_THE TWO WIVES._
"Jem, dear, is this your handiwork? How good of you! I have been
wanting to see you often, but there has been so much to think of. My
poor child, you look worn out. You have been tiring yourself making
it all so pretty for me here."
Jem's face was quivering all over; she was striving to laugh and be
gay, whilst all the time she felt as though the sadness of everything
was altogether too much for her.
She turned round with a rather startled face when first Odeyne's
voice fell upon her ear. She had been working now for two days in
the pleasant rooms at the lodge, striving might and main to make them
look as much like Odeyne's favourite rooms at the Chase as human
hands could do. She had decorated the place with flowers till it
looked like a bower, and from the little personal knick-knacks sent
down from the house she had selected such as were most suitable for
each room, and produced a very home-like and artistic effect. She
had half meant to disappear before Odeyne should herself arrive; but
she had lingered on, putting an additional touch here and there, to
be sure that everything looked its best; and here was Odeyne actually
on the spot without warning of any kind.
Odeyne saw the struggle in the sensitive countenance of her little
loving admirer, and just opened her arms, into which Jem rushed with
a strangled sob; and the next minute they were sitting side by side
upon the sofa, Jem sobbing as though her heart would break, Odeyne
striving to soothe and comfort her.
Jem loved Odeyne with that passionate, almost adoring love which very
young girls often feel towards women older than themselves. The
troubles at the Chase had been heart-rending to her, and she had
shrunk from seeming to pry into the sorrow of the young wife,
although she had longed with a great and ardent longing to see her
again, and try and express her sympathy and love.
An outlet for her energies had been found in the adornment of these
new quarters for Odeyne and her child. Guy and Cissy were almost all
their time at the Chase, helping in the task of setting it in order
for the new tenants. The majority of the servants had left. Things
were rather in confusion and disorder up there; and as General
Mannering desired possession as quickly as could be, and Odeyne was
equally eager to quit, things had gone forward at a great rate; but
nobody (save Jem) had had thought or time to give to the setting in
order at the Lodge of the various goods and chattels sent down there.
Odeyne had said that she could see to all that later, and had not
troubled herself in any way about that part of the business.
Nobody, perhaps, save the loving and rather over-bold Jem, would have
had the assurance to unpack and set in order Odeyne's private
possessions and treasured articles, endeared to her by association.
But Jem's love was of that kind which ignores all minor scruples in
its desire to do service to the object of devotion; and she had
toiled and worked with a will for two long days, and now the result
was such that Odeyne looked about her with shining eyes, and
exclaimed--
"Dearest Jem, how pretty you have made it! What put it into your
head to be such a sweet little fairy? I am so much obliged to you,
my child! I thought I should never have the heart to do it for
myself; but this is lovely!"
This tribute to her success dried Jem's tears, and she looked into
Odeyne's face (as she had not dared to do before) to seek to read
there an answer to questions she must not put. But Odeyne rose with
a tiny shake of the head, as though she half knew what Jem's
beseeching gaze meant, and busied herself by admiring the pretty
rooms and their wealth of flowers.
Then arrived the pony phaeton, with Alice and Hannah and the boy.
Jem rushed at little Guy and caught him in her arms. They were fast
friends now, for Jem had made a practice of waylaying him on his
airings and ingratiating herself with him. Little Guy was the
happiest of one-year-old mortals, with a laugh and a funny name of
his own for everybody. Jem had been dubbed "Polly," for no reason
that the adult mind could fathom, and when in an extra merry mood
this would be turned into "Pretty Poll, Pretty Poll!"--to the immense
delight of Jem, who would make parrot noises and parrot faces, till
both she and the child were weary of laughing.
Guy evidently considered Pretty Poll one of the adjuncts of the new
home. He trotted from room to room holding fast by her hand,
chattered unceasingly if not very intelligibly the whole time, and
took to his new domain like a duck to water.
