CHAPTER XIX.

_THE TWO WIVES._

"Jem, dear, is this your handiwork? How good of you! I have been wanting to see you often, but there has been so much to think of. My poor child, you look worn out. You have been tiring yourself making it all so pretty for me here."

Jem's face was quivering all over; she was striving to laugh and be gay, whilst all the time she felt as though the sadness of everything was altogether too much for her.

She turned round with a rather startled face when first Odeyne's voice fell upon her ear. She had been working now for two days in the pleasant rooms at the lodge, striving might and main to make them look as much like Odeyne's favourite rooms at the Chase as human hands could do. She had decorated the place with flowers till it looked like a bower, and from the little personal knick-knacks sent down from the house she had selected such as were most suitable for each room, and produced a very home-like and artistic effect. She had half meant to disappear before Odeyne should herself arrive; but she had lingered on, putting an additional touch here and there, to be sure that everything looked its best; and here was Odeyne actually on the spot without warning of any kind.

Odeyne saw the struggle in the sensitive countenance of her little loving admirer, and just opened her arms, into which Jem rushed with a strangled sob; and the next minute they were sitting side by side upon the sofa, Jem sobbing as though her heart would break, Odeyne striving to soothe and comfort her.

Jem loved Odeyne with that passionate, almost adoring love which very young girls often feel towards women older than themselves. The troubles at the Chase had been heart-rending to her, and she had shrunk from seeming to pry into the sorrow of the young wife, although she had longed with a great and ardent longing to see her again, and try and express her sympathy and love.

An outlet for her energies had been found in the adornment of these new quarters for Odeyne and her child. Guy and Cissy were almost all their time at the Chase, helping in the task of setting it in order for the new tenants. The majority of the servants had left. Things were rather in confusion and disorder up there; and as General Mannering desired possession as quickly as could be, and Odeyne was equally eager to quit, things had gone forward at a great rate; but nobody (save Jem) had had thought or time to give to the setting in order at the Lodge of the various goods and chattels sent down there. Odeyne had said that she could see to all that later, and had not troubled herself in any way about that part of the business.

Nobody, perhaps, save the loving and rather over-bold Jem, would have had the assurance to unpack and set in order Odeyne's private possessions and treasured articles, endeared to her by association. But Jem's love was of that kind which ignores all minor scruples in its desire to do service to the object of devotion; and she had toiled and worked with a will for two long days, and now the result was such that Odeyne looked about her with shining eyes, and exclaimed--

"Dearest Jem, how pretty you have made it! What put it into your head to be such a sweet little fairy? I am so much obliged to you, my child! I thought I should never have the heart to do it for myself; but this is lovely!"

This tribute to her success dried Jem's tears, and she looked into Odeyne's face (as she had not dared to do before) to seek to read there an answer to questions she must not put. But Odeyne rose with a tiny shake of the head, as though she half knew what Jem's beseeching gaze meant, and busied herself by admiring the pretty rooms and their wealth of flowers.

Then arrived the pony phaeton, with Alice and Hannah and the boy. Jem rushed at little Guy and caught him in her arms. They were fast friends now, for Jem had made a practice of waylaying him on his airings and ingratiating herself with him. Little Guy was the happiest of one-year-old mortals, with a laugh and a funny name of his own for everybody. Jem had been dubbed "Polly," for no reason that the adult mind could fathom, and when in an extra merry mood this would be turned into "Pretty Poll, Pretty Poll!"--to the immense delight of Jem, who would make parrot noises and parrot faces, till both she and the child were weary of laughing.

Guy evidently considered Pretty Poll one of the adjuncts of the new home. He trotted from room to room holding fast by her hand, chattered unceasingly if not very intelligibly the whole time, and took to his new domain like a duck to water.

Jem had everything ready for an inviting tea. The kitchen-maid from the Chase had been retained by Odeyne as cook at the lodge, and Alice had eagerly volunteered to do all the housework with a little assistance from Hannah. These three servants were very devoted to their mistress, and were resolved that she should never suffer from lack of personal and loving tendance. But for the wearing anxiety caused by the absence and total silence of Desmond, Odeyne felt that she could be far happier in this simple little home than she had often been at the Chase, surrounded by every luxury. As it was, the cloud rested upon her night and day. She could not lose the sense of her husband's wrong-doing and weakness. She was confronted daily with the results of his recent practices; and, though she might strive hard to make restitution, she could never undo the past, or forget how grievously he had fallen.

Yet her love could triumph over all else, and her prayer went up for him night and day--that prayer which brings its answer in time, because it is the prayer of faith.

The first night spent by Odeyne in her new home was not an unhappy one, despite the strangeness of the change which had come into her life. Guy came in for an hour in the evening, for the little house he had taken for himself and his bride was less than half a mile from the lodge. It was so comforting to Odeyne to have this special brother so close at hand, that it made amends for much. Edmund she had not seen for many days; but that did not surprise her, as he was a busy man, and already he had given more time than he could well afford into the examination of her affairs.

