CHAPTER XIV.

_A CHANGED LIFE._

"Oh, how lovely you look! What a beautiful dress! I never saw anything so exquisite! It must have been made in fairyland! Oh, I wish I were out and could go and see all the people. Everybody says it will be such a sight!"

Jem was the speaker, and she was sitting on a corner of the sofa in Odeyne's spacious bedroom, watching Alice's deft movements as she robed her mistress for a grand fancy ball, to which she was going that night in the character of Titania, the Queen of the Fairies.

Cissy had been invited, to her great delight, and was to go under the chaperonage of Odeyne. Since it had become known that Cissy Ritchie was engaged to the brother of Mrs. Desmond St. Claire, she had risen in importance in the eyes of the neighbourhood. Guy had been much liked during his long stay at the Chase, and people were glad to hear that he intended coming to live near to his sister upon his marriage, although, as Cissy took care to inform all her friends, they should only have a small house, and live in quite a modest way.

Cissy was dressed to represent one of Titania's attendant fairies, and looked very pretty in her own way. Odeyne had had her hair redressed by Alice, and had lent her several sparkling ornaments to light up her dress and give a touch of fairylike brilliance to it. She herself was glittering from head to foot. A veritable fairy queen could scarcely have had a more splendid show of gems. Jem was entranced at her appearance, but upon Odeyne's face there rested a little shadow--a shadow that was often to be detected there now, although her gay and busy life seemed one long scene of enjoyment and success.

"What splendid jewels you have, Odeyne," said Jem, approaching the toilet table and looking into the various cases with which it was strewn. "It is like a jeweller's shop."

"Yes, I have more than I want; it is Desmond's extravagance to load me with them," answered Odeyne, smiling. "But, Alice, I don't know why you brought up all these cases from the safe. I told you I should only wear diamonds and pearls to-night."

"I did not like to trouble the master to wait whilst I looked them through," answered Alice, who, like her mistress, looked a little pale and troubled. "And you know he never lets anyone go to the safe without being there himself. So I just took all the large cases and brought them away. I am going to stay here till you come back, ma'am. I shouldn't like anybody else to undress you, and I couldn't be comfortable leaving all these things about in the room, without I was there to see after them."

Odeyne could very well understand that Alice was afraid to leave valuable jewellery lying about, even locked up in a bedroom, with the present miscellaneous household. She looked relieved as she heard the girl's words.

"Oh, if you can stay I need not trouble the master again to open the safe till we get home. But are you sure you can be spared from home, Alice? We may be very late."

"Walter is coming to do some work for the master, ma'am, and he will be writing in the study till quite late, he says. I would rather wait for him here, if I may; I don't like trusting things out of my sight or his."

"Very well, I leave all in your charge," said Odeyne; and at this moment Desmond knocked at the door and asked if he might come in and show himself. He came in, looking an Oberon worthy of Odeyne's Titania, his handsome, careless face wreathed in smiles as he turned round for his wife's inspection, and surveyed himself in the long mirror opposite.

No one could regard him without admiration, and yet it often came over Odeyne with a pang that this was not the old Desmond she had known in the days of yore. He was as gay, as merry, even as affectionate, as ever, but there was something lacking which she missed terribly and yet which defied definition--something there which she wished away, and which she yet found it impossible to complain of, so subtle and indefinite was it in essence.

In the gay life they led there was not overmuch time for thought and analysis. Desmond's idea of pleasure seemed to be always more or less in a whirl. Odeyne found her circle of acquaintances enlarging every day, and invitations poured in, which her husband insisted on accepting, and which involved them in return hospitalities on a grander scale than anything Odeyne had contemplated during her first year of wifehood.

She was often entertained and amused. She had a large capacity for enjoyment. There was a natural innocent pleasure in the grandeur of her present life, which was often present with her. But she had her troubles too; she felt very sadly the godlessness of her household, the absence of the gathering of the household for prayer in the morning, the increasing difficulty of getting her servants and even her husband to church, the hindrance sometimes placed in her own way from regular attendance there.

She strove to be patient. She prayed earnestly for guidance, and sought to combine gentleness with firmness in her dealing with others, and in her relations with her husband when differences arose. Alas! these differences were arising fast now, and Odeyne was sometimes cut to the heart to note how little Desmond seemed aware of it. He would turn the matter off with a laugh and a kiss, and seemed to think it settled; and Odeyne was learning by rather bitter experience, that fond as her husband was of her, he was by no means easily led or influenced. He had a way of slipping away from an argument, or evading a definite answer, which made it almost impossible to bring any moot point to an issue, and he went his own way with a careless obstinacy and persistency that left Odeyne feeling strangely helpless.

