The Branding Iron

by Katharine Newlin Burt

  CHAPTER IX

  GRAY ENVELOPES

  It was with more than the usual sinking of heart that Jasper lethimself that evening into the beautiful house which Betty and hecalled their home. Joan's too expressive look had stung the oldsoreness of his disillusionment. He knew that the house was empty ofwelcome. He took off his hat and coat dejectedly. There were footstepsof his man who came from the far end of the hall.

  While he stood waiting, Jasper noticed the absence of a familiarfragrance. For the first time in years Betty had forgotten to orderflowers. The red roses which Jasper always caressed with a long,appreciative finger as he went by the table in the hall, were missing.Their absence gave him a faint sensation of alarm.

  "Mr. Kane, Mrs. Morena's brother, has called to see you, sir. He iswaiting."

  Jasper's eyebrows rose. "To see me? Is he with Mrs. Morena now?"

  "No, sir. Mrs. Morena went out this morning and has not yet returned.Mr. Kane has been here since five o'clock, sir."

  "Very well."

  It was a mechanical speech of dismissal. The footman went off. Jasperstood tapping his chin with his finger. Woodward Kane come to see himduring Betty's absence! Woodward had not spoken more than three or fouricy words of necessity to him since the marriage. After a stiff,ungracious fashion this brother had befriended Betty, but to his Jewishbrother-in-law he had shown only a slightly disguised distaste. The Jewwas well used to such a manner. He treated it with light bitterness,but he did not love to receive the users of it in his own house. It waswith heightened color and bent brows that he pushed apart the long,crimson hangings and came into the immense drawing-room.

  It was softly lighted and pleasantly warmed. A fire burned. The tall,fair visitor rose from a seat near the blaze and turned all in onerigid piece toward his advancing host. Jasper was perfectly consciousthat his own gesture and speech of greeting were too eager, tooingratiating, that they had a touch of servility. He hated themhimself, but they were inherited with his blood, as instinctive as thewagging of a dog's tail. They were met by a precise bow, no smile, notaking of his outstretched hand.

  Jasper drew himself up at once, put the slighted hand on the back of atall, crimson-damask chair, and looked his stateliest and mosthandsome self.

  "Betty hasn't come in yet," he said. "You've been waiting for her?"

  Woodward Kane pulled at his short, yellow mustache and stared atJasper with his large, blank, blue eyes. "As a matter of fact I didn'tcall to see my sister, but to see you. I have just come fromElizabeth. She is at my house. She came to me this morning."

  Jasper's fingers tightened on the chair. "She is sick?"

  "No." There was a pause during which the blank, blue eyes staring athim slowly gathered a look of cold pleasure. Jasper was aware thatthis man who hated him was enjoying his present mission.

  "Shall we sit down? I shall have to take a good deal of your time, Iam afraid. There is rather a good deal to be gone over."

  Jasper sat down in the chair the back of which he had been holding."Will you smoke?" he asked, and smiled his charming smile.

  There was now not a trace of embarrassment, anger, or anxiety abouthim. His eyes were quiet, his voice flexible. Woodward declined tosmoke, crossed his beautifully clothed legs and drew a small grayenvelope from his pocket. Jasper's eyes fastened upon it at once. Itwas Betty's paper and her angular, boyish writing marched across it.Evidently the note was addressed to him. He waited while Woodwardturned it about in his long, stiff, white fingers.

  "About two months ago Betty came to me one evening in great distressof mind. She asked for my advice and to the best of my ability I gaveit to her. I wish that she had asked for it ten years ago. She mighthave saved herself a great deal. This time she has not only asked forit, but she has been following it, and, in following it, she has nowleft your house and come to mine. This, of course, will not surpriseyou."

  "It does, however, surprise me greatly." It was still the gentlemurmur, but Jasper's cigarette smoke veiled his face.

  "I cannot understand that. However, it's not my business. Betty hasasked me to interview you to-day so that she may be spared thehumiliation. After this, you must address your communications to herlawyers. In a short time Rogers and Daring will serve you with noticeof divorce."

  Jasper sat perfectly still, leaning slightly forward, his cigarettebetween his fingers.

  "So-o!" he said after a long silence. Then he held out his hand. "Imay have Betty's letter?"

  Woodward Kane withheld it and again that look of pleasure was visiblein his eyes. "Just a moment, please. I should like to have my own sayout first. I shall have to be brutal, I am afraid. In these mattersthere is nothing for it but frankness. Your infidelity has been commontalk for some time. The story of it first came to Betty's ears on theevening when she came to me two months ago. Since then there has beenbut one possible course."

  Jasper kept another silence, more difficult, however, than his last.His pallor was noticeable. "You say my--infidelity is common talk.There has been a name used?"

  "Your protegee from Wyoming--Jane West."

