Long Odds

by Harold Bindloss

  CHAPTER XIII

  HIS BENEFICENT INFLUENCE

  There is a certain aldea, a little straggling village of flat-toppedhouses, among the black volcanic hills of Grand Canary which has likeone or two others of its kind a good deal to offer the discerningtraveler who will take the trouble to visit it. It is certainly atrifle difficult to reach, which is, perhaps, in one sense notaltogether a misfortune, since the Englishmen and Englishwomen whovisit that island in the winter seldom leave such places exactly asthey find them. One goes up by slippery bridle paths on horse or muleback over hot sand and wastes of dust and ashes into a rift betweenthe hills, and when once the tremendous gateway of fire-rent rock hasbeen passed discovers that it costs one an effort to go away again.

  In the bottom of the barranco lie maize-fields and vines. Tall greenpalms fling streaks of shadow over them, and close beneath the blackcrags stands a little ancient church and odd cubes of lava housestinted with delicate pink or ochre or whitewashed dazzlingly. Theynestle among their fig trees shut in by tall aloes, and oleanders, anda drowsy quietness which is intensified by the murmur of running waterpervades the rock-walled hollow. It is the stillness of a land wherenothing matters greatly, and there is in it the essence of theresignation which regards haste and effort and protest as futile, thatis characteristic of old world Spain, for Spain was never until latelybounded by the confines of the Peninsula.

  Las Palmas down beside the smoking beach is no longer Spanish. It isfilled with bustle and a rampant commercialism, and English is spokenthere; but the quietness of the ages lingers among the hills where thegrapes of Moscatel are still trodden in the winepress by bareleggedmen in unstarched linen who live very much as one fancies thepatriarchs did, plowing with oxen and wooden plows, and beating outtheir corn on wind-swept threshing floors. They also comportthemselves, even towards the wandering Briton, who does not alwaysdeserve it, with an almost stately courtesy, and seldom troublethemselves about the morrow. All that is essentially Spanish isEastern, too. The life in the hill pueblos is that portrayed in theJewish scriptures, and the olive-skinned men whose forefathers onceruled half the world have also like the Hebrew the remembrance oftheir departed glory to sadden them.

  It is, however, scarcely probable that any fancies of this kindoccurred to Mrs. Ratcliffe as she lay in a somewhat rickety chairunder a vine-draped pergola outside a pink-washed house in that aldeaone afternoon. She was essentially modern, and usually practical, inwhich respects Ada, who sat not far away, was not unlike her. A man,at least, seldom expects to find the commercial instinct and a shrewdcapacity for estimating and balancing worldly advantages in a youngwoman of prepossessing appearance with innocent eyes, which is,perhaps, a pity, since it now and then happens that the fact that shepossesses a reasonable share of both of them is made clear to him indue time. Then it is apt to cause him pain, for man being vain prefersto believe that it is personal merit that counts for most where he isconcerned.

  Ada Ratcliffe was listening to the drowsy splash of falling water, andlooking down through the rocky gateway over tall palms and creepingvines, blackened hillslopes, and gleaming sands, on the vast plain ofthe Atlantic which lay, a sheet of turquoise, very far below. Aboveher, tremendous fire-rent pinnacles ran up into the upper sweep ofethereal blue, but all this scarcely roused her interest. She had seenit already, and had said it was very pretty. Besides, she was thinkingof other things which appealed to her considerably more, a Londonhouse, an acknowledged station in smart society, and the command ofmoney. These were things she greatly desired to have, and it wasevident that Thomas Ormsgill could only offer her them in a certainmeasure. It was, in some respects, only natural that her mother shouldset a high value on them too, and desire them for her daughter. Shehad made a long and gallant fight against adverse circumstances sinceher husband died, and there was in her face the hardness of one whohas more than once been almost beaten. There were, she knew, women whowould freely give themselves with all that had been given them to theman they loved, but Mrs. Ratcliffe had never had much sympathy withthem. It was, she felt, a much more sensible thing to make a bargain,and secure something in return.