Jem had everything ready for an inviting tea. The kitchen-maid from
the Chase had been retained by Odeyne as cook at the lodge, and Alice
had eagerly volunteered to do all the housework with a little
assistance from Hannah. These three servants were very devoted to
their mistress, and were resolved that she should never suffer from
lack of personal and loving tendance. But for the wearing anxiety
caused by the absence and total silence of Desmond, Odeyne felt that
she could be far happier in this simple little home than she had
often been at the Chase, surrounded by every luxury. As it was, the
cloud rested upon her night and day. She could not lose the sense of
her husband's wrong-doing and weakness. She was confronted daily
with the results of his recent practices; and, though she might
strive hard to make restitution, she could never undo the past, or
forget how grievously he had fallen.
Yet her love could triumph over all else, and her prayer went up for
him night and day--that prayer which brings its answer in time,
because it is the prayer of faith.
The first night spent by Odeyne in her new home was not an unhappy
one, despite the strangeness of the change which had come into her
life. Guy came in for an hour in the evening, for the little house
he had taken for himself and his bride was less than half a mile from
the lodge. It was so comforting to Odeyne to have this special
brother so close at hand, that it made amends for much. Edmund she
had not seen for many days; but that did not surprise her, as he was
a busy man, and already he had given more time than he could well
afford into the examination of her affairs.
"I saw him three days ago--he was looking very seedy," said Guy; "but
he would not allow anything was the matter. I hope he has not been
in any way involved in Desmond's unlucky speculations. His manner
was certainly a little strange; but I think he would have told me
before if he had been in any embarrassment. We talked so freely of
the business in all its bearings, and Edmund is very open about his
affairs."
Odeyne was easily roused to anxiety now; she had had only too much
reason to be; but Guy quieted her fears, and left her tranquil and
composed; and upon the morrow she was destined to learn something
which fully accounted for the change in Edmund.
Mrs. St. Claire had hardly seen Odeyne during these past weeks.
Although not so taken by surprise as some others by this sudden
crash, it had affected her health somewhat, and she had had little
energy or strength for getting about; but now that Odeyne had
actually taken up her abode at the lodge, Desmond's mother was
resolved to pay her an early visit; and upon the following afternoon
she and Maud were ushered up into the pleasant flower-scented room,
which had been made so trim and comfortable by Jem's loving fingers.
Mrs. St. Claire began by striving to retain her customary alert
manner, and by passing some spicy remarks about the lodge, and
Desmond's forethought in preparing it all so thoughtfully against
this catastrophe; but suddenly catching the look in Odeyne's eyes,
she stopped suddenly, and put her hands upon the girl's shoulders,
kissing her almost passionately again and again.
"My dear," she said, "I hate scenes. I do not want to make things
worse; and sympathy is often the most trying thing to bear. But I
should like to tell you how I admire and respect you. I should like
to thank you for what, in your unconventional bravery, you are doing
to save my son's honour and good name in the eyes of men who look
below the bare legal side of the matter."
Odeyne only said simply, as she returned Mrs. St. Claire's embraces--
"He is my husband."
"Would to God he were worthy of such a wife!" exclaimed the mother in
a voice that broke in spite of her efforts after calmness. "My dear,
I do not think I could do it in your place; but I can recognise
nobility and true unselfishness when I see it. He is your
husband--you want no thanks of mine, I know. But yet I must tell you
how I appreciate such conduct, though the world may call it foolish."
Long did Desmond's wife and mother talk together, feeling more drawn
towards each other than ever before. Maud meantime sat a little
apart, looking pale and inanimate, and speaking no word. Odeyne
glanced at her two or three times, but always saw her looking out of
the window with the same absorbed gaze. She felt that something was
amiss, but knew Maud too well to seek to force her confidence; but
she did hope she might have the chance of speaking to her alone
before the pair left.
Nor was she disappointed in this. The grandmother must pay a visit
to the boy before leaving, and see where he was lodged. Odeyne took
her to the nursery-room, but did not enter with her, returning to the
other apartment, where Maud still sat in the same listless way,
seemingly unheeding what went on.
"Maud, dear, is anything the matter?" she asked.
"You have not heard, then? You have not seen Edmund?"