  Jasper was on his feet, and Woodward too rose, jerkily holding up ahand. "No excitement, please," he begged. "Let us conduct thisunfortunate interview like gentlemen, if possible."

  Jasper laughed. "As you say--if possible. Why, man, it was Betty whohelped me bring Miss West to New York, it was Betty who helped me toinstall her here, it was Betty who chose the furnishings for herapartment, who helped her buy her clothes, who engaged her maid, whogave her most of her training. This is the most preposterous, the mostfilthy perversion of the truth. Betty must know it better than any oneelse. Come, now, Woodward, there's something more in it than this?"Jasper had himself in hand, but it was easy now to see the effort itcost him. The veins of his forehead were swollen.

  "I shall not discuss the matter with you. Betty has excellentevidence, unimpeachable witnesses. There is no doubt in my mind, norin the minds of her lawyers, that she will win her suit and get herdivorce, her release. Of course, you will not contest--"

  Jasper stopped in his pacing which had begun to take the curious,circling, weaving form characteristic of him, and, standing now withhis head thrown back, he spoke sonorously.

  "Do you imagine for one instant, Kane,--does Betty imagine for oneinstant,--that I shall not contest?"

  This changed the look of cold pleasure in Woodward's eyes, which grewblank again. "Do you mean me to understand--Naturally, I took it forgranted that you would act as most gentlemen act under thecircumstances."

  "Then you have taken too much for granted, you and Betty. Ten yearsago your sister gave herself to me. She is mine. I will not for awhim, for a passion, for a temporary alienation, let her go. Neitherwill I have my good name and the name of a good woman besmirched forthe sake of this impertinent desire for a release. I love mywife"--his voice was especially Hebraic and especially abhorrent tothe other--"and as a husband I mean to keep her from the ruin thisdivorce would mean to her--"

  "Far from being her ruin, Morena, it would be the saving of her. Herruin was as nearly as possible brought about ten years ago, whenagainst the advice, against the wishes of every one who loved her, shemade her insane marriage with an underbred, commercial, and licentiousJew. She was seventeen and you seized your opportunity."

  Jasper had stepped close. He was a head taller and several inchesbroader of shoulder than his brother-in-law. "As long as you are in myhouse, don't insult me. I am, as you say, a Jew, and I am, as you say,of a commercial family. But I am not, I have never been licentious. Isit necessary to use such language? You suggested that this interviewbe conducted by us like gentlemen."

  "The man who refuses to give her liberty to a wife that loathes him,scarcely comes under the definition."

  "My ideas on the matter are different. We need not discuss them. Ifyou will let me read my wife's letter, I think that we can come to anend of this."

  Woodward unwillingly surrendered the small, gray envelope to aquivering, outs
tretched hand. Jasper turned away and stood near thelamp. But his excitement prevented him from reading. The angularwriting jumped before his eyes. At last, the words straightenedthemselves.

  I am glad that you have given me this opportunity to escape from a life that for a long time has been dreadful to me. Ten years ago I made a disaster of my life and yours. Forgive me if you can and let me escape. I will not see you again. Whatever you may have to say, please say it to Woodward. From now on he is my protector. In other matters there are my lawyers. It is absolutely not to be thought of that I should speak to you. I hope never to see you alone. I want you to hate me and this note ought to make it easy for you.

  Betty

  Jasper stared at the name. He was utterly bewildered, utterlystaggered, by the amazing dissimulation practiced by this small,soft-lipped, round-eyed girl who had lived with him for so long,sufficiently pliable, sufficiently agreeable. What was back of it all?Another man, of course. In imagination he was examining the faces ofhis acquaintances, narrowing his lids as though the real men passed inreview before him.

  "Perhaps you understand the situation better now?" asked Woodwardcruelly.

  Jasper's intense pain and humiliation gave him a sort of calm. Heseemed entirely cool when he moved back toward his brother-in-law; hiseyes were clear, the heat had gone from his temples. He was evensmiling a little, though there was a white, even frame to his lips.

  "I shall not write to Betty nor attempt to see her," he said quietly."But I shall ask you to take a message to her."

  Woodward assented.

  "Tell her she shall have her release, but to get it she will have towalk through the mire and there will be no one waiting for her on theother side. Can you remember that? Not even you will be there." He wasentirely self-assured so that Woodward felt a chill of dismay.

  "I shall contest the suit," went on Jasper, "and I believe that Ishall win it. You may tell Betty so if you like or she can wait tohear it from my lawyer." He put the envelope into his pocket, crossedthe room, and held back one of the crimson curtains of the door.

  "If you have nothing more to say," he smiled, "neither have I.Good-bye."

  He bowed slightly, and Woodward found himself passing before him insilence and some confusion. He stood for a moment in the hall and,having stammered his way to a cold "Good-afternoon," he put on his hatand went out.

  Jasper returned to the empty drawing-room and began his weaving march.

