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UBRART
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
RIVERSIDi
CA^Uj
DELIA BLANCHFLOWER
HK SEKMED PRK-OCCUPIED ANO WORRIEO:
AND SHK FED HIM BEFORE QUESTIONINC; HIM
DELIA
BLANCHFLOWER
BY
MRS. HUMPHRY WARD
Author "Lady Rose's Daughter," etc.
Frontispiece in color by
WILL FOSTER
HEARST'S INTERNATIONAL LIBRARY CO.
NEW YORK 19U
Oopyright, 1914, by
Heaest's International Libraet Co., Ino.
DELIA BLANCHFLOWER
DELIA BLANCHFLOWER
Chapter I
'*XTOT a Britisher to be seen — or scarcely! Well,
i-^ I can do without 'em for a bit!"
And the Englishman whose mind shaped these words
continued his leisurely survey of the crowded salon of a
Tyrolese hotel, into which a dining-room like a college
hall had just emptied itself after the mid-day meal.
Meanwhile a German, sitting near, seeing that his tall
neighbour had been searching his pockets in vain for
matches, offered some. The Englishman's quick smile in
response modified the German's general opinion of Eng-
lish manners, and the two exchanged some remarks on the
weather — a thunder shower was splashing outside —
remarks which bore witness at least to the Englishman's
courage in using such knowledge of the German tongue
as he possessed. Then, smoking contentedly, he leant
against the wall behind him, still looking on.
He saw a large room, some seventy feet long, filled
with a miscellaneous foreign crowd — South Gcnnans,
Austrians, Russians, Italians — seated in groups round
small tables, smoking, playing cards or dominoes, read-
ing the day's newspapers which the funicular had just
brought up, or lazily listening to the moderately good
band which was playing some Rheingold selection at the
farther end.
To his left was a large family circle — Russians, ac-
2 Delia Blanchflower
cording to information derived from the headwaiter —
and among them, a girl, apparently about eighteen, sit-
ting on the edge of the party and absorbed in a novel of
which she was eagerly turning the pages. From her
face and figure the half savage, or Asiatic note, present
in the physiognomy and complexion of her brothers and
sisters, was entirely absent. Her beautiful head with its
luxuriant mass of black hair, worn low upon the cheek,
and coiled in thick plaits behind, reminded the English-
man of a Greek fragment he had admired, not many days
before, in the Louvre ; her form too was of a classical
lightness and perfection. The Englishman noticed in-
deed that her temper was apparently not equal to her
looks. When her small brothers interrupted her, she
repelled them with a pettish word or gesture; the Eng-
lish governess addressed her, and got no answer beyond
a haughty look ; even her mother was scarcely better
treated.
Close by, at another table, was another young girl,
rather younger than the first, and equally pretty. She
too was dark haired, with a delicate oval face and velvet
black eyes, but without any of the passionate distinction,
the fire and flame of the other. She was German, evi-
dently. She wore a plain white dress with a red sash,
and her little feet in white shoes were lightly crossed in
front of her. The face and eyes were all alive, it seemed
to him, with happiness, with the mere pleasure of life.
She could not keep herself still for a moment. Either
she was sending laughing signals to an elderly man near
her, presumably her father, or chattering at top speed
with another girl of her own age, or gathering her whole
graceful body into a gesture of delight as the familiar
Rheingold music passed from one lovely motif to another.
" You dear little thing ! " thought the Englishman,
Delia Blanchflower 3
with an impulse of tenderness, which passed into fore-
boding amusement as he compared the pretty creature
with some of the matrons sitting near her, with one in
particular, a lady of enormous girth, whose achieve-
ments in eating and drinking at meals had seemed to him
amazing. Abnost all the middle-aged women in the hotel
were too fat, and had lost their youth thereby, prema-
turely. Must the fairy herself — Euphrosyne — come
to such a muddy vesture in the end? Twenty years
hence? — alack !
" Beauty that must die." The hackneyed words came
suddenly to mind, and haunted him, as his eyes wandered
round the room. Amid many coarse or commonplace
types, he yet perceived an unusual number of agreeable
or handsome faces ; as is indeed generally the case in any
'Austrian hotel. Faces, some of them, among the very
young girls especially, of a rose-tinted fairness, and
subtly expressive, the dark brows arching on white fore-
heads, the features straight and clean, the heads well
carried, as though conscious of ancestry and tradition ;
faces, also, of the bourgeoisie, of a simpler, Gretchen-
like beauty ; faces — a few — of " intellectuals," as he
fancied, — including the girl with the novel? — not al-
ways handsome, but arresting, and sometimes noble.
He felt himself in a border land of races, where the
Teutonic and Latin strains had each improved the
other; and the pretty young girls and women seemed
to him like flowers sprung from an old and rich soil.
He found his pleasure in watching them — the pleasure
of the Ancient ^Mariner when he blessed the water-
snakes. Sex had little to say to it ; and personal desire
nothing. Was he not just over forty? — a very busy
Englishman, snatching a hard-earned holiday — a
bachelor, moreover, whose own story lay far behind him.
4 Delia Blanchflower
" Beauty that must die" The words reverberated
and would not be dismissed. Was it because he had
just been reading an article in a new number of the
Quarterly, on " Contemporary Feminism," with mingled
amazement and revolt, roused by some of the strange
facts collected by the writer? So women everywhere
— many women at any rate — were turning indiscrim-
inately against the old bonds, the old yokes, affections,
sen'itudes, demanding " self-realisation," freedom for
the individuality and the personal will ; rebelling against
motherhood, and life-long marriage; clamouring for
easy divorce, and denouncing their own fathers, brothers
and husbands, as either tyrants or fools ; casting awaj
the old props and veils ; determined, apparently, to
know everything, however ugly, and to say everything,
however outrageous? He himself was a countryman,
an English provincial, with English public school and
university traditions of the best kind behind him, a
mind steeped in history, and a natural taste for all that
was ancient and deep-rooted. The sketch of an emerg-
ing generation of women, given in the Quarterly article,
had made a deep impression upon him. It seemed to
him frankly horrible. He was of course well acquainted,
though mainly through the newspapers, with English
suffragism, moderate anl extreme. His own country
district and circle were not, however, much concerned
with it. And certain^ / he knew personally no such
types as the Quarterh article described. Among them,
no doubt, were the v jmen who set fire to houses, and
violently interrupter or assaulted Cabinet ministers,
who wrote and maintained newspapers that decent
people would rather not read, who grasped at martyr-
dom and had turned evasion of penalty into a science.
But the continental type, though not as yet involved
Delia Blanchflower 5
like their English sisters in a hand-to-hand, or fist-to-
fist struggle with law and order, were, it seemed, even
more revolutionary in principle, and to some extent in
action. Tlie life and opinions of a Sonia Kovalevski
left him bewildered. For no man was less omniscient
than he. Like the Cabinet minister of recent fame, in
the presence of such femmes fortes, he might have
honestly pleaded, mutatis mutandis, " In these things I
am a child."
