She answered him somewhat listlessly. "Yes, I suppose so."
"She'll have to decide on something soon," he observed.
Maud bit her lip. The thought of going to her mother again was wholly repugnant to her. She marvelled that he did not see it.
"I am sure she won't come and live in this place," she said, after a moment,
"She can please herself," said Jake imperturbably.
That was to be his attitude then. They were to please themselves. He had withdrawn his control over her actions. An evil spirit suddenly whispered to her that he would even have left her in Saltash's keeping had she not called to him to deliver her. She shook off the poisonous thought; but it had been there. He had been kind--more than kind--to her. She forced herself to dwell upon his kindness. But his present indifference was even more obvious. He was engrossed in his work. He had thought only for his animals. Plainly it was a matter of small importance to him if she went or stayed.
He finished his breakfast and got up. "Well, so long!" he said. "I may not get back before nightfall. I have to go over to Graydown."
She scarcely acknowledged his words, and he did not wait for any acknowledgment. He took up his riding-whip and went out. Chops looked round at her doubtfully and followed him.
The door closed upon them. And suddenly Maud leaned upon the table and hid her face. This was to be her life then--the unspeakable dreariness of a loveless home. She had thought he loved her. She had thought! She had thought! And now she saw that it began and ended with mere kindness, and possibly a sense of duty. His passion for her--that fiery, all-mastering desire--had burnt itself out, and there was nothing left. An unutterable weariness came upon her. Oh, she was tired--she was tired of life!
It was then that in some mystic fashion that voice which she had once heard spoke again in her soul. "The spark is ours for the kindling--the power to love--the power to create love...."