The Hundredth Chance Read online

  PART I

  THE START

  CHAPTER I

  BEGGARS

  "My dear Maud, I hope I am not lacking in proper pride. But it is anaccepted--though painful--fact that beggars cannot be choosers."

  Lady Brian spoke with plaintive emphasis the while she drew an elaborateinitial in the sand at her feet with the point of her parasol.

  "I cannot live in want," she said, after a thoughtful moment or two."Besides, there is poor little Bunny to be considered." Anotherthoughtful pause; then: "What did you say, dear?"

  Lady Brian's daughter made an abrupt movement without taking her eyesoff the clear-cut horizon; beautiful eyes of darkest, deepest blue understraight black brows that gave them a somewhat forbidding look. Therewas nothing remarkable about the rest of her face. It was thin andsallow and at the moment rather drawn, not a contented face, and yetpossessing a quality indefinable that made it sad rather than bitter.Her smile was not very frequent, but when it came it transfigured herutterly. No one ever pictured that smile of hers beforehand. It came sobrilliantly, so suddenly, like a burst of sunshine over a brown anddesolate landscape, making so vast a difference that all who saw it forthe first time marvelled at the unexpected glow.

  But it was very far from her face just now. In fact she looked as ifshe could never smile again as she said: "Bunny would sooner die ofstarvation than have you do this thing. And so would I."

  "You are so unpractical," sighed Lady Brian. "And really, you know,dear, I think you are just a wee bit snobbish too, you and Bunny. Mr.Sheppard may be a self-made man, but he is highly respectable."

  "Oh, is he?" said Maud, with a twist of the lips that made her lookyears older than the woman beside her.

  "I'm sure I don't know why you should question it," protested LadyBrian. "He is extremely respectable. He is also extremely kind,--infact, a friend in need."

  "And a beast!" broke in her daughter, with sudden passionate vehemence."A hateful, familiar beast! Mother, how can you endure the man? Howcan you for a single moment demean yourself by the bare idea of--ofmarrying him?"

  Lady Brian sighed again. "It isn't as if I had asked you to marry him,"she pointed out. "I never even asked you to marry Lord Saltash,although--as you must now admit--it was the one great chance of yourlife."

  Again Maud made that curious, sharp movement of hers that was as if someinner force urged her strongly to spring up and run away.

  "We won't discuss Lord Saltash," she said, with lips that were suddenlya little hard.

  "Then I don't see why we should discuss Giles Sheppard either," saidLady Brian, with a touch of querulousness. "Of course I know he doesn'tcompare well with your poor father. Second husbands so seldom do--whichto my mind is one of the principal objections to marrying twice. But--asI said before--beggars cannot be choosers and something has got to besacrificed, so there is an end of the matter."

  Maud turned her eyes slowly away from the horizon, swept with them thenearer expanse of broad, tumbling sea, and finally brought them to restupon her mother's face.

  Lady Brian was forty-five, but she looked many years younger. She was avery pretty woman, delicate-featured, softly-tinted, with a species ofappealing charm about her that all but the stony-hearted few found ithard to resist. She put her daughter wholly in the shade, but then Maudnever attempted to charm anyone. She had apparently no use for thehomage that was as the very breath of life to her mother's worldlylittle soul. She never courted popularity. All her being seemed to bebound up in that of her young brother who had been a helpless cripplefrom his babyhood, and dependent upon her care. The ten years thatstretched between them were as nought to these two. They were pals; andif the boy tyrannized freely over her, she was undoubtedly the onlyperson in the world for whom he entertained the smallest regard. Shehad lavished all a mother's love upon him during the whole of hisfifteen years, and she alone knew how much had been sacrificed beforethe shrine of her devotion. He filled all the empty spaces in herheart.

  But now--now that they were practically penniless--the great questionarose: Who was to provide for Bunny? Lady Brian had lived more or lesscomfortably upon credit for the past five years. It was certainly nother fault that this bruised reed had broken at last in her hand. Shehad tried every device to strengthen it. And then too there had alwaysbeen the possibility that Maud might marry Lord Saltash, who wasextremely wealthy and--by fits and starts--very sedulous in hisattentions.

  It was of course very unfortunate that he should have been connectedwith that unfortunate scandal in the Divorce Court; but then everyoneknew that he had led a somewhat giddy life ever since his succession tothe title. Besides, nothing had been proved, and the unlucky affair hadfallen through in consequence. It was really too absurd of Maud totreat it seriously, if indeed she had treated it seriously. Not beingin her daughter's confidence, Lady Brian was uncertain on this point.But, whatever the circumstances, Charlie Saltash had obviously abandonedhis allegiance. And Maud--poor girl!--had no one else to fall backupon. Of course it was very sweet of her to devote herself sounsparingly to dear little Bunny, but Lady Brian was privately of theopinion that she wasted a good deal of valuable time in his service.She was twenty-five already, and--now that the crash had come--littlelikely to find another suitor.

