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Chapter XVIII

The Races! All the world and his wife were there. It was the Carnival Week, the great festival of the year, the only thing that people talked and busied about for the time being—their hearts were in it, and their money too!

The city was in a ferment; every hotel was crammed to overflowing with visitors from the country, and swollen out to preternatural dimensions with the crush—every sofa put into requisition, and at night-time the floors strewn with ‘shake-downs’. The hospitable townspeople entertained their numerous friends and turned their homes into ‘accommodation houses’ for the occasion; the streets swarmed with a motley crowd, representing every class of the young community, but mostly ‘up-country swells’ and troups of ‘station hands’. The ‘pubs’ did a roaring business, and every pleasure hall resounded with the outbursts of noisy revellers; the shops were gaily decorated, and at their busiest, except on the great Cup Day, when a public holiday had been proclaimed, all offices were closed, and business suspended in honour of the occasion.

The ladies were in a mighty flutter over the event. For weeks previously they had been arduously engaged in trimming their brightest feathers for the gorgeous display when the grand stand reflected all the beauty and fashion of the province. It had been a hard task for the bewildered dress makers, harder still for the over-worked sewing girls, who had stitched themselves weary and ill in the desperate efforts to have all this finery ready in time; doubtless, also, even among the gaily attired belles of the season, there had been no lack of bickerings and repinings, bitter tears shed, and much galling disappointment over these splendid preparations—this parade of vanity. Yet there were only smiles visible on the auspicious day, and all looked bright and charming for the festive occasion.

From every quarter strangers came flocking in to town. There were some of all sorts. The wealthy squatter, in a showy four-in-hand, with company of friends on the box and a swell groom in attendance, would bowl gracefully through the crowded thoroughfares, to ‘put up’ up at the club, or at some suburban villa; the smart business man, in a spick-and-span American buggy, with fast-trotting horse, and intent on a few days' joyous relaxation from his dreary money- page 196 making grind, would dash smilingly by to his allotted quarters; the less stylish country storekeeper, with buxom wife and numerous progeny packed closely in the family waggonette would follow at a jog trot; the sunburnt farmer with his female belongings in gay prints and straw bonnets, rattling along in his spring cart; old people and young people, fast people and slow people, noisy people and quiet people, in every style and condition of vehicle, even to the sable-clad parson, with his demur-looking wife, in a basket carriage; all were there. Then troops of horsemen: the flash young swells, in shooting-jackets, boots, and breeches, with turban-shaped hats and long white puggaries flapping behind, on prancing and well-groomed steeds; the sturdy bushman, in blue jumper and corduroy trousers, with a cabbage-tree hat and big swag strapped across the pummels of his saddle, riding a bony station nag, as rough and unkempt as his master; the farmer lad, in his Sunday togs and broad wide-awake hat, jogging along on a plough horse; now and then a rowdy band of shearers ‘on the spree’, galloping furiously and shouting ahead; or a jolly party of stock-drivers, ‘showing off’ to the admiration of all beholders, friskily bounding over the roadside ditches, and cracking their long stockwhips by way of entertainment—the whole enveloped in clouds of dust, and redolent of whisky and good humour.

Cobb and Co. was in great form. The mail coaches followed one another in quick succession, packed inside and out, and swaying under the heavy human loads, as they rattled by, with snatches of song from noisy passengers, the clacking of whips and the blowing of horns, all adding to the glorious uproar.

The Races. A week's dissipation for the rich; a lively outing for the commonality, with much reckless gambling among all classes.

The fine town houses were lit up for balls and parties, the music halls and drinking saloons were crowded to suffocation. The streets resounded with the tramp of holidaymakers; all the place was agog.

It was a general state of popular effervescence, a spluttering and boiling over of the social cauldron, when much of the scum rose to the surface, and every species of dodging, swindling, and gambling came into operation together with the more legitimate and harmless amusements.

