“Hm. Where was he bred? The horse, I mean.”
“In Alberta. There is no horse of great note among his forebears, but they were a good stock, with plenty of stamina. It won’t cost you anything to look at him.”
Clara Chase exclaimed, in sudden panic, “I think Renny is right. He shouldn’t risk it.”
That was enough to confirm him in his desire to inspect the horse. A half-hour later he was returning through the ravine to his own house, a meeting with Crowdy arranged.
XV
The East Wind
HE NOTICED, AS he reached the level of the lawn, above the steepness of the path from the ravine, that a fresh cool wind had sprung up and that it was blowing majestic white clouds about the sky. He noticed, too, that a look of late summer had descended on the flower border. Strong colours now predominated — purple, gold, and scarlet. Beside the porch he stopped to examine the web of a spider which he had been noticing for a week or more. He thought it was one of the neatest jobs he ever had seen. Wheel upon wheel, spoke upon spoke, it hung between windowsill and shrub, delicate, glistening in the sun, vibrating in every zephyr. Each evening it showed some damage of the day where blundering bee or diminutive cyclone had struck it. Yet each morning found it precisely repaired, fresh from the spinner’s toil. What troubled Renny was the bad luck of the old spinner. He was sure that the spider was old — he was so grey, so patient, so unflurried. Renny himself had known bad luck and he had a feeling of sympathy for the spider, in whose web he never had seen a single fly. There he squatted patiently in the centre, as though with chin sunk on breast, arms folded, eyes observant. But only a bit of dandelion fluff had been trapped by the web. Nothing to eat — nothing to eat.
Renny examined the stones of the porch, hoping he might discover a fly. Yes—there was one, sunning itself on a leaf of the Virginia creeper. With a sweep of the hand he caught it and tossed it into the web. It was caught — it struggled — it was gone — leaving a rent in the shining web. But the old spider never moved. He sat humped, imperturbable, waiting. The fly buzzed overhead.
Roma came out of the house, looking sweet-faced and anxious.
“Uncle Renny,” she said, raising her candid gaze to his, “I’ve something to tell you.”
“Good news, I hope.”
“Oh, I don’t know…. It’s just that I’ve broken off my engagement to Norman.”
His expressive eyebrows shot up. He looked neither pleased nor displeased.
“Broken it off, eh?” he said. “Well — and how did Norman take that?”
“Rather hard. He didn’t like it.”
“I should guess not. Well, you must do as you please. What happened? A quarrel?”
“No. I was just tired of him.”
“I don’t wonder. Have you anyone else in mind?”
“N-no. Not exactly.”
“There’s no hurry for you to marry,” he said, his eyes on the spider’s web. “You’re very young.”
“Yes,” she agreed, and came close and slipped her hand on to his arm. Marks of affection came seldom from her and he was pleased. He smiled down on her.
“I never liked Norman,” he said, “and I want to like the chaps you girls marry. It’s more comfortable.”
“You do like Mait Fitzturgis, don’t you?”
“Well enough,” he answered guardedly.
She gave her suddenly sarcastic smile. “Well enough — for what?”
“Oh, I suppose, to endure.”
“I guess we all have to endure each other, eh?” she said, still smiling. Then she added, “I suppose you think he isn’t good enough for Adeline. But then, no one would be good enough for her — would he?”
“I wish you girls would get your minds off matrimony,” he said testily. He lighted a cigarette but did not offer one to Roma. She stood looking after him as he turned away. Then she noticed the spider’s web. She picked a small tendril from the Virginia creeper and poked it into the centre of the web. She moved the tendril round and round till she had gathered up the web, then she tossed it away among the shrubs.
A few moments later Fitzturgis came from the direction of the stables. He wore riding breeches, and a flush of annoyance was on his cheeks.
“Got a cigarette to spare?” she asked on a note of cold familiarity.
He produced a packet of Player’s and lighted one for her.
“Your hand is shaking,” she said, and looked at him across the tiny flame.