Were these light-limbed, dark-eyed maidens under
his eyes touched with this new anarchy? They or
their elders must know something about it. There had
been a Feminist congress lately at Trient — on the very
site, and among the ghosts of the great Council, Well,
what could it bring them? Was there anything so
brief, so passing, if she did but know it, as a woman's
time for happiness? ^* Beauty that must die."
As the words recurred, some old anguish lying curled
at his heart raised its head and struck. He heard a
Toice — tremulously sweet — " Mark ! — dear Mark ! — I'm
not good enough — but I'll be to you all a woman can."
She had not played with life — or scorned it — or
missed it. It was not her fault that she must put it
from her.
In the midst of the crowd about him, he was no
longer aware of it. Still smoking mechanically, his
eyelids had fallen over his eyes, as his head rested
against the wall.
He was interrupted by a voice which said in ex-
cellent though foreign English —
" I beg your pardon, sir — I wonder if I might have
that paper you are standing on? "
He looked down astonished, and saw that he was
trampling on the day's New York Herald, wliich had
6 Delia Blanchflower
fallen from a table near. With many apologies he
lifted it, smoothed it out, and presented it to the elderly
lady who had asked for it.
She looked at him through her spectacles with a
pleasant smile.
" You don't find many English newspapers in these
Tyrolese hotels?"
" No ; I provide myself. I get my Times from home."
" Then, as an Englishman, you have all you want.
But you seem to be without it to-night? "
" It hasn't arrived. So I am reduced, as you see,
to listening to the music."
" You are not musical ? "
" Well, I don't like this band anywgi,y. It makes too
much noise. Don't you think it rather a nuisance? "
" No. It helps these people to talk," she said, in a
crisp, cheerful voice, looking round the room.
" But they don't want any help. Most of them talk
by nature as fast as the human tongue can go ! "
" About nothing ! " She shrugged her shoulders.
Winnington observed her more closely. She was, he
guessed, somewhere near fifty ; her scanty hair was al-
ready grey, and her round, plain face was wrinkled
and scored like a dried apple. But her eyes, which
were dark and singularly bright, expressed both energy
and wit; and her mouth, of which the upper lip was
caught up a little at one corner, seemed as though quiv-
ering with unspoken and, as he thought, sarcastic
speech. Was she, perchance, the Swedish Schriftstel-
ler'in of whom he had heard the porter talking to some
of the hotel guests? She looked a lonely-ish, inde-
pendent sort of body.
" They seem nice, kindly people," he said, glancing
round the salon. " And how they enjoy life! "
Delia Blanchfiower 7
"You call It life?"
He laiif^hcd out.
" You are hard upon them, madame. Now I —
being a mere man — am lost in admiration of their good
looks. We in England pride ourselves on our women.
But upon my word, it would be difficult to match
this show in an English hotel. Look at some of the
faces ! "
She followed his eyes — indifferently.
" Yes — they've plenty of beauty. And what'll it
do for them? Lead them into some wretched marriage
or other — and in a couple of years there will be neither
beauty nor health, nor self-respect, nor any interest in
anything, but money, clothes, and outwitting their hus-
bands.
55
" You forget the children ! "
" Ah — the children " — she said in a dubious tone,
shrugging her shoulders again.
The Englishman — whose name was Mark Winning-
ton — suddenly saw light upon her.
A Swedish writer, a woman travelling alone? He
remembered the sketch of " feminism " in Sweden which
he had just read. The names of certain woman-writers
flitted through his mind. He felt a curiosity mixed
with distaste. But curiosity prevailed.
He bent forward. And as he came thereb}'^ into
stronger light from a window on his left, the thought
crossed the mind of his neighbour that although so fully
aware of other people's good looks, the tall Englishman
seemed to be quite unconscious of his own. Yet in
truth he appeared both to her, and to the hotel guests
in general, a kind of heroic creature. In height he
towered beside the young or middle-aged men from
ISIunich, Buda-Pesth, or the north Italian towns, who
8 Delia Blanchflower
filled the salon. He had all that athlete could desire
in the way of shoulders, and lean length of body; a
finely carried head, on which the brown hair was wear-
ing a little thin at the crown, while still irrepressibly
strong and curly round the brow and temple; thick
penthouse brows, and beneath them a pair of greyish
eyes which had already made him friends with the chil-
dren and tlie dogs and half the grown-ups in the place.
The Swedish lady admitted — but with no cordiality —
that human kindness could hardly speak more plainly in
a human face than from those eyes. Yet the mouth
and chin were thin, strong and determined ; so were the
hands. The man's whole aspect, moreover, spoke of
assured position, and of a keen intelligence free from
personal pre-occupations, and keeping a disinterested
outlook on the world. The woman who observed him
had in her handbag a book by a Russian lady in which
Man, with a capital, figured either as " a great comic
baby," or as the " Man-Beast," invented for the tor-
ment of women. The gentleman before her seemed a
little difficult to fit into either category.
But if she was observing him, he had begun to ques-
tion her.
" Will you forgive me if I ask an impertinent ques-
tion ? "
" Certainly. Thej are the only questions worth
asking."
He laughed.
" You are, I think, from Sweden.'' "
" That is my country."
"And I am told you are a writer.'*" She bent her
head. " I can see also that you are — what shall I
say? — very critical of your sex — no doubt, still more
of mine ! I wonder if I may ask " —
Delia Blanchflower 9
He paused, his smiling eyes upon her.
" Ask anything you like."
" Well, there seems to be a great woman-movement
in your country. Are you interested in it? "
"You mean — am I a feminist? Yes, I happen to
dislike the word ; but it describes me. I have been
working for years for the advancement of women. I
have written about it — and in the Scandinavian coun-
tries we have already got a good deal. The vote in
Sweden and Norway ; almost complete equality with
men in Denmark. Professional equality, too, has gone
far. We shall get all we want before long? " Her
eyes sparkled in her small lined face.
" And you are satisfied ? "
" What human being of any intelligence — and I am
intelligent," she added, quietly, — " ever confessed to
being 'satisfied'? Our shoe pinched us. We have
eased it a good deal."
" You really find it substantially better to walk
with?"
"Through this uncomfortable world? Certainly.
Why not?"
He was silent a little. Then he said, with his pleas-
ant look, throwing his head back to observe her, as
though aware he might rouse her antagonism.
" All that seems to me to go such a little way."
" I daresay," she said, indifferently, though it seemed
to him that she flushed. " You men have had every-
thing you want for so long, you have lost the sense of
value. Now that we want some of your rights, it is
your cue to belittle them. And England, of course, is
hopelessly behind ! " The tone had sharpened.
He laughed again and was about to reply when the
band struck up Brahm's Hungarian dances, and talk
10 Delia Blanchflower
was hopeless. When the music was over, and the burst
of clapping, from all the young folk especially, had
died away, the Swedish lady said abruptl^"^ —
" But we had an English lady here last year — quite
a young girl — very handsome too — who was an even
stronger feminist than I."
