CHAPTER II
ODALITE
Among all the merry-makers there was one sad face—Odalite’s—which no effort of self-control could make otherwise than sad.
Odalite, for the sake of her young sisters, had joined every party, but she took no pleasure in them.
Now that all the distracting excitement was over, and she could think calmly of the circumstances, they all combined to distress, mortify and humiliate her. The remembrance of that scene in the church, of which at the time it transpired she was but half conscious, was to her so shameful and degrading that she secretly shrank from the eyes of friends and neighbors whom she was obliged to meet at the various gatherings in the neighborhood.
Then the doubt of her real relations to the Satan who had entered her Eden, the uncertainty of her true position, and the instability of her circumstances, all gathered around her like heavy clouds and darkened, saddened and oppressed her spirits.
That Anglesea had no moral claim on her she was perfectly well assured. That her father would protect her against him she felt equally certain. But that the man might have a legal claim upon her—supposing his marriage with the Widow Wright to have been an irregular one—and that he might give her dear mother and herself trouble through that claim, she was sorely afraid.
And then there was Le—her dear, noble, generous Le—who had pardoned her apparent defection and had sworn to be faithful to her and share her fate to the end of life, even though that fate should oblige them to live apart in celibacy forever. Her heart ached for Le. She had had but one letter from him since he left the house, a month before. In it he told her that he had reached his ship only six hours before she was to sail, and that he had only time to write a few farewell lines on the eve of departure. But these lines were, indeed, full of love, faith and hope. He told her that he should keep a diary for her, and send it in sections by every opportunity. And he renewed all his vows of fidelity to her through life.
That was his first and last letter up to this time. But now she was looking for another.
This daily expectation and the weekly visits to Greenbushes helped to occupy her mind, and enabled her to endure life.
Old Molly, the housekeeper there, who did not understand, and could not appreciate, the comfort and consolation that Odalite derived from these weekly inspections, remonstrated on the subject, saying: