The Independence of Claire

by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

  "LEND ME FIVE POUNDS!"

  The contrasts of life seemed painfully strong to Claire Gifford thatSaturday afternoon as she seated herself in the luxurious car by MrsWilloughby's side, and thought of Sophie Blake obliged to borrow tenpounds to pay for a chance of health, and the contrast deepened duringthe next few hours, as she watched beautifully gowned women squanderingmoney on useless trifles which decked the various "stalls." Embroideredcushions, painted sachets, veil cases, shaving cases, night-dress cases,bridge bags, fan bags, handkerchief bags, work bags; bags of every size,of every shape, of every conceivable material; bead necklaces, mats--awilderness of mats--a very pyramid of drawn-thread work. Claire found aseat near the principal stall, where she caught the remarks of thebuyers as they turned away. "...I detest painted satin! Can't think whyI bought that ridiculous sachet. It will have to go on to the nextbazaar."

  "...That makes my twenty-third bag! Rather a sweet, though, isn't he?It will go with my grey dress."

  "This is awful! I'm not getting on at all. I can't decently spend lessthan five pounds. For goodness' sake tell me what to buy!"

  "Can't think why people give bazaars! Such an upset in the house. Forsome charity, I believe--I forget what. She asked me to come..."

  So on and so on; scores of women surging to and fro, swinging bags ofgold and silver chain, buying baubles for which they had no use;occasionally--very occasionally, for love of the cause; often--veryoften because Lady --- had sent a personal invitation, and Lady --- wasa useful friend, and gave such charming balls!

  At the two concerts Claire had a pleasant success, which she enjoyedwith all her heart. Her whistling performance seemed to act as ageneral introduction, for every listener seemed to be anxious to talk toher, and to ask an infinitude of questions. Was it difficult? How longdid it take to learn? Was she nervous? Wasn't it difficult not tolaugh? How did she manage not to look a fright? Did she do it often?Did she _mind_? This last question usually led up to a tentativemention of some entertainment in which the speaker was interested, butafter the first refusal Claire was on guard, and regretted that her timewas filled up. She was eager to help Mrs Willoughby, but had no desireto be turned into an unpaid public performer!

  Janet did not appear at the bazaar, so the drive home was once more a_tete-a-tete_, during which Mrs Willoughby questioned Claire as to thecoming holidays, and expressed pleasure to hear that they were to bespent in Brussels. She was so kind and motherly in her manner thatClaire was emboldened to bespeak her interest on Sophie's behalf.

  "I suppose," she said tentatively, "you don't know of any family goingabroad to a dry climate--it must be a very dry climate--who would liketo take a girl with them to--er--to be a sort of help! She's a prettygirl, and very gay and amusing, and she's had the highest possibletraining in health exercises. She would be splendid if there was adelicate child who needed physical development, and, of course, she isquite well educated all round. She could teach up to a certain point.She is the Gym. mistress in my school, and is very popular with thegirls."

  "And why does she want to leave?"

  "She's not well. It's rheumatism--a bad kind of rheumatism. It is justbeginning, and the doctor says it ought to be tackled at once, and thatto live on clay soil is the worst thing for her. If she stays at SaintCuthbert's she's practically bound to live on clay. And he says sheought to get out of England for the next few winters. She has not apenny beyond her salary, but if she could find a post--"

  "Well, why not?" Mrs Willoughby's voice was full of a cheerfuloptimism. "I don't know of anything at present, but I'll make inquiriesamong my friends. There ought not to be any difficulty. So many peoplewinter abroad; and there is quite a craze for these physical exercises.Oh, yes, my dear, I am sure I can help. Poor thing! poor girl! it's soimportant to keep her health. I must find some one who will beconsiderate, and not work her too hard."

  She spoke as if the post were a settled thing; as if there were severalposts from which to choose. Probably there were. Among her largecircle of wealthy friends this popular and influential woman, given alittle trouble, could almost certainly find a chance for Sophie Blake._Given a little trouble_! That was the rub! Five out of six of thewomen who had thronged Lady ---'s rooms that afternoon would havedismissed Sophie's case with an easy sympathy, "Poor creature! Quitetoo sad, but really, you know, my dear, it's a shocking mistake torecommend any one to a friend. If anything goes wrong, you get blamedyourself. Isn't there a Home?" Mrs Willoughby was the exception tothe rule; she helped in deed, as well as in word. Claire looked at thelarge plain face with a very passion of admiration.

  "Oh, I wish all women were like you! I'm so glad you are rich. I hopeyou will go on growing richer and richer. You are the right person tohave money, because you help, you _want_ to help, you remember otherwomen who are poor."

  "My dear," said Mrs Willoughby softly, "I have been poor myself. Myfather lost his money, and for years we had a hard struggle. Then Imarried--for love, my dear, not money, but there was money, too,--moremoney than I could spend. It was an intoxicating experience, and Ifound it difficult not to be carried away. My dear husband had settleda large income on me, for my own use, so I determined, as a safeguard,to divide it in two, and use half for myself and half for gentlewomenlike your friend, who need a helping hand. I have done that now fortwenty-five years, but I give out of my abundance, my dear; it is easyfor me to give money; I deserve no credit for that."

  "You give time, too, and sympathy, and kindness. It's no use, MrsWilloughby. I've put you on the topmost pinnacle in my mind, andnothing that you can say can pull you down. I think you are the bestwoman in London!"

  "Dear, dear, you will turn my head! I'm not accustomed to suchwholesale flattery," cried Mrs Willoughby, laughing; then the carstopped, and Claire made her adieux, and sprang lightly to the ground.

  The chauffeur had stopped before the wrong house, but he did notdiscover his mistake as Claire purposely stood still until he had turnedthe car and started to retrace his way westward. The evening was finethough chill, and the air was refreshing after the crowded heat of Lady---'s rooms. Claire had only the length of a block to walk, and shewent slowly, drawing deep breaths to fill her tired lungs.

  The afternoon had passed pleasantly enough, but it had left her feelingflat and depressed. She questioned herself as to the cause of herdepression. Was she jealous of those other girls who lived lives ofluxury and idleness? Honestly she was not. She was not in the positionof a girl who had known nothing but poverty, and who therefore felt agirl's natural longing for pretty rooms, pretty clothes, and a taste ofgaiety and excitement. Claire had known all these things, and couldknow them again; neither was she in the position of a working girl whohas no one to help in the day of adversity, for a comfortable home wasopen to her at any moment. No! she was not jealous: she probed stilldeeper, and acknowledged that she was disappointed! Last time that shehad whistled in public--

  Claire shook her head with an impatient toss. This was feeble. Thiswas ridiculous. A man whom she had met twice! A man whose mother hadrefused an introduction. A man whom Janet--

  "I must get to work, and prepare my lesson for Monday. Nothing likegood work to drive away these sentimental follies!"

  But Fate was not kind, for right before her eyes were a couple of loversstrolling onward, the man's hand through the girl's arm, his head bentlow over hers. Claire winced at the sight, but the next moment herinterest quickened in a somewhat painful fashion, as the manstraightened himself suddenly, and swung apart with a gesture ofoffence. The lovers were quarrelling! Now the width of the pavementwas between them; they strode onward, ostentatiously detached. Clairesmiled to herself at the childishness of the display. One momentembracing in the open street, the next flaunting their differences soboldly that every passer-by must realise the position! Surely a grownman or woman ought to have more self-control. Then suddenly the lightof a lamp shone
on the pair, and she recognised the familiar figures ofMary Rhodes and Major Carew. He wore a long light overcoat. Cecil hadevidently slipped out of the house to meet him, for she was attired inher sports coat and knitted cap. Poor Cecil! The interview seemed tobe ending in anything but a pleasant fashion.

  Claire lingered behind until the couple had passed her own doorway, letherself in with her latch-key, and hastened to settle down to work.When Cecil came in, she would not wish to be observed. Claire carriedher books to the bureau, so as to have her back to the fire, but beforeshe had been five minutes writing, she heard the click of the lock, andCecil herself came into the room.

  "Halloa! I saw the light go up. I thought it must be you." She wassilent for a couple of minutes, then spoke again in a sharp, summoningvoice: "Claire!"

  "Yes?"

  Claire turned round, to behold Cecil standing at the end of the dining-table, her bare hands clasping its rim. She was so white that her lipslooked of a startling redness; her eyes met Claire with a defianthardness.

  "I want you to lend me five pounds _now_!"

  Claire's anxiety was swallowed in a rising of irritation which broughtan edge of coldness into her voice.

  "Five pounds! What for? Cecil, I have never spoken of it, I have neverworried you, but I've already paid--"

  "I know! I know! I'll pay you back. But I must have this to-night,and I've nowhere else to go. It's important. I would lend it to you,Claire, if it were in my power."

  "Cecil, I hate to refuse, but really--I _need_ my money! Just now Ineed it particularly. I can't afford to go on lending. I'm dreadfullysorry, but--"

  "Claire, please! I implore you, just this one time! I'll pay youback... There's my insurance policy--I can raise something on that.For pity's sake, Claire, help me this time!"

  Claire rose silently and went upstairs. It was not in her to refusesuch a request while a five-pound note lay in her desk upstairs. Sheslipped the crackling paper into an envelope, and carried it down to theparlour. Cecil took it without a word, and went back into the night.

