_CONCLUSION._
There was a rustle of drapery outside the door; then it opened wide,
and Beatrice came forward with outstretched hands and quivering lips.
But she was not alone. Close behind followed Maud, who supported the
feeble steps of her mother. Odeyne started up in astonishment at
seeing Mrs. St. Claire, and was painfully struck even in that first
moment by the change that the past weeks had worked in her. She
looked worn, and ill, and old--and till quite recently she had never
looked anything like her true age. She came forward rather feebly,
but with a strange hungry eagerness of manner; and all drew a little
away from the bed where Desmond lay, whilst mother and son exchanged
a long, silent embrace. Beatrice had turned to the window and was
biting her lips as though to keep back the tears. Odeyne looked at
her, and felt cut to the heart on her account. She, herself, had her
husband back, a repentant and changed man. But where was poor
Algernon?--what had become of him? She almost took shame to herself
that she did not know. They had had so little time together, and
there had been so much to say.
Maud put her mother into Odeyne's vacated chair by the bed. She bent
over Desmond herself, and there were loving whispers passing between
them. For several minutes Odeyne and Beatrice stood apart, not even
looking at the others; but after a while Beatrice's impatience could
no longer be curbed. She wheeled round and came forward.
"Desmond, where is Algernon?" she asked, in a shaking voice.
"In Florida, and in a fair way of doing pretty well, I hope. I left
him very hopeful and sanguine. It is rather a rough life, but he has
taken to it; and being out in the open air all day seems to suit him,
and sends him early to bed, where he sleeps instead of sitting up
playing and drinking more than is good for him. He is looking
another creature, and is really happier than I have ever known him.
I have heaps of messages for you, and he will begin to write now."
"Why did he not before?"
"I will tell you. Perhaps we were wrong. But when we made tracks
and got clear away out of the smash, I can tell you we were pretty
well ashamed of ourselves. We saw clearly enough by that time that
we had been dupes and fools, and had fooled others who trusted us. I
shall never clearly remember those last days, or know how far we were
really wicked, and how far only confused and weak. One thing, we had
played into Garth's hands from first to last, and he had fooled us to
the top of our bent. That man was an unmitigated scamp--as probably
you all know by this time."
"Yes, we were pretty sure of that. What has become of him, do you
know?"
"I don't _know_; but one can be pretty certain that he got safe to
Spain, where he will very likely live in regal pomp on his ill-gotten
gains, unless he gambles them away there. But he had a good head, if
you like. He knew what he was about. He was at the bottom of every
piece of villainy going. We thought him our tool, whilst we were
really his. Well, never mind all that. You have probably a better
notion of the state of affairs than I have. What happened was that
when Algy began to see how things really were, he got into a fearful
state of funk, came to me, and we both saw there was nothing for it
but to disappear! We did not know what the penalty might be of
remaining, and it seemed the best thing we could do to make a bolt."
"That is what men generally do in such a case," said Beatrice, with a
little touch of almost unconscious sarcasm in her voice. "I am not
sure if it always answers as well as staying and facing it out."
"I don't know," answered Desmond rather wearily. "All that part of
the business seems like a black nightmare. I cannot recall details.
I remember that we thought it the only thing to do, and we did it.
We got away to the Continent. Algy was for trying to break the bank
at Monte Carlo, but I said we had had enough of gambling for a
lifetime. I would not let him go. We had some money; and I had
Odeyne's pearls, and in Paris we sold them well. Algy had withdrawn
all his balance from the bank. Altogether we had a small capital;
and I think perhaps it was Providence that threw us across this
Florida planter, and put the chance in our way."
"Who was he?"
"An Englishman--a capital fellow. Ridgmont is his name. He had
married a French wife, and they were over in Paris for a holiday.
They were at the same hotel, and we struck up an acquaintance. He
was looking out for a partner with a little money, someone who would
be willing to live out there and look after the place regularly, for
he himself has to travel a good bit, as his wife is delicate, and
thinks she wants change pretty often. Algy just jumped at it. I
never saw him so keen after anything. I think he was sick to death
of the old life, and was bent on beginning afresh somewhere
altogether out of the old beat. The idea of orange groves and all
that fascinated him, and Ridgmont had taken a great fancy to him. We
told him everything--kept nothing back; and of course he looked
rather grave, and spoke pretty straight to Algy. But in the end he
said he'd take him back with him, and they'd see how the thing
worked. There was no mistaking that Algy was really in earnest that
time, and Ridgmont got that sort of influence over him which seemed
as though it might really be a factor in keeping him straight.
"But why didn't you write?"
