DAME FORTUNE SMILES.
"Of pleasures, those which occur most rarely give the greatest
pleasure."--_Epictetus_.
Dr. Luttrell's fit of pessimism did not last long. The very next day
he had a sharp twinge of remorse, when he went round to Galvaston House
to take leave of his patient, and Mr. Gaythorne put a slip of folded
paper in his hand.
"I am an old man," he said,--and his thin fingers held the young
doctor's hand in a firm grasp,--"and I am using an old man's privilege.
I know what a hard, up-hill fight life is at present to you, and I
should like to ease the burden a little," and to Marcus's intense and
overwhelming surprise he found it was a cheque for five hundred pounds.
Marcus never could remember what he said, but his first attempt to
stammer a few words of gratitude for this unexpected and magnificent
gift was promptly checked.
"It is all very well," observed Alwyn rather gloomily when Olivia told
him of his father's munificence. She had shed tears of joy when Marcus
had shown her the cheque.
"My father has settled up accounts with Dr. Luttrell after his own
fashion, but he has not paid my debts." And then in a deeply moved
voice, "There are some debts that cannot be paid. 'I was a stranger
and ye took me in.' How many doors do you suppose, Mrs. Luttrell,
would have opened to a starving outcast that Christmas night?" and then
his blue eyes flashed with an expression of intense feeling that became
him well.
"I shall never be able to repay either of you. I shall never try," he
went on. "Do you know, as I lay on that doorstep too weak and stiff to
move, and the doctor bent over me, it seemed to me, in my dazed
condition, as though it were the face of a beneficent angel. God bless
you both, for you have made a man of me." And then he lifted the kind,
womanly hand to his lips.
Olivia missed her friends at Galvaston House, sorely, but she had more
time to devote to Greta.
One day they had a pleasant outing together. Greta, who still hankered
after her old home, had proposed that she and Olivia should go down to
Medhurst together.
"It is only an hour's journey," she observed, "And there is a dear old
inn where we could have tea. And just now it will be at its best. The
horse-chestnuts will be out in the Grange garden, and the pink and
white may at Ivy Dene." And Olivia consented readily. But though she
thoroughly enjoyed the little expedition, and fell in love with
Medhurst and the old church, the longed-for visit was only productive
of disappointment to Greta.
Ivy Dene, in Olivia's eyes, was not a desirable abode. The rooms were
low and cramped, and had a mouldy, disused smell in them. Even the
little three-cornered drawing-room with the bay-window overlooking the
village green and the elm-tree did not please her. The solitary old
man in a smock-frock, with a red handkerchief knotted loosely round his
lean old throat, might be a picturesque object in the distance, but on
wet days she fancied even the green might be a dreary outlook. As they
sat over their tea in the little inn parlour she gave her opinion in
her usual downright fashion.
"Dear Greta," she said, "I do not advise your taking this step. Ivy
Dene Lodge would want a good deal of money spent on it to make it
decently habitable. And even if it were painted and papered from
garret to basement it would never be a really comfortable house. All
those small rooms opening into each other are so inconvenient. And
then it is damp. I am sure Marcus would say so; and then I am certain
you would be moped to death. There are no young people at the Grange.
Only that stout, middle-aged couple we met in the pony-carriage, and
the vicar is old and a widower. I do think it would be terribly dull
for you." And Greta owned rather regretfully that her friend was right.
Her poor little air-castles had crumbled into nothingness. Her
longings for the sweet country air and rustic quiet were doomed to be
frustrated. In her heart she felt that Olivia was wise. A solitary
life at Ivy Dene would hardly content her. And after all was she so
ready to leave Brompton? She had found friends there--real
friends--the Luttrells and Mrs. Broderick and the Gaythornes, and
though she still felt terribly lonely in her big house, perhaps it
would be better for her to wait a little.
"I suppose I should feel rather like a ghost if I tried to settle
here," she said, presently. "I do not think so badly of poor little
Ivy Dene as you do. It would be quite large enough for me, but somehow
Medhurst itself seems changed."
After tea they walked to the Grange, and asked leave to go into the
garden, and Greta showed her friend the lime walk, and the orchard and
the big elm-tree where they had swung their hammock.