  When she had gone, Claire gathered her papers together in a neat littleheap, ranged them in a corner of the bureau, and seated herself on astiff-backed chair at the end of the table. She looked as if she weremounted on a seat of justice, and the position suited her frame of mind.She felt angry and ill-used. Cecil had no right to borrow money from afellow-worker! The money in the bank was dwindling rapidly; the tenguineas for Sophie would make another big hole. She did not grudgethat--she was eager and ready to give it for so good a cause; but _what_was Cecil doing with these repeated loans? To judge from appearances,she was rather poorer than richer during the last few months, whilebills for her new clothes came in again and again, and received nosettlement. An obstinate look settled on Claire's face. She determinedto have this thing out.

  In ten minutes' time Cecil was back again, still white, still defiant,meeting Claire's glance with a shrug, seating herself at the oppositeend of the table with an air of callous indifference to what should comenext.

  "Well?"

  "Well?"

  "You look as if you had something to say!"

  "I have. Cecil, what are you doing with all this money?"

  "That's my business, I suppose!"

  "I don't see it, when the money is mine! I think I have the right toask?"

  "I've told you I'll pay you back!"

  "That's not the question. I want to know what you are doing _now_! Youare not paying your bills."

  "I'll sell out some shares to-morrow, and--"

  "You shall do no such thing. I can wait, and I will wait, but I can'tgo on lending; and if I did, it could do you no good. Where does themoney go? It does _you_ no good!"

  "I am the best judge of that."

  "Cecil, _are you lending money to that man_?"

  The words leapt out, as on occasion such words will leap, withoutthought or premeditation on the speaker's part. She did not intend tospeak them; if she had given herself one moment for reflection she darednot have spoken them; when their sound struck across the quiet room shewas almost as much startled as Cecil herself; yet heart and brainapproved their utterance; heart and brain pronounced that she haddiscovered the truth.

  Cecil's face was a deep glowing red.

  "Really, Claire, you go too far! Why in the world should you think--"

  "I saw you with him now in the street. I could see that you werequarrelling; you took no pains to hide it. You left him to come in tome, and went back again. It seems pretty obvious."

  "Well! and if I did?" Cecil had plainly decided that denial wasuseless. "I am responsible for the loan. What does it matter to youwho uses it?"

  But at that Claire's anger vanished, and she shrank back with a cry ofpain and shame.

  "And he _took_ it from you? Money! Took it from a girl he professes tolove--who is working for herself! Oh, Cecil, how _could_ he? How couldyou allow him? How can you go on caring for such a man?"

  "Don't get hysterical, Claire, please. There's nothing so extraordinaryin a man being hard up. It's happened before now in the history of theworld. Frank has a position to keep up, and his father--I've told youbefore how mean and difficult his father is, and it's so important thatFrank should keep on good terms just now.--He dare not worry him formoney. When he is going to make me a rich woman some day, why should Irefuse to lend him a few trifling pounds when he runs short? He's in anexpensive regiment; he belongs to an expensive Club; he is obliged tokeep up with the other men. If I had twice as much I would lend it withpleasure."

  Claire opened her lips to say that at least no more borrowed moneyshould be supplied for Major Carew, but the words were never spoken.Pity engulfed her, a passion of pity for the poor woman who a secondtime had fallen under the spell of an unscrupulous man. Cecil'sexplanation had fallen on deaf ears, for Claire could accept no excusesfor a man who borrowed from a woman to ensure comfort and luxury forhimself. An officer in the King's army! The thing seemed incredible;so incredible that, for the first time, a rising of suspicion mingledwith her dislike. Mentally, she rehearsed the facts of Major Carew'shistory as narrated by himself, and found herself doubting every one.The beautiful house in the country--did it really exist? The eccentricold father who refused to part with his gold--was he flesh and blood, ora fictitious figure invented as a convenient excuse? The fortune whichwas to enrich the future--_was_ there such a fortune? Or, if therewere, was Major Carew in truth the eldest son? Claire felt adevastating helplessness her life abroad had left her ignorant of manyBritish institutions; she knew nothing of the books in which she mighthave traced the Carew history; she had nothing to guide her but her ownfeminine instinct, but if that instinct were right, what was to becomeof Mary Rhodes?

  Her face looked so sad, so downcast, that Cecil's conscience waspricked.

  "Poor old Claire!" she said gently, "how I do worry you, to be sure!Never mind, my dear, I'll make it up to you one day. You've been abrick to me, and I shan't forget it. And I'll go to my mother's for thewhole of the Easter holidays, and save up my pennies to pay you back.The poor old soul felt defrauded because I stayed only a week atChristmas, so she'll be thankful to have me. You can go to Brusselswith an easy mind, knowing that I'm out of temptation. That will bekilling two birds with one stone. What do you say to having cocoa now,instead of waiting till nine o'clock? We've tired ourselves out withall this fuss?"