_A LITTLE CLOUD._
"My dear, you are charming--perfect. I own that I have had
misgivings: but you have proved yourself the best judge. My own
treasured Madame could not have turned you out better. I am
delighted with you. Now you need not blush at a compliment from a
sister, not but what it is a remarkably becoming blush."
"Now Beatrice--please----"
"My dear child, if you think to stop my tongue, or to curb my freedom
of speech, you are attempting an utter impossibility, as your husband
will tell you, if you still take the trouble to apply to him for
information. Well, Odeyne, I hope you will enjoy your first
introduction to society. You must expect to have your measure taken
pretty freely by all the company, who are more or less dying of
curiosity to see Desmond's bride: but at least your appearance defies
criticism. It is as quaint and delicious and altogether charming as
your name, which nobody has ever heard before."
Odeyne was standing before Beatrice, in one of the
elegantly-appointed rooms of Rotherham Park, the country residence of
the Hon. Algernon Vanborough. It was the first dinner-party which
had been given in honour of the bride, and Odeyne felt a little
excited, and perhaps a trifle nervous too, at the prospect of facing
a fashionable assemblage, met together in her honour, though
fortunately for her she was not either self-conscious or shy. The
long straight folds of her white silk wedding-dress hung in severely
classical lines about her slight, well-proportioned figure, giving it
additional height and grace. The dress was absolutely plain, without
a particle of trimming, and had originally been high to the throat
and wrists. Since then Alice's deft fingers had cut a small square
in front and arranged a high Medicis collar at the back, whilst the
sleeves were now short to the elbow and finished off with delicate
lace ruffles. Odeyne wore no ornaments save the string of
pearls--Beatrice's wedding gift--round her neck, and a spray of
stephanotis and maidenhair fern fastened on her shoulder. Starry
white blossoms nestled in her dusky hair, which was piled up on the
top of her head. She possessed a marked individuality of her own
that was not lost upon Beatrice. Not only was she decidedly
beautiful, but she had an air of distinction--a thing of which Mrs.
Vanborough thought a great deal more.
Odeyne and her husband had come early, a good hour before other
dinner guests were likely to arrive. The young wife had taken a
liking to Beatrice, more because she found her so easy to get on
with, than for any great similarity in taste or feeling: and then
there was no doubt that Beatrice liked her--which was more than she
could say with certainty of the rest of Desmond's near relatives; and
it is easy under such circumstances to entertain warm feelings.
Odeyne was eager to like her husband's people and make herself one of
them, but Maud's coldness repelled her, whilst there was something in
the air and manner of the mother which always had the effect of
jarring on her sensibilities, though she could never exactly tell why.
So Beatrice was a pleasant contrast, and she had accepted the
brother's wife as a sister from the first. Desmond, too, liked his
sister's house far better than his mother's, and was always ready to
ride or drive across, or to ask them over to the Chase. Odeyne had
seen Beatrice quite a number of times already, and the small amount
of natural constraint she had felt at first was rapidly vanishing
away. It was certainly rather hard to feel constrained with
Beatrice, unless she intended you to be so.
As they turned to go downstairs together, Odeyne paused and said--
"Please may we go to the nursery first? I have not seen the boy for
such a long time."
Beatrice laughed as she answered--
"Do you say that because you really wish to go, or because you think
it will please me to pretend you do?"
"I say it because I want it. I think it bores you to go to your
nursery, Beatrice, but I can quite well go alone. I know the way by
this time."
Again Beatrice laughed, shaking her head.
"Your candour is delightful, and your eyes are sharp. Take care that
the combination does not get you into trouble one of these fine days,
fair sister. But I will go with you. You have a happy knack of not
boring me with your admiration of the boy. You do not expect me to
drivel over him, and really I cannot stoop to that."
The nursery was dimly lighted, cool and empty. The rosy, beautiful
boy lay sleeping in his cot, with one round, fat arm flung over his
head. Odeyne bent over him and kissed him many times, a strange
thrill running through her as she did so. It seemed such a holy and
beautiful and wonderful thing to have a little innocent child all
one's own. She felt that if such a life should some day be given to
her, as a gift from heaven, she would hardly know how to prize or
cherish it enough.
"Oh, Beatrice," she said, lifting herself up at last, "how good it
must make you try to be, to have a darling like that to think for! I
think it must be a great help, though of course it is a great anxiety
too."
Her sister-in-law regarded her with a look of speculative curiosity,
in which amusement and something not altogether removed from sadness
were strangely blended.
