"I've been very unlucky lately; there isn't much over a hundred pounds in
the bank."
"How much shall we want?"
"Three or four hundred pounds at least. We won't take the boy with us, we
couldn't afford that; but I should like to pay a couple of quarters in
advance."
"That won't be much."
"Not if I have any luck. The luck must turn, and I have some splendid
information about the Great Ebor and the Yorkshire Stakes. Stack knows of
a horse or two that's being kept for Sandown. Unfortunately there is not
much doing in August. I must try to make up the money: it's a matter of
life and death."
It was for his very life that her husband was now gambling on the
race-course, and a sensation of very great wickedness came up in her mind,
but she stifled it instantly. William had noticed the look of fear that
appeared in her eyes, and he said--
"It's my last chance. I can't get the money any other way; and I don't
want to die yet awhile. I haven't been as good to you as I'd like, and I
want to do something for the boy, you know."
He had been told not to remain out after sundown, but he was resolved to
leave no stone unturned in his search for information, and often he
returned home as late as nine and ten o'clock at night coughing--Esther
could hear him all up the street. He came in ready to drop with fatigue,
his pockets filled with sporting papers, and these he studied, spreading
them on the table under the lamp, while Esther sat striving to do some
needlework. It often dropped out of her hands, and her eyes filled with
tears. But she took care that he should not see these tears; she did not
wish to distress him unnecessarily. Poor chap! he had enough to put up
with as it was. Sometimes he read out the horses' names and asked her
which she thought would win, which seemed to her a likely name. But she
begged of him not to ask her; they had many quarrels on this subject, but
in the end he understood that it was not fair to ask her. Sometimes Stack
and Journeyman came in, and they argued about weights and distances, until
midnight; old John came to see them, and every day he had heard some new
tip. It often rose to Esther's lips to tell William to back his fancy and
have done with it; she could see that these discussions only fatigued him,
that he was no nearer to the truth now than he was a fortnight ago.
Meanwhile the horse he had thought of backing had gone up in the betting.
But he said that he must be very careful. They had only a hundred pounds
left; he must be careful not to risk this money foolishly--it was his very
life-blood. If he were to lose all this money, he wouldn't only sign his
own death warrant, but also hers. He might linger on a long while--there
was no knowing, but he would never be able to do any work, that was
certain (unless he went out to Egypt); the doctor had said so, and then it
would be she who would have to support him. And if God were merciful
enough to take him off at once he would leave her in a worse plight than
he had found her in, and the boy growing up! Oh, it was terrible! He
buried his face in his hands, and seemed quite overcome. Then the cough
would take him, and for a few minutes he could only think of himself.
Esther gave him a little milk to drink, and he said--
"There's a hundred pounds left, Esther. It isn't much, but it's something.
I don't believe that there's much use in my going to Egypt. I shall never
get well. It is better that I should pitch myself into the river. That
would be the least selfish way out of it."
"William, I will not have you talk in that way," Esther said, laying down
her work and going over to him. "If you was to do such a thing I should
never forgive you. I could never think the same of you."
"All right, old girl, don't be frightened. I've been thinking too much
about them horses, and am a bit depressed. I daresay it will come out all
right. I think that Mahomet is sure to win the Great Ebor, don't you?"
"I don't think there's no better judge than yourself. They all say if he
don't fall lame that he's bound to win."
"Then Mahomet shall carry my money. I'll back him to-morrow."
Now that he had made up his mind what horse to back his spirits revived.
He was able to dismiss the subject from his mind, and they talked of other
things, of their son, and they laid projects for his welfare. But on the
day of the race, from early morning, William could barely contain himself.
