CHAPTER XI.

_A SHOCK._

Guy and Odeyne spent the evening of Beatrice's grand ball quietly together at the Chase, as planned. It was a great delight to both to be once more under one roof, and living the same life. And this was the first occasion on which they had had leisure and opportunity for one of their long confidential chats.

Odeyne had been looking forward to it for quite a long time, the other days having been so full of employment and the calls of friendship. Yet now that it had come, the young wife was not so uncloudedly happy as she had expected to be. Although she asked innumerable questions about the old home and friends there--questions she had been treasuring up against the time when she and Guy could be alone and at leisure--yet she often felt her attention straying as she talked, and was conscious of a dull indefinite weight at her heart that she hardly wished to drag into the light of day.

And yet as time went on, and the old familiar relations between herself and Guy re-established themselves without any effort on either side, the desire to confide in and consult him became too strong for resistance; and suddenly breaking in upon what he was telling her, she said almost abruptly for her--

"Guy, dear, you won't think it unwifely of me, will you, if I talk to you a little about Desmond?"

"Not a bit," he answered; "you know Desmond and I were always fond of one another. Sometimes I think it was his goodness to me when I was ill and good for nothing that made the first link between you two."

"I think it was. Guy, Desmond is the dearest of husbands. I don't think any two people could be happier than he and I; and yet every now and then I have such a strange feeling of misgiving. It comes over me that perhaps I am not the best wife he could have chosen. There are times when I feel that I have not the influence over him that I ought to have. He will give me everything I want. I am almost afraid of admiring anything, lest he should at once send for it, whether we need it or not. But sometimes I wonder whether he would give up things for me if I asked it--and then I do not feel so sure."

Guy looked grave and thoughtful. Few as had been the days he had spent at the Chase, they had given him time to observe many things, and he understood Odeyne almost more fully than she expected him to do.

"He does spend a good deal of money, Odeyne--generously and kindly, to be sure, but rather over-lavishly. It might be a good thing if you could put a check upon that."

"I do try very often," she answered, "but you heard how he answered me the other day; and if business is so good----"

"That is just my puzzle," answered Guy. "I do not know so very much about business; but I have never looked upon a berth like Desmond's as such an immensely lucrative thing. No doubt it is very advantageous to him to have it. He will probably in time build up a solid little supplementary fortune to leave behind him. But I do not quite understand how it puts him in command of such large sums of ready money; and yet when I chaffed him the other day about the bills he was running up, he declared everything was paid for on the spot. He had had enough of debts, he said, at college. He never meant to contract any more. And I was very glad to hear him say that, although it left the other puzzle untouched."

Odeyne said nothing for a while, but looked into the fire, and when she spoke there was a certain hesitation in her tones.

"Guy, what were you saying this afternoon--about Algernon Vanborough, you know--and the Stock Exchange?"

"Why, that it looked rather as though he must be dabbling in speculation in stocks and shares, going into the City, and suddenly having command of money again. No doubt there is a great deal to be made in that way; but it needs a cool and clever head, and I should not think Algernon Vanborough had that."

"I do not like him much," said Odeyne. "But Beatrice spoke as if Desmond were helping him. I thought it was in the way of business."

"Yes, some kind of business; but Beatrice was very vague about it herself. It is a word that carries a wide meaning."

"Oh, Guy!" exclaimed Odeyne, with sudden anxiety and distress, "do tell me, is there anything wrong in that sort of speculation--and do you think that Desmond is speculating too?"

"I confess it looks a little like it," answered Guy; "but as to whether or not such speculation is honest, I hardly know how to answer. Of course 'men of the world' would laugh at the notion of calling it anything else. And there is a certain buying and selling of stock that is perfectly fair and legitimate; but undoubtedly there can be a shady side to it; and in any case I should shrink from gaining large sums of money without doing honest work for it. Your gain is somebody's loss. It seems a perilous pastime to indulge in. It draws men on and on into deeper places. In its essence it is a form of gambling, Odeyne, although it may not be recognised as such at the outset."

At that word Odeyne caught her breath a little. It filled her with a vague terror and distress. More than once she had been warned about Desmond's tendency towards that perilous amusement, but she had fondly thought that her influence was holding him back from it.

"Then, Guy, would you have me speak to him about it? Do you think I should warn him?"

"I am rather shy, Odeyne, of giving advice where husband and wife are concerned. I think you are the best judge of what you should say to Desmond. His love for you is very true and deep. If he knew that anything in his conduct distressed you, surely he would give it up?"

Odeyne sighed, and a little pucker furrowed her brow.

