Esther Waters Part 63

He pulled out his watch and said, "I am sorry to have met you in such sad circ.u.mstances, but I'm glad to have seen you. It must be seven years or more since you left Miss Rice. You haven't changed much; you keep your good looks."

"Oh, sir."

He laughed at her embarra.s.sment and walked across the road hailing a hansom, just as he used to in old times when he came to see Miss Rice. The memory of those days came back upon her. It was strange to meet him again after so many years. She felt she had seen him now for the last time. But it was foolish and wicked, too, to think of such things; her husband dying.... But she couldn't help it; he reminded her of so much of what was past and gone. A moment after she dashed these personal tears aside and walked open-hearted to meet William. What had the doctor said? She must know the truth. If she was to lose him she would lose everything. No, not everything; her boy would still remain to her, and she felt that, after all, her boy was what was most real to her in life. These thoughts had pa.s.sed through her mind before William had had time to answer her question.

"He said the left lung was gone, that I'd never be able to stand another winter in England. He said I must go to Egypt."

"Egypt," she repeated. "Is that very far from here?"

"What matter how far it is! If I can't live in England I must go where I can live."

"Don't be cross, dear. I know it's your health that makes you that irritable, but it's hard to bear at times."

"You won't care to go to Egypt with me."

"How can you think that, Bill? Have I ever refused you anything?"

"Quite right, old girl, I'm sorry. I know you'd do anything for me. I've always said so, haven't I? It's this cough that makes me sharp tempered and fretful. I shall be different when I get to Egypt."

"When do we start?"

"If we get away by the end of October it will be all right. It will cost a lot of money; the journey is expensive, and we shall have to stop there six months. I couldn't think of coming home before the end of April."

Esther did not answer. They walked some yards in silence. Then he said--

"I've been very unlucky lately; there isn't much over a hundred pounds in the bank."

"How much shall we want?"

"Three or four hundred pounds at least. We won't take the boy with us, we couldn't afford that; but I should like to pay a couple of quarters in advance."

"That won't be much."

"Not if I have any luck. The luck must turn, and I have some splendid information about the Great Ebor and the Yorks.h.i.+re Stakes. Stack knows of a horse or two that's being kept for Sandown. Unfortunately there is not much doing in August. I must try to make up the money: it's a matter of life and death."

It was for his very life that her husband was now gambling on the race-course, and a sensation of very great wickedness came up in her mind, but she stifled it instantly. William had noticed the look of fear that appeared in her eyes, and he said--

"It's my last chance. I can't get the money any other way; and I don't want to die yet awhile. I haven't been as good to you as I'd like, and I want to do something for the boy, you know."

He had been told not to remain out after sundown, but he was resolved to leave no stone unturned in his search for information, and often he returned home as late as nine and ten o'clock at night coughing--Esther could hear him all up the street. He came in ready to drop with fatigue, his pockets filled with sporting papers, and these he studied, spreading them on the table under the lamp, while Esther sat striving to do some needlework. It often dropped out of her hands, and her eyes filled with tears. But she took care that he should not see these tears; she did not wish to distress him unnecessarily. Poor chap! he had enough to put up with as it was. Sometimes he read out the horses' names and asked her which she thought would win, which seemed to her a likely name. But she begged of him not to ask her; they had many quarrels on this subject, but in the end he understood that it was not fair to ask her. Sometimes Stack and Journeyman came in, and they argued about weights and distances, until midnight; old John came to see them, and every day he had heard some new tip. It often rose to Esther's lips to tell William to back his fancy and have done with it; she could see that these discussions only fatigued him, that he was no nearer to the truth now than he was a fortnight ago.

Meanwhile the horse he had thought of backing had gone up in the betting.

But he said that he must be very careful. They had only a hundred pounds left; he must be careful not to risk this money foolishly--it was his very life-blood. If he were to lose all this money, he wouldn't only sign his own death warrant, but also hers. He might linger on a long while--there was no knowing, but he would never be able to do any work, that was certain (unless he went out to Egypt); the doctor had said so, and then it would be she who would have to support him. And if G.o.d were merciful enough to take him off at once he would leave her in a worse plight than he had found her in, and the boy growing up! Oh, it was terrible! He buried his face in his hands, and seemed quite overcome. Then the cough would take him, and for a few minutes he could only think of himself.