  Before he could begin his spinning which he hoped would entangle Bettyand leave her powerless for him to hold or to release at will, he mustgo to Jane West and tell her what trick life with his help had playedupon her. The prospect was bitterly distasteful. Jasper accusedhimself of selfishness. Because she cared nothing for the world, was acreature apart, he had let the world think what it would. He knew thatan askance look would not hurt her; for himself, secure in innocence,he did not care; for Betty, he had thought her cruelly certain of him.

  He went to Jane the day after his interview with Woodward Kane. It wasSunday afternoon. She was out, but came in very soon, and he stood upto meet her with an air of confusion and guilt.

  "What's the matter with you?" she asked, pulling her gloves from herlong hands.

  Her quickly observant eyes swept him. She walked to him and stoodnear. The frosty air was still about her and her face was lightlystung to color with exercise. Her wild eyes were startling under thebrim of her smart, tailored hat.

  Jasper put a hand on either of her shoulders and bent his head beforeher. "My poor child--if I'd only left you in your kitchen!"

  Joan tightened her lips, then smiled uncertainly. "You've got mescared," she said, stepped back and sat down, her hands in her muff."What is it?" she asked; and in that moment of waiting she was sicklyreminded of other moments in her life--of the nearing sound ofPierre's webs on a crystal winter night, of the sound of Prosper'sfootsteps going away from her up the mountain trail on a swordlike,autumn morning.

  Jasper began his pacing. Feeling carefully for delicate phrases, hetold her Betty's accusation, of her purpose.

  Joan took off her hat, pushed back the hair from her forehead; then,as he came to the end, she looked up at him. Her pupils were largerthan usual and the light, frosty tint of rose had left her cheeks.

  "Would you mind telling me that again?" she asked.

  He did so, more explicitly.

  "She thinks, Betty thinks, that I have been--that we have been--? Shethinks that of me? No wonder she hasn't been coming to see me!" Shestopped, staring blindly at him; then, "You must tell her it isn'ttrue," she said pitifully, and the quiver of her lips hurt him.

  "Ah! But she doesn't want to believe that, my dear. She wants tobelieve the worst. It is her opportunity to escape me."

  "Haven't you loved her? Have you hurt her?" asked Joan.

  "God knows I have loved her. I have never hurt her--consciously. Evenshe cannot think that I have."

  "Why must she blame me? Why do I have to be brought into this, Mr.Morena? Can't she go away from you? Why do the lawyers have to take itup? You are unhappy, and I am so sorry. But you wouldn't want her tostay if--if she doesn't love you?"

  "I want her. I mean to keep her or--break her." He turned his back tosay this and went toward the window. Joan, fascinated, watched hisfingers working into one another, tightening, crushing. "It's anotherman she wants," he said hoarsely, "and if I can prevent it, she shallnot have him. I will force her to keep her vows to me--force her. Ifit kills her, I'll break this passion, this fancy. I'll have herback--" He wheeled round, showing a twitching face. "I'll prove herinfidelity whether she's been unfaithful or not, and then I'll takeher back, after the world has given her one of its names--"

  "You don't love her," said Joan, very white. "You want to brand her."

  "By God!" swore the Jew, "and I will brand her. I'll brand her."

  He fumbled in his pocket and brought out the small envelope WoodwardKane had handed to him the day before. He stood turning the letterabout in his hands as though some such meaningless occupation was anecessity to him. Joan's eyes, falling upon the letter, widened andfixed.

  "She has written to me," said Jasper. "She wants her liberty. Shewants it in such a way that she will fly clear and I--yes, and you,too, will be left in the mud. There's a man somewhere, of course. Shethinks she has evidence, witnesses against me. I don't know whatrubbish she has got together. But I'm going to fight her. I'm going towin. I'll save you if I can, Jane; if not, of course I am at yourservice for any amends--"

  He stopped in his halting speech, for Joan had stood up and was movingacross the room, her eyes fastened on the letter in his hands. She hadthe air of a sleep-walker.

  She opened a drawer of her desk, took out an old tin box, once usedfor tobacco, and drew forth a small, gray envelope torn in two. Thenshe came back to him and said, "Let me see that letter," and he obeyedas though she had the right to ask.

  She took his letter and hers and compared the two, the small, graysquares lying unopened on her knee, and she spoke incomprehensibly.

  "Betty is 'the tall child,'" she said, and laughed with a catch in herbreath.

  Jasper looked at the envelopes. They were identical; Betty's graynote-paper crossed by Betty's angular, upright hand, very bold, veryblack. The torn envelope was addressed to Prosper Gael. Jasper tookit, opened each half, laid the parts together, and read:

  Jasper is dying. By the time you get this he will be dead. If you can forgive me for having failed you in courage last year, come back. What I have been to you before I will be again, only, this time, we can love openly. Come back.

