A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE
Major Carden sat over the breakfast which his daughter had prepared for
him. He had been unusually late the night before, and showed it in the
additional pinkness of his cheeks and the slightly red rims under his
eyes. Not that he was feeling much the worse for the previous evening's
pleasure; indeed, in his philosophical moments, the Major was fond of
speculating which was the wiser--to take his fill of enjoyment's cup
with its concomitants in the morrow of suffering and tribulation, or
abandon such courses, however delightful. One mode of life was jolly to
a point, but, on the other hand, the man who exercised prudence and some
measure of control had a compensation in his economy. As a matter of
fact, the Major never had been economical. "Sufficient for the day is
the evil thereof" summed up his religion to its fullest extent. After a
stimulant he knew he would be himself again, so he ate his breakfast
with a zest that was truly amazing after the carousal of the night.
For Major Carden always appeared to be in the best of health and
spirits. Beyond his impecuniosity he had little to trouble him, and at
the moment things appeared to be going very well indeed. He saw his way
to make money out of Phillips, and had also been offered a roving
commission on the Continent to purchase horses for the Army. This would
entail his being away for three or four months, but his travelling
allowance was liberal, he would put up at the best hotels, and enjoy
himself in a manner consonant with his mission and dignity. He would
tell his daughter that he was going abroad on some journalistic
commission, for the Major, to do him justice, would have been loth for
Alice to know all the expedients he resorted to in earning his
precarious living.
His love for his daughter was the one wholesome spot in his otherwise
shady existence. He had been a selfish man all his life, had spent his
own fortune and his wife's, and had broken the heart of that unhappy
woman in a gentlemanly way. There had been no violence, no open
unkindness, but the refinement of neglect that undermines health and
spirit. When the crash finally came the Major removed to London with his
young daughter. He told her just as much as he considered necessary,
with the consequence that she regarded him as one of the best and most
self-denying of men. Alice had few friends, and none knew anything about
the Major's means, so that the journalistic fiction remained
unassailable, and Alice could speak freely of her father as adding high
intellectual qualities to his other gifts. His frequent late absences
from home were explained in this way, and if he never said anything
definite about his work, his diffidence might be attributed to natural
modesty.
In the circumstances, therefore, the Major was not sorry his daughter
had had an invitation to spend a holiday at Haredale Park. He had
thought of inviting himself also, but his new commission put that out of
the question. After he had finished his breakfast he helped himself to a
liberal dose of brandy and soda, and had just lighted his first cigar
when his daughter came in.
"You are very late," she said with playful fondness. "I declare you grow
worse and worse."
"Not my fault, my dear," the Major protested. "These things are
inevitable amongst newspaper men. I thought I should be at home by
eleven, but something important turned up at the last moment and they
told me off to attend to it. They are good enough to say they can depend
on me, Alice. That is one of the advantages of being steady. If anything
goes wrong at the office the first thing they say is, 'Where is
Carden?'"
Alice smiled affectionately. To her this was quite natural. For a girl
who had spent so many years in London she was wonderfully simple.
"I suppose it can't be helped," she said. "How few men there are who
would have endured your misfortunes and turned to and made a living as
you are doing! I wish I were clever."
"Oh, so you are, my dear, so you are," the Major said magnanimously.
"The great thing is pluck and perseverance. Without egotism, I think I
am endowed with those qualities, and to some extent so are you, and you
will make a name as an artist yet. Stick to it, my child, stick to it.
At the same time, it is good to have an occasional change, and I am glad
you are going to Haredale Park. I suppose you can manage to put your
painting pupils off for a week or two? Probably you will find it lonely
when I am away. I shall only be able to run over from the Continent
occasionally."
"Oh, I shall miss you," Alice said. "But I shall be safe enough. The
landlady is always motherly, and she will see I come to no harm."
The Major dismissed the subject with a flourish of his cigar. He had
rather feared his daughter might give way to tears. He thought she might
ask him to take her along with him and so put him to the pain of
refusal. Possibly the girl was looking too eagerly forward to her visit
to Haredale Park to think of anything else. She had not forgotten the
days when Major Carden was a man of position and they occupied a fine
house in the country, when she had her horse and plunged into the dear
delights of country life. It was good to feel she was going back to it,
even though it was only for a little time. She had already made her
modest preparations. She only hoped there would not be too many visitors
at Haredale Park. But May Haredale had assured her they lived very
quietly and had not many friends.
"I am getting nervous about it," she said. "It will seem so different to
the life I have been leading here. If I had only foreseen this I might
have saved up and bought myself another dress or two. Still, I know I
shall enjoy myself."
"Of course you will," the Major said heartily. "But you won't get much
gaiety at Haredale. They don't go in for society much. You see, there
are very few of the old families left. Times change, my dear, and we
change with them. I don't suppose, plainly speaking, that Sir George is
much better off than I am. I happen to know that much depends upon the
Blenheim colt winning this year's Derby. I was in the Post Club
yesterday with one or two of my----"
The Major coughed hastily as if his cigar smoke had gone the wrong way.
"What am I talking about?" he exclaimed. "Anybody would think I am still
interested in sport. Do you know, beyond an occasional day at a small
meeting, I have no time for that sort of thing. I was in the Post Club
on business, purely on business. It is a very sad thing to see young
men wasting so much of their time and money on horses. But I can't
prevent them from talking and am bound to hear the gossip that goes on.
That is how I came to know so much about Sir George's affairs. Every
penny he can scrape together goes on the stables, so you'll probably
find that Miss Haredale leads a very quiet existence."
"I am glad to hear it," Alice said. "I shall be happy with her. She was
the greatest friend I had at school, and I can't understand how I ever
managed to lose sight of her. Is it a nice place?"
"Very pleasant," the Major said critically. "It is a grand old house,
full of works of art and furniture and that kind of thing. Of course,
all these things go with the estate, so that Sir George could not
dispose of them, which is a precious lucky thing for the heir, for there
won't be too much for him when the time comes. The stables are very
fine, too, and Sir George has some of the best cattle in the country.
Oh, I have no doubt you will enjoy yourself. When do you go?"
"To-day," Alice said.
The Major appeared to be slightly embarrassed.
"Oh, yes," he said, "I had forgotten. It is a trifle awkward, because I
have only a little money just now. The cashier at the office is so
careless. He omitted to draw my cheque on Friday. Till to-morrow I am
not sure whether I shall be able to spare money for your fare. Next
week it would be quite different."
Alice Carden kissed the speaker affectionately.
"How thoughtful you are!" she said. "You are always thinking about other
people. But please don't worry about that. I have saved a little, and
shall have enough to keep me for the next two or three weeks and bring
me home again."
The Major expressed his gratification. For once at least he was sincere.
It was most unfortunate, he said, that he should be in temporary need of
cash. He laid strict injunctions upon Alice to spend what she had freely
and not for one moment to forget that she was a Carden; if she wanted
more money she was to write to him without hesitation. He saw her off at
Waterloo presently. He paid for the cab in the most lordly fashion, and
insisted on his daughter travelling first class, though he had not the
money to pay for the ticket. But Alice was looking forward too eagerly
to her holiday to notice these things.
"Good-bye," she cried. "You will have left for the Continent before I
come back. But don't let the thought of my being alone in London
interfere with your pleasure. I should like to feel you were not
troubling about me."
"I'll try, my dear," the Major said. "Good-bye."