" Oh, yes, we can produce them — in great numbers.
You have only to look at our newspapers."
His companion's upper lip mocked at the remark.
" You don't produce them in great numbers — like
the young lady I speak of."
"Ah, she was good-looking?" laughed Winnington.
" That, of course, gave her a most unfair advantage."
" A man's jest," said the oth.er dryly — " and an old
one. But naturally women take all the advantage they
can get — out of anything. They need it. However,
this young lady had plenty of other gifts — besides her
beauty. She was as strong as most men. She rode,
she climbed, she sang. The whole hotel did nothing but
watch her. She was the centre of everything. But
after a little while she insisted on leaving her father
down here to over-eat himself and play cards, while she
went with her maid and a black mare that nobody but
she wanted to ride, up to the Jagd-Jiutte in the forest.
There ! — you can see a little blue smoke coming from
it now " —
She pointed through the window to the great forest-
clothed cliff, some five thousand feet high, which fronted
the hotel ; and across a deep valley, just below its top-
most point, Mark Winnington saw a pufF of smoke
mounting into the clear sky.
— " Of course there was a great deal of talk. The
men gossipped and the women scoffed. Her father, who
adored her and could not control her in the least,
Delia Blanchflower 1 1
shrugged his shoulders, phiycd bridge all day long with
an English family, and would sit on the verandah watch-
ing the path — that path there — which conies down
from the J agd-lmtte with a spy-glass. Sometimes she
would send him down a letter by one of the Jager's boys,
and he would send a reply. And every now and then she
would come down — riding — like a Bnmhilde, with her
hair all blown about her — and her eyes — Ach,
superb ! "
The little dowdy woman threw up her hands.
Her neighbour's face shewed that the story interested
and amused him.
" A Valkjrie, indeed! But how a feminist? "
" You shall hear. One evening she offered to give
an address at the hotel on ' Women and the Future.'
She was already of course regarded as half mad, and
her opinions were well known. Some people objected,
and spoke to the manager. Her father, it was said,
tried to stop it, but she got her own way with him.
And the manager finally decided that the advertisement
would be greater than the risk. When the evening came
the place was honde; people came from everj' inn and
pension round for miles. She spoke beautiful Gennan,
she had learnt it from a German governess who had
brought her up, and been a second mother to her; and
she hadn't a particle of mauvaise lionte. Somebody had
draped some Austrian and English flags behind her.
The South Germans and Viennese, and Hungarians who
came to listen — just the same kind of people who are
here to-night — could hardly keep themselves on their
chairs. The men laughed and stared — I heard a few
brutalities - — but they couldn't keep their eyes off her,
and in the end they cheered her. Most of the women
were shocked, and wished they hadn't come, or let their
12 Delia Blanchflower
girls come. And the girls themselves sat open-
mouthed — drinking it in."
" Amazing ! " laughed the Englishman. " Wish I
had been there! Was it an onslaught upon men? "
" Of course," said his companion coolly. " What else
could it be? At present you men are the gaolers, and
we the prisoners in revolt. This girl talked revolu-
tion — they all do. ' We women intend to have equal
rights with you! — whatever it cost. And when we
have got them we shall begin to fashion the world as we
want it — and not as you men have kept it till now.
Gare a vous! You have enslaved us for ages — you
may enslave us a good while yet — but the end is cer-
tain. There is a new age coming, and it will be the age
of the free woman ! ' — That was the kind of thing. I
daresay it sounds absurd to you — but as she put it —
as she looked it — I can tell you, it was fine ! "
The small, work-worn hands of the Swedish lady shook
on her knee. Her eyes seemed to hold the Englishman
at bay. Then she added, in another tone.
" Some people of course walked out, and afterwards
there were many complaints from fathers of families
that their daughters should have been exposed to such
a thing. But it all passed over."
" And the young lady went back to the forest? "
" Yes, — for a time."
" And what became of the black mare ? "
" Its mistress gave her to an inn-keeper here when
she left. But the first time he went to see the horse in
the stable, she trampled on him and he was laid up for
weeks."
"Like mistress, like mare? — Excuse the jest! But
now, may I know the name of the prophetess? "
" She was a Miss Blanchflower," said the Swedish
Delia Blanchflower 13
lady, boggling a little over the name. " Her father
had been a governor of one of your colonies."
Winnington started forward in his chair.
" Good heavens ! — you don't mean a daughter of old
Bob Blanchflower!"
" Her father's name was Sir Robert Blanchflower."
The tanned face beside her expressed the liveliest in-
terest.
" Why, I knew Blanchflower quite well. I met him
long ago when I was staying with an uncle in India • —
at a station in the Bombay presidency. He was Major
Blanchflower then "
The speaker's brow furrowed a little as though un-
der the stress of some sudden recollection, and he seemed
to check himself in what he was saying. But in a mo-
ment he resumed : —
" A little after that he left the army, and went into
Parliament. And — precisely ! — after a few years
they made him governor somewhere — not much of a
post. Then last year his old father, a neighbour of
mine in Hampshire, quite close to my little place, went
and died, and Blanchflower came into a fortune and a
good deal of land besides. And I remember hearing
that he had thrown up the Colonial Service, had broken
down in health, and was living abroad for some years
to avoid the English climate. That's the man of course.
And the Valkyrie is Blanchflower's daughter! Very
odd that! I must have seen her as a child. Her
mother " — he paused again slightly — " was a Greek
by birth, and gloriously handsome. Blancliflower met
her when he was military attache at Athens for a short
time. — Well, that's all very interesting!"
And in a ruminating mood the Englisliman took out
his cigarette-case.
14 Delia Blanchflower
" You smoke, Madame ? "
The Swedish lady quietly accepted the courtesy.
And while the too insistent band paused between one
murdered Wagnerian fragment and another, they con-
tinued a conversation which seemed to amuse them both.
A little later the Englishman went out into the gar-
den of the hotel, meaning to start for a walk. But he
espied a party of young people gathered about the
new lawn-tennis court where instead of the languid and
dishevelled trifling, with a broken net and a wretched
court, that was once supposed to attract English visi-
tors, he had been already astonished to find Austrians
and Hungarians — both girls and boys — playing a
game quite up to the average of a good English club.
The growing athleticism and independence, indeed, of
the foreign girl, struck, for Winnington, the note of
change in this mid-European spectacle more clearly than
anything else. It was some ten years since he had
been abroad in August, a month he had been always
accustomed to spend in Scotch visits ; and these young
girls, with whom the Tyrol seemed to swarm, of all
European nationalities other than English, still in or
just out of the schoolroom; hatless and fearless; with
their knapsacks on their backs, sometimes with ice-axes
in their hands ; climbing peaks and passes with their
fathers and brothers; playing lawn-tennis like young
men, and shewing their shapely forms sometimes, when
it was a question of attacking the heights, in knicker-
bocker costume, and at other times in fresh white dresses
and bright-coloured jerseys, without a hint of waist;
these young Atalantas, budding and bloomed, made the
strongest impression upon him, as of a new race.
