
Neither spoke. Madison, in the center of the room, did not move. The
smile came back to his lips.
Helena's great brown eyes met the gray ones, read the ugly glint,
dropped, raised again--and held the gray ones steadily.
Madison gave a short laugh--that was like a curse. His hands at his
sides knotted into lumps.
Then Madison spoke.
"Why don't you say, 'you!--_you_!'--and scream it out and clutch at your
bosom the way they do in story books!" he flung out raucously. "Why
don't you do your little stunt--go on, you're on for the turn--you can
put anything over me, I'm only a complacent, blind-eyed fool! Anything
goes! Why don't you start your act?"
"You don't know what you are saying," she said in a low voice. "If
there's anything you want to talk about, we'd better wait until you're
cooler."
"Oh, hell!" he roared, his passion full to the surface now. "Cut out the
bunk--cut it out! _Anything_! No, it isn't much of anything--for
you--out all night with Thornton. Do you think I'm going to stand for
it! Do you think I'm going to sit and suck my thumb and _share_ you,
and--"
"You lie!" She was away from the door now, close before him, her breath
coming fast, white to the lips, and in a frenzy her little fists
pummelled upon him. "It's a lie--a lie--a lie! It's a lie--and you know
it!"
He pushed her roughly from him.
"It is, eh?"--his words came in a sort of wild laugh. "And I know it--do
I? Why should I know it? What do you think you are? Say, you'd think you
were trying to kid yourself into believing you're the real thing--the
real, sweet, shy, modest Miss Vail. Cut it out! You're name's
Smith--maybe! And it's my money that's keeping you, and you belong to
me--do you understand?"
She stood swaying a little, her hands still tightly clenched, breathing
through half parted lips in short, quick, jerky inhalations like dry
sobs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account