"I think it looks just as lovely as it did in the old days," she said
as they paced down the smooth velvety lawn. And even Olivia allowed
that the Grange had not disappointed her. It was a fine,
picturesque-looking house, and as they passed to the front, she had a
glimpse of a handsome hall panelled in oak. "If you could only live at
the Grange," she said, and Greta smiled.
Mrs. Broderick told her niece that she was growing very gay and
worldly. Actually Marcus had taken her and Greta to the Royal Academy
one afternoon, and they had sat in the Park afterwards. And Olivia in
her new spring dress and hat had looked the embodiment of youth and
freshness, and another afternoon they had gone to St. James's Hall to
hear Sarasate.
"Livy has had more work than play. I mean her to enjoy herself a
little," he said when Aunt Madge accused him playfully of spoiling his
wife, but Olivia refused to endorse this.
"No one could be happier," she told herself day after day. Marcus's
practice was certainly improving, and he was getting very intimate,
too, with Dr. Bevan, and it was already settled between them that he
should look after Dr. Bevan's patients while he was away in August.
Dr. Bevan had an extensive practice and was not young, and Dr. Luttrell
suspected that he would soon take a partner. He had complained more
than once lately that he was sadly overworked, but Marcus never could
be sure if these hints were intentionally dropped. To be Dr. Bevan's
partner would be the acme of his ambition, but in that case a good
house would be absolutely necessary.
Olivia had only been joking when she had made the observation. She had
no idea that Marcus even entertained such an idea for a moment, but
Marcus, who had his foot on the first rung of the ladder, was eager to
climb. All his spare time was spent in study. He still went to the
Models, to gain experience he would say, but in reality because the
people loved to have him, and because it gratified his organ of
benevolence.
As the summer wore on the weather became exceedingly hot and
oppressive, and Greta, who had taken a small house at Eastbourne for
July and August, insisted on carrying off Olivia and Dot for the first
month.
"It would be doing me the greatest kindness," she said almost tearfully
as she gave the invitation, "for how could I enjoy anything alone? Dr.
Luttrell has promised to run down from Saturday to Monday, and perhaps
we could even induce him to stay longer, and it would do Dot so much
good." And it was this last consideration that had the greatest weight
with Olivia.
"But oh, Marcus! how am I to leave you?" she began in rather a dismal
voice. But Marcus soon proved to her that he was only too willing to
part with her.
"My good child," he said, "the idea of your hesitating for a moment.
Miss Williams is behaving like a brick, and she had planned it all
beforehand, too. Do you suppose she would have taken a house, if she
had not meant you and Dot to go too?"
"But, Marcus," she pleaded, "I do not really need the change; you only
said yourself the other day that I had never looked so well."
"Yes, and Eastbourne will enable you to keep well," he returned,
cheerfully. "Think of a month of sea breezes; does not your maternal
heart swell at the idea of Dot in a big sun-bonnet, stumping over the
beach with her spade and bucket? Why, you and Miss Williams will be as
happy as the day is long."
"Oh, no; not without you, Marcus," returned Olivia, tenderly. "Do you
think any enjoyment would be perfect without my husband?" But as
Marcus quietly reasoned with her, she yielded at last with a good grace.
"I could not well refuse, Aunt Madge, could I?" she said to her usual
confidante, "when Greta wanted me so; and then it will do baby so much
good. Marcus declares that Martha will manage all right, and that he
will not be dull; and he has promised to spend a whole week with us if
he can. And really, it is so very, very kind of Greta, and she is so
happy about our coming."
"You are a wise woman, Livy," replied Aunt Madge. "And I am proud of
you, and so is Marcus, for we both of us know you are making a brave
effort. Deb shall give Martha a helping hand, now and then, when I can
spare her. And Marcus has promised to have a cup of tea and chat with
me sometimes on his way home from the Models. By-the-bye, when do Mr.
Gaythorne and Mr. Alwyn return?" But Olivia could not answer this
question.
Galvaston House would not be ready for them until the end of July. She
knew that in his last letter to Marcus, Alwyn had spoken of their going
on to Scarborough. He had given a good account of his father, he was
less feeble and walked better; but Bournemouth was too relaxing, and
they both felt the need of more bracing air.
"I shall keep him away until September, unless he turns restless," he
had finished, and Marcus had strongly commended this.
Greta sometimes heard from Alwyn. He wrote to her from time to time,
and she would read his letters to Olivia.