For the time being the steady routine of life, the sober sense and industrious thrift of the people, was swept aside for a wild fling of capering and shouting and wagering, with reckless extravagance in all things. While the mad fit lasted how many hard-earned savings were squandered, how many fortunes ruined, characters blasted, and offences committed!

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The new settlement was then only in its infancy; It had got over the first rude stage of its existence and was just budding into civilisation; it had a fair and fresh field to thrive upon, free from all the corruption and hereditary taints of the Old World; but human nature remains always the same, and the Englishman, away from his native land, carries with him all the customs, tastes, and prejudices, and most of the vices of his nationality.

Thus life in the colony, whenever circumstances would permit, was but a rather servile imitation of life in the Mother Country; there was little or no attempt to revert to a purer, simpler and more primitive mode of existence. People strove after social distinction, and gave themselves aristocratic airs. They aped the Parisian fashions, kept up artificial appearances, practised Old-World foibles, and got monstrously into debt. The races were but a small and new edition of the English Derby; the course, the grand stand, the Jockey Club, and the jockeys, all the appointments and paraphernalia of the business, the decorations and style of dress, the bookmakers and the betting, and, beyond all, the cheating, dodging, shouting, and drinking, were all in strict keeping with the recognised model. It is therefore not necessary to describe them; horses were scratched and horses were run, money was lost and money was won, and the gullible public got swindled in the old orthodox style.

* * * * *

Sunnydowns, like every other place within available distance, caught the contagion; it was stirred to its tiny depths, and nearly emptied of its inhabitants for the festive occasion.

Richard Raleigh, contrary to custom, went with the crowd. His attendance had not been commanded by Mrs Wylde, who had designs of her own, and could have dispensed with his company, but he followed her nevertheless, for he could not resist the attraction, nor did he feel able to endure the solitude of the locality in her absence. Mr Seymour went also, taking Alice with him, not so much for the running event, which was little to his taste, as to meet his beloved daughter Mary, who was to be there with her husband. Alice had begged hard to be let off, as the Carnival Week, with all its bustle and dissipation, was positively distasteful to her; besides, as she pitifully explained, she had made no preparations for the show, and had not a frock fit to be seen in. But her father insisting she gave way, like a good girl, inured to the idea of implicit obedience.

Raleigh, from the window of his ‘Growlery’, where he sat watching the fashionable procession, saw them pass on horseback on their way page 198 to town. Alice was a practised horsewoman, and as she rode by she flipped her steed with the whip, while drawing the reins, and made him caracole round with arched neck and prancing feet. Was it a touch of vanity, an attempt at showing off both her skill and her prettily rounded figure and erect bearing as she cast a smiling glance in the direction of the lonely bachelor's house? Vanity! nobody is without a touch of it, although Alice Seymour, so staid and practical, was supposed to be above that sort of thing.

‘There goes my good angel!’ said the moody recluse to himself, as he followed her retreating figure with ardent gaze; then covering his face with his hands and bending down over the table, he muttered bitterly, ‘What a fool I have been!’

His next impulse was to run to the stable, saddle his horse, and hurry in pursuit. He would accompany his friends on the journey, and attach himself to them; but he paused, as he remembered that the following day Mrs Wylde had announced her intention of departing, and that he would have to follow in her train. He was too much under the spell to tear himself away from that fatal allegiance.

So he returned to his place at the window with a perturbed countenance and a heavy sigh.

The road was lined with holiday-seekers, and he recognised the most of them, for everybody knew everybody else in those days. Most of his squatter acquaintances were to be seen on the road. There was the whole clan of the O'Neils, in a family carriage of patriarchal dimensions, and a long retinue of poor relations on horseback following.

The Dugalds came next, in a handsome waggonette, the ladies elaborately dressed for the fashionable gathering, reclining gracefully under the shade of their lace parasols, while the boys escorted as cavaliers.

The great people of the district, the Ceruleans, drove past with stately mien in a carriage and pair and servants in livery.