His good humour and gay spirits were, however, rarely impaired, and to-night he was in the merriest of moods. He wanted to dress up Jem in some sort of extemporised costume and carry her off with them. He teased Cissy about her betrothal, and made much of his wife, and even accompanied her on her final visit to the nursery, which she never omitted to pay.

All through the long drive in the pleasant cool of the summer evening he rattled away most amusingly, looking so handsome and distinguished in his bravery that Cissy thought him the most delightful of men, although in the Ritchie family there was a good deal of discussion as to whether or not Desmond St. Claire was not in danger of going the pace dangerously fast. No one could well help liking him, for his personal charm was considerable, but, as Tom Ritchie occasionally observed, it was often the most charming men who turned out the greatest scamps in the end.

The ball was a very grand affair, at the house of one of the county magnates. Cissy had never seen anything so fine before, the flowers, the lights, the magnificence of the liveried servants, and the blaze of jewels and gorgeous raiment were quite dazzling to her.

She kept close to Odeyne, who moved along with the self-possession and grace of manner which had always been characteristic of her. She seemed to know a great many people, Cissy thought, and Desmond was hailed on all sides, and seemed popular alike with men and women. Cissy did not know one-tenth of the company, but was content to look on and admire the fine folks; although when the dancing began she was pleased to find partners, and being a pretty girl, light of foot, and merry of tongue, and under the wing of Mrs. St. Claire, she did not lack notice, and enjoyed herself amazingly.

Odeyne danced a little, but often excused herself. She soon found herself a seat upon the balcony, where she could watch the dancing and keep an eye on her charge, yet enjoy the clear cool stillness of the summer's night.

Here it was that Edmund found her, wandering out in a pause of the dancing. He was in uniform, looking very handsome and gallant. Odeyne had twice remarked him in the room, dancing with Maud--who was there under Beatrice's nominal care. Now he too had to come out for a breath of air, and Odeyne rose at once and took possession of him.

"Edmund, I was hoping I should see you to-night. You come so little to the Chase now."

There was a slight accent of reproach in her voice, and he looked down at her quickly as he said--

"But, Odeyne dear, you understand why I stay away?"

Her eyes were turned upon him with a doubtful expression.

"I am not quite sure--I don't want to know too much--yet, Edmund, I think I should like to know. I have been wondering about it. I asked Desmond once, but he only laughed and said he supposed you found metal more attractive elsewhere. I think he meant Maud."

"Desmond has a right to say what he likes to you, but he knows quite well that there is a very good reason why I should not come often to the Chase now that it is always full of company. In plain words, I cannot afford it."

"What do you mean, Edmund?"

"Desmond knows well enough. It began whilst you were away, but it goes on just the same after the ladies have retired. They play very high play there, no matter whether it is cards or billiards. Most of them are rich men, and all are very careless. It may do for them, but it does not do for me. I soon saw what it must end in, and I took myself off. I don't care to come to a place and make myself conspicuous. Desmond meant very kindly in asking me. He thought I should win money by my billiard playing, which is rather good, though I say it. I did win a little, and that set me thinking. I couldn't make that sort of thing fit in with our father's teaching, nor with the sort of standard I've always tried to live up to. One doesn't want to sit in judgment on others, but I saw it wouldn't do for me, so I've been keeping aloof, as you see. But don't misunderstand me, Odeyne. It's not that I love you the least little bit less. If you were in trouble, and would send for me, I'd go through fire and water for you."

Tears had sprung to Odeyne's eyes. She could not command her voice, but she pressed Edmund's hand. His words had cut her to the heart, little as he had meant them to. The cry of her heart was, "Oh, why cannot Desmond feel that too? Why cannot he be content with all the good things God has given us?" But she could not speak these words aloud, and the next minute their retreat was invaded by Beatrice, who came sweeping down upon them in a gorgeous Cleopatra-like robe, jewels blazing upon her bare neck and arms, and her rich draperies rustling yards behind her on the floor. How she contrived to dance in them was a mystery, but she did dance when she had a mind to--not else.

"Well, what mischief are you two hatching out here together? Odeyne, why don't you dance more, and show yourself? Everybody is raving about your dress, and you hide yourself away, and don't half look after that giddy boy of yours. He's carrying on all sorts of flirtations with dowagers and wallflowers promiscuously. Have you seen the picture gallery? Well, you really should. I know this house very well. I'll do the honours for you. Come along."

She took Odeyne by the arm and led her out, saying, laughing, as they got a little way off--

"We must contrive a few happy moments for those lovers. He's so diffident, and she's so cold, that they will never pull it off unless we help them. And really I should like to see poor Maud with a lover at last. It has always been her fate to be passed over in life, and there's a lot of good stuff in her, if one could only get beneath the crust."