"No," answered Odeyne with a sense of comprehension, "he has not been
here for some time. Maud, what is the matter?"
"Nothing so very much, after all; it was hardly an engagement. There
were many uncertainties and difficulties. But it is all over now. I
shall never marry."
Odeyne looked at her in astonishment. It was true that the tacit
engagement between her brother and Desmond's sister had been little
spoken about, and was looked upon as rather indefinite; but those who
best knew them had never doubted for a moment that there was warm
love on both sides, and that before long some way would be found by
which difficulties would be overcome, and the marriage consummated.
Therefore this passionately spoken reply of Maud's perplexed her not
a little.
"But what has happened to change you? I can't understand you, Maud."
"Can you not? I should have thought it was so easy. How have the
marriages with my family turned out so far?" burst out Maud with the
bitterness of long pent-up feeling. "How has Desmond treated you,
Odeyne? What of Beatrice and Algernon? It is not for me to sit in
judgment upon my own flesh and blood, yet I always maintain that if
Beatrice had been a different woman she might have held Algernon back
from much that has worked his ruin. But she wanted to be rich as
much as he did, and now what has it come to? She has to come back to
mother--to be a drag and a constant source of worry to her. Nothing
but ill follows a marriage with a St. Claire. Edmund had better be
thankful for his dismissal. We do not want a third fiasco in one
family."
"Maud! Maud!" cried Odeyne in distress, "do you know you are talking
very wildly? Is Edmund's happiness in life and his trust in
womanhood to be wrecked because Desmond has been wild and
ill-advised, and because Beatrice is--what we have always known her
to be?"
Maud clutched at Odeyne's hand and wrung it in her pain.
"Edmund will get over it--men always do. He will soon see that he
has had a good escape. He knows how near Desmond trod to the borders
of--disgrace."
Odeyne went white to the lips. Her voice shook as she asked--
"Maud, do you know what you are saying--and to me?"
"I do," answered Maud almost passionately. "Would that I did not
know! They have been merciful to you. They have put everything in
the best possible light, but I have heard all. And I, who loved him
only second-best to you--I know that only by the skin of his teeth
has he saved himself from the clutches of the law. His flight shows
that he knew himself morally guilty, though they say he is just safe
from arrest. Algernon can never return home; Desmond may. But
knowing what I do, and that Edmund knows all--oh, I cannot!--I
cannot! It humbles me to the very dust! He shall not link his name
with one that is all but smirched and sullied!"
Odeyne felt as though a sword were running through her heart. What
others had sought to hide from her, or to put in the gentlest way,
Maud in her pain had spoken out in almost merciless frankness. It
was terrible; and yet Odeyne still kept her mind upon the question of
Maud and Edmund, leaving herself and her anguish in the background of
her thoughts.
"Is Edmund to suffer for Desmond's sins?"
"It cannot be helped. It is always so. It is the inexorable way of
the world," answered Maud, speaking now more calmly, with a sort of
quiet desperation. "But there is another reason also, Odeyne.
Hitherto I have always had the uncontrolled use of my own fortune. I
have been, in a modest way, a well-to-do woman. Had I married Edmund
we could have lived in comfort on our joint means, but now all is
changed. Beatrice and her child are thrown back upon mother's hands;
Beatrice, with her expensive habits and her load of private debts for
a whole season's extravagances. What you are doing for your husband,
Odeyne, I must do for my sister; and there is her future to think of
too."
Odeyne was silent. She saw very plainly that the maintenance of
Beatrice and the boy would be no light burden.
"Mother has never been a saving woman," continued Maud in the same
steady monotonous way. "There was no reason why she should not live
up to her income. We were provided for, and there would be more for
us, in any case, at her death. She has grown used to her comfortable
manner of life; one cannot expect her to alter at her age; and there
is no margin for so expensive an addition to her household as
Beatrice, with nurse and child. The cost of these additions must
come out of my purse. Nor could I leave mother alone with such a
charge upon her hands. That was always a difficulty in thinking of
marriage--now it has become insuperable."