"Some things he would directly; but I do not feel so sure about it when it seems to be business. He would be very kind, and he would explain it all so that I should see it was all right, but I don't feel so certain that he would give it up. That is where it sometimes comes over me that another woman might have made him a better wife. I am not strong-willed enough to have the influence I sometimes want."

"There is influence of another kind," said Guy thoughtfully after a long pause. "A man with a very high standard before his eyes--the highest standard of all--shrinks back from all such doubtful things with an instinct of repulsion, and does not argue about them. He feels the evil possibilities, and lets it alone. Try and win Desmond to such a standard as that, and the rest will follow of itself."

Odeyne drew a deep sigh.

"If only I could!" she answered. "If only I could! But, Guy, I am sometimes in danger of growing careless and forgetful myself, and Desmond does not care for being talked to."

"I don't think talking ever does much good," answered Guy in the same thoughtful way. "You must live your lessons, _Schwesterling_, not talk them. And then there is always the power of prayer. I often think we forget what a mighty weapon that is if used regularly, and used aright."

Odeyne covered her face with her hands, and there was a sound of tears in her voice as she answered--

"Oh, Guy, it is not so easy to be good, to think of all these things, to keep unspotted from the world, here, in this big house and amongst the people I live with, as in the dear old home. I do try; but there is always so much to distract my thoughts. You will pray for us, Guy, will you not, dear brother? For me as well as for him; for indeed--indeed I need it!"

Very soon after that Guy persuaded Odeyne to go to bed. She had intended to sit up for her husband; but she was really tired, and Guy opined that they might be very late, since a light snow had fallen, and travelling would be heavy. He would sit up and see that there was a blazing fire, and some hot soup ready for them as ordered; and presently Odeyne let herself be persuaded, and went off to bed.

Although rather anxious and troubled in mind, she strove to put aside gloomy thoughts, and to reassure herself by thinking of the many lovable traits in her husband's character. She could not expect perfection, of course; and when she contrasted him with Algernon Vanborough and some of his associates, she felt that she had cause rather for thankfulness than disquiet, although, to be sure, Desmond was just a little too easily led.

She had dropped asleep, with her door half open, that she might hear her husband's voice when he returned, and feel assured of his safety, when she was roused by a stir in the hall, and sat up in bed to listen.

The hall being two stories high, and her bedroom door opening upon the gallery just at the head of the staircase, she could hear any sound there, and even any words spoken in a loud voice, and to-night as she sat up listening, she was perfectly certain that she heard Edmund say in answer to words spoken by Guy--

"It's all right--don't make a fuss or wake Odeyne. They'll bring him in directly. We'll have him all right before she sees him."

In a moment Odeyne was out of bed, trembling in every limb. Desmond had been hurt. There had been an accident on the slippery roads. He always _would_ take his dog-cart and drive so fast. She was hurrying into a rather elaborate wrapper, which would pass for a tea-gown, and was hastily coiling up her abundant hair as these thoughts passed through her brain. She must go to him, and see to his hurts. She was afraid of nothing but suspense. In another moment she was out upon the gallery, and looking down into the hall below, saw Desmond being supported into the hall between Edmund and the footman, an idiotic grin upon his face, a babble of thick and incoherent talk proceeding from his lips.

"It is a head injury!" she said to herself, her heart almost standing still. "He must get to bed at once, and I will attend to him"; and she flew down the staircase.

Guy suddenly glanced up and saw her, and came striding to meet her, looking almost stern in his gravity.

"Odeyne, don't come down--don't let the servants see you. Go back to your room. I will come to you there if you like. Desmond would rather that you did not see him now--with the men-servants about and all."

Then she understood. She gave a low wail that went to Guy's heart; and turning she went back to her own room, and threw herself into the chair beside the fire, feeling as though the foundations of the earth were giving way beneath her.

How long she remained thus she knew not. A light tap at the door aroused her. She started up and heard Edmund's voice asking if he might come in. She lighted the candles upon the toilet table, wiped the traces of tears from her face, and went to the door trying to appear as calm as possible.

Her soldier brother came a few paces into the room, and put her back into her chair.

"I'm awfully sorry, Odeyne; I feel half to blame myself; but I've come to tell you it's not nearly so bad as you may perhaps think--the sort of thing that might happen to anybody who hadn't a very strong head. It was Algy Vanborough's fault. That fellow is a great fool. It was an awfully jolly ball, and Desmond had been Beatrice's right hand all through, dancing with all the wall-flowers, and trotting out little first-season misses whom some of the fellows turned up their noses at. Nobody could have been nicer and kinder all along. And at supper it was the same. He was everywhere, looking after everybody--a hundred times more good than Vanborough. I daresay he got thirsty, and perhaps he may have drunk rather more champagne than was quite wise; but he was not the least excited or anything at the house--make yourself quite easy about that."