Where had he been all these years? He felt himself a
Delia Blanchflovver 1 5*
l:ind of Rip van Winkle — face to face at forty-one with
a generation unknown to him. No one of course could
live in England, and not be aware of the change which
has passed over English girls in the same direction.
But the Englishman always tacitly assumes that the
foreigner is far behind him in all matters of open-air
sport and physical development. Winnington had soon
confessed the touch of national arrogance in his own
surprise ; and was now the keen and much attracted spec-
tator.
On one of the grounds he saw the little German girl —
Euphrosyne, as he had already dubbed her — having
a lesson from a bullying elder brother. The youth,
amazed at his own condescension, scolded his sister
perpetually, and at last gave her up in despair, vowing
that she would never be any good, and he was not go-
ing to waste his time in teaching such a ninny. Eu-
phrosyne sat down beside the court, with tears in her
pretty eyes, her white feet crossed, her dark head droop-
ing; and two girl companions, aged about sixteen or
seventeen, like herself, came up to comfort her.
" I could soon shew you how to improve your service,
Mademoiselle," said Winnington, smiling, as he passed
her. Euphrosyne looked up startled, but at sight of the
handsome middle-aged Englishman, whom she unkindly
judged to be not much younger than her father, she
timidly replied : —
" It is hateful. Monsieur, to be so stupid as I am ! " '
" Let me shew you," repeated Winnington, kindly.
At this moment, a vigilant English governess — speak-
ing with a strong Irish- American accent — came up,
and after a glance at the Englishman, smilingly ac-
quiesced. The two comforters of Euphrosyne, grace-
ful little maids, with cherry-coloured jerseys over their
i6 Delia Blanchflower
white frocks, and golden brown hair tied with the large
black bows of the BacJcfisch, were eager to share the
lesson, and soon Winnington found himself the centre of
a whole bevy of boys and girls who had run up to watch
Euphrosyne's performance.
The English governess, a good girl, in spite of her
accent, and the unconscious fraud she was thereby per-
petrating on her employers, thought she had seldom
witnessed a more agreeable scene.
" He treats them like princesses, and yet he makes
them learn," she thought, a comment which very fairly
expressed the mixture of something courtly with some-
thing masterful in the Englishman's manner. He was
patience itself; but he was also frankness itself, whether
for praise or blame ; and the eagerness to please him
grew fast and visibly in all these young creatuers.
But as soon as he had brought back Euphrosyne's
smiles, and roused a new and fierce ambition to excel
in all their young breasts, he dropped the lesson, with
a few gay slangy words, and went his way, leaving a
stir behind him of wliich he was quite unconscious.
And there was no Englishman looking on who might
have told the charmed and conquered maidens that
they had just been coached by one of the most famous
of English athletes, born with a natural genius for every
kind of game, from cricket downwards.
On his way to the eastern side of the pass on which
stood the group of hotels, Winnington got his post from
the concierge, including his nightly Times, and carried
it with him to a seat with which he was already fa-
miliar.
But he left the Times unopened, for the spectacle be-
fore him was one to ravish the senses from everything
Delia Blanchliower 17
but itself. He looked across the deep valley of the
Adigc, nearly four thousand feet below him, to the
giant range of the Dolomite Alps on the eastern side.
The shadow of the forest-clad mountain on which he
stood spread downwards over the plain, and crept up
the mountains on the farther edge. Above a gulf of
deepest blue, inlaid with the green of vineyards and
forest lakes, he beheld an aerial world of rose-colour —
the giant Dolomites, Latemar, Roscngarten, Schlern —
majestic rulers of an upper air, so pure and luminous,
that every tiny shadow cast by every wisp of wandering
cloud on the bare red peaks, was plainly visible across
the thirty miles of space. Roscngarten, with its snow-
less, tempest-beaten crags, held the centre, flushing to its
name ; and to the right and left, peak ranged beyond
peak, like courtiers crowding to their king; chief among
them a vast pyramid, blood-red in the sunset, from which
the whole side, it seemed, had been torn away, leaving
a gash so fresh it might have been ripped by a storm of
yesterday, yet older perhaps than Calvary. . . .
The great show faded through every tone of delicate
beauty to a starry twilight, — passion into calm. Win-
nington watched till it was done, still with the Keatsian
tag in his mind, and that deep inner memory of loss,
to which the vanished splendour of the mountains seemed
to make a mystic answering. He was a romantic —
some would have said a sentimental person, with a poet
always in his pocket, and a hunger for all that might
shield him from the worst uglinesses of life, and the
worst despairs of thought ; an optimist, and, in his own
sense. Christian. He had come abroad to wander alone
for a time, because as one of the busiest, most important
and most popular men in a wide country-side, he had
had a year of unceasing and strenuous work, with no
i8 Delia Blanchflower
time to himself ; and it had suddenly been borne in upon
him, in choosing between the Alps and Scotland, that
a man must sometimes be alone, for his soul's health.
And he had never relished the luxury of occasional soli-
tude so sharply as on this pine-scented evening in Tyrol.
It was not till he was sitting again under the electric
light of the hotel verandah that he opened his Times.
The first paragraph which his eye lit upon was an obit-
uary notice of Sir Robert Blanchflower " whose death,
after a long illness and much suffering, occurred last
week In Paris." The notice ended with the words —
" the deceased baronet leaves a large property both
in land and personalty. His only child, a daughter,
Miss Delia Blanchflower, survives him."
Winnington laid down the paper. So the Valkyrie
was now alone in the world, and mistress no doubt of
all her father's wealth. " I must have seen her — I
am sure there was a child about " ; he said to him-
self again ; and his thoughts went groping into a mostly
forgotten past, and as he endeavoured to reconstruct
it, the incident which had brought him for a few weeks
into close relations with Robert Blanchflower, then
Major Blanchflower of the Dragoons, came at
last vividly back to him.
An easy-going husband — a beautiful wife, not vi-
cious, but bored to death — the inevitable third, in the
person of a young and amorous cavalry officer — and
a whole Indian station, waiting, half maliciously, half
sadly, for the hanal catastrophe: — it was thus he re-
membered the situation. Winnington had arrived on
the scene as a barrister of some five years' standing, in-
valided after an acute attack of pneumonia, and the
guest for the winter of his uncle, then Commissioner of
the district. He discovered in the cavalry officer a
Delia Blanchflower 19
fellow who had been his particular protege at Eton,
and had owed his passionately coveted choice for the
Eleven largely to Winnington's good word. The whole
dismal little drama unveiled itself, and Winnington was
hotly moved by the waste and pity of it. He was en-
tertained by the Blanchflowers and took a liking to them
both. The old friendship between Winnington and the
cavalryman was soon noticed by Major Blanchflower,
and one night he walked home with Winnington, who
had been dining at his house, to the Commissioner's
quarters. Then, for the first time, Winnington realised
what it may be to wrestle with a man in torment. The
next day, the young cavalryman, at Winnington's in-
vitation, took his old friend for a ride, and before dawn
on the following day, the youth was off on leave, and
neither Major nor Mrs. Blanchflower, Winnington be-
lieved, had ever seen him again. What he did with
the youth, and how he did it, he cannot exactly remem-
ber, but at least he doesn't forget the grip of Blanch-
flower's hand, and the look of deliverance in his strained,
hollow face. Nor had Mrs. Blanchflower borne her
rescuer any grudge. He had parted from her on the
best of terms, and the recollection of her astonishing
beauty grows strong in him as he thinks of her.