  They had come down to this cheery little South Coast resort to recruitand look around them. Obviously something would have to be done, anddone very quickly, or they would end their days in the workhouse.

  Lady Brian had relations in the North, but, as she was wont to expressit, they were not inclined to be kind to her. Her runaway marriage withSir Bernard Brian in her irresponsible girlhood had caused something ofa split between them. The wild Irish baronet had never been regardedwith a favourable eye, and her subsequent sojourn in Ireland hadpractically severed all connection with them.

  Sir Bernard's death and her subsequent migration to London had nothealed the breach. She was regarded as flighty and unreliable. Therewas no knowing what her venture might be, and, save for a veryoccasional correspondence with an elderly bachelor uncle who was carefulnot to betray too keen an interest in her affairs, she was left severelyalone.

  Therefore she had too much pride to ask for help, sustaining herselfinstead upon the kindness of friends till even this prop at length gaveway; and she, Maud and poor little Bunny (whose very empty title was allhe possessed in the world) found themselves stranded at Fairharbour atthe dead end of the season with no means of paying their way even there.

  Not wholly stranded, however! Lady Brian had stayed at Fairharbourbefore at the Anchor Hotel down by the fishing-quay--"the Anchovy Hotel"Bunny called it on account of its situation. It was not a veryhigh-class establishment, but Lady Brian had favoured it on a previousoccasion because Lord Saltash had a yacht in the vicinity, and it hadseemed such a precious opportunity for dear Maud. He also had largeracing-stables in the neighbourhood of the downs behind the little town,and there was no knowing when one or other of his favourite pastimesmight tempt him thither.

  Nothing had come of the previous visit, however, save a pleasant,half-joking acquaintance with Mr. Sheppard, the proprietor of the AnchorHotel, during the progress of which Lady Brian's appealing little wayshad laid such firm hold of the worthy landlord's rollicking fancy thatshe had found it quite difficult to tear herself away.

  Matters had not then come to such a pass, and she had finally extricatedherself with no more than a laughing promise to return as soon as themood took her. Maud had been wholly unaware of the passage between themwhich had been of a very slight and frothy order; and not till she foundherself established in some very shabby lodgings within a stone's throwof the Anchor Hotel did the faintest conception of her mother's reasonfor choosing Fairharbour as their city of refuge begin to dawn in herbrain.

  She was very fully alive to it now, however, and hotly, furious
lyresentful, albeit she had begun already to realize (how bitterly!) thatno resentment on her part could avert the approaching catastrophe. AsLady Brian pathetically said, something had got to be sacrificed.

  And there was Bunny! She could not leave Bunny to try to earn a living.He was utterly dependent upon her--so dependent that it did not seempossible that he could live without her. No, she could see no way ofescape. But it was too horrible, too revolting! She was sure, too,that her mother had a sneaking liking for the man, and that factpositively nauseated her. That awful person! That bounder!

  "So, you see, dear, it really can't be helped," Lady Brian said, risingand opening her sunshade with a dainty air of finality. "Why his fancyshould have fallen upon me I cannot imagine. But--all thingsconsidered--it is perhaps very fortunate that it has. He is quite readyto take us all in, and that, even you must admit, is really verygenerous of him."

  Maud's eyes travelled again to the far sky-line. They had a look inthem as of a caged thing yearning for freedom.

  "It is getting late," said Lady Brian.

  Sharply she turned. "Mother," she said, "I shall write to Uncle Edward.This is too much. I am sure he will not condemn us to this."

  Lady Brian sighed a trifle petulantly. "You will do as you like, dear,no doubt. But pray do not write on my account! Whatever he may bemoved to do or say can make no difference to me now."

  "Why not?" Curtly her daughter put the question. The beautiful browswere painfully drawn.

  "Because," said Lady Brian plaintively, "it will be too late--so far asI am concerned."

  "What do you mean?" Again, almost like a challenge, the girl flung thequestion.

  Lady Brian began to walk along the beach. "I mean, dear, that I havepromised to give Mr. Sheppard his answer to-night."

  "But--but--Mother--" there was almost a cry in the words, "youcan't--you can't have quite decided upon what the answer will be!"

  Lady Brian sighed again. "Oh, do let us have a little common-sense!"she said, with just a touch of irritation. "Of course I have decided.The decision has been simply thrust upon me. I had no choice."

  "Then you mean to say Yes?" Maud's voice fell suddenly flat. Sheturned her face again to the open sea, a glint of desperation in hereyes.

  "Yes," said Lady Brian very definitely. "I mean to say Yes."

  "Then Heaven help us!" said Maud, under her breath.

  "My dear, don't be profane!" said Lady Brian.