"I did not know whether that idea was Desmond's fancy," said Odeyne; "but I'm afraid nothing can come of it for a long time yet. Edmund has very little but his profession, and you know Maud has been brought up in luxury all her life."

"Yes, but she has money. She must have a good fortune by now. It has been accumulating for her ever since she came of age--she has hardly spent anything. Maud isn't like me. She doesn't want a gay life and everything that money can buy. Perhaps she's all the happier for it," and Beatrice suddenly broke off and heaved a long sigh.

"I think happiness has very little to do with being rich," answered Odeyne; and Beatrice gave her a quick sidelong glance.

"I know what you mean--people can overdo it," she said in a rather rapid way. "Odeyne, I wanted to ask you--I wanted a moment with you in private. Do you think Desmond is going the pace too fast, and getting reckless? I'm half frightened sometimes at the way things go. It's delightful, of course, and I never had Algy in so good a temper month after month before. He's always perfectly certain that everything is right--but then that's his way. He doesn't understand business a bit. He takes the good the gods send, and asks no questions. But Desmond is clever--they all say that--and he is the leading spirit. Is he ever gloomy and restless at home? Does he seem anxious or troubled? Does he go on like a man upon whom dark care is secretly preying?"

"No, indeed," answered Odeyne. "He is always gay and lively. My difficulty with him is that he can never be grave for two minutes together. He turns everything into joke. One would think he did not know the meaning of care."

Beatrice's face cleared at once.

"Oh, I am so glad--for Desmond is very transparent. You would soon know if anything were amiss. He would let it out directly. Sometimes I have been afraid, from your manner, that something was wrong. I am so glad.'"

"There are other troubles in the world sometimes besides money troubles," said Odeyne; but Beatrice only laughed.

"Ah, my dear, other troubles are very easily gilded and charmed away by the power of gold. Believe me, if you have plenty of money you can keep trouble and sorrow very effectually at bay."

Odeyne winced, but made no reply. Beatrice, like Desmond, had changed a little during these past months, and not for the better. There was no pleasure in talking to her of anything beyond the trivialities of life. She seemed to have no interest beyond them.

Edmund and Maud were still out upon the balcony. There was a slight pause in the dancing. The room was suffocatingly hot, and the company had streamed out upon one of the great terraces, where ices and lemonade were to be had, as well as cups of all sorts. Maud and Edmund could see the gay shifting throng, lighted up by the glow of a myriad coloured lanterns.

Maud said, as though continuing a train of thought, or some talk that had gone before--

"Do you wonder that I am tired of a life that has seemed nothing but a shifting sort of show--like that?"

"You have had your mother to care for, Maud. Has not that been a sweet and sacred charge? How could I ask you to leave it for what I have to offer?"

"My mother has never really cared for me," answered Maud sadly yet steadily; "it is Desmond and Beatrice who really have her heart, though they give her so much anxiety. I think it is always the prodigal son who is the real favourite. And I would not have it otherwise. I love Desmond with all my heart; although I know now that mother judged him better than I, and that he will make a terrible mess of his life before he has learnt his lesson!"

"You think that, too?"

"How can anybody who knows anything of life help thinking it? Is it not always the way with temperaments like his? He will be led on from step to step. He will plunge more and more deeply, believing in his cleverness and his luck. He may be very lucky for a time, because he is careful; but he will get reckless at last--and then will come a crash!"

"And can nothing be done to hold him back?"

"Nothing, I fear. His marriage seemed just at first as though it would influence him. But, like everything else, he got used to it, and to Odeyne; and she is too inexperienced and gentle to exercise much restraining power. But were she the strongest woman in the world I believe the result would be the same. Our mother is no weakling, but she could never hold back Desmond. When the fit is on him he will go his way."

"And your life has been shadowed through him," said Edmund gently. "It seems as though all the greatest suffering in life came through those we love best."

Maud was silent a moment, and then looked up bravely at him.

"It is so often, Edmund; but not always--ah! I trust not always!"

Something in the appeal of her tone made him put out his hand and take hers in a close clasp.

"Maud, I never intended it should come to this; but love is too strong. I cannot help telling you how I love you!"

"And why should you not tell me, Edmund? Ah, if you knew how hungry my heart has been for love, year after year, year after year!--and it never came to me."

"It is good of you not to blame me for my precipitation, for I have still my way to make in life, and we may have long to wait. Will that be hard, Maud? Will it, by-and-by, seem to you unfair that I spoke so soon?"

"Edmund, if you knew how happy it makes me to know that there is one to love me and care for me above all others! Rather it is I who should feel that I am the unworthy one. No shadow hangs upon your name. No threatened cloud of misfortune gathers in your sky! But look at Desmond! look at Beatrice! Who knows what may overtake them in a few short years? May it be nothing worse than poverty, when it comes!"

There was a pause, and then Maud spoke slowly and thoughtfully.

"I have often thought that some day Beatrice will come back with her boy to live with our mother. I am afraid for Algernon. He is a man I could never trust. Mother and Beatrice would get on better without me----"

She stopped suddenly, and he knew what she would say. Then she should come to him.

"My darling, if you do not mind poverty."

"We should not be so _very_ poor," she answered quietly. "My father left me twenty-five thousand pounds."

He stood and looked at her in surprise. He knew, of course, that Mrs. St. Claire was a wealthy woman, but it had never entered his head that Maud had a fortune of her own.

"I am glad I did not know that before," he said.

"So am I, if it would have made a barrier between us," she answered. "We both had that when we came of age, but I fear poor Beatrice's is all gone. It was not tied up as it ought to have been--at least not nearly all. It was a great mistake--especially with a man like Algernon."

So if Odeyne did not specially enjoy the ball, it may be gathered that others did. It was a very brilliant affair, and the local papers were full of it afterwards. But Desmond came home a good deal flushed and excited, talking rapidly and in a very nonsensical fashion the whole time of the drive, and making Cissy open her eyes very wide at some of his remarks.

Odeyne said nothing till they reached their room that night, when she put her hand upon his arm and said softly--

"Desmond dear, I wish you would not!"

He understood her, and his face flushed hotly.

She did not know for a moment whether he was going to be angry; but then he put his arms round her suddenly and said--

"Oh, my dear little wife, you are ten thousand times too good for me! Why cannot I be the sort of man that you would make of me, if I gave you the chance?"

She put her hands upon his shoulders, and her loving eyes looked full into his.

"No, Desmond darling--not that--but the kind of man God would make of you if you would let Him. But how can you expect it when you never ask Him, and never seek to learn His ways?"

He knew what she meant--that the old habit of prayer, which had been dropped when she was ill, had never been resumed. He hung his head as he replied--

"Odeyne, I'm not worthy to pray for myself; but go on praying for me, my faithful little wife, for I need it more than you can well understand."

"I never do forget to pray for you, dear husband," she answered. "But you, my darling, pray for yourself too; pray to be kept from temptation and evil. God is never deaf to the weakest prayer."

He made a strange sound between a laugh and a sob; but when Odeyne knelt in prayer that night, Desmond, for the first time for many a long month, came and knelt silently beside her.

After that, for a little while, matters were better at the Chase. For a time they were without visitors, and there was a little lull in the round of social gaieties. Desmond, who liked variety above everything, enjoyed even the variety of domestic life by way of a change. He made much of Odeyne and little Guy, resumed some of his old habits of earlier rising and quiet evenings at home, and cheered Odeyne's heart by his tenderness to her--real tenderness, not just boisterous affection.

A good many of his less desirable friends were going abroad just now. He spoke once or twice of taking Odeyne away for a Continental trip; but she pleaded so hard to remain at home after her long absence, and the weather was so exceptionally hot and pleasant, that he was content to let her have her way.

So although he talked of a gay autumn, a big house party and plenty of shooting at their own and other places, he was for the present content to remain at home with wife and child, contenting himself with an occasional run to town, or a short visit paid to Beatrice, or some friend in the neighbourhood.

Odeyne began to restrain the extravagance in the household as she had not ventured to try and do at first. She got rid of some of the servants with whom she was most displeased, and began to feel that the reins of government had not altogether slipped from her hands.

She could not get Desmond to recommence family prayers, or to discharge any of the new men-servants, whom Odeyne disliked and distrusted; but at least things were better and more orderly than when she came back, and the reforms had been made without one angry word having passed between her and her husband.

Mrs. St. Claire expressed open satisfaction with her daughter-in-law.

"My dear, you are doing most excellently. A nagging or a whining woman would drive Desmond wild. But your tact and your judgment do you immense credit. No one could have shown more skill in dealing with a very critical and difficult situation. I hope Desmond appreciates the treasure he has got. For if he escapes, without a crash, it will be to his wife that he owes it."

"Tact!--judgment!--skill!" said Odeyne to herself, when she was alone, "ah no!--if I have done any good at all, it is just because I have never stopped praying for Desmond, and for guidance to do aright myself! And if this dreaded crash is avoided, it will be no doing of mine--but just God's mercy. Yet even if it should come I would try to bear it bravely. For it might be His way of answering my prayers for Desmond, though the world might not see or understand!"