_THE HOME-COMING._
"I am so sorry that Desmond has never found time to come over, mother
dear; it has been quite a disappointment to us both. But you
understand how it has been, and that business has to be considered;
and he has had friends to entertain at home, too. I am very glad he
has not been alone all the time; but, oh, how I do want to see him
again!"
"I am sure you must, dear child. We have enjoyed having you more
than I can say, and we shall miss you and the boy terribly. But now
that you really are well and strong, I would not keep you away from
Desmond longer. A large house wants its mistress at the helm. You
must not be discouraged if you find things gone a little out of gear
during your absence. Desmond is too easy-going to be quite the best
master, and bachelor ways are not our ways. Still, a little firmness
and a patient, cheerful, prayerful spirit will help you along
wonderfully, and there is always little Guy for your comfort and
solace."
"And Desmond, mother dear," said Odeyne, with her old bright smile;
"Desmond must come even before little Guy."
"Yes, my love, I hope so indeed; and having a little child to think
for and to train up ought to be dear Desmond's great help and motive
in setting a good example to his household and the world. I know you
will help him all you can, my dear. But the unconscious influence of
a little child is often an immense power."
Odeyne did not altogether understand some of her mother's words.
Mrs. Hamilton was parting from her daughter with some uneasiness of
spirit; for she had had a long letter from Mrs. St. Claire a few days
before, and since then she had seemed in haste to send Odeyne and the
boy back to the Chase.
They had paid a long visit at the Rectory, for Odeyne had not made
the rapid progress hoped for, and Desmond kept insisting that she
should not be hurried, that she must get quite strong before she
returned, and that he was getting along very comfortably. His
letters were full of affection, and Odeyne fully believed that it was
business and business alone which kept him from running down as
promised. She was very happy in her present life with her brothers
and sisters, her parents, and her child. She was always looking
forward to the expected visit which never came; and now she was going
back to her husband and her home with a happy heart, quite prepared
for a few difficulties and worries in the household, but confident
that her husband's loving support would be hers in whatever might
arise.
She had engaged a very nice gentlewoman as nurse for little Guy, and
she was eager beyond words to present the beautiful boy to his
father. She was full of this thought as they neared the familiar
country, and when every landmark became known to her, and she could
almost see the woods and chimneys of the Chase as the train flew
onwards towards the station, she took the baby into her own arms, and
leaned eagerly out of the window to catch the first glimpse of
Desmond as the train steamed up.
There were several persons on the platform, but for a moment she did
not see her husband. Then one of the figures made a rapid sign and
movement towards her. It gave Odeyne a momentary shock to realise
that she had seen her husband without recognising him!
"Oh, Desmond!" she cried, as he flung open the carriage door, "I
hardly knew you with a moustache! It seems to have changed you
somehow."
"Does it? Oh, you will soon learn to know me with it! Well, how are
you, my darling? Quite strong and well again? That is right. What,
am I to kiss that little rogue too?--and in face of all the railway
porters? Have you taught him to say 'Daddy' yet, eh?"
"Desmond! he is only four months old!"
"Too young to talk? Well, he will learn quite fast enough, I dare
say. Give him to nurse, love, and come to the carriage. She and the
child will follow in the station brougham with the luggage. Well,
how are they all at the old home? And has Guy come into his fortune
yet?"
"Don't talk of it quite so lightly, Desmond dear; we all love Uncle
Godfrey, and shall grieve for him when he goes. I saw him to say
good-bye, and he looked terribly frail. Guy is staying in the house
with him. It is a comfort to all of us, and he likes it. It will
not be long now, I fear."
"Well, well, he is very old, you see; and it will be a good thing for
Guy. So you had little Cissy down, did you? And they got matters
squared up between them? I never thought Guy would be the first
brother to marry; but then he has really the best prospects. I've
got my suspicions about Edmund here; but an army man has to think
twice about matrimony in these days. Not but what Maud's got a tidy
little fortune of her own."