So now it is her daughter who is stirring the world !
With her father's money and her mother's eyes, — not to
speak of the additional trifles — eloquence, enthusiasm,
&c. — thrown in by the Swedish woman, she ought to
find it easy.
The dressing-gong of the hotel disturbed a rather
sleepy reverie, and sent the Englishman back to his
T'lmes^ And a few hours later he went to a dreamless
bed, little guessing at the letter which was even then
waiting for him, far below, in the Botzen post-ofiice.
Chapter II
WNNINGTON took his morning cafe on a veran-
dah of the hotel, from which the great forests of
Monte Vanna were widely visible. Upwards from the
deep valley below the pass, to the topmost crags of the
mountain, their royal mantle ran unbroken. This morn-
ing they were lightly drowned in a fine weather haze,
and the mere sight of them suggested cool glades and
verdurous glooms, stretches of pink willow herb lighting
up the clearings — and in the secret heart of them such
chambers " deaf to noise and blind to light " as the
forest lover knows. Winnington promised himself a
leisurely climb to the top of Monte Vanna. The morn-
ing foretold considerable heat, but under the pines one
might mock at Helios.
Ah ! — Euphrosyne !
She came, a vision of morning, tripping along in her
white shoes and white dress; followed by her English
governess, the lady, as Winnington guessed, from West
Belfast, tempered by Brooklyn. The son apparently
was still in bed, nor did anyone trouble to hurry him out
of it. The father, a Viennese judge en retraite, as Win-
nington had been already informed by the all-knowing
porter of the hotel, was a shrewd thin-lipped old fel-
low, with the quiet egotism of the successful lawyer.
He came up to Winnington as soon as he perceived him,
and thanked him in good English for his kindness to
Euphrosyne of the day before. Winnington responded
suitably and was soon seated at their table, chatting with
SO
Delia Blanchflower 21
them while they took their coffee, Euphrosyne shewed
a marked pleasure in his society, and upon Winnington,
steeped in a holiday reaction from much strenuous liv-
ing, her charm worked as part of the charm of the day,
and the magic of the mountain world. He noticed,
however, with a revival of alarm, that she had a vigor-
ous German appetite of her own, and as he watched the
rolls disappear he trembled for the slender figure and
the fawn-like gait.
After breakfast, while the governess and the girl
disappeared, the father hung over the verandah smok-
ing, beside the Englishman, to whom he was clearly at-
tracted. He spoke quite frankly of his daughter, and
her bringing up. " She is motherless ; her mother died
when she was ten years old ; and since, I must educate
her myself. It gives me many anxieties, but she is a
sweet creature, danh sei gott! I will not let her ap-
proach, even, any of these modern ideas about women.
My wife hated them ; I do also. I shall marry her to an
honest man, and she will make a good wife and a good
house-mother."
" Mind 3'ou choose him well! " said Winnington, with
a shrug. His eyes at that moment were critically bent
on a group of Berliners, men of the commercial and
stock-broking class, who, with their wives, had arrived
a couple of nights before. The men were strolling and
smoking below. They were all fat, red-faced and over-
bearing. When they went for walks, the man stalked
in front along the forest paths, and the woman followed
behind, carrying her own jacket. Winnington won-
dered what it might be like to be the wife of any of them.
These Herren at any rate might not be the worse for
a little hustling from the " woman movement." He
could not, however, say honestly that the wives shewed
22 Delia Blanchflower
any consciousness of ill-fortune. They were almost all
plump, plumper even than their husbands, expensively
dressed and prosperous looking; and the amount of
Viennese beer they consumed at the forest restaurants
to which their husbands conducted them, seemed to the
Englishman portentous.
" Yes, my daughter is old-fashioned,'* resumed the cx-
judge, complacently-, after a pause. " And I am
grateful to Miss Johnson, who has trained her very well.
If she were like some of the girls one sees now ! Last
year there was a young lady here — Ach, Gott! " He
raised his shoulders, with a contemptuous mouth.
"Miss Blanchflower?" asked Winnington, turning
towards the speaker with sudden interest.
" That I believe was her name. She was mad, of
course. Ach, they have told you.'' — of that Vortrag
she gave? — and the rest? After ten minutes, I made
a sign to my daughter, and we walked out. I would
not have had her corrupted with these ideas for the
whole world. And such beauty, you understand ! That
makes it more dangerous. Ja, ja, Liebchen — ich
Jcomme gleich! "
For there had been a soft call from Euphrosyne,
standing on the steps of the hotel, and her fond father
hurried away to join her.
At the same moment, the porter emerged, bearing a
bundle of letters and newspapers which had just arrived.
Eager for his Times Winnington went to meet him, and
the man put into his hands what looked like a large post.
He carried it off into the shelter of the pines, for the
sun was already blazing on the hotel. Two or three
letters on county business he ran through first. His
own pet project, as County Councillor, — a county
school for crippled children, was at last getting on.
Delia Blanchflower 23
Foundation stone to be laid in October — good ! " But
how the deuce can I get hold of some more women to
help work it! Scandalous, how few of the right sort
there are about ! And as for the Asylums Committee,
if we really can't legally co-opt women to it, as our
clerk saj's " — he looked again at a letter in his hand —
" the law is an ass ! — a double-dyed ass. I swear I
won't visit those poor things on the women's side again.
It's women's work — let them do it. The questions I
have to ask arc enough to make an old gamp blush.
Hallo, what's this?"
He turned over a large blue envelope, and looked at
a name stamped across the back. It was the name of a
well-known firm of London solicitors. But he had no
dealings with them, and could not imagine why they
should have written to him.
He opened the letter carelessly, and began to read
it, — presently with eager attention, and at last ^vnth
amazement.
It ran as follows :
" From Messrs. Morton, Manners & Latiiom,
Solicitors,
Adelphi,
London, W.C.
" Dear Sir, — We write on behalf of Lord Frederick Cal-
verly, your co-executor, under Sir Robert Blanchflower's
will, to inform you that in Sir Robert's last will and testa-
ment — of which we enclose a copy — executed at Meran
six weeks before his decease, you are named as one of his
two executors, as sole trustee of his property, and sole
guardian of Sir Robert's daughter and only child, Miss
Delia Blanchflower, until she attains the age of twenty-
five. We believe tliat this will be a complete surprise to
you, for although Sir Robert, according to a statement he
24 Delia Blanchflower
made during his last illness to his sister. Miss Elizabeth
Blanchflower, intended to communicate with you before
signing the will, his weakness increased so rapidly, after
it was finally drawn up, that he was never able to do so.