  Still, nobody would have fancied that Ada Ratcliffe had any such ideasjust then. Her face was quietly tranquil, and the pose she had falleninto in the big basket chair was, if not quite unstudied, a singularlygraceful one. In her hands lay a Spanish fan, a beautiful, costlything of silk and feathers and fretted ebony which Lister had givenher a few days earlier. He sat on a block of lava watching her with alittle significant gleam that she was perfectly conscious of in hisusually apathetic eyes. Still, though he had a heavy face of the kindone seldom associates with self-restraint, there was nothing in hisexpression which could have jarred upon a woman of the most sensitivetemperament. There were not many things which Albert Lister had muchreverence for, but during the last few weeks a change had been goingon in him, and it was a blind, unreasoning devotion which none of hisfriends would have believed him capable of that he offered this girl.

  His pleasures had been coarse ones, and there was much in him that shemight have shrunk from, but he had, at least, of late fought with thedesires of his lower nature, and, for the time being, trampled on oneor two of them. Slow of thought, and of very moderate intelligence, ashe was, he had yet endeavored to purge himself of grossness before heventured into her presence. He had not spoken for awhile when Mrs.Ratcliffe turned to him.

  "You were not in the drawing-room last night," she said, and hermanner subtly conveyed the impression that she had expected him. "Nodoubt you had something more interesting on hand?"

  "No," said Lister slowly, "I don't think I had. In fact, I was playingcards!"

  Mrs. Ratcliffe was a trifle perplexed, for she had now and thenventured to express her disapproval of one or two of his favoritedistractions in a motherly fashion, and she could not quite understandhis candor. It was, perhaps, natural that she should not credit himwith a simple desire for honesty, since this was a motive which wouldnot have had much weight with her.

  "Ah," she said, with an air of playful reproach, "everybody playscards nowadays, and I suppose one must not be too hard on you. Still,I think you know what my views are upon that subject."

  They were scarcely likely to be very charitable ones, since she owedher own long struggle to the fact that there were few forms of gamingher husband had not unsuccessfully experimented with, and shecontinued feelingly, "If one had no graver objections, it is apt toprove expensive."

  Lister laughed a little. "It proved so--to the other people--lastnight, but I think you are right. In fact, it's scarcely likely I'lltouch a card again. In one way,"--and he appeared to reflectlaboriously, "it's a waste of life."

  His companions were both a trifle astonished. They had scarcelyexpected a sentiment of this kind from him, and though the elder ladywould probably not have admitted it, gaming did not appear to her soobjectionable a thing provided that one won and had the sense to leaveoff when that was the case. Ada Ratcliffe, however, smiled.

  "To be candid, one would hardly have fancied you would look at it inthat light," she said. "Still, you seem to have been changing yourviews lately."

  "I have," said the man slowly, with a faint flush in his heavy face."After all, one comes to look at these things differently, and I daresay those fellows are right who lay it down that one ought to dosomething for his country or his living. Once I had the opportunity,but I let it go, or rather I flung it away. I often wish I hadn't, butI'm not quite sure it's altogether too late now."

  He spoke with an awkward diffidence, for though he was very young,ideas of this kind were quite new to him. The love of the girl helooked at appealingly had stirred his slow coarse nature, andsomething that had sprung up in its depths was growing towards thelight. It might have grown to grace and beauty had the light been abenignant one, for, after all, it is not upon the soil alone thatgrowth of any kind depends. Ada Ratcliffe, however, did not recognizein the least that this laid upon her a heavy responsibility.<
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  "No," she said with an encouraging smile, "there is no reason why youshouldn't make a career yet. I almost think you could if you wantedto."

  It was a bold assertion, but she made it unblushingly, and Listerappeared to consider.

  "There are not many things I'm good at--that is, useful ones," hesaid. "You have to be able to talk sensibly, anyway, before you canmake your mark at politics, and some of them don't do it under twentyyears."