"At first I think we were afraid. We did not exactly know how far
our creditors could or would pursue us; we wanted to get clear away
from Europe before we let anyone know anything. And then we were
desperately, horribly ashamed. Perhaps we were wrong, but we both
had a strong feeling that we would do something to redeem the
past--something to show that all was not vain words, before we showed
our faces again. I know for my own part I felt like that. I had
made promises and asseverations again and again, only to break them.
I felt that Odeyne had cause to curse the day when she married me,
and to bless that on which she saw the last of me! Dearest, I know
now that I was wrong--that I had never understood you; but that is
how I felt in the bitterness of my soul. And Algy was just the same.
'They will be better without us. They will be happier too,' he would
say; 'Beatrice will have her mother's house to go to, and Odeyne will
live happily at the Chase, not knowing a care or a want.' That was
Algy's way of looking at it, and I felt that I richly deserved the
punishment of banishment for a time. I forgot to consider that
others would suffer. It seemed impossible that they could continue
to love anyone so unworthy as myself."
Maud gave a quick glance at Odeyne. She had thought as much herself,
and had said it several times. The reaction from his moods of blind
confidence had always been one of almost equally blind and
exaggerated self-abasement, in which his own shame and remorse had
blinded his eyes to any but his own side of the question. Desmond
seemed to read her thoughts, and answered them with a faint smile--
"That was always the way, was it not, Maud? You always used to tell
me, from childhood, that I was 'nastier' when I was trying to be
good, than when I was regularly naughty. I have been a blunderer
from first to last. I only wonder you have, any of you, such a
welcome for me."
"But Algy," urged Beatrice eagerly, "what of him?"
"Well, Algy is out at this orange farm (if one can use such an
expression) in Florida. We put our small joint capital into the
concern, and I went out with them to see what it was like. It is a
splendid climate and lovely country--a regular fairyland at some
seasons of the year. Ridgmont has built himself a fine airy house,
with lots of room in it for all of us. Algy took to the life at
once. Of course he has to learn his work; but for the present
Ridgmont will be there, and he seems satisfied with the progress he
is making. The people like Algy, he has the sort of manner and air
that go down with them. Algy always had abilities if he chose to use
them, and his horsemanship and knowledge of horses stands him in good
stead. It is a lonely life, of course, and in a sense rather a rough
one; but he likes it, and as long as the Ridgmonts are there he is
happy enough. The rub will be when they make another trip to Europe,
and he is left all alone on the place. That will be a bit solitary
for him. But I hope he won't get into mischief."
"Wouldn't it be better for me and the child to go out to him before
that?" asked Beatrice quietly. "Algy never liked too much of his own
society."
Desmond looked at her earnestly.
"I believe it would be the making of him, if you could make up your
mind to it, Beatrice. But remember there is no society out there--no
balls, or concerts, or morning calls. The nearest house is ten miles
off--and a bad road to it!"
"I feel as though I had had enough of society to last me a lifetime,"
answered Beatrice with an air of finality which a year ago would
merely have provoked a smile. Now nobody smiled, all looked
earnestly and almost eagerly at her. "If Algy stays there, it seems
to me that my place is certainly with him. I have never posed as a
model wife, but I know my duty better than to remain here, if he is
alone over there wanting me."
"I don't think it had ever occurred to him to ask such a thing of
you," said Desmond. "But Ridgmont and I talked it over together, and
came to the conclusion that that would be out-and-out the best thing.
Of course I didn't know how it would strike you, and I told him so.
But he seemed to have a truer estimate of women than I had; for he
said he believed nine women out of ten would follow their husbands
over the world if need be, and he was kind enough to say that he
didn't seem to think my sister was going to prove herself the tenth
who wouldn't."
"And you have come home to see about all this?"
"I came home because I could not help myself. I could not bear it
any longer. I had sent one message which I hoped would satisfy you
that all was well, but I did not write, because Algy and I had both
agreed to wait a few months, and then have a good account to give.
After that I was resolved to come home, but was delayed through
Ridgmont's getting an attack of fever. I had to nurse him through
that, Algy being engaged with the outdoor things. That detained me
from week to week. But I was resolved to be home for Christmas. I
felt something dragging and pulling at me. I could not bear it any
longer. I came across in what ought to have been good time; but we
met fogs at the last, and lost a lot of time. I was glad then that
Odeyne was not expecting me--and when I did land I had trouble in
getting on. The Christmas traffic had thrown everything more or less
out of gear. Now you know all. Here I am, a battered
good-for-nothing, turned up like a bad halfpenny--to find that my
wife has been taking my burdens upon her brave shoulders, and doing
what I might have lacked the courage to do, whilst I have been
picturing her leading a life of ease and enjoyment, relieved from the
incubus of a worthless husband!"