"Edmund would wait----" began Odeyne, but Maud interrupted almost
fiercely.
"Wait--what for? Till Algernon is whitewashed--which will be never!
Till Beatrice has learned to live upon the pittance still secured to
her?--though we believe that Algernon will contrive to get hold of
that still! No, no, no! I have made up my mind. I know what is
right, and I have done it. It is kind to be cruel sometimes. Try
not to hate me--to hate us all, Odeyne--for the misery we have
brought to you and yours! Oh, Desmond, Desmond! I loved and trusted
you so long and faithfully!"
Odeyne took Maud in her arms and kissed her again and again; but she
felt that words were powerless here. Moreover, what to say she knew
not; the whole question was so difficult. Maud had a hard and bitter
way of doing things, but Odeyne was not sure that she had not judged
rightly and well. If things were indeed in such a case, marriage did
seem out of the question, and an engagement under such circumstances
became little better than a mockery.
But could Beatrice sit down quietly and see such a sacrifice made on
her behalf? That was the question which presented itself to Odeyne
after her visitors had left her alone. Beatrice had clung about
Odeyne's neck only the other day, seeming to be longing after
something higher and better than her former code. Surely, if she
gave her nobler nature scope, she would come to understand that it
was not right for Maud's future happiness (to say nothing of
Edmund's) to be sacrificed to her present ease and comfort. She
would surely be roused, to a different sort of existence. She would
not long b& content to be a burden upon her sister.
Odeyne waited with some impatience for a visit from Beatrice, that
she might learn from her frank lips how things were going. She had
some little while to wait, for Beatrice did not come for some
considerable time and then Odeyne was surprised to find her most
elegantly dressed, looking almost as blooming as in days of old, all
her sunny good-temper restored, and her aspect as bright and beaming
as though nothing were amiss.
"I have had to do duty for us both in the neighbourhood, Odeyne," she
cried. "I suppose you could not help it--you are made like that; but
it is always a mistake for people in our circumstances to shut
themselves up, as if they could not face the world. I have been
going about everywhere and making the best of things--not ignoring
our misfortunes, of course, they are too well known for that--but
putting the best face on them, and showing that we have no cause to
hide our heads. That is what a good wife does for her husband. You
are doing your share in another way; but I am not as careless of
Algernon's good name as you might think. Already I am much better
received than I was at first. I assure you I have been very clever
and diplomatic. Really things might have been much worse. It is
such peace now, living in mother's house, with everything provided
for one, and no worries. She enjoys all the life and brightness I
bring. Poor dear Maud never had any animation, and she and mother
never got on too well together, though they hide their little
differences from the world very well."
Beatrice was always a good one to talk. Odeyne had nothing to do for
a long time but sit and listen to her in a species of amaze. She
could hardly believe this was the same woman who a week or two back
had come to her with despair in her eyes and terror in her heart.
Already it seemed as though the pleasant life of Mrs. St. Claire's
house was making amends for all that had gone before. Beatrice
seemed to feel real relief in the absence of her husband, and hardly
troubled to conceal the fact. The weary heartache which Odeyne
suffered daily through Desmond's absence did not appear to be known
to Beatrice.
"And you know, I suppose," she said at last in the midst of her
stream of animated talk, "that it is all over between Maud and
Edmund?"
Odeyne flashed a wondering look at her. Surely she could not be as
callous as she appeared!
"Maud told me so," she said; "I think it is terribly sad. They are
both heart-broken. Beatrice, can nothing be done?"
Beatrice slightly shrugged her shapely shoulders.
"I always think it is very dangerous work interfering in other
people's love affairs. Maud decided with open eyes. For my part, I
think she has chosen very wisely. The marriages in our family have
not turned out brilliantly successful so far; and Maud is very
comfortable as she is--the practical mistress of a pleasant house.
You will not take it amiss if I say that, as the wife of an officer
with little but his pay, she might have had a much less easy and
pleasant life of it."
"But then ease and pleasure are not everything, Beatrice; love has
its part to play too."