“Oh, I can’t do anything right,” he said.
“More trouble with father-in-law?”
Fitzturgis inhaled, then expelled the smoke in deliberate calm. He avoided looking at Roma.
She went on, “I have good news for you.”
“what?”
“He was just telling me that he thought he could endure you.”
“He said that?”
“Well, you see, he adores Adeline.”
Chagrin deepened his colour. He muttered, “So do I.”
“I’ll say you do,” she exclaimed, “or you wouldn’t be here.”
He gave her a troubled look. “You think I’m not suited to this life, Roma?” He seemed to ask for reassurances.
“About as well as I am. I’m thankful that Uncle Nicholas left me money straight away, with no strings to it.”
“what shall you do?” he asked, his intent eyes on her.
“Go to New York.” She made a wide gesture with her cigarette. “Look about me. Travel a bit — perhaps just get a job. Change, that’s what I’m after.”
They smoked in silence for a space. The spider uncurled from the panic-stricken ball into which he had made himself and slowly ascended the stalk of a hollyhock in search of his web.
Roma was the first to speak. She said, “I like being with you. I’d like to be with you all the time.”
He gave an embarrassed laugh. “I’m afraid you would be disappointed in me. I’m not a comfortable person.”
“who is — when you get to know them?”
Again they smoked in silence.
Meanwhile the master of Jalna had met his daughter on the way to the stables.
“I’m looking for Maitland,” she explained.
Renny caught her by the arm. “Come into my office,” he said. “I have something to tell you.” He led her into the austere little room that smelt of liniment and Windsor soap, and shut and locked the door behind them. Adeline looked a little anxiously into his face, saw that it was ornamented by an hilarious grin, and herself smiled.
He said, “I’ve had a very interesting talk with the Chases, who have rented a part of Humphrey Bell’s house.”
“I’ve heard of them,” she said eagerly. “Was it about a horse?”
“It was. Adeline, you remember how I once won the Grand National?”
“Oh, Daddy, it was glorious — the happiest day of my life!”
“Really and truly the happiest, Adeline?”
“Yes. There was a victory! And that lovely horse — Johnny the Bird. Why did you sell him, Daddy?”
“I needed the money. There was the war —”
“You went to the war. And you’ve never since had such a stroke of luck! what a pity!”
They stood side by side admiring the framed photograph of Johnny the Bird. Renny said, “I have never since owned a racehorse, but, by Judas — I’ve a mind to have a look at one I have just heard of.”
“From the Chases?”
“Yes. They say he’s a wonder — on any sort of track. They’d heard about the legacy from Uncle Nicholas and they think I should be safe in investing part of it in this horse. I’m not in the least influenced by Mrs. Chase, but Chase is one of the best judges of horses I ever have known. And Mr. Crowdy agrees that this horse has a great future. Now, Adeline, not a word of this to your mother or to anyone.”
“Never a word! Oh, Daddy” — she threw her arms about his neck — “promise that you will take me to see him. I couldn’t bear not to go.”
H
e gave her a fond look. “Of course I’ll take you to see him.”
Suddenly serious, she asked, “Daddy, is he very expensive?’
“Very.”
“May I know?”
Renny could not resist the impulse to tell her. He wanted to see her open wide her eyes in astonishment, to discover whether she would give her approval to such a venture. But there was nothing she would not risk to be one with him. She did indeed open her eyes in sheer amazement but in the same moment she laughed with delight. “Oh, marvellous,” she cried. “why, that’s the sort of price very rich men pay! But — if Mr. Crowdy and Mr. Chase say the horse is worth it — I’ll bet he is. And I’m absolutely sure Uncle Nicholas would approve.”
She could have said nothing more pleasing to Renny. He beamed at her. “But remember,” he said, “it’s a secret.”
“I’ll remember.”