Captain Stoutman, a heavy dragoon of fifty, on the retired list, with a gay young bride of eighteen, who seemed inclined for active service, shot rapidly by in a park phaeton, drawn by a smart little pair of rat-tailed ponies.

Then came the family of the Seaguls, all on horseback, the commanding widow en fête, and the bevy of fair daughters after her, ranged according to age. They were evidently kept in strict discipline, and they held their places in pairs with precision. The Misses Jane and Jessie, two comely young ladies, rode on either side of their authoritative mother, the cadets Louie and May, plump and rosy- page 199 cheeked girls, followed next, and the two little ones, on Shetland ponies, brought up the rear.

On passing the hermitage the word of command ‘eyes right’ must have been given or implied, as all the young female optics were simultaneously turned in that direction.

Raleigh, at the window, although screened from outside view, could not stand such a volley of eye-shots unmoved, but shrank back with dismay, ‘O Lord!’ he muttered, ‘just imagine marrying into such a family, to have all that troop on your arms, and be bossed by such a mother-in-law. I have something to be thankful for, after all.’

The next to pass were the homely McDonald and his bonny wife, sitting complacently side by side in an old-fashioned gig. The old man leant forward, and was evidently very much occupied in urging the ancient mare into a jog trot, while Mrs Mac reclined gracefully back, and looked quite captivating as she cast a suggestive glance towards the occupant of the lonely hut. She kissed her hand to him. Raleigh, who was on the watch, quickly opened the window to return the salute, and then shut it again with equal precipitancy. After that, the view of the road and its stream of wayfarers had little attraction for him.

* * * * *

Mrs Wylde and her party started on the day following, and Raleigh joined them at Sunnydowns on their way to town.

He was rather disgusted to find himself lost in quite a numerous retinue, which numbered among the rest the insipid New Chum and the still more obnoxious Prowler.

They were a fast lot, and highly demonstrative in their attentions to the Siren, who, from her seat in the buggy of a rich young squatter of her acquaintance, dispensed in return her sweet smiles and soft speeches to all comers. The commodore, on an old charger, was relegated to the rear to entertain with his insufferable bragging the more staid and simple-minded of the suite, and partake of such drinks as were freely offered to him on the road

Raleigh felt himself decidedly de trop; moreover, he was wounded in his most tender susceptibilities. He felt all the more slighted as he had only just made a great monetary sacrifice for his fascinating friend, having realised nearly the whole of his small capital and advanced the amount on a second mortgage on the Mount Pleasance estate, to help the Wyldes out of their pressing difficulties. It was a generous and most imprudent act, which, on sober reflection, he had already sufficient cause to regret, but he consoled himself, as best he page 200 could, with the reflection that he had followed the impulse of his heart.

He did not expect any effusive expression of gratitude in return, but he certainly looked forward to a closer bond with the object of his ‘affinity’, and to the place of honour in her favour.

But unfortunately for any such pleasing expectations, the Siren was but little given to lasting impressions, or to cultivating that rarest of virtues—gratitude. She had been most demonstrative in the first outburst of her acknowledgements and had indulged profusely in tears and sentiment, but the very next day she had forgotten her appointment with him, and the next week she had voted him a bore in company, and had snubbed him grievously for his persistence in rather tame attentions. She evidently considered that for the time being he had been made to serve her purpose, had been squeezed pretty dry, and might conveniently be put aside, if only out of decent regard for the conventionalities. She therefore took him gravely to task, and warned him to be more careful in future. She informed him with much apparent concern, that gossiping tongues had already linked their names together, and that ill-disposed people had attributed his friendly action to less virtuous and disinterested motives. She continued that it would be necessary, for the preservation of her good name, which he doubtless held warmly to his heart, to study the proprieties a little more, and to avoid giving any opening for scandal. At the same time she admitted that she could never repay him for his generous assistance, and she hinted that if she only consulted the warmth of her sympathies, there was hardly any sacrifice she would not make for his sake. The young man was much affected; he sorrowfully acquiesced, promising to respect her wishes, and to show himself less frequently in her company. To do him just credit, he strove to fulfil his engagement, but his good resolutions were rudely shaken and his jealousy much excited by the sight of her desperate flirtations with others, carried on under his very nose.