"Oh, Desmond!" cried Odeyne, her breath rather taken away by
Desmond's rattling talk, "do you really mean that?"
"I mean I have my suspicions. I notice they always gravitate
together in society, and all that sort of thing. It may be my fancy,
but I've got the notion that he's rather smitten by old Maud. I
never thought her fascinating myself, but other fellows may have
different tastes."
"Maud has always been your great champion, Desmond," said Odeyne,
with just a touch of reproach in her voice.
Somehow she felt a little vague sense of chill and jar in this first
meeting with Desmond. He seemed more inclined to rattle on in a half
nonsensical fashion, than either to ask or answer the questions that
seemed so all-important to her.
And then, had he really changed, or was it only her fancy? Of course
the moustache made a difference; but was there nothing else?
She looked at him again and again, and seemed to miss something that
had once been there. What it was she could not say, but she felt she
missed something in his face, and something in his manner towards
herself, that had always been there before.
It was not affection exactly; he was full of welcoming words and
affectionate speeches, but his manner was a little boisterous; there
was a lack of softness and tenderness about it. He laughed and made
jokes all the way home, and put aside any inquiries of hers with a
jesting response.
Somehow Odeyne had pictured a different kind of meeting, and was just
a little chilled. Then she reproached herself, and argued that the
fault was her own for staying so long away from home.
Desmond had been thrown upon bachelor society, and it had had this
slight and passing effect upon his outward man.
Then they drove up, and Odeyne found herself at home again.
There were changes in the house, too, which her quick eyes noted at
once.
Butler and footman were both strangers to her. There was a good deal
of new furniture in the house, but yet it did not look as
well-furnished as of yore, for there was a certain indefinable
appearance of confusion and disorder. Moreover, the whole house was
permeated by a smell of tobacco smoke. It seemed to cling about the
draperies in spite of any number of open windows and the scent of the
flowers; and it certainly gave a little shock to Odeyne to realise
that her dainty drawing-room, in which she took such pride and
pleasure, had not been kept sacred from the entrance of smokers.
Upstairs, things were more like themselves, save for the
all-pervading scent of tobacco. Alice was awaiting her mistress with
an eager welcome.
Odeyne thought that she also was changed. She looked rather pale and
thin, her eyes were very bright, and she was dressed, perhaps, a
little too much for her position; but Odeyne had always been lenient
to Alice's little vanities.
She would have liked to ask a good deal about the master and the
household, but somehow Alice gave her no satisfaction. Her answers
were vague and unsatisfactory; and she seemed to be listening all the
while for the arrival of little Guy and her lady's luggage.
When the child did come, Odeyne herself forgot everything in the
interest of inducting him into his nurseries, and Alice's delight in
the boy atoned for all else.
Then she had to go down to give Desmond his tea, and surely now, she
thought, they would take up their old sweet relations together.
She would tell him all she had done at home, and hear all the details
of his life during her absence.
Odeyne talked on about the home-life at the Rectory, and gave him
innumerable messages sent by old friends there, or recounted the
sayings of the local wiseacres about the beauty and promise of little
Guy; and Desmond laughed and made semi-nonsensical replies, but
seemed somehow as though he hardly took in all that she was saying.
His attention kept wandering off, she knew not whither, and at last
she asked gently--
"Is anything the matter, Desmond?"
He started and looked hard at her, saying almost roughly--
"What do you mean? What should be the matter?"
"Nothing, dear; I only thought you seemed preoccupied, and not quite
like yourself. But perhaps it is only my fancy."
"You always were rather given to fancy things, weren't you?" he
answered, laughing. "You'd better give up the habit, it's rather a
tiresome one. Of course a man always has his own cares."
"Yes, and you have had my share too, all this while, dear; I am
afraid you have had trouble with the household. I see you have
different servants. I hope Thomson has not left altogether. Perhaps
he is away for a holiday?"
"Oh, no! He took himself off, and so did several more. You will
find a good many of the upper servants new. I've got a housekeeper,
too, but, of course, if you don't like her, you can send her packing.