"Love has a way of flying out at the window when poverty looks in at
the door," said Beatrice, rather cynically, "and Maud was always a
cold-blooded creature. I think Edmund might do much better for
himself, such a handsome, attractive man as he is."
Odeyne could not find words in which to frame her thoughts. She had
been hoping that Beatrice would grow gentler, softer, more unselfish
and womanly; and here she was finding her more heartless than ever
she had thought her before. Trouble seemed to have seared rather
than softened her nature. Every word she spoke grated upon Odeyne's
ears. Perhaps Beatrice was shrewd enough to see something of the
impression she had produced, for she looked rather intently into
Odeyne's face, and said--
"You seem to think that I have something to do with this affair of
Maud's ruptured engagement."
Odeyne was silent, not knowing what to say. Beatrice paused for a
while, but receiving no reply, broke out again--
"Well, and if I have, can I help it? I must have a home somewhere,
and my mother's house is the natural asylum for me under the present
state of affairs. How can I help myself? I am grateful to Maud for
helping to pay my bills, although I have told her that since Algy
will have to be made a bankrupt, she really need not trouble herself
so very much. But she can't see things in that light. I can't live
upon nothing. And after all, she is my sister. I am grateful to
her--I really am--but you know what Maud is--one can't gush to a
block of marble! She keeps one at arm's-length, even while she is
doing kind actions. It's a great misfortune to have such a
temperament, and really I think Edmund is well off his bargain."
"That is not Edmund's own opinion," said Odeyne, a little coldly.
"When people understand and love each other, they see in one another
what is hidden from the world. I would rather live in a cottage and
toil with my own hands, than stand in the way of the happiness of
others, and make shipwreck of two lives."
She had not meant to speak like this, but a sudden wave of feeling
swept over her and carried her away in spite of herself.
Beatrice eyed her reflectively and presently said--
"That is what you are doing already--for the sake of Desmond's good
name, is it not? Well, people like you who can practise, have a
right to preach. But I was never a heroine in any sense of the word.
Honestly, I can't see, under existing circumstances, how Maud could
marry, and take herself and her fortune away with her. And really,
with the sort of cloud hanging over all of us, I think we are better
without rushing into any more marriages. One hopes one has got to
the bottom of the slough by this time; but there is no knowing. I
think one Hamilton-St. Claire marriage is enough for the present."
Odeyne turned a little away. This sort of talk jarred very much upon
her, as did Beatrice's hollow, selfish cynicism whenever she assumed
that manner. Was it assumed sometimes as a cloak and disguise? Was
Beatrice sometimes half afraid of letting her better warmer nature
get the upper hand, lest it should urge her to sacrifices she was not
really prepared to make? Odeyne had striven to think this before,
but to-day she began to have her doubts about there being any
unselfish side to Beatrice's nature. She was glad that the door
opened that moment to admit little Guy, who came toddling in after
his afternoon walk. He ran straight up to his mother, and then
stretched up his arms towards a picture of Desmond, which hung upon
the wall, and cried--
"Daddy!--Daddy!"
It was evident that he expected to be lifted up to the
picture--evident that Odeyne was seeking to keep warm in the heart of
the baby-boy the love of the "Daddy" who had been of late but little
more than a name to him.
Beatrice looked on, and suddenly bit her lip, rising abruptly to her
feet. Her little son never spoke of his father--hardly seemed to
seek out or to care for his mother. He was fond of his granny, and
devoted to his aunt Maud; but the sacred tie between parent and child
had hardly been formed as yet. How was it likely to be, when that
between husband and wife was so very slack?
"Good-bye, Odeyne," she said suddenly, "you deserve to be happy, and
I hope there will be better days for you in store. I would give
something to be in your place, I can tell you. But the leopard
cannot change his spots. Perhaps there will be a chance for the boy
now, with somebody besides his mother to bring him up. Desmond was a
wise man to choose such a treasure of a wife. Whether you were wise
to take him is quite another matter; but I think the magnet of such a
wife would draw any man back, even from the ends of the earth!"