Indeed the morning after his secretary had written out a
clear copy of what he himself had put together, he had a
most alarming attack from which he rallied with difficulty.
That afternoon he signed the will, and was just able to
write you the letter which we also enclose, marked by him-
self, as you will see. He was never properly conscious
afterwards, and he died in Paris last Thursday, and was
buried in the Protestant cemetery at Mont Parnasse on the
Saturday following. The will which was in our custody
was opened in London yesterday, by Lord Frederick Cal-
verly, in Miss Blanchflower's presence. We understand
from her that she has already written to you on the subject.
Lord Frederick would also have done so, but that he has
just gone to Harrogate, in a very poor state of health. He
begs us to say that he is of course quite aware that your
engagements may not allow you to accept the functions
offered you under the will, and that he will be in consider-
able anxiety until he knows your decision. He hopes that
you will at least accept the executorship; and indeed ven-
tures to appeal very strongly on that account to your old
friendship for Sir Robert; as he himself sees no prospect
of being able to carry out unaided the somewhat heavy
responsibilities attaching to the office.
" You will see that a sum of £4000 is left to yourself
under the will.
" We remain, dear Sir,
" Your obedient servants,
" Morton, Manners & Lathom.
"(Solicitors.)"
" Mark Winnington, Esq., J. P.
Bridge End, Maumsey,
Hants."
Delia Blanchflower 2^
A bulky document on blue paper, and also a letter
had dropped to the ground. Winnington stoo{)ed for
the letter, and turned it over in stupification. It was
addressed in a faltering hand, and marked, " To be
forwarded after my death." He hastily broke the seal.
" My dear Mark Winnington, — I know well what I
am laying upon you. I have no right to do it. But I re-
member certain days in the past, and I believe if you are
still the same man you were then, you will do what I ask.
My daughter ought to be a fine woman. At present she
is entirely and completely out of her mind. She has been
captured by the extreme suffrage movement, and by one of
the most mischievous women in it; and I have no influence
with her whatever. I live in terror of what she may do;
of what they may lead her to do. To attempt to reason
with her is useless ; and for a long time my health has been
such that I have avoided conflict with her as much as pos-
sible. But things have now come to such a pass that some-
thing must be done, and I have tried in these last weeks,
ill as I am, to face the future. I want if I can to save
Delia from wasting herself, and the money and estates
I should naturally leave her, upon this mad campaign. I
want, even against her will, to give her someone to advise
and help her. I feel bitterly that I have done neither.
The tropics ruined me physically, and I seem to have gone
to pieces altogether the last few years. But I love my
child, and I can't leave her w^ithout a real friend or sup-
port in the world. I have no near relations, except my sis-
ter Elizabeth, and she and Delia are always at feud.
Freddie Calverly my cousin, is a good fellow in his way,
though too fussy about his health. He has a fair knowledge
of business, and he would have been hurt if I had not made
him executor. So I have appointed him, and have of
course left him a little money. But he could no more tackle
Delia than flv. In the knock-about life we hare led since
26 Delia Blanchflower
I left the Colonial Service, I seem to have shed all my old
friends. I can think of no one who could or would help
me in this strait but you — and you know why. God bless
you for what you once did for me. There was never any
other cloud between my poor wife and me. She turned
to me after that trouble, and we were happy till the end.
" I have heard too something of you from Maumsey peo-
ple, since I inherited Maumsey, though I have never been
able to go there. I know what your neighbours think of
you. And now Delia is going to be your neighbour. So,
drawing a bow at a venture, as a dying man must, I have
made you Delia's guardian and trustee, with absolute power
over her property and income till she is twenty-five. When
she attains that age — she is now nearly twenty-two — if
she marries a man approved by you, or if you are satisfied
that her connection with militant sufTragism has ceased, the
property is to be handed over to her in full possession, and
the trust will come to an end. If on the contrary, she con-
tinues in her present opinion and course of action, I have
left directions that the trust is to be maintained for Delia's
life-time, under certain conditions as to her maintenance,
which you will find in the will. If you yourself are not
willing to administer the trust, either now or later, the
property will devolve to the Public Trustee, for whom full
instructions are left. And at Delia's death it will be di-
vided among her heirs, if she has any, and various public
objects.
" I cannot go further into details. My strength is almost
out. But this one thing may I beg? — if you become mj
child's guardian, get the right person to live with her. I
regard that as all-important. She must have a chaperon,
and she will try to set up one of the violent women who
have divided her from me. Especially am I in dread of a
lady, an English lady, a Miss Marvell, whom I engaged
two years ago to stay with us for the winter and read his-
tory with Delia. She is very able and a very dangerous
woman, prepared I believe, to go to any length on behalf
Delia Blanchflower 27
of her * cause.' At any rate she filled Delia's head with
the wildest suffragist notions, and since then my poor child
thinks of nothing else. Even since I have been so ill —
this last few weeks — I know she has been in communica-
tion with this woman. She sympathises with all the hor-
rible things they do, and I am certain she gives all the
money she can to their funds. Delia is a splendid crea-
ture, but she is vain and excitable and they court her. I
feel that they might tempt her into any madness.
" Goodbye. I made the doctor give me strychnine and
morphia enough to carry me through this effort. I expect
it will be the last. Help me, and my girl — if you can —
for old sake's sake. Goodbye.
Your grateful old friend,
" Robert Blanchflower."
" Good heavens ! " was all Winnington could find to
say, as he put down the letter.
Then, becoming aware, as the verandah filled after
breakfast, that he was in a very public place, he hastily
rose, thrust the large solicitor's envelope, with its bulky
enclosures into his coat pocket, and proceeded to gather
up the rest of his post. As he did so, he suddenly per-
ceived a black-edged letter, addressed in a remarkably
clear handwriting, with the intertwined initials D.B. in
the corner.
A fit of silent laughter, due to his utter bewilderment,
shook him. He put the letter with all its fellows into
another pocket and hurried away into the solitude of the
woods. It was some time before he had succeeded in
leaving all the tourists' paths and seats behind. At
last in a green space of bilberry and mossy rock, with
the pines behind him, and the chain of the Dolomites,
sun-bathed, in front, he opened and read his " ward's "
first letter to him.
28 Delia Blanchflower
" Dear Mr. Winnington, — I understood — though verj
imperfectly — from my father, before he died, that he had
appointed you my guardian and trustee till I should reach
the age of twenty-five, and he explained to me so far as he
could his reason for such a step. And now I have of course
read the will, and the solicitors have explained to me clearlj
what it all means.
" You will admit I think that I am placed in a very
hard position. If my poor father had not been so ill, I
should certainly have tried to argue with him, and to prevent
his doing anything so unnecessary and unjust as he has
now done — unjust both to you and to me. But the doc-
tors absolutely forbade me to discuss any business with
him, and I could do nothing. I can only hope that the
last letter he wrote to you, just before his death, and the
alterations he made in his will about the same time, gare
him some comfort. If so, I do not grudge them for one
moment.