The following day they two and the Chases set out for the stables where the racehorse was to be seen, and were met there by Mr. Crowdy. He was a heavily built man, stout rather than fat, with an air somewhere between that of a countryman and a frequenter of the racetracks. Nature had endowed him with an expression of great sagacity which had been an invaluable asset to him. He had had more bad luck than good, yet his hope had never flagged. He was a warm friend and a forgiving foe. He had a curious habit of stretching out the palm of his left hand when he was about to make a statement of importance, and, with the forefinger of his right hand, making mysterious signs on it, as of the writing on the wall. Now, standing outside the loose-box of the racehorse, along with Renny, Adeline, and Chase (the owner having retired to a little distance), he fixed his eyes on his extended palm, drew some cryptic design on it, then said in his husky voice:
“You can’t go wrong in making this deal.”
“It’s a lot of money to risk,” said Renny.
“I wish I could take the risk.”
Chase put in, “Youhave seen his record. A good one for so young a horse. Wait till you see him in action.”
The fine big chestnut colt looked out at them with mild interest. He mouthed his thick velvety lips as though he had an agreeable taste in his mouth.
Renny said, “He looks more like a big overgrown baby than a racehorse.”
“True,” agreed Mr. Crowdy solemnly. “True. That’s how he looks.”
“How can Mr. Turner ask so much for him,” demanded Adeline, “when he’s had so few important wins?”
“In both instances he beat the favourite,” said Crowdy. “One on a hard dry track, the other on a muddy one.”
“We’ll live to see him sire some winners,” said Chase.
Soon they saw the colt in action, ridden by a groom. There was a further consultation. Adeline was on tiptoe with excitement. With all the magnetic power in her, she drew Renny on to buy the colt. “Uncle Nick would want you to,” she whispered. “I know he would.” With the eyes she had inherited from her great-grandmother she implored him.
He would think it over, he told them, make up his mind by tomorrow. His mind, however, was made up for him by the entrance of an American who had come to see the colt. The price seemed not to shock the American. He nonchalantly considered it, then said, “I’ve a good mind to buy this fellow. He looks as though he’d plenty of stamina. His record’s fine for so young a horse.” He made these remarks to Renny, not knowing that he too was a prospective buyer.
Messrs. Crowdy and Chase, overhearing this, gave Renny such looks of passionate pleading that what resistance he still fostered melted under their fire. Added to this he felt springing up between him and the colt that promise of trust and good-fellowship which is sometimes born between horse and man at first sight. He gave the owner a nod. The deal was settled.
Back at Jalna Adeline ran toward the house from the stables. The exultation of her spirit uplifted her. She could not walk but must come as near to flying as possible. A strong wind was blowing her hair back from her face. “East Wind!” she exclaimed. “A lucky omen!” She ran to where she saw Fitzturgis strolling along the drive and called out, “Such news! We’ve bought a racehorse.”
“Well, there’s nothing very new about that, is there?” he asked without enthusiasm.
“New?”she cried. “New?Why, it’s terrifically new. We haven’t owned a racehorse for years and years. Ours are show horses — hunters — steeplechasers. But this colt is a wonder, darling. Everybody says so. His name is East Wind and there’s an east wind blowing!”
Fitzturgis took her hand in a peremptory gesture.
“The only wind that interests me,” he said, “is the wind that will blow us to the altar.”
“Oh, Mait, what a lovely thing to say!” She laid her bright head on his shoulder, but only for a moment. Then she raised it and looked searchingly into his eyes. “But surely,” she said, “you are excited by our owning a racehorse.”
“I shall try to be. Tell me more about him.”
Adeline poured out the tale of the colt’s wins, his exceeding promise, ending by saying, “Wasn’t it lucky that we had this money from Uncle Nicholas? Otherwise we never could have bought him.”
“Did he cost a lot?”
So proud of the purchase was Adeline, so magical did it appear to her that the Jalna stables were to possess this equine wonder, that, without a second thought, she broke her promise to Renny. And, after all, she and Maitland were soon to be one. She said:
“Guess.”
“A thousand dollars.”