"I saw him three days ago--he was looking very seedy," said Guy; "but he would not allow anything was the matter. I hope he has not been in any way involved in Desmond's unlucky speculations. His manner was certainly a little strange; but I think he would have told me before if he had been in any embarrassment. We talked so freely of the business in all its bearings, and Edmund is very open about his affairs."

Odeyne was easily roused to anxiety now; she had had only too much reason to be; but Guy quieted her fears, and left her tranquil and composed; and upon the morrow she was destined to learn something which fully accounted for the change in Edmund.

Mrs. St. Claire had hardly seen Odeyne during these past weeks. Although not so taken by surprise as some others by this sudden crash, it had affected her health somewhat, and she had had little energy or strength for getting about; but now that Odeyne had actually taken up her abode at the lodge, Desmond's mother was resolved to pay her an early visit; and upon the following afternoon she and Maud were ushered up into the pleasant flower-scented room, which had been made so trim and comfortable by Jem's loving fingers.

Mrs. St. Claire began by striving to retain her customary alert manner, and by passing some spicy remarks about the lodge, and Desmond's forethought in preparing it all so thoughtfully against this catastrophe; but suddenly catching the look in Odeyne's eyes, she stopped suddenly, and put her hands upon the girl's shoulders, kissing her almost passionately again and again.

"My dear," she said, "I hate scenes. I do not want to make things worse; and sympathy is often the most trying thing to bear. But I should like to tell you how I admire and respect you. I should like to thank you for what, in your unconventional bravery, you are doing to save my son's honour and good name in the eyes of men who look below the bare legal side of the matter."

Odeyne only said simply, as she returned Mrs. St. Claire's embraces--

"He is my husband."

"Would to God he were worthy of such a wife!" exclaimed the mother in a voice that broke in spite of her efforts after calmness. "My dear, I do not think I could do it in your place; but I can recognise nobility and true unselfishness when I see it. He is your husband--you want no thanks of mine, I know. But yet I must tell you how I appreciate such conduct, though the world may call it foolish."

Long did Desmond's wife and mother talk together, feeling more drawn towards each other than ever before. Maud meantime sat a little apart, looking pale and inanimate, and speaking no word. Odeyne glanced at her two or three times, but always saw her looking out of the window with the same absorbed gaze. She felt that something was amiss, but knew Maud too well to seek to force her confidence; but she did hope she might have the chance of speaking to her alone before the pair left.

Nor was she disappointed in this. The grandmother must pay a visit to the boy before leaving, and see where he was lodged. Odeyne took her to the nursery-room, but did not enter with her, returning to the other apartment, where Maud still sat in the same listless way, seemingly unheeding what went on.

"Maud, dear, is anything the matter?" she asked.

"You have not heard, then? You have not seen Edmund?"

"No," answered Odeyne with a sense of comprehension, "he has not been here for some time. Maud, what is the matter?"

"Nothing so very much, after all; it was hardly an engagement. There were many uncertainties and difficulties. But it is all over now. I shall never marry."

Odeyne looked at her in astonishment. It was true that the tacit engagement between her brother and Desmond's sister had been little spoken about, and was looked upon as rather indefinite; but those who best knew them had never doubted for a moment that there was warm love on both sides, and that before long some way would be found by which difficulties would be overcome, and the marriage consummated. Therefore this passionately spoken reply of Maud's perplexed her not a little.

"But what has happened to change you? I can't understand you, Maud."

"Can you not? I should have thought it was so easy. How have the marriages with my family turned out so far?" burst out Maud with the bitterness of long pent-up feeling. "How has Desmond treated you, Odeyne? What of Beatrice and Algernon? It is not for me to sit in judgment upon my own flesh and blood, yet I always maintain that if Beatrice had been a different woman she might have held Algernon back from much that has worked his ruin. But she wanted to be rich as much as he did, and now what has it come to? She has to come back to mother--to be a drag and a constant source of worry to her. Nothing but ill follows a marriage with a St. Claire. Edmund had better be thankful for his dismissal. We do not want a third fiasco in one family."

"Maud! Maud!" cried Odeyne in distress, "do you know you are talking very wildly? Is Edmund's happiness in life and his trust in womanhood to be wrecked because Desmond has been wild and ill-advised, and because Beatrice is--what we have always known her to be?"

Maud clutched at Odeyne's hand and wrung it in her pain.

"Edmund will get over it--men always do. He will soon see that he has had a good escape. He knows how near Desmond trod to the borders of--disgrace."

Odeyne went white to the lips. Her voice shook as she asked--

"Maud, do you know what you are saying--and to me?"