  "Jane,"--Morena spoke brokenly,--"what does it mean?"

  "He built that cabin in Wyoming for her," said Joan, speaking asthough Jasper had seen the canyon hiding-place and known its history,"and she didn't come. He brought me there on his sled. I was hurt. Iwas terribly hurt. He took care of me--"

  "Prosper?" Jasper thrust
in. His face was drawn with excitement.

  "Yes. Prosper Gael. I was there with him for months. At first I wasn'tstrong enough to go away, and then, after a while, I tried. But I wastoo lonely and sorrowful. In the spring I loved him. I thought I lovedhim. He wanted me. I was all alone in the world. I didn't know that heloved another woman. I thought she was dead--like Pierre. Prosper hadclothes for her there. I suppose--I've thought it out since--that shewas to leave as if for a short journey, and then secretly go on thatlong one, and she couldn't take many things with her. So he hadbeautiful stuffs for her--and a little suit to wear in the snow.That's how I came to call her 'the tall child,' seeing that littlesuit, long and narrow.... This letter came one morning, one awfullybright morning. He read it and went out and the next day he went away.Afterwards I found the letter torn in two beside his desk on thefloor. I took it and I've always kept it. 'The tall child'! He lookedso terrible when I called her that.... And she was your Betty all thetime!"

  "Yes," said Morena slowly. "She was my Betty all the time." He gaveher a twisted smile and put the two papers carefully into an insidepocket. "I am going to keep this letter, Jane. Truly the ways of theLord are past finding out."

  Joan looked at him in growing uneasiness. Her mind, never quick totake in all the bearings and the consequences of her acts, wasbeginning to work. "What are you going to do with it, Mr. Morena? Idon't want you to do Betty a hurt. She must have loved Prosper Gael.Perhaps she still loves him."

  This odd appeal drew another difficult smile from Betty's husband."Quite obviously she still loves him, Jane. She is divorcing me sothat she can marry him."

  "But, Mr. Morena, I don't believe he will marry her now. He is tiredof her. He is that kind of lover. He gets tired. Now he would like tomarry me. He told me so. Perhaps--if Betty knew that--she might comeback to you, without your branding her."

  Jasper was startled out of his vengeful stillness.

  "Prosper Gael wants to marry you? He has told you so?"

  "Yes." She was sad and humbled. "_Now_ he wants to marry me and oncehe told me things about marrying. He said"--Joan quoted slowly, hereyes half-closed in Prosper's manner, her voice a musical echo of histhin, vibrant tone--"'It's man's most studied insult to woman.'"

  "Yes. That's Prosper," murmured Jasper.

  "I wouldn't marry him, Mr. Morena, even if I could--not if I were tobe--burnt for refusing him."

  Jasper looked probingly at her, a new speculation in his eyes. She hadbegun to fit definitely into his plans. It seemed there might be a wayto frustrate Betty and to keep a hold upon his valuable protegee."Are you so sure of that, Jane?"

  "Ah!" she answered; "you doubt it because I once thought I loved him?But you don't know all about me...."

  He stood silent, busy with his weaving. At last he looked at herrather blankly, impersonally. Joan was conscious of a frightened,lonely chill. She put out her hand uncertainly, a wrinkle appearingsharp and deep between her eyes.

  "Mr. Morena, please--I haven't any one but you. I don't understandvery well what this divorcing rightly means. Nor what they will do tome. Will you be thinking of me a little? I wouldn't ask it, for I knowyou are unhappy and bothered enough, but, you see--"

  He did not notice the hand. "It will come out right, Jane. Don'tworry," he said with absent gentleness. "Keep your mind on your work.I'll look out for your best interests. Be sure of that." He came nearto her, his hat in his hand, ready to go. "Try to forget all about it,will you?"

  "Oh, I can't do that. I feel sort of--burnt. Betty thinking--that! ButI'll do my work just the same, of course."

  She sighed heavily and sat, the unnoticed hand clasped in its fellow.

  When he had gone she called nervously for her maid. She had a hithertounknown dread of being alone. But when Mathilde, chosen by Betty, camewith her furtive step and treacherous eyes, Joan invented some dutyfor her. It occurred to her that Mathilde might be one of Betty'switnesses. For some time the girl's watchfulness and intrusions hadbecome irritatingly noticeable. And Morena was Joan's only frequentand informal visitor.

  "Mathilde thinks I am--_that_!" Joan said to herself; and afterwards,with a burst of weeping, "And, of course, that is what I am." Her pastsin pressed upon her and she trembled, remembering Pierre's wistful,seeking face. If he should find her now, he would find her branded,indeed--now he could never believe that she had indeed been innocentof guilt in the matter of Holliwell. Her father had first put a markupon her. Since then the world had only deepened his revenge.

  There followed a sleepless, dry, and aching night.