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The Bird of Paradise

Chapter XIX. The Coronation Plate, New Orleans

Chapter XIX. The Coronation Plate, New Orleans.

Moss Rose and Paddy Flynn had now spent six months in the famous training stables at Houston, presided over by the immortal Billy Fox. Billy Fox was a half-cast negro from Tennessee. Ever since the horse had been put under his care he had shown day alter day a betterment which he persistently maintained, till now he was regarded by those who knew him as one of the most dangerous horses on the turf. Instead of entering him for long distance races, the plan of the veteran trainer was to confine him to a mile, and this was his favorite distance.

The eldest son of the trainer, who had won his spurs at jockeydom, had grown so big and bulky that he could no longer ride even in a steeplechase; but in a steeplechase, when he had his innings, he had shown himself to be one of the cleverest and most successful riders in America. No delusion of gallery finishes about Roland—he rode in butcher-boy style from start to finish. His sole duty now was to wait upon Moss Rose and another horse in the next stable, while Paddy's services found a more suitable page 121employment in the capacity of what the stable boys called "mucking out;" but Paddy was happy and content in the reverie that he lived on the same premises as the little darling racehorse, and if ever anybody was sufficiently audacious to cast a slur on Moss Rose he would stand aghast and enthusiastically declare—"Oh! phwhot a loi! it's meself 'll put a kink in somebody's neck for that." Roland Fox was a born lover, adorer and groom of a good horse. From the rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb he was never done polishing the black satin coat of the mustang, or ministering to his manifold requirements in the stable, and Paddy felt quite resigned when Moss Rose was placed in Roland's hands.

Old Billy Fox was as artful and cunning as a New York sneak-thief. He knew more of what was in the horse than ever escaped his lips; he had not watched him in his trials with other standard celebrities, getting up at cock-crow morning after morning, for nothing. In every patient and painstaking way he could he prevented Moss Rose from winning all the races he had run for since he left the hospital stable. His customary plan was to administer a sort of decoction of green gin, which had the effect of making the horse sprawl half-intoxicated about the track when heated in the race, and flounder when nearing the winning-post. Six smaller events he had entered an acceptance for, and in every event he was not even placed. He was, thought the owner, working the horse to make money out of him, and indeed according to the agreement he had a perfect right to make all he legitimately could; but Eugene never suspected that any tricks were being foisted upon him and the handicapper. Time after time whenever he was entered and ran not placed, the dishonest trainer would pretend that he had backed him on behalf of his owner. A demand would be made upon Whitworth for the payment of greater or less amounts of money by an unknown bookmaker, who was also in the swindle with Billy. During the six months this conspiracy had cost Whitworth close on four hundred and fifty dollars, which all went into the bookmaker's bag, to be afterwards, with the deduction of a pre-arranged commission, handed over lo the trainer-king. The bookmaker's emoluments lay in the knowledge that the horse was not at such and such a time intended to win, and Moss Rose being a warm favorite with the public, who looked to the honour of his owner, he laid large sums against him and accommodated his clients with any odds they asked. This thievish trick had been played so long that it was at last suspected by the too-credulous doctor, and accordingly he resolved to attend the races himself in order to carefully watch for any signs of pulling the ribbons, and if detected to take the horse away from the stable altogether.

Glancing over the New York Herald one morning at breakfast, "Why Marvel," he said in great surprise, "Moss Rose has only got eight stone in the Coronation Plate; if he doesn't win that, he'll never win a race in his life again,"

"Well if he does win, what will it matter to me," replied Marvel; "it doesn't matter to me whether the beast wins or whether the beast loses."

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"Oh! yes! Marvel, it does," he returned; "if he wins a big stake like the Coronation Plate, I intend to give up the hospital and commence practice in Galveston."

"Well, then I hope he loses," rejoined Marvel; "I saw quite enough of Galveston during the two hours I was there to disgust anybody."

"Why, it was almost night when you were there," continued Eugene, and you didn't see what a fine big city it is; and there is some of the best society in the States there. That ought to be enough for you—there are the leading lights of the haut monde in Galveston."

"How many public houses are there in Galveston?" she retorted, and Eugene dropped the subject in umbrage.

The Coronation Plate was one of the classical races of the State of Louisiana. Some of the best blood in the whole of America was to be seen in that field, together with chieftains from Goodwood and Doncaster1. The stake alone was five thousand five hundred dollars, and there was a sweepstake of added money besides. Sixty-four entries had been received in December, and in the first week in January when the handicaps appeared, thirteen horses had been struck out, leaving a field of fifty-one. It was anticipated that this big field would be still further reduced, as the usual number for years had been between thirty and thirty-five. It was one of the principal meetings of the year—the Spring meeting of the Louisiana Jockey Club—and the race was second only in importance to the New Orleans Corinthian Cup.