  He stopped for a moment with a little sigh. "Still, I suppose theremust be something worth while for one to do, even if it's not exactlywhat one would like."

  "One's duty is usually made clear to one," said Mrs. Ratcliffeencouragingly.

  "Well," said Lister, "I'm not sure it is, though it's probably his ownfault if he doesn't want to recognize it. As I mentioned, you can lookat the same thing differently. There was Desmond's friend Ormsgill. Alittle while ago I thought he was a trifle crazy. Now I begin to seeit's a big thing he's doing, something to look back on afterwards evenif he never does anything worth while again."

  He saw the faint flush of color in Ada Ratcliffe's face, though he didnot in the least understand it. There was a good deal this man couldgive her, and she knew that he would in due time press it upon her,but she was naturally aware that his mental capacity was painfullysmall. This made the fact that he should look upon Ormsgill's errandas one a man could take pride in a reproach to her. Mrs. Ratcliffe'sface was, however, if anything, expressive of anxiety, for she hadasked herself frequently if Lister could by any chance have heard thatthe girl's pledge to Ormsgill had never been retracted. She did notthink he had, but this was a point it was well to be sure upon.

  "I didn't think you had met him," she said.

  "I haven't. You see, I stayed behind in Madeira while the _Palestrina_came on, and when I got here Ormsgill had gone. Desmond told me abouthim. I understood he was to marry somebody when he had done hiserrand, though, if he knew, Desmond never mentioned who she was."

  He stopped, and Mrs. Ratcliffe sighed with sheer relief when he turnedand looked eastwards towards Africa across the vast stretch of seawith a vague longing in his eyes.

  "Well," he said, "when he comes back again he will have done somethingthat should make the girl look up to him."

  Again the flicker of color crept into Ada Ratcliffe's cheek, for shewas conscious just then of a curious resentment against the man whohad gone to Africa for an idea. It was singularly galling that a manof Lister's caliber should make her ashamed. Still, she smiled at him.

  "I believe we have all more than one opportunity, and another one willno doubt present itself," she said.

  Lister sat still looking at her in a fashion she found almostembarrassing, and for a moment or two none of them spoke. Then therewere footsteps on the lava blocks outside the pergola, and a manappeared in an opening between the vines. He was dressed in whiteduck, and his face was bronzed by wind and spray, while Mrs.Ratcliffe found it difficult to refrain from starting at the sight ofhim. He stood where he was for a moment looking at the group withgrave inquiry, and Ada Ratcliffe felt that she hated him for thelittle smile of comprehension that crept into his eyes. Then he movedquietly forward, and Lister rose with a faint flush in his face.

  "I'm glad to see you, Desmond. I mean it, in spite of what passed thenight you packed me off," he said.

  It was an awkward meeting, though Lister was the only one whoseembarrassment was noticeable. His companions were watching Desmondquietly, though Mrs. Ratcliffe was sensible that this was the last manshe would have desired to see. He had come back from Africa and mightspoil everything, for at the back of her mind she was not quite sureof her daughter. Still, though it cost her an effort, she asked him afew questions.

  "Ormsgill didn't want me for some time and I ran across for coal andother things. That coast isn't one it's judicious to stay on," hesaid, and looked at Ada steadily. "You will be pleased to hear that hewas in excellent health--though he was still bent on carrying out hispurpose--when he left me."

  The girl's gesture was apparently expressive of relief, and Desmondwho sat down on the lava parapet proceeded to relate what he knew ofOrmsgill's projects and adventures. He felt the constraint that wasupon all of them except Lister, whose embarrassment was rapidlydisappearing, and though it afforded him certain grim satisfaction hetalked to dissipate it.

  "We ran in this morning, and as the folks at the hotel told me youwere here I came on," he said at length.