"Then when was it?" asked Odeyne with dry lips.

"As I say, it was that fool Algy's fault. We were getting into the dog-cart; Desmond was in already, and he came out with glasses of 'something hot, just to keep out the cold, you know.' Well, it was a bitter night; one couldn't altogether fall foul of him for that. But when I tasted my glass it was so horribly strong--whisky punch or some heady mixture like that--that I wouldn't drink it. I was going to warn Desmond, but he had already drained his glass; and of course, after the champagne, and with the change into the cold air, it got into his head; and I had to take the reins before we'd gone two miles. That's the whole story, Odeyne. I'm awfully sorry you saw him, but really it was the sort of accident that might happen to the soberest fellow living. Don't you remember when Mary came in dripping that day of the thunderstorm last summer year, how we gave her some hot brandy and water, and she couldn't walk straight after it?"

"Yes, I remember," said Odeyne with rather dry lips. "Thank you for coming and explaining it, Edmund. I suppose it was only an accident. But I wish it hadn't happened! Oh, I wish it hadn't happened!"

"So do I," answered Edmund sincerely. "But, honestly, Odeyne, I don't think it's anything to trouble over seriously. Desmond hasn't a very strong head, and Algy had no business to give him that fiery stuff. He didn't think what he was doing when he drank it. It wasn't as if he had the least craving. It was forced upon him when he was in a merry, rollicking mood, and he took it without a thought, as I was nearly doing myself."

"I will try not to make too much of it," answered Odeyne. "I should not mind quite so much if the servants had not seen. I am afraid it will be all over the place soon."

"I'm afraid servants see such much worse sights than that in many houses that this won't make much impression on them," answered Edmund. "All your people are fond of Desmond. He is a very kind and considerate master. Now go to bed, little sister, and we will look after Desmond. A headache to-morrow will be all the result of to-night's mischance--and probably a resolve not to be careless in such a fashion in the future."

Walter Garth walked up from the station in the snow-lighted darkness, to see welcoming ruddy gleams shining out of the window of his pretty cottage home. His footstep outside was apparently heard from within, and Alice opened the door, standing looking out into the darkness--a pretty picture of homely prosperity and cheerful affection.

"Is that you, Walter? How late you are!"

"Yes, it was the train. There was a bad fog in town. I thought we should never get out. Glad we don't have to live in that choking reek, little wife. One can breathe down here!"

Alice relieved him of his coat, went through what was evidently a little daily pantomime of searching his pockets, and brought out a box of bonbons from one of them. It seemed as though Garth had taken a leaf out of Desmond's book, for he seldom returned home without some little trifling gift for his wife. Often enough it was a small household requisite he had been asked to buy, but a parcel of some sort he almost always had, and Alice had come to look upon it as her rightful due.

"Anything happened up at the house?" asked Walter, as he sat warming himself before the fire luxuriously.

"What sort of thing do you mean?" asked Alice, who was bending over the tea-pot, kettle in hand.

"Why, the master wasn't in town to-day; and yet he hadn't sent for me to go to him for orders this morning. Of course I thought he would be there himself, and told them so; but he didn't come, and Mr. Drake was rather put out. He said there were letters waiting to be answered, and that the master had them, and should have sent them in if he wasn't coming himself. They rather jumped upon me. But I couldn't help it."

"Of course not," answered Alice. "Well, it's just like this; the master came home screwed from Mrs. Vanborough's ball last night. This morning he had a tremendous headache, and couldn't think about business anyhow. He didn't get up till twelve, and then they say he was as cross as a bear. It's a shame! because it puts about the mistress so. She has looked like a ghost all day."

Walter Garth gave vent to a low whistle.

"I hope that's not a failing of the master's though! I had no idea of it!"

"Oh no, it isn't now," answered Alice quickly. "Thomson says there was a time once, when he was at college and got into a fast set, when he would take too much now and again; but he's been quite better of that for ever so long now. It was just an accident last night--nothing more."

Walter looked rather grim.

"It's the sort of accident that may cost him dear if he does not look out. Mr. Desmond St. Claire has a good deal of quick cleverness, and he's been uncommonly lucky, I will say--partly because I've looked sharp after things too. But he hasn't too much ballast on board; and he'd be one to lose his head pretty badly if he took to losing. Besides, he can't afford to play fast and loose with all the irons he has in the fire just now. That headache of his to-day will cost him several hundred pounds, and perhaps lose him as much more."

Alice looked quite aghast.

