Mr. Leopold shook his head, and, smiling enigmatically, said he must be getting back. William was much impressed, and congratulated himself on his courage in taking the ten half-sovereigns to one. Mr. Leopold knew a thing or two; he had been talking to the Gaffer that morning, and if it hadn't been all right he would have laid off some of the money.
Next day one of the Gaffer's two-year-olds won a race, and the day after
Silver Braid won the Chesterfield Cup.
The second victory of Silver Braid nearly ruined old Watkins. He declared that he had never been so hard hit; but as he did not ask for time and continued to draw notes and gold and silver in handfuls from his capacious pockets, his lamentations only served to stimulate the happiness of the fortunate backers, and, listening to the sweet note of self ringing in their hearts, they returned to the public-house to drink the health of the horse.
So the flood of gold continued to roll into the little town, decrepit and colourless by its high shingle beach and long reaches of muddy river. The dear gold jingled merrily in the pockets, quickening the steps, lightening the heart, curling lips with smiles, opening lips with laughter. The dear gold came falling softly, sweetly as rain, soothing the hard lives of working folk. Lives pressed with toil lifted up and began to dream again. The dear gold was like an opiate; it wiped away memories of hardship and sorrow, it showed life in a lighter and merrier guise, and the folk laughed at their fears for the morrow and wondered how they could have thought life so hard and relentless. The dear gold was pleasing as a bird on the branch, as a flower on the stem; the tune it sang was sweet, the colour it flaunted was bright.
The trade of former days had never brought the excitement and the fortune that this horse's hoofs had done. The dust they had thrown up had fallen a happy, golden shower upon Shoreham. In every corner and crevice of life the glitter appeared. That fine red dress on the builder's wife, and the feathers that the girls flaunt at their sweethearts, the loud trousers on the young man's legs, the cigar in his mouth—all is Goodwood gold. It glitters in that girl's ears and on this girl's finger.
It was said that the town of Shoreham had won two thousand pounds on the race; it was said that Mr. Leopold had won two hundred; it was said that William Latch had won fifty; it was said that Wall, the coachman, had won five-and-twenty; it was said that the Gaffer had won forty thousand pounds. For ten miles around nothing was talked of but the wealth of the Barfields, and, drawn like moths to a candle, the county came to call; even the most distant and reserved left cards, others walked up and down the lawn with the Gaffer, listening to his slightest word. A golden prosperity shone upon the yellow Italian house. Carriages passed under its elm-trees at every hour and swept round the evergreen oaks. Rumour said that large alterations were going to be made, so that larger and grander entertainments might be given; an Italian garden was spoken of, balustrades and terraces, stables were in course of construction, many more race-horses were bought; they arrived daily, and the slender creatures, their dark eyes glancing out of the sight holes in their cloth hoods, walked up from the station followed by an admiring and commenting crowd. Drink and expensive living, dancing and singing upstairs and downstairs, and the jollifications culminated in a servants' ball given at the Shoreham Gardens. All the Woodview servants, excepting Mrs. Latch, were there; likewise all the servants from Mr. Northcote's, and those from Sir George Preston's—two leading county families. A great number of servants had come from West Brighton, and Lancing, and Worthing —altogether between two and three hundred. "Evening dress is indispensable" was printed on the cards. The butlers, footmen, cooks, ladies' maids, housemaids, and housekeepers hoped by this notification to keep the ball select. But the restriction seemed to condemn Esther to play again the part of Cinderella.
X
A group of men turned from the circular buffet when Esther entered. Miss Mary had given her a white muslin dress, a square-cut bodice with sleeves reaching to the elbows, and a blue sash tied round the waist. The remarks as she passed were, "A nice, pretty girl." William was waiting, and she went away with him on the hop of a vigorous polka.
Many of the dancers had gone to get cool in the gardens, but a few couples had begun to whirl, the women borne along by force, the men poising their legs into curious geometrical positions.
Mr. Leopold was very busy dragging men away from the circular buffet—they must dance whether they knew how or not.