“Oh, Mait, what do you think we were buying? A workhorse? More!”
“Two thousand.”
“Multiply that by six!” She looked triumphant.
He was aghast. “Good Lord,” he exclaimed. “That’s about half your uncle’s legacy.”
“And why not?” she said defiantly. “It couldn’t be put to better use. But you mustn’t tell anybody. I remember now that I promised not to tell.”
But Fitzturgis did tell. At the first opportunity he followed Alayne into the library and closed the door after him. She gave him a welcoming and enquiring look.
“Have you heard?” he asked.
“I have heard nothing new,” she smiled, thinking how much she liked his looks.
“I suppose I should not tell this,” he said, “but I feel bound to — in the hope that you may be able to do something about it. But — perhaps you won’t mind.”
She said nothing, just waited.
“Adeline has been telling me,” he said, “that her father has agreed to pay twelve thousand dollars for that colt they went to see. Of course, it’s none of my business.”
“I didn’t know. I never hear of these things till they are accomplished.” Now her lips were set in anger. “Oh, how could he? It’s nothing short of insane.”
“I’ve seen too many fortunes lost on the racetrack,” he said. “I hate to think of your having such a loss.”
“I don’t suppose it will affect me one way or the other,” she said. “If the money didn’t go into a racehorse it would be spent on the stables.” She added, with a kind of breathless sharpness in her voice, “My husband lives for his horses.”
Fitzturgis made a sympathetic sound. He dared not trust himself to speak, for at that moment he lumped Renny and his daughter together as stubborn devotees of a senseless pursuit.
Alayne gave a little laugh. “I comfort myself with one thought,” she said. “I had rather he were absorbed in horseflesh than in big business. I should find that unbearable.”
“At least he’d have something to show for it,” Fitzturgis said curtly.
“Not the perfect health he enjoys.”
“I do admire his physique,” said Fitzturgis with sincerity. “He’s as thin and muscular as a man of twenty-five.”
“He has scarcely a grey hair,” she exclaimed, “and look at me!”
“Your hair is beautiful,” he said tenderly. “At the moment of our meeting I noticed it and I thought — how beautiful!”
She looked up in
to his eyes from where she sat at her writing table. For some reason her heart quickened its beat. She felt happy in his presence.
When he had gone and she heard Renny’s step in the hall she went out and faced him.
He gave her a keen look, for there was something in her bearing that put him on his guard.
“So,” she said, “you have bought a racehorse.”
“why, yes … who told you?”
“Maitland. He had it from Adeline.” There was nothing in Alayne’s face to encourage him. Still he broke out:
“Alayne, you ought to see him. Of course, you will see him very soon. The most promising colt you ever laid eyes on. I’m sure you’ll never regret that I bought him.”
She said stiffly, “I hope you won’t regret the fantastic price you’re paying for him.”
“I suppose Mait told you that, too?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t see how the hell he found out…. Oh yes — Adeline!” His lips showed his chagrin. “I told her to tell no one.”
“I suppose she was too delighted to keep it to herself. But it doesn’t matter. I can’t do anything to stop you.”
“To stop me,” he echoed.
“Yes. Any sane person would surely try to stop you…. Poor Uncle Nicholas — I wonder what he would feel if he could know how his money is being thrown away!”
“It is not being thrown away,” he said defiantly. “It’s being invested — to what I believe is the best advantage.” Alayne shrugged her shoulders in despair. The spaniel came to the door and looked in at them, then turned and went out again. It was as though the sight of them together was too much for him.
Renny caressed the carved cluster of grapes that decorated the newel post, then said deliberately, “I should know better than to expect sympathy from you in any venture of mine.”
“If only they were of a different sort,” she exclaimed.
“You knew what I was when you married me.”
“Surely,” she said, speaking calmly, determined not to quarrel, “surely we may expect to develop through life.”
Books 13-16: Return to Jalna / Renny's Daughter / Variable Winds at Jalna / Centenary at Jalna Page 101