Esther gave him a little milk to drink, and he said--

"There's a hundred pounds left, Esther. It isn't much, but it's something.

I don't believe that there's much use in my going to Egypt. I shall never get well. It is better that I should pitch myself into the river. That would be the least selfish way out of it."

"William, I will not have you talk in that way," Esther said, laying down her work and going over to him. "If you was to do such a thing I should never forgive you. I could never think the same of you."

"All right, old girl, don't be frightened. I've been thinking too much about them horses, and am a bit depressed. I daresay it will come out all right. I think that Mahomet is sure to win the Great Ebor, don't you?"

"I don't think there's no better judge than yourself. They all say if he don't fall lame that he's bound to win."

"Then Mahomet shall carry my money. I'll back him to-morrow."

Now that he had made up his mind what horse to back his spirits revived.

He was able to dismiss the subject from his mind, and they talked of other things, of their son, and they laid projects for his welfare. But on the day of the race, from early morning, William could barely contain himself.

Usually he took his winnings and losings very quietly. When he had been especially unlucky he swore a bit, but Esther had never seen any great excitement before a race was run. The issues of this race were extraordinary, and it was heart-breaking to see him suffer; he could not remain still a moment. A prey to all the terrors of hope, exhausted with antic.i.p.ation, he rested himself against the sideboard and wiped drops of sweat from his forehead. A broiling sunlight infested their window-panes, the room grew oven-like, and he was obliged at last to go into the back parlour and lie down. He lay there in his s.h.i.+rt sleeves quite exhausted, hardly able to breathe; the arm once so strong and healthy was shrunken to a little nothing. He seemed quite bloodless, and looking at him Esther could hardly hope that any climate would restore him to health. He just asked her what the time was, and said, "The race is being run now." A few minutes after he said, "I think Mahomet has won. I fancied I saw him get first past the post." He spoke as if he were sure, and said nothing about the evening paper. If he were disappointed, Esther felt that it would kill him, and she knelt down by the bedside and prayed that G.o.d would allow the horse to win. It meant her husband's life, that was all she knew. Oh, that the horse might win! Presently he said, "There's no use praying, I feel sure it is all right. Go into the next room, stand on the balcony so that you may see the boy coming along."

A pale yellow sky rose behind the brick neighbourhood, and with agonised soul the woman viewed its plausive serenity. There seemed to be hope in its quietness. At that moment the cry came up, "Win-ner, Win-ner." It came from the north, from the east, and now from the west. Three boys were shouting forth the news simultaneously. Ah, if it should prove bad news!

But somehow she too felt that the news was good. She ran to meet the boy.

She had a half-penny ready in her hand; he fumbled, striving to detach a single paper from the quire under his arm. Seeing her impatience, he said, "Mahomet's won." Then the pavement seemed to slide beneath her feet, and the setting sun she could hardly see, so full was her heart, so burdened with the happiness that she was bringing to the poor sick fellow who lay in his s.h.i.+rt sleeves on the bed in the back room. "It's all right," she said. "I thought so too; it seemed like it." His face flushed, life seemed to come back. He sat up and took the paper from her. "There," he said, "I've got my place-money, too. I hope Stack and Journeyman come in tonight. I'd like to have a chat about this. Come, give me a kiss, dear.

I'm not going to die, after all. It isn't a pleasant thing to think that you must die, that there's no hope for you, that you must go under ground."

The next thing to do was to pick the winner of the Yorks.h.i.+re Handicap. In this he was not successful, but he backed several winners at Sandown Park, and at the close of the week had made nearly enough to take him to Egypt.

The Doncaster week, however, proved disastrous. He lost most of his winnings, and had to look forward to retrieving his fortunes at Newmarket.

"The worst of it is, if I don't make up the money by October, it will be no use. They say the November fogs will polish me off."

Between Doncaster and Newmarket he lost a bet, and this bet carried him back into despondency. He felt it was no use struggling against fate.

Better remain in London and be taken away at the end of November or December; he couldn't last much longer than that. This would allow him to leave Esther at least fifty pounds to go on with. The boy would soon be able to earn money. It would be better so. No use wasting all this money for the sake of his health, which wasn't worth two-pence-three-farthings.

