The Butcher Shop

by Jean Devanny

  But he was conventional, of a pattern with the world of men as he knew it. He saw his own actions as Tutaki and others would see them. The right way for the woman was for him the blackguardly way. He could not blind himself, in those moments of honest self-communion, to the fact that she would never leave the children; would never deprive the other man of them nor them of their father. He knew now how they loved their father; he saw by now how fine the other man must be by his reflection mirrored in his wife and children. The issue for him was plain. He grasped at it fiercely, to wrestle with it and be done. Once his path was chosen— To give her up entirely and merit his own and Tutaki’s respect (unconsciously Tutaki had assumed in his mind the dimensions of the world at large), or carry on in secret with his mind a cesspit of guilt and shame?

  He was stumbling back towards the house in the darkness, still undecided, when he again met Tutaki, who had been attending to a sick dog. He lurched up against him. Before he had not replied one word to the brown man’s accusation. What prompted him to speak now? Perhaps a desire to excuse himself; perhaps a wild hope that the other man had not understood, and might modify his indictment somewhat. Tutaki had spoken as though believing him to be a common marauder. (Glengarry had forgotten his mad outrage of that first night: he remembered only her freely given embraces since.) He lurched against Tutaki and flung at him: “She loves me! Do you hear? She loves me as much as I love her. I’m no common seducer!”

  The other answered him softly. “That is all the more reason why you should protect her. She is weak. You must protect her against herself. There are the children to consider.”

  Worse still! No help, no escape from that bedrock issue. He stood on the lawn watching her through the uncovered windows and fought it out. He knew that she was waiting for him. Her face was hidden from him, but he could see her restless movements. Until the clock struck ten; thereafter she sat still. At half-past ten she rose from her chair and stood for some time with clasped hands looking down. Her whole aspect betokened profound trouble. The man had moved close to the windows. He saw her clearly. Then she made a slow move to leave the room. He lifted the window catch and pushed one door open. She flung round, radiant on the instant and clasped her hands upon her breast. “I thought you were not coming,” she breathed. “Why, oh why were you so long to-night?”

  He was merciless. He had to be. Straight to the point he plunged, giving no quarter because he dared not. “Look here, my dear, Messenger comes home to-morrow, so we are going to cut it.”

  Her hands dropped to her sides, her eyelids fluttered. She heard the rush of blood from her head and limbs; she felt it congeal there and become a leaden weight. “What do you mean?”

  “What I say. Your husband returns to-morrow. That’s the end of this business.”

  She looked around wildly for support. Every word was like a physical blow. He saw she was about to fall, and leapt to her. He lifted her to an arm-chair. She leaned back with closed eyes trying to think. He dropped on his knees beside her and pressed his face against her. She heard him groan. It revived her. She opened her eyes, ruffled his hair with her fingers, then leant over and crushed him to her. “Why did you frighten me so? Why say such terrible things? You nearly killed me.”

  He drew away from her embrace. “It is true. It has got to end. I couldn’t be such a blackguard.”

  She thought quietly. “I don’t understand you, quite. Would you feel a blackguard to love me when Barry was home?”

  “Yes, I would be a blackguard. I’ll go away as soon as I can decently manage it.”

  “Go away! Go away! Oh no, never that! Never that! I should die!”

  “Well, what else? Oh, Margaret, come with me! Come away with me! I can’t live without you!”

  “That is impossible,” she answered quietly. “You know that. Let me think.”

  The woman strove to get his point of view, fought to make him see her own. She succeeded. His conventional reasoning nauseated her. “According to your reasoning I have no right to have a say in this matter at all. What I think, what I feel, has no claim to consideration with you.”

  “You are married,” he urged. “You have a husband and children.”

  “I have also a human heart, which is filled with love for you. You think that my married state gives my husband and my children the power of life and death over me. What am I, then? What am I in your eyes, eh? A machine, just the female of the species to be caged up, a breeding animal denied even the right to choose my own mate! Get away! You outrage my womanhood!” She pushed him back.

  He rose to his feet and stood looking down on her in perplexed misery. She softened. “Why, dear, even the courts of law would not be so barbarous. And as for Barry— You don’t know Barry.”

  “What about Barry? What do you think Barry would say to this affair?” he asked curiously.

  “Barry would think only of me. I know it. He would think of nothing but self-sacrifice. And that is why he is not to know.”

  “Yes, that is just it. You realise that he could never share you with another man, don’t you? He would sacrifice himself for your happiness! What about me? You think you can make love to me and keep Barry in ignorance, but you can’t keep me in ignorance of the fact that you are living with him. I can’t share you, either.”

  She stared at him wide-eyed. “That is another point of view. That is not what you said before. I don’t see why you should mind Barry. He is my husband. (He laughed grimly.) You know my situation. You must make the best of it. You are not very reasonable.”

  “Reasonable! Are you a child to talk of reason in relation to things of this kind? I can’t make you out, anyhow. How you can go on living with him when you love me as you do beats me.”

  She regarded him intently. “Don’t you know?” She leant towards him earnestly. “If you can’t imagine why, I don’t think I can make you understand. I’m sure Barry would understand were he in your place.”