"I do," answered Maud almost passionately. "Would that I did not know! They have been merciful to you. They have put everything in the best possible light, but I have heard all. And I, who loved him only second-best to you--I know that only by the skin of his teeth has he saved himself from the clutches of the law. His flight shows that he knew himself morally guilty, though they say he is just safe from arrest. Algernon can never return home; Desmond may. But knowing what I do, and that Edmund knows all--oh, I cannot!--I cannot! It humbles me to the very dust! He shall not link his name with one that is all but smirched and sullied!"

Odeyne felt as though a sword were running through her heart. What others had sought to hide from her, or to put in the gentlest way, Maud in her pain had spoken out in almost merciless frankness. It was terrible; and yet Odeyne still kept her mind upon the question of Maud and Edmund, leaving herself and her anguish in the background of her thoughts.

"Is Edmund to suffer for Desmond's sins?"

"It cannot be helped. It is always so. It is the inexorable way of the world," answered Maud, speaking now more calmly, with a sort of quiet desperation. "But there is another reason also, Odeyne. Hitherto I have always had the uncontrolled use of my own fortune. I have been, in a modest way, a well-to-do woman. Had I married Edmund we could have lived in comfort on our joint means, but now all is changed. Beatrice and her child are thrown back upon mother's hands; Beatrice, with her expensive habits and her load of private debts for a whole season's extravagances. What you are doing for your husband, Odeyne, I must do for my sister; and there is her future to think of too."

Odeyne was silent. She saw very plainly that the maintenance of Beatrice and the boy would be no light burden.

"Mother has never been a saving woman," continued Maud in the same steady monotonous way. "There was no reason why she should not live up to her income. We were provided for, and there would be more for us, in any case, at her death. She has grown used to her comfortable manner of life; one cannot expect her to alter at her age; and there is no margin for so expensive an addition to her household as Beatrice, with nurse and child. The cost of these additions must come out of my purse. Nor could I leave mother alone with such a charge upon her hands. That was always a difficulty in thinking of marriage--now it has become insuperable."

"Edmund would wait----" began Odeyne, but Maud interrupted almost fiercely.

"Wait--what for? Till Algernon is whitewashed--which will be never! Till Beatrice has learned to live upon the pittance still secured to her?--though we believe that Algernon will contrive to get hold of that still! No, no, no! I have made up my mind. I know what is right, and I have done it. It is kind to be cruel sometimes. Try not to hate me--to hate us all, Odeyne--for the misery we have brought to you and yours! Oh, Desmond, Desmond! I loved and trusted you so long and faithfully!"

Odeyne took Maud in her arms and kissed her again and again; but she felt that words were powerless here. Moreover, what to say she knew not; the whole question was so difficult. Maud had a hard and bitter way of doing things, but Odeyne was not sure that she had not judged rightly and well. If things were indeed in such a case, marriage did seem out of the question, and an engagement under such circumstances became little better than a mockery.

But could Beatrice sit down quietly and see such a sacrifice made on her behalf? That was the question which presented itself to Odeyne after her visitors had left her alone. Beatrice had clung about Odeyne's neck only the other day, seeming to be longing after something higher and better than her former code. Surely, if she gave her nobler nature scope, she would come to understand that it was not right for Maud's future happiness (to say nothing of Edmund's) to be sacrificed to her present ease and comfort. She would surely be roused, to a different sort of existence. She would not long b& content to be a burden upon her sister.

Odeyne waited with some impatience for a visit from Beatrice, that she might learn from her frank lips how things were going. She had some little while to wait, for Beatrice did not come for some considerable time and then Odeyne was surprised to find her most elegantly dressed, looking almost as blooming as in days of old, all her sunny good-temper restored, and her aspect as bright and beaming as though nothing were amiss.

"I have had to do duty for us both in the neighbourhood, Odeyne," she cried. "I suppose you could not help it--you are made like that; but it is always a mistake for people in our circumstances to shut themselves up, as if they could not face the world. I have been going about everywhere and making the best of things--not ignoring our misfortunes, of course, they are too well known for that--but putting the best face on them, and showing that we have no cause to hide our heads. That is what a good wife does for her husband. You are doing your share in another way; but I am not as careless of Algernon's good name as you might think. Already I am much better received than I was at first. I assure you I have been very clever and diplomatic. Really things might have been much worse. It is such peace now, living in mother's house, with everything provided for one, and no worries. She enjoys all the life and brightness I bring. Poor dear Maud never had any animation, and she and mother never got on too well together, though they hide their little differences from the world very well."

Beatrice was always a good one to talk. Odeyne had nothing to do for a long time but sit and listen to her in a species of amaze. She could hardly believe this was the same woman who a week or two back had come to her with despair in her eyes and terror in her heart. Already it seemed as though the pleasant life of Mrs. St. Claire's house was making amends for all that had gone before. Beatrice seemed to feel real relief in the absence of her husband, and hardly troubled to conceal the fact. The weary heartache which Odeyne suffered daily through Desmond's absence did not appear to be known to Beatrice.