It was like throwing sovereigns after farthings. He didn't want to do any betting; he was as hollow as a sh.e.l.l inside, he could feel it. Egypt could do nothing for him, and as he had to go, better sooner than later. Esther argued with him. What should she have to live for if he was taken from her. The doctors had said that Egypt might set him right. She didn't know much about such things, but she had always heard that it was extraordinary how people got cured out there.

"That's true," he said. "I've heard that people who couldn't live a week in England, who haven't the length of your finger of lung left, can go on all right out there. I might get something to do out there, and the boy might come out after us."

"That's the way I like to hear you talk. Who knows, at Newmarket we might have luck! Just one big bet, a winner at fifty to one, that's all we want."

"That's just what has been pa.s.sing in my mind. I've got particular information about the Cesarewitch and Cambridges.h.i.+re. I could get the price you speak of--fifty to one against the two, Matchbox and Chasuble--the double event, you know. I'm inclined to go it. It's my last chance."

XLIII

When Matchbox galloped home the winner of the Cesarewitch by five lengths, William was lying in his bed, seemingly at death's door. He had remained out late one evening, had caught cold, and his mouth was constantly filled with blood. He was much worse, and could hardly take notice of the good news. When he revived a little he said, "It has come too late." But when Chasuble was backed to win thousands at ten to one, and Journeyman and Stack a.s.sured him that the stable was quite confident of being able to pull it off, his spirits revived. He spoke of hedging. "If," he said to Esther, "I was to get out at eight or nine to one I should be able to leave you something, you know, in case of accidents." But he would not entrust laying off his bet to either Stack of Journeyman; he spoke of a cab and seeing to it himself. If he did this the doctor a.s.sured him that it would not much matter whether Chasuble won or lost. "The best thing he could do," the doctor said, "would be to become an in-door patient at once. In the hospital he would be in an equable temperature, and he would receive an attention which he could not get at home."

William did not like going into the hospital; it would be a bad omen. If he did, he felt sure that Chasuble would not win.

"What has going or not going to the hospital to do with Chasuble's chance of winning the Cambridges.h.i.+re?" said the doctor. "This window is loose in its sash, a draught comes under the door, and if you close out the draughts the atmosphere of the room becomes stuffy. You're thinking of going abroad; a fortnight's nice rest is just what you want to set you up for your journey."

So he allowed himself to be persuaded; he was taken to the hospital, and Esther remained at home waiting for the fateful afternoon. Now that the dying man was taken from her she had no work to distract her thought. The unanswerable question--would Chasuble win?--was always before her. She saw the slender greyhound creatures as she had seen them at Epsom, through a sea of heads and hats, and she asked herself if Chasuble was the brown horse that had galloped in first, or the chestnut that had trotted in last. She often thought she was going mad--her head seemed like it--a sensation of splitting like a piece of calico.... She went to see her boy.

Jack was a great tall fellow of fifteen, and had happily lost none of his affection for his mother, and great sweetness rose up within her. She looked at his long, straight, yellow-stockinged legs; she settled the collar of his cloak, and slipped her fingers into his leathern belt as they walked side by side. He was bare-headed, according to the fas.h.i.+on of his school, and she kissed the wild, dark curls with which his head was run over; they were much brighter in colour when he was a little boy--those days when she slaved seventeen hours a day for his dear life!

But he paid her back tenfold for the hards.h.i.+p she had undergone.

She listened to the excellent report his masters gave of his progress, and walked through the quadrangles and the corridors with him, thinking of the sound of his voice as he told her the story of his cla.s.ses and his studies. She must live for him; though for herself she had had enough of life. But, thank G.o.d, she had her darling boy, and whatever unhappiness there might be in store for her she would bear it for his sake. He knew that his father was ill, but she refrained and told him no word of the tragedy that was hanging over them. The n.o.ble instincts which were so intrinsically Esther Waters' told her that it were a pity to soil at the outset a young life with a sordid story, and though it would have been an inexpressible relief to her to have shared her trouble with her boy, she forced back her tears and courageously bore her cross alone, without once allowing its edge to touch him.

And every day that visitors were allowed she went to the hospital with the newspaper containing the last betting. "Chasuble, ten to one taken,"