  He moved impatiently, and his voice was full of jealousy. “Oh, yes, of course he would. You are always throwing your Barry at me. I wonder you give a thought to me when such a paragon is at your feet.”

  Her brows contracted. “Don’t, Glen, that is not fair.” She rose. “I wish I had not loved you. Now for the first time I wish you had not come here. You are going to make it hard. I can see that you are going to create difficulties where none exist. You know how involved my situation is. Certain duties I must perform or become a bad woman. To place my own happiness before the welfare of my children would be unthinkable, criminal. But I have a right to my happiness if I can get it without harming others. Every woman must have the right to consummate the greatest love of her life.” She paused, thinking. And Glengarry stared at her in wonder at her beauty. She looked virginal, somehow. He knew that her mind was virginal. How many times had she shamed him for his grossness? She turned her eyes on him and asked: “Am I a bad or a good influence, for you?”

  “Good! Good!” he answered quickly. Then took her hand and kissed it. “Oh, Margaret, I appreciate the honour you have done me. Surely you know that. But now I must play the man. I must protect you in spite of yourself.”

  She smiled faintly. “How protect me, Glen? By killing me? You have the chance to make me happy. You know how happy I have been lately, don’t you? And because I have been happy my children and all around me have been happy too. This can continue. Of course we must restrain ourselves. We cannot see much of each other alone, but there will always be the chance to keep us happy, and we can feel secure in each other’s love. On the other hand you can ‘protect’ me. You can go away from me; take the sunshine out of my life and leave me a wrecked woman. This love I feel for you is—is all of me. It is the best thing in me, the grandest thing in my life. It would be my pride to keep it clean. And you, Glen, you have many nasty little habits and faults. I hope to eradicate them and make you the cleanest man.”

  She smiled at him.

  He braced himself unconsciously. Always she had th
at effect upon him now. His first attitude of “bossiness” had departed. Once he had told her ruefully that she would make a saint of the devil himself. For mere virtue’s sake she had taught him self-control, and he had found his reward in the exquisite bounty of her love when at last given.

  “Come, Glen, will you leave me?” She stood smiling into his eyes.

  “I feel, Margaret, that I should go.” He spoke very slowly. “I can’t trust myself.” He flung away from her and walked quickly up and down the room, then stopped in front of her again. “I can’t trust myself. I would do anything in the world for you, but—” He finished fiercely—”if I saw another man fondling you I believe I would kill him.”

  She was completely disconcerted. They could only stare at each other hopelessly. Then anger flared up within her. She beat her breasts with her hands. “Why? Why? Oh, you men! Are you all grossness and brutality and jealousy? What is this jealousy that it makes men mad?” She began to cry.

  He was unmanned; against his better judgment he gave in. Her tears drew the very heart out of him. She became submissive. “If you must go, Glen, I’ll try to bear it. I’ll try, but I know I’ll die.”

  What man could have resisted? Reason could not have moved him. Stark naked feeling could refute the results of the finest reasoning but her tears, her submissiveness! His defences crumbled in a twinkling. He was left with none. “I’ll never leave you, Margaret, if you want me. I swear it. But you know that people will guess. There will be talk. Tutaki knows now.”

  “But they will be loyal to me, Glen, I’m sure. Oh, Glen, I feel I’m right. I know I’m right. If there is any part of God in me that part is speaking now. We are before all things human beings. My womanhood demands its right. We have only a few years to live. We come on the earth through no wish of our own, and go off it the same. We are such infinitesimal things, we poor little humans, and yet so colossal is our vanity that we even dare to lord it over the instinct of Creation.

  “You like to think that you are trying to be good, don’t you, dear? You like to think that you are trying to be manly and protect me, when what you are really doing is waging the sex-war; you have tried to conserve the rights of the male over the female; despite your love, you have been taking sides with your sex because, unconsciously, you realised the danger to male prerogatives if the female is allowed to assume the attributes of a human being, of your equal.

  “Oh, you need not stare so. I can see it. Your goodness is all a sham, Glen. You are only—only what Jack London calls class-conscious. You love me, but you regard me, nevertheless, as an inferior. Never mind protesting. I know that you don’t realise it. You are not too intelligent. I found that out long ago. (She caressed him to take the sting out of her words.) You know that I, the individual, am your equal, but you can’t separate the individual from the class. As woman I must submit myself to the man who is my keeper, for the sake of preserving male prerogatives. You, by encroaching upon another man’s preserves, felt yourself a traitor to your class. I see; I see. I have learned a lot to-night. Really you are my enemy— All men are my enemies.”

  CHAPTER XV

  An early train brought Messenger to Taihape at noonday. Margaret was at the station with the three eldest children to meet him. She had felt very tired that morning, but as the train boisterously rushed up to the station a curious excitement stirred her. Was it only a few weeks since Barry left her? It seemed years.

  The other man never left her thoughts for a moment, even while she eagerly looked for her husband’s descent from the train. There he was! The children saw him and, regardless of the crowd, made a tumultuous rush for him. But Margaret saw that even while he embraced them his eyes were searching for her.