The house that she had taken at Eastbourne was charmingly situated.
From the windows they had a view of the sea, and Beachy Head in the
distance. Marcus took them down and settled them in, and after the
first few days Olivia got over her homesickness and thoroughly enjoyed
her life.
In the mornings they were always on the beach with Dot, either reading
or working, or watching the happy groups of children.
In the afternoons and evenings they either drove or walked over the
downs. Greta, who was resolved to spare no expense, had hired a pretty
little victoria for the month.
When Marcus came down for his promised week, he spent most of his time
boating, and one or two days they went out in a sailing-boat and
carried their luncheon with them. Both Greta and Olive proved
themselves good sailors.
Greta had entreated her friend to prolong her visit, but Olivia would
not hear of this.
"Martha had been left long enough," she said, decidedly, and she could
not remain away from Marcus any longer. And Marcus was too glad to get
his bright companion back to say a dissenting word.
"Oh, Aunt Madge, I have had such a splendid time," were Olivia's first
words when she went round to Mayfield Villas on the morning after her
return. "Greta has been such a dear, she has thoroughly spoilt me; but
the loveliest time of all was the week Marcus spent with us."
"You look the very essence of a sunbeam, Livy," returned Mrs.
Broderick, with an admiring look; "but what a nut-brown mayde you have
become. Well, was Marcus pleased to get his wife and child back?" And
then Olivia smiled happily, for only she knew how she had been missed.
Dr. Bevan left town early in August and Dr. Luttrell took up his
position as _locum tenens_, and in spite of the emptiness of London
found plenty of work.
Sometimes, as Olivia walked in the direction of Brunswick Place with
Dot toddling beside her, the victoria with its bay horses would pass
her. How Olivia would dimple with amusement as Marcus gravely lifted
his hat to her.
Ever after a victoria with bay horses figured in Olivia's _châteaux
d'espagne_.
Greta complained bitterly of her dullness when her friends had left.
"Eastbourne has lost its charms," she wrote, "and the crowds of people
on the Parade only make me feel more lonely. If it were not for fear
of Dr. Luttrell, I should come back to Brunswick Place at once, but I
dare not run the gauntlet of his sarcasms.
"My one amusement is making smocks for Dot. I have finished the pale
blue one and it looks lovely, and now I have begun a cream-coloured
one; in spite of your stuck-up pride, Olive, you cannot prevent me from
working for my darling Dot."
This reproachful sentence was the outcome of a hot argument.
Greta had tried in her affectionate way to lavish gifts upon her
friend, but Olivia had steadily refused to allow this.
"No, Greta," she had said, "you do far too much for me already. I have
been treated like a princess for a whole month, but I will not have
presents heaped on me. Even poor people have their feelings, you know,
and rich people must respect them." But this dignified speech made no
impression on Greta.
"You may call it proper pride," she said, contemptuously, "but I call
it selfishness, for you are just depriving me of my greatest pleasure.
Well, if you choose to be stiff and obstinate you must have your way,
but you cannot hinder me from finishing those smocks." And Olivia, who
was full of admiration for Greta's exquisite smocking, announced
graciously that the smocks were to be the exception.
"I was obliged to put my foot down, Marcus," she said afterwards, "or
she would have bought everything I admired. Perhaps I am proud, but no
one but my husband or Aunt Madge shall buy my frocks." And as Olivia
said this she held up her head, and looked so dignified and handsome
that Marcus refrained from teasing her. Evidently such pride was no
fault in his eyes, and it was certain that he very much enjoyed
choosing his wife's gowns.
Greta was the first to return. The Gaythornes stayed away until the
middle of September.
When Alwyn paid his first visit, Olivia was rejoiced to see the
improvement in him. He had gained weight and flesh, and looked very
handsome; but Marcus was less satisfied with Mr. Gaythorne.
"He is an old man before his time," he observed. "I am afraid he will
never throw off his invalid habits now. He can just potter about in
the sunshine and amuse himself with his flowers and museum, but he will
never be capable of work again. The least effort to concentrate his
thoughts for more than a few minutes seems to irritate his brain.
Nothing pleases him better than to creep up to the grand new studio and
watch Alwyn at his work.
"'I shall be proud of him yet,' he said that to me yesterday, and if
you had seen his face, Livy, when he said it!"