"A help?" she repeated questioningly. "In what way?"
"Oh, you must know, you must feel it. Think how sad it would be if
one's own children saw the least thing to make them lose confidence
in one. I know if I had seen mother or father doing wrong, or being
careless or frivolous, it would have felt as if the very foundations
of the world were giving way. Don't you know what I mean? I think
you must. There are so many temptations in life, but nothing would
help to keep us clear of them like the thought that we might be
setting a bad example to the children who trusted us. It would be
too dreadful to think that we had perhaps given the first impetus in
a wrong direction."
And Odeyne's face was turned upon her companion with a depth of sweet
seriousness upon it that for once seemed to silence the lively
Beatrice.
"Well, dear, suppose we go down now," she said, after a little pause.
"Your ideas are beautiful--almost too beautiful for daily wear, I
fear--never mind, you shall set us all an example one of these days.
No, I am not laughing at you, I verily believe you will; though
whether we follow it is quite another matter. Ah, here is Maud, come
in good time also. Well, I will leave you together, and go down, for
people may be coming any time now, and Algy is always fussing over
the wine till the very last moment."
Beatrice's dinner was a great success--most of her entertainments
were--for both she and her husband possessed the knack of getting the
right people together, and entertaining them well.
Odeyne was the person of greatest importance that night, and she made
quite a little social success, which she enjoyed in the fresh,
spontaneous way of a young thing, to whom everything was new and
delightful.
She saw that Desmond was pleased with her, and with everything, and
that added to her enjoyment; and then the talk was so bright and
lively, there was such sparkle and wit in the sallies and retorts,
that the girl was quite taken out of herself, and found it all most
entertaining; nor was she herself by any means a cypher either, but
showed that she could talk with a spice of originality that delighted
her neighbours. She was so fresh and bright and unsophisticated,
without being silly, that all were taken with her, and it was said on
all hands that the new Mrs. St. Claire was going to be an addition to
the county.
So the dinner and the first part of the evening passed off
delightfully, and it was only after the gentlemen joined the ladies
later on in the drawing-room that anything occurred to mar the
pleasure of what had gone before.
Odeyne gathered from the talk in the drawing-room that the Goodwood
races, which had hitherto been but a name to her, were shortly coming
off, and that everyone talked as if all were going as the veriest
matter-of-course.
So far Desmond had not mentioned the matter to his wife, and Odeyne
was a little surprised that Beatrice should speak of her going as if
it were a settled thing.
The girl had never seen a race in her life, and she thought it must
be a very pretty sight.
At the same time she felt a misgiving as to whether her parents would
altogether like her to be there, and she wondered if there could be
anything wrong about it, for all these people evidently meant to go,
and saw no harm in it.
Beatrice looked at her once or twice as the conversation proceeded,
as if to see how it affected her; but Odeyne was not one to air her
opinions too freely, especially when she was uncertain of her ground,
and she had implicit confidence in her husband's judgment. He would
never take her to any place she ought not to be seen at.
Desmond seemed in a very lively mood when he came in. He stood
beside his wife's chair, as though he liked to feel her near; but he
continued his conversation with the men about him, and though Odeyne
listened to every word, she found that she understood very little.
It seemed to be about horses and racing, and that was about all she
made out. Sometimes note-books were produced, and entries
made--Desmond himself made a good many--but she did not understand
what it was about, and was half ashamed of the feeling of uneasiness
which came over her as she watched and listened.
But before long the carriage was announced, and they took their
departure; and when she was once alone with her husband, felt his arm
about her waist, and heard his tender words of playful praise for the
impression she had made on the neighbourhood that night, she felt
perfectly happy again. He would never do the least thing that was
wrong; and, indeed, her confidence was such that she was not afraid
to put the question to him direct when they had got home, and were
sitting together for a chat before retiring for the night.
"Desmond, what were you all doing with your note-books just now?" she
said, laying her hand caressingly on his coat-sleeve; "it looked
almost as if you were betting together. What was it?"
"Well, you might have made a worse shot, little wifie; did you never
hear of fellows laying a little money upon coming events?" and he
laughed at his little pleasantry.
"But, Desmond, I thought it was wrong to bet."
He stooped and kissed her grave face.
"So it can be, darling--very wrong indeed, as some men do it; but not
as your husband does. You may trust me, my sweet, never to cross the
line that divides a little innocent fun from what verges on actual
fraud and roguery. Why, what a serious face, to be sure! What is
the matter, Odeyne?"