"You had better come with me to the races anyway." said Eugene, rising from the table. "and we can discuss the fashions of Galveston afterwards."

Hieroglyphics and hibernianisms arrived from Paddy at short intervals descanting on the great event, and the handsome gift it was going to prove to Moss Rose. He could win with ten stone on his back, and the wisest thing to do was to put all the money he could get on the little horse before he stood at a short price. The trainer also unbuttoned, deeming it prudent to divulge the profound secret to his owner, and wrote advising him "to put his shirt on Moss Rose as the greatest moral dead sure thing that ever was known." The trainer's fellow-conspirator was the only bookmaker in the ring who quoted a short price; but suspecting that he was associated with the trainer of the horse, his colleagues followed suit, so that a week after the weights appeared the odds were one hundred to forty, and the trainer's intrigues with the Hebrew layer recoiled injuriously upon Fox himself.

The Bird of Paradise, without replying to her husband's remark about taking her with him, quietly ordered a new dress of corn-flower blue cloth, with a sage-green velvet bodice, while a strapped seam cape, worn at times, corresponded with the gown, and had a collar of chinchilla fur. She had also quietly invested in a black Punchinello2 bonnet, set off with ciel-blue osprey and cerise roses; when the new sunshade was closed it looked like a first-prize bouquet. When the morning of the Spring races arrived, Eugene felt quite proud of his elegant wife, and fervently prayed page 123in his heart that there would be no more bickerings and trouble. Taking the early train to the city, they drove out in a hansom to the race-course on the sea coast, where he conducted her to a seat in the grand stand. Meeting Marmaduke and Guinevere there, they sat watching some of the minor events of the day, getting up sweepstakes with a party of strangers, while now and then their own little party would promenade on the lawn, where daffodils, daisies, marigolds and buttercups bedecked the green knolls on its borders, or were trampled under the feet of the eager crowd of spectators.

With an escort of the cavalry corps in the lead, the President of the Republic and his wife in a gorgeous state carriage with outriders and postilions, and the president driving himself, appeared through the triumphal arch of the state entrance, and slowly made their way up the straight of the course. While the band of Mobile, whose music had exhilarated Marvel before, played the National Anthem the gubernatorial party alighted and were escorted to their box in the grand-stand by the president of the Louisiana Jockey Club.

Beyond a few ethereal miniature mists of the purest puce and the tenderest amber, not a cloud could be seen in the pale blue sky, not a thought to molest the happiness of Marvel. Picturesque she looked in the becoming corn-flower blue, and daintily she walked to and fro up and down the flower-specked lawn as complacent and unruffled as the blue sky above. The gilded beauties—the tulips and the poppies of American Society—paced backwards and forwards on the lawn, the ever changing hues of their costly costumes lending an enhancing brilliancy to the sublime landscape as it appeared from the hill behind, where shoulder to shoulder stood fully eight thousand of the upper and middle classes of society. Thirty-five thousand eyes gazed upon the magnificent scene, from the hungry orbs of the starving unemployed to those of the gubernatorial guests; when, after three minor events, as the bell rang out came the field for the race of races that day. So benignant did all seem to Marvel as she leaned over the picket fence by the course with Eugene, that her querulous and petulant ways vanished before the ineffable calm in her heart, and for once she seemed to harmonize with her husband, and to wish that his horse would win; while walking quite unconcerned along the side of the fence came Moss Rose swishing his glistening tail. He stood before them, showing Marvel once more his kind face and almost looking as if he knew her, and felt flattered she had come.

Leaning down from the saddle—"Any instructions?" said the jockey.

"Send him well away at the start and keep ding-donging at him all the way," replied Eugene: "lay you five hundred and fifty to nothing."

Twenty-nine horses stretched themselves for a few furlongs in front of the lawn, while Eugene stood with his wife and said not a word; intent on the gliding object of his affections and interests, which he followed with his eyes every move he made. The pretty gallop which he had shown the grand stand at Alabama Park had become a fascinating graceful page 124and bowling stride that made him skim along the couch grass like a greyhound or a swallow, while his black satin coat shimmered in the sunshine, and in condition he was the pinkest horse in the field.

Along the lawn behind them came the trainer-king himself, the man whose daughter had been mistaken by the smart private detective, and who had been the innocent cause of a week of domestic trouble more than a hundred miles away.