  They asked him a few more questions, and it said a good deal for Mrs.Ratcliffe's courage that she invited him to stay there for comida andthen to ride back to their hotel with them. Still it would, as sherecognized, be useless to separate the men, since they would comeacross each other continually in Las Palmas, and she was one who knewthat the boldest course is now and then the wisest. Desmond stayed,and it was some little time later when he sat alone with Lister amongthe tumbled lava by the watercourse. Feathery palm tufts drooped abovethem, and looking out between the fringed and fretted greenery theycould see the blue expanse of sea. Beyond its sharp-cut eastern rim,as both of them were conscious, lay the shadowy land. Desmond turnedfrom its contemplation and regarded his companion with a little smile.

  "I heard a good deal about you in the hotel smoking room," he said. "Isuppose I ought to compliment you on the possession of a certainamount of sense. Presumably you have now a motive for going steady?"

  Lister flushed, but he met his companion's gaze without wavering. "Asa matter of fact you are quite correct," he said. "Anyway, the motiveis a sufficient one."

  "Ah," said Desmond dryly, "it is in that case a lady, Miss Ratcliffemost probably? You no doubt recognize that she is several years olderthan you, and that it is more than possible her affections have beenengaged before?"

  His companion resolutely straightened himself. "It isn't as a ruleadvisable to go too far, but I don't mind informing you that they arenot engaged now."

  "You seem sure," said Desmond with more than a trace of his formerdryness. "She has presumably told you so?"

  "She has not," said Lister. "That is, however, quite sufficient initself, because if there had been anyone else with the slightest claimon her she and her mother would certainly have found means of makingit clear to me."

  Desmond saw the glint in the lad's eyes, and could not quite repress alittle sardonic smile. What he had heard in the hotel had at firstbeen almost incomprehensible to him, but, as he listened to what themen he met there had to tell, it became clear that Lister had inreality turned from his former courses. Then came his own admissionthat it was Ada Ratcliffe who had inspired him. Desmond could havefound it a relief to laugh. The woman who, it seemed, was willing tothrow over his comrade and break her pledge to him that she might befree to marry a richer man was the one who had stirred the lad to whatwas probably a stern and valiant encounter with his baser nature. Itseemed that she could not even be honest with him.

  "Am I to understand that you have made up your mind to marry MissRatcliffe?" he asked.

  "Yes," said Lister slowly, "I have; that is, if she will have me,which is doubtful. It is, however, in no sense your business, and youneedn't trouble to remind me that it would be a very indifferent matchfor her."

  Desmond sat still for several minutes, and thought as hard as he hadin all probability ever done in his life. He had given Ormsgill a hintwhich had not been taken, and now he found it had been fullywarranted, he had ventured on giving Lister another which had alsobeen disregarded. The lad's faith in the woman who was deceiving bothof them was evidently sincere and generous, as well as in one respectpitiable, and under the circumstances Desmond could not tell whatcourse he ought to take. He was aware that the man who rashly meddlesin his friends' affairs seldom either confers any real benefit uponthem or earns their thanks, and he doubted if Lister would listen toany advice or information he might offer him. To say nothing meantthat he must leave Mrs. Ratcliffe a free hand, but he had sufficientknowledge of that lady's capabilities to feel reasonably sur
e that shewould succeed in marrying the girl to one of the men in spite of him.That being so, it seemed to him preferable that the one in questionshould not be his friend. Then he looked at Lister gravely.

  "Well," he said, "I almost think she'll have you, and I'm not surethat you need worry yourself too much about not being good enough forher. That's a point you could be content with her mother's opinionon."

  He left the lad, and five minutes later came upon Ada Ratcliffe in thepatio of the adjacent house. "You will make my excuses to yourmother," he said. "After all, I think I had better ride back to LasPalmas alone."

  The girl met his eyes, but for a moment her face flushed crimson. Shesaid nothing, and he quietly turned away, while in another few minutesshe heard his horse stumbling down the slippery path beside thewatercourse. When they reached the hotel that evening they were alsotold that he did not intend to live ashore while the yacht was in theharbor, which was a piece of information that afforded Mrs. Ratcliffeconsiderable relief.