" But now you and I have to consider this matter as
sensible people, and I suggest that for a man who is a
complete stranger to me, and probably altogether out of
sympathy with the ideas and principles, I believe in and
am determined to act upon — (for" otherwise my father
would not have chosen you) — to undertake the manage-
ment of my life and affairs, would be really grotesque. It
must lead to endless friction and trouble between us. If
you refuse, the solicitors tell me, the Public Trustee —
which seems to be a government office — will manage the
property, and the Court of Chancery will appoint a guardian
in accordance with my father's wishes. That would be bad
enough, considering that I am of full age and in my right
mind — I can't promise to give a guardian chosen in such
a way, a good time. But at any rate, it would be less
odious to fight a court and an office, if I must fight, than a
gentleman who is my near neighbour in the county, and
was my father's and mother's friend. I do hope you will
think this over very carefully, and will relieve both your-
Delia Blanchflower 29
self and me from an impossible state of things. I per-
fectly realise of course that my father appointed you mr
guardian, in order to prevent me from making certain
friends, and doing certain things. But I do not admit
the right of any human being — not even a father — to
dictate the life of another. I intend to stick to my friends,
and to do what my conscience directs.
" Should you however accept the guardianship — after
this candid statement of mine — you will, I suppose, feel
bound to carry out my father's wishes by refusing me
money for the purposes he disapproved. He told me in-
deed that I should be wholly dependent on my guardian for
money during the next three years, even though I have
attained my legal majority. I can say to you what I could
not say to him, that I bitterly resent an arrangement which
treats a grown person like a child. Such things are not
done to men. It is only women who ?ire the victims of
them. It would be impossible to keep up friendly relations
with a guardian, who would really only be there — only
exist — to thwart and coerce me.
" Let me point out that at the very beginning a diiTer-
ence must arise between us, about the lady I am to live with.
I have chosen my chaperon already, as it was my moral,
if not my legal right to do. But I am quite aware that
my father disapproved of her, and that you will probably
take the same view. She belongs to a militant suffrage
society, and is prepared at any moment to suffer for the
great cause she and I believe in. As to her ability, she is
one of the cleverest women in England. I am only too
proud that she has consented — for a time — to share my
life, and nothing will induce me to part with her — as long
as she consents to stay. But of course I know what you —
or any ordinary man — is likely to think of her.
" No ! — we cannot agree — it is impossible we should
agree — as guardian and ward. If indeed, for the sake
of your old friendship with my father, you would retain
the executorship — I am sure Lord Frederick Calverly will
30 Delia Blanchflower
be no sort of use ! — till the affairs of the will, deatH-
duties, debts, and so on, are settled — and would at the
same time give up any other connection with the property
and myself, I should be enormously grateful to you. And
I assure you I should be very glad indeed — for father's
sake — to have your advice on many points connected with
my future life; and I should be all the more ready to fol-
low it, if you had renounced your legal power over me.
" I shall be much obliged if you will make your decision
as soon as possible, so that both the lawyer and I may know
how to proceed.
"Yours faithfully,
" Delia Blanchflower."
Mark Winnington put down the letter. Its mixture
of defiance, patronage and persuasion — its young
angry cleverness — would have tickled a naturally
strong sense of humour at any other time. But really
the matter was too serious to laugh at.
" What on earth am I to do ! "
He sat pondering, his mind running through a num-
ber of associated thoughts, of recollections old and new ;
those Indian scenes of fifteen years ago; the story told
him by the Swedish lady ; recent incidents and happen-
ings in English politics ; and finally the tone in which
Euphrosyne's father had described the snatching of
his own innocent from the clutches of Miss Blanch-
flower.
Then it occurred to him to look at the will. He
read it through ; a tediqus business ; for Sir Robert had
been a wealthy man and the possessions bequeathed —
conditionally bequeathed — to his daughter were many
and various. Two or three thousand acres of land in
one of the southern counties, bordering on the New
Forest; certain large interests in Cleveland ironstone
Delia Blanchflower 31
and Durham collieries, American and South African
shares, Canadian mortgage and railway debentures : —
there was enough to give lawyers and executors work
for some time, and to provide large pickings for the
Exchequer. Among the legacies, he noticed the legacy
of £4000 to himself.
"Payment for the job!" he thought, and shook his
head, smiling.
The alternative arrangements made for transferring
the trust to the Public Trustee, should Winnington
decline, and for vesting the guardianship of the daugh-
ter in the Court of Chancery, subject to the directions
of the will, till she should reach the age of tw'cnty-five,
were clear; so also was the provision that unless a spe-
cific signed undertaking was given by the daughter on
attaining her twenty-fifth birthday, that the moneys of
the estate would not be applied to the support of the
*' militant suffrage " propaganda, the trust was to be
made permanent, a life income of £2000 a year was to be
settled on Miss Blanchflower, and the remainder, i.e.
by far the major part of Sir Robert's property, was to
accumulate, for the benefit of his daughter's heirs should
she have any, and of various public objects. Should
Miss Blanchflower sign the undertaking and afterwards
break it, the Public Trustee was directed to proceed
against her, and to claim the restitution of the property,
subject always to her life allowance.
*' Pretty well tied up," thought Winnington, marvel-
ling at the strength of feeling, the final exasperation of
a dying man, which the will betrayed. His daughter
must somehow — perhaps without realising it — have
wounded him to the heart.
He began to climb again through the forest that he
might think the better. What would be the situation,
32 Delia Blanchflower
supposing he undertook what his old friend asked of
him?
He himself was a man of moderate means and settled
habits. His small estate and modest house which a
widowed sister shared with him during six months in
the year, left him plenty of leisure from his own affairs,
and he had filled that leisure, for years past, to over-
flowing, with the various kinds of public work that fall
to the country gentleman with a conscience. He was
never idle ; his work interested him, and there was no
conceit in his quiet knowledge that he had many friends
and much influence. Since the death of the girl to
whom he had been engaged for six short months, fifteen
years before this date, he had never thought of mar-
riage. The circumstances of her death — a terrible
case of lingering typhoid — had so burnt the pity of
her suffering and the beauty of her courage into his
mind, that natural desire seemed to have died with her.
He had turned to hard work and the bar, and equally
hard physical exercise, and so made himself master both
of his grief and his youth. But his friendships with
women had played a great part in his subsequent life.
A natural chivalry, deep based, and, in manner, a touch
of caressing charm, soon evoked by those to whom he
was attached, and not easily confounded in the case of
a man so obviously manly with any lack of self-control,
had long since made him a favourite of the sex. There
were few women among his acquaintances who did not
covet his liking; and he was the repository of far more
confidences than he had ever desired. No one took
more trouble to serve; and no one more carelessly forgot
a service he had himself rendered, or more tenaciously
remembered any kindness done him by man, woman or
child.