The climax occurred at the Race Ball, where all the fashion of the province had congregated, and where the entertainment was further enlivened by the distinguished presence of a contingent of the officers of two men-of-war, just then visiting the colony. Mrs Wylde had always shown a marked partiality for sailors. She even preferred a blue jacket to scarlet and gold. She doted on the military, but she loved the navy, and never did she look so bewitched and bewitching as when gracefully hanging on the sturdy arm of some naval hero.

On the present occasion she was entirely carried away with the excitement of the scene and the presence of so many gallant officers. page 201 She threw herself rapturously at their encounter, she boldly engaged them with all her charms, and exerted her unrivalled powers with victorious effect. She carried all before her. Never had she shone to greater advantage, never had she achieved a more glorious triumph.

Before the evening was over she had danced five times with the senior captain, and led him captive to supper. Her other engagements were pretty equally distributed among commanders and first lieutenants, not forgetting some lesser stars and two aristocratic midshipmen, who had been specially recommended to her. All had struck their colours to the irresistible Siren, whose triumph was the cause of inexpressible annoyance to the rest of the fair.

Raleigh, who had attended the ball principally on her account, and who himself did not dance, sat solitary through the greater part of the entertainment, gloomily watching her admired gyrations in the embrace of these brilliant uniforms. He was highly displeased, and even shocked at the levity of her behaviour; he thought her dress unbecomingly décolleté and the abandon of her manner positively indelicate. He blushed for her, and for himself too.

After a time, tired of the unlovely spectacle and his own morbid reflections, he sought for relief among the general company present, where he met many old acquaintances. But wherever he went he felt disappointed, or thought himself repelled. The young ladies appeared vain and insipid, or evidently intent only on mixing with the giddy throng; he looked in vain for intellectual intercourse or congenial society. He found himself reduced to standing about in draughts and talking platitudes to elderly parties. Moreover, where he would have been most welcome he cared least to go.

The Seaguls were drawn up in rather imposing array, and being somewhat neglected by the eligible young men, would have cordially welcomed him, but he shrank from so numerous a party. The Beaumonts were too complacent for his peevish mood, and he dreaded being cornered by the chatty old man. The Ceruleans were too stately to be indifferently approached; the O'Neils were too boisterous for his present melancholy; the Dugalds too gossiping for his censorious taste. In the midst of a fashionable circle he at last approached the former reigning beauty of Sunnydowns, the charming Mary Seymour, now the much admired wife of Captain De Courcy Fitzroy. Raleigh had not seen her since marriage, and he gladly seized the opportunity of presenting himself with more than ordinary empressment. He was graciously received for the sake of old times, invited to a seat by her side, and soon engaged in animated conversation.

He felt his spirits revive at the meeting, but the pleasant tête-à-tête page 202 was, however, of short duration, for the jealous eye of Captain Fitzroy was not long in detecting an unwelcome intruder. He abruptly interposed, with a cold recognition of his former acquaintance, invented some pretence for turning his back upon him, and whisked his charming wife unceremoniously off to another part of the room.

Alice Seymour happened to be seated close by, and the young man found himself unexpectedly in her presence, and making confused apologies for not having presented himself before. He had purposely avoided the Seymours from an irksome sense of restraint, and the secret fear of having made himself ridiculous in their sight. For he knew that his marked attentions to Mrs Wylde, and the monetary sacrifices he had made on her behalf, had come to the ears of his fair mentor, and he dreaded, even more than words of reproach, the subtle irony of her commiserating glance.

Mr Seymour's manner he thought grave and rather more distant than usual. The old gentleman talked mostly about his delight at meeting with his married daughter, and he alluded also with evident complacency to the manly bearing and imposing presence of her handsome husband—a subject that was not much to Raleigh's taste.

Alice was in one of her most amiable moods, and she mercifully forebore to twit her bashful friend on his sentimental weakness.