"And you know, I suppose," she said at last in the midst of her stream of animated talk, "that it is all over between Maud and Edmund?"

Odeyne flashed a wondering look at her. Surely she could not be as callous as she appeared!

"Maud told me so," she said; "I think it is terribly sad. They are both heart-broken. Beatrice, can nothing be done?"

Beatrice slightly shrugged her shapely shoulders.

"I always think it is very dangerous work interfering in other people's love affairs. Maud decided with open eyes. For my part, I think she has chosen very wisely. The marriages in our family have not turned out brilliantly successful so far; and Maud is very comfortable as she is--the practical mistress of a pleasant house. You will not take it amiss if I say that, as the wife of an officer with little but his pay, she might have had a much less easy and pleasant life of it."

"But then ease and pleasure are not everything, Beatrice; love has its part to play too."

"Love has a way of flying out at the window when poverty looks in at the door," said Beatrice, rather cynically, "and Maud was always a cold-blooded creature. I think Edmund might do much better for himself, such a handsome, attractive man as he is."

Odeyne could not find words in which to frame her thoughts. She had been hoping that Beatrice would grow gentler, softer, more unselfish and womanly; and here she was finding her more heartless than ever she had thought her before. Trouble seemed to have seared rather than softened her nature. Every word she spoke grated upon Odeyne's ears. Perhaps Beatrice was shrewd enough to see something of the impression she had produced, for she looked rather intently into Odeyne's face, and said--

"You seem to think that I have something to do with this affair of Maud's ruptured engagement."

Odeyne was silent, not knowing what to say. Beatrice paused for a while, but receiving no reply, broke out again--

"Well, and if I have, can I help it? I must have a home somewhere, and my mother's house is the natural asylum for me under the present state of affairs. How can I help myself? I am grateful to Maud for helping to pay my bills, although I have told her that since Algy will have to be made a bankrupt, she really need not trouble herself so very much. But she can't see things in that light. I can't live upon nothing. And after all, she is my sister. I am grateful to her--I really am--but you know what Maud is--one can't gush to a block of marble! She keeps one at arm's-length, even while she is doing kind actions. It's a great misfortune to have such a temperament, and really I think Edmund is well off his bargain."

"That is not Edmund's own opinion," said Odeyne, a little coldly. "When people understand and love each other, they see in one another what is hidden from the world. I would rather live in a cottage and toil with my own hands, than stand in the way of the happiness of others, and make shipwreck of two lives."

She had not meant to speak like this, but a sudden wave of feeling swept over her and carried her away in spite of herself.

Beatrice eyed her reflectively and presently said--

"That is what you are doing already--for the sake of Desmond's good name, is it not? Well, people like you who can practise, have a right to preach. But I was never a heroine in any sense of the word. Honestly, I can't see, under existing circumstances, how Maud could marry, and take herself and her fortune away with her. And really, with the sort of cloud hanging over all of us, I think we are better without rushing into any more marriages. One hopes one has got to the bottom of the slough by this time; but there is no knowing. I think one Hamilton-St. Claire marriage is enough for the present."

Odeyne turned a little away. This sort of talk jarred very much upon her, as did Beatrice's hollow, selfish cynicism whenever she assumed that manner. Was it assumed sometimes as a cloak and disguise? Was Beatrice sometimes half afraid of letting her better warmer nature get the upper hand, lest it should urge her to sacrifices she was not really prepared to make? Odeyne had striven to think this before, but to-day she began to have her doubts about there being any unselfish side to Beatrice's nature. She was glad that the door opened that moment to admit little Guy, who came toddling in after his afternoon walk. He ran straight up to his mother, and then stretched up his arms towards a picture of Desmond, which hung upon the wall, and cried--

"Daddy!--Daddy!"

It was evident that he expected to be lifted up to the picture--evident that Odeyne was seeking to keep warm in the heart of the baby-boy the love of the "Daddy" who had been of late but little more than a name to him.

Beatrice looked on, and suddenly bit her lip, rising abruptly to her feet. Her little son never spoke of his father--hardly seemed to seek out or to care for his mother. He was fond of his granny, and devoted to his aunt Maud; but the sacred tie between parent and child had hardly been formed as yet. How was it likely to be, when that between husband and wife was so very slack?

"Good-bye, Odeyne," she said suddenly, "you deserve to be happy, and I hope there will be better days for you in store. I would give something to be in your place, I can tell you. But the leopard cannot change his spots. Perhaps there will be a chance for the boy now, with somebody besides his mother to bring him up. Desmond was a wise man to choose such a treasure of a wife. Whether you were wise to take him is quite another matter; but I think the magnet of such a wife would draw any man back, even from the ends of the earth!"