"Oh, Walter, is that possible?"

"To be sure it is. He's been speculating in several things, and has had rather a lot in the Chou-Chou mines, which are being boomed just now. He ought to have sold to-day. I did, and my little speculation brought me twenty-five pounds profit. He has hundreds where I have tens. I expected a telegram all day, but never got one. I believe the boom's over now, and that they will come tumbling down like a house of cards! Well, he can afford to lose now and again. He's been piling up money in fine style lately. Sometimes I'm half afraid of his luck--lest it should make him reckless, or that it should get whispered about in the office. And that would never do!"

A great deal of this was as Greek to Alice, but she understood very well that her husband had made twenty-five pounds in a day, and her eyes sparkled at the thought.

She asked a good many questions that made Walter laugh a good deal, and finally she said in a puzzled voice--

"But I don't still understand where all the money comes from."

"Oh, out of the pockets of poor fools, who speculate without understanding what they are about. They think these boomed affairs are going to turn into something very wonderful, and rush in and buy when they are very high. Then we, who know how the thing really stands, sell high what we've bought for almost nothing, get our money, and then down they go with a crash, and the fools are left lamenting, with waste-paper certificates for their proceedings!"

"Oh, but, Walter, isn't that rather hard on them?"

"Gives them a very good lesson, which, if they take to heart, may save them from further losses. People who don't know what they're about shouldn't gamble in stocks."

"But, then, if there were none of these fools, as you call them, left, how would you make your money?" asked Alice ingenuously, and Walter laughed.

"Well, it seems a merciful arrangement or provision of Providence that the race of fools never becomes extinct," he answered. "As fast as one set collapses another rises up. It is seldom that dupes are not to be had--if only the wirepullers know what they are about."

"Is it quite honest to take their money and give them only waste paper in return?" asked Alice.

"They get their money's value when they buy. Of course, if they choose to hold on too long--till the thing drops to half, or bursts up altogether--that is their affair. In all buying and selling the purchaser takes a certain risk that the goods may be accidentally destroyed. It's the same on the Stock Exchange. They can get good things for their money if they try. But if ignorant fools dabble in risky speculations--well, they deserve to come to grief."

"I hope you won't come to grief," said Alice anxiously. "I should hate to be poor, and to have people making remarks. They would be sure to be spiteful, because they are jealous of me for having got such a pretty home and such nice clothes. They say I have been made a favourite of, and that favourites never come to a good end."

"Who say so?" asked Walter quickly.

"Oh, the girls up at the house. They have always been rather jealous of me, because the mistress has me about her and talks to me. They don't quite like it because I've married better than they can expect to do. And the master thinking so much of you doesn't please them much either. I take them presents of chocolates and things, just to show I bear no malice, and that I am rich enough to buy such things. But they would be delighted, I know, if we came down in the world. So take care you don't, Walter dear."

"Not I!" he answered confidently. "I go about with my eyes open, and I have plenty of irons in the fire. I always do say it doesn't do to have all your eggs in one basket. And now, wifie, what did you say about that diamond necklace the mistress had given her on Christmas Day? Did you say you had set your heart upon having one like it for your next ball?"

Alice opened her eyes wide; she had not said or even thought of any such thing, that she could remember, but her face flushed at the bare idea.

"Farmer Blackthorne's eldest daughter is going to be married early in the spring, and I've heard that there'll be a fine to-do when that happens. Now, if you'd like a necklace made just like the mistress's--in my sort of diamonds--well, I think I could manage that out of my little winnings! I like my wife to put them all to shame, and if the diamonds aren't real, at least they sparkle just as much, and look as pretty."

"Oh, Walter, you are good! I should like that! And the mistress will never know. She won't be much about at that time. Can you really get it made?"

"Of course I can, if you can take the pattern of the necklace very carefully for me, or bring it down here some evening for me to take the pattern myself, which would be almost better. Then I could have one made to look just like it, and you can copy one of her dresses too, and play my lady for all the world."

Alice looked delighted. She had been called "my lady" half in derision, half in admiration, at the last ball she had attended, and her vain little head was almost turned with the compliments received. It was delightful to think of figuring again in even finer trim on another occasion, and Alice had tried on her mistress's jewels often enough to know that they looked most becoming and beautiful clasped round her slender neck.

"Oh, I'll bring it down to-morrow evening. I'll just manage to bend the clasp, or something, cleaning them, and ask leave to take them down for you to mend. Everybody knows how clever you are with your fingers. You won't want it long, I suppose? I can run back with it in an hour or so?"

"Oh yes, a few minutes will be enough for what I want, and then you shall have your facsimile necklace, little wife!"