Desmond looked more like himself as he spoke these last words, and
Maud smiled as she parted the hair upon his brow, and said--
"Nevertheless Odeyne was expecting her worthless husband back for
Christmas all the time. We were seriously afraid that the
disappointment would throw her back. But she was right after all!"
"And what shall you do now that you have returned, Desmond?" asked
his mother. "Will you remain here, or return to the Chase, when you
can get rid of your tenant?"
"We shall remain here till Odeyne's plans are all carried out,"
answered Desmond firmly. "I can never be grateful enough for her for
a scheme which will enable me to take my place in the world again,
without going in fear of encountering certain persons who might well
regard me as the cause of their ruin. When I am able to be about
again I shall go to the office and ask for a subordinate place there,
if they can make room for me. I gave them ample cause for distrust
and displeasure, but I believe, for my father's sake, they will try
me again. I never tampered with the money of the firm. I was kept
from that temptation by the knowledge that it would be so speedily
detected that the game would not be worth the candle. I was careless
and useless, but that was all. They know enough about me to have
many qualms. Yet I think they will help me to regain my old
standing. Please God, I will not disappoint them again."
Mrs. St. Claire pressed her son's hand, but did not speak. After a
moment Desmond continued--
"We shall live in a very quiet way here for a few years. We shall be
very happy, and I shall learn a great many lessons which I stand
badly in need of. I hope by the time that we can return to the Chase
with a clear conscience, I shall know better how to rule our
household there than I have ever done before. I think it will be the
best possible thing for me to live humbly for a while. I have never
known till just lately what it was to deny myself anything I wanted.
I shall have to learn that lesson now, and it will be a very good
thing for me."
This kind of talk sounded strangely from Desmond's lips, but it was a
joy to those who heard it. The change in him was marked indeed.
Odeyne's face showed the happiness which she experienced in the
change. She looked like another woman.
Mrs. St. Claire's visit was not a long one. Maud was plainly anxious
that she should return home soon. She was very frail and feeble,
Odeyne thought, as she was assisted down the staircase, and as she
kissed her daughter-in-law and the little new granddaughter, before
leaving the house, she said, in an audible whisper--
"Now I can say my 'nunc dimittis.'"
And in truth this proved to be the last time that she ever left her
own house. She went to bed upon her return, and never left it again.
Probably there was a very slight paralytic seizure of some sort in
the night, but there was no exact certainty as to this. Only a week
later, just as the New Year was ushered in, she passed away in the
night, without a sigh or a struggle, and was found so by Maud when
she rose before daybreak to visit her as was her wont. The door
between the two rooms had been open all the while, and she was a very
light sleeper, yet she had not known the moment of departure, it had
taken place so silently and suddenly.
Desmond felt the blow keenly, being so little prepared. The
daughters had known it was coming, yet they had not thought it would
be so soon.
Beatrice found herself a fairly well-to-do woman when Mrs. St.
Claire's will was read; and was in a position, if she chose to do so,
to recall her husband and live on at her mother's house in modest
affluence. But this she appeared to have no desire to do.
"I think it would be dangerous to bring him back to England and to
the old neighbourhood so soon again," she said. "I would rather go
out to him there, and while we are both young and strong we will
remain where his work lies. It will be better for him, I am sure;
and perhaps it will be better for me too. I don't want the old life
to begin again. Algy and I will do better out there, with just each
other and the child to live for. I shall go to him."
"I believe you will do wisely and well," said Desmond, when he heard
her decision. "We have both of us had something too much of self in
this world hitherto. We must learn to live up to a higher standard
now."
"That is what I want," answered Beatrice with unwonted gravity. "I
want to live up to Odeyne's standard--which is a very different
thing!"
So Beatrice made ready her simple outfit, and another for her husband
and child, and went bravely out to the new life awaiting her across
the wide Atlantic.
They missed her from the old home, and yet were glad to see her go.
Algernon wanted her, and her place was with him; and the letters they
received regularly from them were all bright and encouraging.
Novelty always had attractions for Beatrice, and she began to find
interests and pleasures even in the life of a Florida settler.
Maud was left alone in her old home. She was a woman of some
substance now, rather grave and old for her years, but with the
chance (as Desmond told her) of growing younger as time went on.
Nor was she long alone. Edmund would sooner have had her without so
large a fortune, and she had suggested handing over a share of it to
Beatrice; but Desmond pointed out that their mother had already done
for Beatrice what she thought right, and had given her the elder
daughter's portion in consideration of previous losses; and Beatrice
had declared that she was tired of riches, and would rather live upon
modest means than tempt Algernon to idleness by large ones.