Only once, when she unwittingly followed his glance to where Mrs Wylde was conspicuously displaying her snowy bosom, and audaciously flaunting her triumph, the young lady's cheek flushed for a moment, and she turned away with a flash of scorn that did not escape her companion's notice.

He, poor fellow, felt stung to the quick, and boiling over with indignation. But he could not unburden his heavy heart to Alice, who, however sympathetic she might be to him in other respects, had ‘no patience’—to use her favourite expression—with his silly infatuation for that intriguing woman.

But while Miss Seymour did not attempt to conceal her disapprobation, yet said nothing, others were loud and violent in their expressions of anger and disgust at Mrs Wylde's unseemly conduct. A storm of reprobation burst upon the fair delinquent from every side and faction. Society rose in arms against her. The proprieties were scandalised——even Decorum was shocked.

The Siren could not but be fully aware of the indignant stir she was creating, but she chose to placidly ignore it. The forbidding frowns of austere matrons, the frigid disdain of the neglected ‘wall flowers’, the titters from behind agitated fans, the loudly whispered sneers and protests from hostile bands of both sexes that were direc- page 203 ted at this one devoted head, did not ruffle it in the least; it continued to nod and toss defiantly, and to shake its curls at the incensed company, or to nestle lovingly against some gold epaulette, as it whirled complacently round the room.

Mrs Wylde realised her envied prominence, and she gloried in it. She read the black looks and she beamed forth her most provoking and triumphant smile in return.

The more rigid and hostile her surroundings, the more reckless and wanton her behaviour became. She snapped her jewelled fingers in the face of a censorious world, and her sublime effrontery extorted unwilling admiration even from her bitterest foes. For the rest many of the spectators were entertained at her fascinating style, and applauded her success. Good-natured jokes were made at her expense, as well as wicked insinuations.

A report was set going among the sportive youth that the commandant, who had hitherto been regarded as particularly favoured by the lady, had sent a cartel for mortal combat to the senior naval captain, and it was humorously related that two of the middies had engaged in a stand-up fight in the supper room, over the mature idol of their adoration.

To Raleigh the whole exhibition was harrowing in the extreme; he felt cruelly hurt and humiliated; for the dame de ses pensées had not only refrained from dispensing any of her favour on him, but had disdainfully ignored him in the crowd of her admirers. He now repented his folly and bitterly regretted his lavish generosity to so unworthy an object. He saw himself duped, ruined, and despised, and with rage in his heart, he sternly determined in his own mind to break for ever from so fickle and deceitful a creature. As he turned moodily to leave the hall another sight met his glance which completed his moral discomfiture, and filled up the bitter cup to overflowing.

Mrs Wylde, who had devoted herself so rapturously to the naval brigade, had yet reserved one dance for a civilian. It was the last of her capers that night, and the cruelest cut of all.

Raleigh saw her brush past him held tightly in the arms of his detested rival, and the man whom she had lately denounced as her mortal enemy—the insidious Prowler.

That most objectionable and hateful individual with the stealthy walk, the feline countenance, and the glassy stare, had followed the Siren about in all her evolutions, and had been unremitting in his fulsome attentions to her. No amount of coldness on the lady's part had been able to cool his ardour; no extent of snubbing had suc- page 204 ceeded in warding him off. He now reaped the reward of his shameless perseverance, and secured the boon which had been denied to so many others. Nor did she apparently give herself to him in a halfhearted way. On the contrary, she seemed to entwine him with all her fascinations;

She would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on.

She seemed, as they glided swiftly round the room, to be moulded into his ardent embrace; her head, suggestively thrown back, rested tenderly against his shoulder; her lips voluptuously parted murmured soft nothings into his attentive ear; while her half-closed eyes looked unutterable things in response to his longing gaze.

Men jeered and women tittered as the ill-sorted pair revolved before them, while to Raleigh's invidious glance she looked a Bacchante struggling in the arms of a satyr.