  After all, she was really glad to see him. How pleased she was to find it so! She had been frightened, though she had not admitted it to herself up till now. His image had become a little dimmed in her mind’s eye; she had given no thought at all to the man; he had been an abstraction, round which her considerations had revolved. But when his eyes searched for her while his arms embraced his children, Barry the man made fresh impact with her. She experienced a thrill of real gladness and hurried to him. There was nothing lacking in her greeting. “Dear man! Dear man! It is good to see you again!”

  He was her friend of ten years’ standing; the companion of her bed, her table, and her innermost thoughts. All the intimacies of their life together swarmed upon her to make her greeting pregnant with the affection which such intimacies must beget. The other man was there, too, all the time, but this loyal, true friend who had fathered her children, who had stood beside the cradle with her and helped nurse those children through their baby ailments, who had laughed and cried and quarrelled with her, this friend could never be displaced in her esteem, could never suffer loss of her affection.

  She felt for Messenger just what she had felt before he left her and the other came into her life: friendship, affection, and a vast respect. He was of a piece with the part her children played in her life.

  She saw nothing of Glengarry till lunch-time of the following day. He sent word in with Tutaki at teatime to say that he was busy with stock at the far paddock, and would sleep that night at the drover’s hut there. Margaret divined that he was keeping away until Messenger’s return was a commonplace. More understanding after the confidences of the previous night, she had decided to guard her attitude towards Barry before Glengarry. She was thankful now that Barry was never demonstrative before others.

  How glad Tutaki was to see his friend! And to note Margaret’s attitude towards her husband. All sorts of things he had been imagining. He was puzzled but elated beyond measure. A temporary lapse, that was all it must have been, born of her husband’s absence. Now Messenger was home again it would be all right. That “bounder” would be put in his place. Funny, how even the best of women— But there, surely even the best of women could be pardoned an occasional slip; and certainly the fellow was a “good looker.” Jimmy forgave her entirely now that he saw her attitude towards her husband, his friend. He found his lost boyhood, and filled the room with laughter at his quips and cranks.

  Margaret’s heart was away over the paddocks with her lover, but nevertheless she felt happy, for her lover would return, and here she had her babies and her two dearly loved friends. She was proud of Barry, proud of her beautiful children.

  As soon as tea was over, Tutaki, she, and Barry went on to the lawn, and while the children romped their elders talked of the farm. “And how do you like the new man, Jimmy? What’s his name? Er—yes, Glengarry?”

  “He is a splendid man for the job,” said Jimmy scrupulously, while Margaret hung on his words. “The best you could get.” He entered into a narration of Glengarry’s methods and the work that had been done during Messenger’s absence. “Oh, and he has broken the bay foal,” he finished up.

  “Yes, my wife told me so in a letter,” said Barry, who had listened quietly in his thoughtful way. He turned to Margaret. “You like him, eh?”

  “Yes, Barry, very much,” she said straightly. “He is a gentleman. He is very like you, in manner and appearance.” She laughed and affectionately linked her arm in his. “I like him very, very much.”

  He smiled into her eyes. He was used to her exuberant likings. “Of course you do. You always like people very, very much, don’t you? Do you ever dislike anyone, Margaret?”

  “Of course. I’ll dislike Jimmy very, very much if he continues to scowl at me like that.”

  Tutaki’s ugly face flushed darkly. “Was I scowling at you? I didn’t mean to. Glengarry’s a good man at his work, Barry, but I don’t like him, and that’s flat.”

  “No? Why?”

  “Can’t say. These things are instinctive.”

  “I must say that I was rather taken with the chap myself, and if the lady here likes him—well and good.” Messenger pressed the white, strong hand that rested upon his arm. “But it is rather strange that he selected to-day for working at the far p
addock. I expected him to be here to report to me to-night. The wool sales were particularly good again. We’ve made a lot of money, my dear. Mostly German buyers. I want to consult with Glengarry about a new grade of wool. He might know something about it.”

  “Well, he’s a funny beggar, that’s all I can say. But I suppose we are all funny in some way.” Jimmy was reluctantly fair.

  “You are talking nonsense, Jimmy,” said Margaret impatiently. “He is not funny at all. You will like him, Barry. I know you will. But never mind him any more. You are not to talk any more business to-night. To-night belongs to me and the kiddies. How do you think Harry is looking?”

  Barry knocked the ashes from his pipe and put it in his pocket. “For sure the night is yours. I ask nothing better. I think Harry looks particularly well, and as for you, you are positively blooming. What have you been doing to her, Jimmy, while I’ve been away?”

  Jimmy laughed ruefully, without answering.

  Sunday morning turned out sunny and calm. After breakfast Messenger excused himself to Margaret on the ground that he intended riding out to the far paddock to see what Glengarry was up to.

  Margaret was glad to have the two meet in her absence and in the open air. She knew the value of the open to ravelled nerves. She went out to the yards and saw Barry off, and then happily took the children to visit at Chief Tutaki’s house.

  Glengarry’s work at the far paddock had happened to be necessary. A buyer had notified him that he would arrive at Maunganui early Monday morning and pick up two hundred fat stock if the station could let him have them. So Glengarry, counting the order as most opportune, had gone out to select the stock.