"I--I hardly know how to say it, Desmond; you know it is not that I
do not trust you--I know you would never do anything really wrong.
But I cannot help thinking it would be so much better not to bet at
all. You admit yourself that it can be very wrong indeed, and don't
you think in such a case it is safer to leave it alone altogether?"
His pleasant smile beamed like sunshine over his face. It was almost
enough in itself to dissipate her fears.
"My good, little, prudent wife, you speak with great seeming wisdom,
but with a good deal of inexperience too. We live in a world where,
unfortunately, every good thing and every pleasant thing is not only
used, but abused also--very shamefully abused in many cases; but that
is hardly a reason for not making a legitimate use of them. We
cannot cease clothing ourselves because sweaters' dens exist, nor can
we all feel it necessary to give up our glass of wine or beer because
some men will persist in getting drunk. We have to buy horses, even
though we know that dealers are cheating us, and we should have to
live in glass cases, and never do a thing, if we were to be deterred
by the thought that we were unconsciously encouraging vice in some
form or another in the actions of our daily lives. We can only take
care that all we do ourselves is upright and honest, and leave the
rest. We cannot possibly stop the evil in the world, but if we set a
good example of temperance in all things, and just and upright
dealing, we are doing good in a way--and nowhere is such temperate
example more needed than on the racecourse."
Odeyne was silent. She had hardly given these matters a thought in
her past life, they had been so utterly removed from her range of
vision. She felt that there was a flaw in Desmond's specious
argument, but hardly knew how to detect or expose it. As her silence
did not appear to be of quite a consenting kind, Desmond continued
his little discourse.
"You see, Odeyne, it does not do for a man to make himself peculiar.
If he does, he at once loses all influence over his friends, and is
put down at once as a milksop or a fool. I live amongst a very nice
set of fellows, I know their ways and like them, and we thoroughly
understand one another. Everyone admits that it is a right and
proper thing to spend a certain amount of one's income in amusement;
and so long as this sum can be well afforded, and is never exceeded,
there can be no reason alleged against spending it as one wishes. If
it amuses me to risk a few pounds over a little bet with a fellow,
just as well off as myself, what earthly harm can it do? We can both
of us afford to lose, and if I win his money one day, he will win
mine the next, and so in the long run things are pretty much where
they were, and we have had our little bit of fun. You wouldn't think
anything of playing a game for counters; and really, when one has a
little margin in money to throw about in that sort of way, there's
precious little difference that I can see. I admit that a man who
tries to get his living by betting is likely enough to turn rascal,
and, of course, it is simple idiocy the way clerks and fellows of
that class are betting nowadays. But, as I said before, with that we
have nothing to do. What I do promise, little wife, is that you
shall never have any cause to be anxious on my account; but to say I
would never lay a pound on a favourite horse would be absurd. We
should be the laughing-stock of the whole place, and lose every scrap
of influence we might otherwise possess. The moment you put yourself
on to an entirely different plane from the rest of your world, from
that moment your power ceases; and I should be really sorry to lose
what influence I have with Algernon Vanborough, for he is disposed to
be very reckless, and for poor Beatrice's sake I should be most
reluctant to cut myself off from the chance of keeping him steadier.
He is a very good fellow, and will listen to advice now; but if he
thought I had 'turned Puritan,' as he would call it, he would never
listen to another word I had to say."
Even then it was some time before Odeyne answered, and her words were
prefaced by a sigh.
"Well, Desmond, perhaps you know best, but I am sorry, for I can't
like it, or feel quite as you do. I know so little about these
things that I can't argue--I have no facts to go upon--only a vague
feeling that it can hardly be right to encourage any amusement that
leads to so much sin and misery. It isn't the racing itself I mean.
I think it must be a splendid sight to see the beautiful, strong
horses run. If you like me to go with you to Goodwood, or anywhere
else like that, I would go directly. But I do wish you would not
bet--I have such a strong feeling against it, though to you perhaps
it seems a foolish one. It seems to me almost like stealing, to take
another man's money without earning it--and you say yourself that it
is roguery in lots and lots of people. I'm afraid I don't quite see
the difference. How can what is wrong in one case be right in
another? The degree of wrong, I can see, may differ, but in kind it
is the same; it is still a wrong."
"Well, dearest, I suppose I can hardly expect you, with your training
and antecedents, to take any but a rather narrow view of such a
complicated and difficult question. I admit that it is a very
difficult one, and that your heroic remedy, if it could be enforced,
would doubtless do an immense amount of good; but then, unluckily, it
can't. We have to take the world as we find it, not as we should
like it to be; and under these circumstances we have to accept a good
deal of evil with it. Believe me, darling, that I am really acting
for the best in not rushing to extremes either in one direction or
another. I have seen as much harm done by the one extreme as by the
other, and I am convinced that a middle course is the wisest and
best, as well as the kindest to Beatrice. You will try to trust me,
Odeyne, and believe that I act for the best?"
"I will try, dear Desmond," she answered with one of her tenderest
glances. "You know that I trust you. But when a thing seems
dangerous to one's self, it is always difficult to be convinced that
the danger is imaginary. And you know, dear, if you do not mind my
saying it, it can never be really right to do evil that good may
come."
His answer was a smile. Desmond was never angry--least of all with
his young wife, whom he so tenderly loved. Of course it was just
what was to be expected from her, a little fear at first, and a few
words of remonstrance; but she would soon learn that the danger was
purely imaginary, and cease to dread it, and he would never give her
one hour of real anxiety. He had had his lesson young, whilst still
a mere lad. He had suffered enough then, he told himself, for a
lifetime, and would be in no danger of falling into the trap again.
He had plenty of ballast on board now to keep him steady--his wife at
home, and his business abroad. If, to please her, he gave up a great
part of his time to uncongenial toil, it would not be fair on her
part to grudge him his fairly-won and innocent amusements. Odeyne
was not unreasonable; she would see this for herself, and meantime he
would keep all objectionable sights and sounds from her. She should
be as happy as the day was long.
And there was no denying that the girl enjoyed Goodwood week
immensely. Desmond took her to the place before the racing began,
and showed her the country for miles round. They visited Arundel
Castle and the little watering-places in the vicinity, and to Odeyne,
to whom everything was new, it was altogether delightful. The
beautiful sweep of down, upon the crest of which the racecourse
stands, was in itself a joy to her. It was all so fresh, so breezy,
so open, even in the heat of summer, that it was hard to believe
anything very bad could go on there; and then the horses were so
beautiful and so noble-looking, and struggled so gallantly to respond
to the efforts of their riders when the time came, and it all seemed
so perfectly fair and honest, that the whole scene could not but be a
delight to the girl so keenly alive to beauty as Odeyne. She could
not believe that there was any cheating and rascality in such an
apparently simple thing as riding a race, and she was too far removed
from the betting-ring, and too ignorant of the meaning of much that
went on around her, to be enlightened or disillusioned to any great
extent. Her husband saw her looking animated and happy, and was
content, and the time passed away pleasantly for both.
Occasionally the girl's happiness was damped by the sight of some
wretched, haggard face, and she would realise forcibly at such a
moment that there was a very black reverse to all this sunshine and
glamour. At such times she would long to be back in her quiet home,
and wonder if she were right in being here at all. She would fain
have given of her abundance to some of the broken-down wretches she
sometimes saw, crushed down to the ground with misery; but once when
she timidly suggested something of the kind to Desmond, he only shook
his head.
"My dear child, where would be the use? he would only go straight to
some sharper and lose it all again. What can such fellows as that
know about racing? They are bound to lose. Nobody in the world can
help them. They merely help those rascally bookmakers to live and
thrive."
At such moments Odeyne would feel sick at heart, and wonder in what
lay the almost miraculous attraction of the scene; but it was not
until the last day that she was in any way disturbed on her own
account, and then it was only by some chance words from Beatrice.
"Well, Odeyne, it has been charming having you in our party, I have
enjoyed it double as much, so the advice I am going to give you is
the more disinterested. If I were you I would try to wean Desmond
away from such places. He is devoted to you and a very dear boy, and
you might be able to use your influence successfully. He hasn't the
head for this sort of thing. He is much too impulsive and generous
and easy-going. He hasn't got far out yet; but one of these days he
will get regularly dipped, if you don't keep him out of the way.
Algernon is past cure; all I can hope is that he will keep fairly
lucky, as he is for the most part, thank goodness. But then Algy has
twice Desmond's head, and a vast deal more knowledge to boot. So if
you take my advice, you will keep your boy away. He is young enough
now to learn better, but he will not be so long."
Odeyne made but little reply, quietly thanking Beatrice for her
advice, but not dropping a hint as to her own anxieties--she was far
too loyal a wife; but she turned the counsel over many times in her
mind, and went home with the feeling that the first little cloud had
come into her sky to dim the sunshine of her great happiness.