So Edmund's bride was a well-dowered woman, and some men wondered
whether he would leave the army and settle down as a private
gentleman. But he had no desire to do this, nor did Maud wish him to
quit his profession. She was tired of idle men, she said; she would
rather be an officer's wife, and find work amongst the men and their
wives. Edmund told her there was a large field of usefulness opened
to her in this way; and she quickly found that he spoke the truth.
She became a busier and happier woman than ever she had been in her
life before, and, as Desmond had prophesied, grew steadily younger
and brighter.
As for Desmond and Odeyne, they lived happily in the Lodge, with
gentle, pale-faced Alice as their faithful attendant, and the two
bright and merry children growing up round them. Nothing more was
ever heard of Walter Garth, and Alice seldom spoke his name,
gradually learning to forget the painful past, though the shadow of
it would hang upon her all her life.
Cissy and Guy lived almost within hail of the Lodge, and Jem and the
Ritchies generally were the kindest of neighbours and friends.
Desmond found no difficulty in getting a place once again at the
office, and now went steadily to business in a very different mood.
He won confidence and good-will, and was presently promoted to the
place of trust which he had occupied before, and saw his way to a
partnership in due course.
But however his income increased, they made no alteration in their
manner of life, putting everything they could spare aside to pay off
what both had agreed to consider as just and lawful debts. Little by
little the claims were met and dealt with. The grateful letters they
received testified to the thankful relief their conduct caused, and
were the best of rewards. Odeyne had been brought up simply, and
found no difficulty in ordering her reduced household with careful
economy; and never had her life been so happy as now, when Desmond
was her kind, true, faithful adviser and friend, and they walked hand
in hand (as it were) through life, sharing every hope, every joy,
every care and sorrow, and at one, at last, even in faith and hope,
ordering their lives in the fear of God, and seeking in all things to
do His good pleasure, and rule even the thoughts of their hearts in
accordance with His precepts.
* * * * * *
"At last, my darling, at last! Welcome home once again!"
Desmond sprang from the carriage that had brought them back after a
month's holiday at the seaside, and was now leading Odeyne up the
familiar steps to the open door of the Chase.
Within stood the servants, smiling their welcome; and Odeyne
recognised many old familiar faces in the ranks, though her eyes were
dim with unshed tears.
The day of probation and waiting was over. Desmond's honour had been
redeemed. He stood a free man, able to look the whole world in the
face; and he was bringing back his wife to their own home once
again--that home in which Odeyne had seen so much of happiness and so
much of trouble.
But the clouds had all passed away now. The sun was shining without
and within. Husband and wife spoke kind words to those awaiting
them, and received many glad and kindly welcomes in response. The
excited children--now three in number--the youngest being led about
between the other two--ran hither and thither in great wonder and
delight; whilst the servants hastened to prepare a banquet, for the
master had said that they would sit down six at table that night, as
of course Guy and Cissy and Maud and Edmund must come. But till then
they were alone in the dear old home, to look about and enjoy it
together.
"It is so beautiful, Desmond. I think I never quite knew before how
much I loved it. We have been very, very happy all these years down
there, have we not, dearest? And yet this seems like a sort of
promised land!"
Desmond put his arm about her, as they stood looking over the dear
familiar gardens, now a blaze of summer-tide beauty, and to the hills
and woods beyond, and drew her very close to him.
"Truly the promised land--the goal of our earthly hopes. God has
been wonderfully good to us, and has brought us back, when but for
His restraining hand, it might have been impossible for me ever to
face the world again. Odeyne, there is one thing in the past that I
have never told you yet--let me tell it to you now. I was once
terribly tempted--as near the verge of crime as ever man stood. It
was upon that last awful day, when I knew not what would befall, and
I thought I saw a way, if I just gave way to this temptation. My
mind was almost made up; I was about to leave the house, when I
remembered something I had forgotten, and I went back softly for it.
I opened the door of our room--and there were you upon your knees.
You were wrestling in prayer--I knew it--I felt it in every chord of
my being. You were praying for me--and God had sent me back that I
might know it. That saved me, Odeyne. That brought me to my senses.
I was restrained from an act that would have made of me an outcast
and an alien for ever. And it was my wife's prayers that withheld
me. My own precious, precious wife, it is through your faith and
love and piety that we stand together here to-day. It is to you,
under God and His guiding Providence, that we owe our happy return to
the Chase. How can we do less now than dedicate our lives and our
home to Him and His service? You would have done so from the first,
but I would not. Let us start afresh from this day, and our home
will indeed become as a land of promise to us!"
FINIS