But I think she understands her business, and will be useful. You
see, dear, we must live a little differently now, and entertain and
go out altogether more than we have done. We have had a very
delightful honeymoon sort of time, but we must not make ourselves
ridiculous. You are quite well now, and we have our position to keep
up. We must begin now to do as other people of our position do. It
does not answer to be odd."
"I did not know we were odd," said Odeyne, with a little smile,
though there was a strange sinking at her heart. "But, of course, if
you want things to be different you have only to say so. I will do
my best to please you."
"Of course you will; you are a capital little woman, and only want to
see a little more of life to be quite perfect. You see we shall soon
be having the shooting upon us, and then we shall have the house
full; or else pay visits ourselves to other houses, where there are
pleasant gatherings; and when the season comes, we must have our
house in town for a while. Beatrice has her eye upon one quite near
theirs. You must be presented, and all that. I don't consider that
you've seen anything of the world yet, little wife. I mean to
introduce it to you now."
Desmond rattled on in that vein all through the day.
He wandered by Odeyne's side through the gardens after tea, talking
the whole time, and speaking of so many new friends and acquaintances
that she grew quite bewildered.
He came with her to the nurseries to see the child when she asked
him; but he very soon had enough of the boy, and bore her off with
him, declaring that it was his turn now, and that he wasn't going to
be ousted by his son; and Odeyne smiled through all, and tried to
think that soon she would get into the swing of things here, and that
it was only her fancy that they had so greatly changed.
The dinner was rather a surprise to her; it was served with a quiet
elaboration that was altogether new. All the dishes were handed, and
the variety and richness of these was quite a revelation. It was
beautifully dainty, but she knew enough of housekeeping to feel a
qualm at the cost of such cookery.
"Oh, it's not poor old Masters!" answered Desmond with a laugh, when
she spoke to him afterwards. "I sent that good soul packing some
time ago; indeed, I let her go for a holiday directly, and then wrote
and told her to get another situation elsewhere. This fellow is
quite an artist in his way. He is a first-rate chef. And you
needn't bother any more with ordering the dinners, little wife. He
does all that, and the housekeeper gets him all he wants. It's far
more comfortable than the old way."
"But, Desmond, the expense!"
"Oh, well, until I begin to grumble at the bills you needn't trouble
your economical little head about that! All I want of my wife is to
dress up and look pretty and bright, and be charming to my friends.
The rest of the things can take care of themselves. You needn't
bother, my darling."
But Odeyne herself felt that the foundations of domestic life were
giving way with her; nor was she reassured upon the morrow, when
Desmond kept warning her that she need not hurry over her toilet, as
they seldom breakfasted before ten.
"But your train to the City, Desmond," she said. "And we ought to
have prayers before the servants disperse to their work."
"Oh, my dear child, we never have prayers now. It's quite out of
fashion. People don't understand that sort of thing now, and it
doesn't do to make ourselves ridiculous, or to ram those antiquated
customs down the throats of our friends. I'm sure you would never
get your present establishment into that function. Don't look so
scandalised, my love. I assure you that you hardly ever find a house
of any pretensions whatever where they have family prayers!"
"I do not think I quite believe that, Desmond," answered Odeyne very
gravely. "But even if it were true, I cannot see that it is any
excuse for us, who have been taught better, to omit the gathering
together of our household to ask God's blessing. Do you think we
shall not be in danger of losing that blessing, to a greater or less
extent, if we are ashamed to ask it openly because of the sneers of a
portion of society?"
"My dear girl," said Desmond a little sharply, "you have been brought
up so strictly that you cannot weigh these things. In a household
such as ours, prayers would be simply a mockery, and be thought a
fearful nuisance by every person except yourself. I don't intend
religion to be rammed down reluctant throats in my house, so let us
have no more discussion about the matter."
Odeyne was silenced, but the smart of tears was in her eyes. Desmond
had never taken that tone with her before, and it cut her to the
heart.