"Mr. Fox," said the doctor to Marvel. She held out her hand and turned around to the fence without opening her lips. Standing beside them old Billy Fox watched the field go dawn to the starting-post, and on a heavy grey pony the same stipendiary starter as had officiated at Alabama Park.

The flag fell. "They're off!" cried a thousand throats, and in the distance appeared a great moving dark mass. Soon the colours could be faintly discerned with his field glass, and holding them to his eyes the old trainer muttered, as if he were on Moss Rose's back himself—"look for an opening: there's one: no—wait: now—yes," muttered Billy, and Marvel's keen eyes could see primrose and white on the outside. "Through all right: four in front: distance—hit him: yes—all right," muttered Billy, and Marvel cried out he was fourth—"challenge her: good—three left: Mon Droit, Splendor, Rêve d'Or," muttered Billy, and Marvel said primrose was gaining. "Coming up on him—level: two in trouble," muttered Billy and his soliloquy could be heard no longer for the tremendous roar on the grand stand and the hill re-echoed through the pine forests—"Mon Droit! Mon Droit! Mon Droit!" while, alone in the crowd, "He is coming," cried Eugene: "he'll win"; as he beat down Rêve d'Or and Splendor and came up locked level with Mon Droit. The slightest mistake, as they welted the turf flying neck and neck together would throw away the great prize and Eugene watched his little idol in awe. "Moss Rose!" yelled the trainer-king, and like a grand echo,—"Moss Ro—o—o–o—ose—thundered the great crowd—"Moss Rose! Moss Rose! Moss Rose! Moss Ro—o—o—ose!" while hats were thrown into the air and the pride of Eugene's life shot past in the lead. Won by a neck the goal of his racing ambition; clinched the idea of leaving Augusta and its hospital behind; settled the debate about Marvel's likes and dislikes by the foot of the game little horse he adored.

The yelling of the enormous crowd had not ceased, when it was noticed that the winner had bolted with his jockey, and was at an opposite point of the course pulling the boy out of the saddle. Round he came bounding, full of running and rampant with excitement, while the clerk of the course in scarlet hunting costume waited to lead him through the gate near the stewards' enclosure. With his mouth wide open he pulled up at the judge's box, and looked over at Marvel as much as to say: "Would you like to see me go round again—bird of the sun?"

The clerk drew up the grey cob alongside of him and escorted him into the weighing-yard; the jockey dismounted and Eugene led him into the page 125grand-stand enclosure, where the President's wife patted him and tied a pink ribbon around his neck. Hustling each other to get near the winner, the dense crowd surrounded him, and rang out three American cheers for Moss Rose and one each for the owner, trainer, and jockey, as Marvel in company with the garrulous member of the wedding-party, who had accosted her before her husband left, stood near where the State party had come down on the lawn. With his two hands on her shoulders and pushing the bird of Paradise from behind, the audacious State legislature man was presuming on his official capacity in introducing Marvel to the President as the Bird of Paradise. The President shook hands with her, and complimented her upon the victory and the beauty of Moss Rose: while the bird of the sun felt a choking sensation in her throat, made a movement as if she were swallowing something, and complimented the little racehorse too by agreeing with the President that he was a beauty; although shortly before the races she declared he was a beast.

Among other congratulating friends came the architect Cosgrove to inform Eugene that there was somebody in the booth of the bird-cage calling himself Dr. Whitworth and as drunk as a lord; calling for drinks for a rabbling mob of strangers and refusing to pay the attendant of the booth. Going back with the horse to the bird-cage he showed Eugene a man in the distance at the bar; his hat battered on the top and sides and hanging on the back of his head; his coat torn and his garments covered with whitewash and dirt. It was Brosie. On being taxed with what Cosgrove had said, "It's a lie. I'll break his jaw in front of the grand stand to show he's a liar," cried Brosie. Taking his arm, Eugene led him away from the gathering throng to the booth behind the grand stand, where he induced him to drink limejuice and soda-water till his stomach could hold no more. He quickly recovered, and as he walked back to the horse with his brother his love for sport and animals boiled in his veins, and his ambition for the life of a gentleman oozed out of his finger tips; for he registered a solemn oath that he would quit dentistry for ever and take the first offer as groom that came in his way.

The Spring race-meeting decided the vexed question of the doctor leaving the Augusta hospital. On his return he told Marvel that he had made up his mind to leave the hospital, and tried to place the prospective change to Galveston in as pleasing a light as he could. At first she seemed to show some diffidence on the subject, but when she saw that there was no chance of his again changing his mind, she seemed after a fashion to acquiesce in the proposal.