Usually he took his winnings and losings very quietly. When he had been
especially unlucky he swore a bit, but Esther had never seen any great
excitement before a race was run. The issues of this race were
extraordinary, and it was heart-breaking to see him suffer; he could not
remain still a moment. A prey to all the terrors of hope, exhausted with
anticipation, he rested himself against the sideboard and wiped drops of
sweat from his forehead. A broiling sunlight infested their window-panes,
the room grew oven-like, and he was obliged at last to go into the back
parlour and lie down. He lay there in his shirt sleeves quite exhausted,
hardly able to breathe; the arm once so strong and healthy was shrunken to
a little nothing. He seemed quite bloodless, and looking at him Esther
could hardly hope that any climate would restore him to health. He just
asked her what the time was, and said, "The race is being run now." A few
minutes after he said, "I think Mahomet has won. I fancied I saw him get
first past the post." He spoke as if he were sure, and said nothing about
the evening paper. If he were disappointed, Esther felt that it would kill
him, and she knelt down by the bedside and prayed that God would allow the
horse to win. It meant her husband's life, that was all she knew. Oh, that
the horse might win! Presently he said, "There's no use praying, I feel
sure it is all right. Go into the next room, stand on the balcony so that
you may see the boy coming along."
A pale yellow sky rose behind the brick neighbourhood, and with agonised
soul the woman viewed its plausive serenity. There seemed to be hope in
its quietness. At that moment the cry came up, "Win-ner, Win-ner." It came
from the north, from the east, and now from the west. Three boys were
shouting forth the news simultaneously. Ah, if it should prove bad news!
But somehow she too felt that the news was good. She ran to meet the boy.
She had a half-penny ready in her hand; he fumbled, striving to detach a
single paper from the quire under his arm. Seeing her impatience, he said,
"Mahomet's won." Then the pavement seemed to slide beneath her feet, and
the setting sun she could hardly see, so full was her heart, so burdened
with the happiness that she was bringing to the poor sick fellow who lay
in his shirt sleeves on the bed in the back room. "It's all right," she
said. "I thought so too; it seemed like it." His face flushed, life seemed
to come back. He sat up and took the paper from her. "There," he said,
"I've got my place-money, too. I hope Stack and Journeyman come in
tonight. I'd like to have a chat about this. Come, give me a kiss, dear.
I'm not going to die, after all. It isn't a pleasant thing to think that
you must die, that there's no hope for you, that you must go under
ground."
The next thing to do was to pick the winner of the Yorkshire Handicap. In
this he was not successful, but he backed several winners at Sandown Park,
and at the close of the week had made nearly enough to take him to Egypt.
The Doncaster week, however, proved disastrous. He lost most of his
winnings, and had to look forward to retrieving his fortunes at Newmarket.
"The worst of it is, if I don't make up the money by October, it will be
no use. They say the November fogs will polish me off."
Between Doncaster and Newmarket he lost a bet, and this bet carried him
back into despondency. He felt it was no use struggling against fate.
Better remain in London and be taken away at the end of November or
December; he couldn't last much longer than that. This would allow him to
leave Esther at least fifty pounds to go on with. The boy would soon be
able to earn money. It would be better so. No use wasting all this money
for the sake of his health, which wasn't worth two-pence-three-farthings.
It was like throwing sovereigns after farthings. He didn't want to do any
betting; he was as hollow as a shell inside, he could feel it. Egypt could
do nothing for him, and as he had to go, better sooner than later. Esther
argued with him. What should she have to live for if he was taken from
her. The doctors had said that Egypt might set him right. She didn't know
much about such things, but she had always heard that it was extraordinary
how people got cured out there.
"That's true," he said. "I've heard that people who couldn't live a week
in England, who haven't the length of your finger of lung left, can go on
all right out there. I might get something to do out there, and the boy
might come out after us."
"That's the way I like to hear you talk. Who knows, at Newmarket we might
have luck! Just one big bet, a winner at fifty to one, that's all we
want."
"That's just what has been passing in my mind. I've got particular
information about the Cesarewitch and Cambridgeshire. I could get the
price you speak of--fifty to one against the two, Matchbox and
Chasuble--the double event, you know. I'm inclined to go it. It's my last
chance."