There were other troubles in store for her that day. Desmond took
the eleven o'clock train to town--he always used to go by the earlier
one--and she was left alone to make discoveries for herself. She
wished to learn something of the life that went on below stairs, but
was quickly made to feel herself an intruder upon a province with
which she had no concern.
The fine housekeeper was courteous, but freezing, and evidently not
accustomed to take orders save in the most general way from the
mistress. The French cook was obsequious and bland, but altogether
overpowering. There were only a few of the under-servants left whom
Odeyne had engaged or known, and these had grown smart and pert in
their appearance and manner. She felt as though she would never
again be mistress in her own house, and was thankful in the extreme
that she had at least one servant of her own choosing in the nursery,
and resolved to keep that department under her strict surveillance.
The housekeeper graciously permitted her to give orders of her own
for the feeding of the child, remarking that she knew very little
about such matters herself, but would take care that Mrs. St.
Claire's orders were carried out.
Then Odeyne departed, and went to her own boudoir, where she sat down
and indulged herself in a quiet cry, from which she was roused by the
sound of voices and steps in the corridor outside.
She rose quickly, dashing away her tears; but Mrs. St. Claire's sharp
eyes instantly detected them. She and Maud were her visitors, and
they made no attempt to talk pleasing trivialities; but, after
exchanging warm kisses, the mother at once drew Odeyne to her side
and said--
"My dear, I know you must feel it. It cannot be otherwise. But you
must not give way, or think that nothing can be done. Desmond's head
has been turned by his successes. He has more cleverness than we
have any of us given him credit for, and when a man is successful he
is often extravagant and self-willed. But now that he has got his
good little wife back, all will be well. You have always been his
good angel, and you will continue so to the end, I am sure."
"Oh, if I had never gone away!" sobbed Odeyne, breaking down more
under sympathy than she would have done had her mother-in-law spoken
less kindly.
"My dear, you were sent away. It was no fault of yours. It has
turned out badly, I admit; but, after all, things are not past
mending. Now, dear, you know I have never intermeddled with your
private affairs before, but will you tell me a little what is
troubling you chiefly now? Perhaps if we take counsel together we
can help and cheer one another up. And then I must see the boy; but
let us get disagreeables over first."
Odeyne was only too glad to pour out her troubles into sympathetic
ears, and was relieved to find that Mrs. St. Claire did not take
quite so serious a view of the domestic difficulties as she had done
herself.
"My dear, I am sorry your nice old-fashioned ways of household
management have been disturbed; but, as things are now, I should be
disposed to keep on the housekeeper to direct matters, only taking
care that I held the place of her mistress. Desmond is quite bent
upon having his fling at high life. And if he can afford it, perhaps
he is justified in desiring it, and may settle down quietly
afterwards. Probably he will tire of it in time, for stability has
never been Desmond's strong point, and he takes everything in such a
headlong fashion, that the recoil is usually to be reckoned on as
pretty safe."
"Perhaps he is recoiling now from the quiet life we led together,"
said Odeyne sadly; "I was so happy all the time. I never thought
that it could be tedious to him."
"I am sure it was not," said Maud, taking Odeyne's hand and caressing
it covertly. "He was very happy, too. But he has got into a bad
set, and they have led him on. Half of it is Algy's fault. It is
his friends that do Desmond so much harm."
"And your task, my dear," said Mrs. St. Claire briskly, "is to seek
to exercise a wise discretion with regard to Desmond's friends. I
will give you all the help I know. Some may be encouraged and
entertained, but some he should be weaned from by every possible
means. You will have to go to work cautiously with Desmond, as all
rather weak men have a curious strain of obstinacy in their
composition, as I dare say you know. I am afraid I make you wince,
my love; but I speak a truth that bitter experience has taught me.
Desmond is a great many charming things, and has more wits than I
gave him credit for; but he is weak and vain and obstinate, and I,
his mother, may say so, though I would not suffer anybody else to do
so."