In quite a pert and independent way she said—"I have only been here a little over six months; we ought to stay here, as it is so near my people, and mother says it's far better to settle down in a place than to shift about; at any rate I think I will go home and wait till you get the house ready for me."

He wrote out his resignation and, in order to fall in with her views in every way he could, he agreed that she should go home for a fortnight, page 126while he made arrangements for the sale of his practice and selected another house in Galveston. Futile efforts were subsequently made by the great air-compressor to induce Whitworth to withdraw his resignation, but it was too late, even had he desired to alter his mind, as he had signed the lease of a house in Galveston, and had transferred the appointment to a locum tenens with the object of his obtaining the vacated office when applications called for by the commitee were considered at their next meeting. Driving into Augusta now and then, while the work of removal of the furniture to the auction rooms was proceeding, and ostensible parting visits to her friends were to be made, he saw her twice again in Augusta, and telling her that he would come up for her when the house was ready in Galveston, he bade her an affectionate farewell and left the hospital for good.

There was not a servant or a patient within those hospital walls but lamented over the leaving of Eugene. Free and easy in manner, he turned a blind eye to any deficiencies which the nurses and servants showed, and not a patient in the institution was ever heard to grumble at his attention and treatment. His resignation had been accepted by the committee with regret, and a public banquet was given in his honour, where it was hoped and firmly believed (as the chairman stated) that the change from the hospital to private practice would turn out to be a success, and that they felt convinced that with patience and industry the success of Whitworth in the larger field upon which he was about to engage would be as certain as the rising of the sun.

By the early train one wet morning, with his favourite mare Rosie in the horse-box, after he had bidden farewell to his acquaintances of the previous two years, he left the town in sorrow during the journey to New Orleans and feeling how sad it is to say farewell, he stepped ashore off the boat at Galveston, to rue the step which he had taken for years. With a handsome salary, a prominent position, a fine residence and the esteem of the whole population, his life was one for envy. What made him leave then?—the belief that if Marvel were away so far from her own people, in time she would come to love him again, or at least to agree better with him and be more constant and true to her vows; but in this he deceived himself, and it would have been a million times better if he had stayed where he was.

After a very great difficulty in getting a suitable house in Galveston, the one which had been chosen was situated upon the crown of a slope. A two-storey stone building contiguous with another similar to it, its rental was five hundred dollars a year. It commanded an extensive view of the northern and southern strands of the harbour and of the plains and the valley near the two rivers between which the city lay. Salubrious and conveniently situated, he imagined it would make an agreeable home for his wife, and be the means of his getting a good practice together. Plenty of friends he had there, for he had there attended school as a boy, and everybody had read or heard of his successes at the medical schools. The page 127only cold water thrown on the change came from the old school-master of the college, who admonished him that he would never succeed in the place where he had been known as a child.

The die was cast. He decided, now that the house was ready, to go back for his wife to Maconville and bring her to her new abode next day. On arriving at the colliery field, instead of being at her mother's house he found her living in a villa, with servants of her own and away from her own people. Amazed at this, she told him her father had bought the villa from the heinous dwarf who perched himself on the chair during the speech of the member of the State Legislature at the wedding-luncheon, and had paid ten thousand dollars for it, furniture and all, as it stood. It was a single-storeyed house of fine proportions, rejoicing in the name of "Edenhall." It had at one time been a superior villa, but now it was considerably out of repair, and was surrounded by a large but neglected garden, choking with rank, coarse grass, bind-weed, hawk-weed, nettles, thistles and groundsel spangled with ox-eyes. Grass grew beneath the avenues, and cattle had been browsing about the lawn and the shrubberies. The tobacco-planter had lived with a wife and nine children in it for fifteen years. It had been vacated for some time, but when Marvel had got the windows clean, a fine view of a "boundless contiguity of shade" was obtainable. Now it appeared to be just large enough for the bird of Paradise and her servant, inasmuch as she coolly informed her husband that she had made up her mind to stay in it for a while. In reply to his entreaties that she should go with him to Galveston, she simply danced an impromptu minuét, laughed, and said if the house in Galveston was as good as she would have Edenhall made she would consider it favorably and let him know sometime or other. He tried to please her, and was doing all he could to please her, but she exasperated and aggravated him in return; and now nothing remained for him but to go back to Galveston alone, disappointed, and saddened.

1 Important English racecourses.

[Note added by Sara Berger as annotator]

2 Uncertain; possibly referring to the large bonnet often worn by Judy in Punch and Judy shows.

[Note added by Sara Berger as annotator]