Odeyne understood and could not resent the words. She talked long
and earnestly with the mother and sister, who, whilst loving Desmond
so devotedly, had gradually come to a knowledge of his weaknesses and
vicious tendencies.
It had been very bitter to Maud to watch her brother's downward
progress of late; but she had not shut her eyes to it, and she did
not seek to condone his offences now. Odeyne heard things which
filled her with sadness and dismay; yet she was comforted and
strengthened by the visit of her husband's relatives, and the
half-hour spent in the nursery made amends for much. The grandmother
was delighted with little Guy, and thought him immensely improved and
grown. She liked the nurse, and approved all Odeyne's arrangements.
She stayed to lunch at the Chase, and left Odeyne a good deal happier
than she found her, although the cloud had not lifted altogether from
her spirit.
An hour or two later in sailed Beatrice, actually leading her little
toddling boy by the hand.
"My dear, I could not let the day pass without coming to see you! I
am delighted to get you back! How do you find Desmond looking? He
is the dearest, cleverest fellow, and we make a great deal of him in
our set, I can tell you! Really you have a treasure of a husband,
and I hope you appreciate him. If you knew what some wives have to
go through, you would!"
Odeyne had the little boy on her lap, and caressing him saved her the
necessity of a direct reply. Somehow she felt she could not discuss
Desmond with Beatrice, as she had done with her visitors of the
morning. Beatrice was looking remarkably well and elegant, and had
the air of a woman who has not a care in the world.
"We have such delightful plans. Has Desmond been telling you about
them? Just a few garden parties and dull local functions, to do our
duty to the neighbourhood, and then delightful house parties here and
at our place, and with other friends through the autumn, and perhaps
a run to Monte Carlo, or some nice sunny place in mid-winter. They
say that Grindelwald is all the rage now for tobogganing; but we
shall see. And then a real London season--I was cheated out of mine
this last spring and summer, for Algy had let the house when we were
in such low water, and really it did seem best to pay off the debts
first. But we will change all that now, and be really extra gay.
You will have a delightful time, Odeyne. I almost wish I could be
you, to go through so many delightful first experiences."
"But, Beatrice," said Odeyne in a puzzled voice, "you talk of
impossibilities. Desmond has his business to attend to, and I have a
baby to consider. What do you think is to become of either if we go
gallivanting about like that?"
"Oh, Desmond has his own ways of seeing to business now he is such a
great man. Garth looks after things a great deal. As for the baby,
my dear, you will soon find that Desmond will not let you make a
slave of yourself to the child. You will have to turn into a
fashionable mother, my dear, and leave him to his nurse. I have
never been tied by little Gus there, and yet he is a pretty thriving
specimen!"
"I do not intend to leave little Guy to the nurse," said Odeyne
quietly. "I suppose you do not care to see him, Beatrice?"
"Frankly, my dear, I don't think I do," answered Beatrice laughing.
"I have had enough of babies for one day, bringing mine across. When
they reach the age for asking questions they become rather terrible.
Thank goodness you are some way off from that yet. Ah, here is
Desmond coming in. How delightful of him. Desmond, dear boy, I have
a hundred things to ask you! May I stay? Or do you feel that you
must have Odeyne all to yourself this first day?"
Was it Odeyne's fancy that Desmond was delighted to have a third
person at their tea out on the terrace?--that he had no great desire
for _tête-à-têtes_ with his wife? The question brought a pang with
it, yet it came again and again as she noticed the eager way in which
he and Beatrice plunged into talk about people and things quite
unknown to her. She could often hardly understand the drift of the
conversation, and presently took little Gus up to the nursery to be
introduced to his cousin there.
Beatrice turned rather curiously to Desmond and asked, "What does she
make of it all?"
He laughed, not quite easily.
"I hardly know. I think she is puzzled; but she is a loyal little
soul, and will get used to it all in time."
"I hope so. You won't let her turn you puritan again?"
"I don't think that was ever my line," answered Desmond, with an odd
inflexion in his voice. "Anyhow, if it was, that day has gone for
good now!"