Delia Blanchflower 33
His admiration for women was mingled indeed often
with profound pity ; pity for the sorrows and burdens
that nature had laid upon them, for their physical weak-
ness, for their passive role in life. That beings so ham-
pered could yet play such tender and heroic parts was
to him perennially wonderful, and his sense of it ex-
pressed itself in an unconscious homage that seemed to
embrace the sex. That the homage was not seldom
wasted on persons quite unworthy of it, his best women
friends were not slow to see ; but in this he was often
obstinate and took his own way.
This mingling in him of an unfailing interest in the
sex with an entire absence of personal craving, gave
him a singularly strong position with regard to women,
of which he had never yet taken any selfish advantage ;
largely, no doubt, because of the many activities, most
of them disinterested, by Avhich his life was fed and
freshened ; as a lake is by the streams which fill it.
He was much moved by his old friend's letter, and he
walked about pondering it, till the morning was almost
gone. The girl's position also seemed to him particu-
larly friendless and pci'ilous, though she herself, ap-
parently, would be the last person to think so, could
she only shake herself free from the worrying restric-
tions her father had inflicted on her. Her letter, and
its thinly veiled wrath, shewed quite plainly that the
task of any guardian would be a tough one. Miss
Blanchflower was evidently angry — very angry — yet
at the same time determined, if she could, to play a dig-
nified part; ready, that is, to be civil, on her own con-
ditions. The proposal to instal as her chaperon, in-
stantly, without a day's delay, the very woman de-
nounced in her father's last letter, struck him as first
outrageous, and then comic. He laughed aloud over it.
34 Delia Blanchflower
Certainly — he was not bound in any way to under-
take such a business. Blanchflower had spoken the
ti-uth when he said that he had no right to ask it. And
yet —
His mind dallied with it. Suppose he undertook
it, on what lines could he possibly run it? His feeling
towards the violent phase of the " woman's movement,"
the militancy which during the preceding three or four
years had produced a crop of outrages so surprising and
so ugly, was probably as strong as Blanchflower's own.
He was a natural Conservative, and a trained lawyer.
Methods of violence in a civilised and constitutional
State, roused in him indignant abhon'ence. He could
admit no excuse for them; at any rate no justification.
But, fundamentally .f* What was his real attitude
towards this wide-spread claim of women, now so gen-
eral in many parts of the world admitted indeed in
some English Colonics, in an increasing number of the
American states, in some of the minor European coun-
tries — to share the public powers and responsibilities
of men? Had he ever faced the problem, as it con-
cerned England, with any thoroughness or candour?
Yet perhaps Englishmen — all Englishmen — had now
got to face it.
Could he discover any root of sympathy in himself
with what were clearly the passionate beliefs of Delia
Blanchflower, the Valkyrie of twenty-one, as they were
also the passionate beliefs of the little Swedish lady, the
blue-stocking of fifty? If so, it might be possible to
guide, even to control such a ward, for the specified
three years, at any rate, without exciting unseemly and
ridiculous strife between her and her guardian.
" I ought to be able to do it " — he thought — " with-
out upsetting the apple-cart ! "
Delia Blanchliower 3^
For, as he examined liimself he realised that he held
no closed mind on the subject of the rights or powers
or grievances of women. He had taken no active part
whatever in the English suffragist struggle, either
against woman suffrage or for it; and in his own coun-
tryside it mattered comparatively little. But he was
well aware what strong forces and generous minds had
been harnessed to the suffrage cause, since Mill first
set it stirring; and among his dearest women friends
there were some closely connected with it, who had often
mocked or blamed his own indifference. He had always
thought indeed, and he thought still — for many rea-
sons — that they attributed a wildly exaggerated im-
portance to the vote, which, as it seemed to him, went a
very short way in the case of men. But he had always
been content to let the thing slide; having so much else
to do and think about.
Patience then, and respect for honest and disinter-
ested conviction, in any young and ardent soul; sharp
discrimination between lawful and unlawful means of
propaganda, between debate, and stone-throwing; no
interference with the first, and a firm hand against the
second: — surely, in that spirit, one might make some-
thing of the problem? Winnington was accustomed to
be listened to, to get round obstacles that other men
found insuperable. It was scarcely conceit, but a just
self-confidence which suggested to him that perhaps
Miss Blanchflower would not prove so difficult after all.
Gentleness, diplomacy, decision, — by Jove, they'd all
be wanted ! But his legal experience (he had been for
some years a busy barrister), and his later life as a prac-
tical administrator had not been a bad training in each
and all of these qualities.
Of course, if the girl were merely obstinate and stupid,
36 Delia Blanchflower
the case might indeed be hopeless. But the picture
drawn by the Swedish woman of the " Valkyrie " on her
black mare, of the ardent young lecturer, facing her in-
different or hostile audience with such pluck and spirit,
dwelt with him, and affected him strongly. His face
broke into amusement as he asked himself the frank
question — " Would you do it, if you hadn't heard that
tale? — if you knew that your proposed ward was just
a plain troublesome chit of a schoolgirl, bitten with
suff ragism ? "
He put the question to himself, standing on a pinnacle
of shadowed rock, from which the world seemed to sink
into blue gulfs beneath him, till on the farther side of
immeasurable space the mountains re-emerged, climb-
ing to the noonday sun.
And he answered it without hesitation. Certainly,
the story told him had added a touch of romance to the
bare case presented by the batch of letters : — had
lent a force and point to Robert Blanchflower's dying
plea, it might not otherwise have possessed. For, after
all, he, Winnington, was a very busy man ; and his life
was already mortgaged in many directions. JBut as it
was — yes — the task attracted him.
At the same time, the twinkle in his grey eyes shewed
him ironically aware of himself.
" Understand, you old fool ! — the smallest touch of
philandering — and the whole business goes to pot.
The girl would have you at her mercy — and the thing
would become an odious muddle and hypocrisy, degrad-
ing to both. Can you trust yourself? You're not ex-
actly made of flint : Can you play the part as it ought
to be played ?
Quietly, his face sank Into rest. For him, there was
that in memory, which protected him from all such risks,
Delia Blanchflower 37
which had so protected him for fifteen years. He felt
quite sure of himself. Ever since his great loss he had
found his natural allies and companions among girls and
young women as much as among men. The embarrass-
ment of sex seemed to have passed away for him, but
not the charm. Thus, he took what for him was the
easier path of acceptance. Kindly and scrupulous as
he was, it would have been hard for him in any case to
say No to the dead, more difficult than to say it to the
living. Yes ! — he would do what was possible. The
Times that morning contained a long list of outrages
committed by militant suffragists — houses burnt down,
meetings disturbed, members attacked. In a few
months, or weeks, perhaps, without counsel to aid or
authority to warn her, the Valkyrie might be running
headlong into all the perils her father foresaw. He
pledged himself to protect her if he could.
The post which left the hotel that evening took with
it a short note from Mark Winnington to Messrs. Mor-
ton, Manners & Lathom, accepting the functions of
executor, guardian and trustee oft'ered him under Sir
Robert Blanchflower's will, and appointing an inter-
view with them at their office ; together with a some-
what longer one addressed to " Miss Delia Blanchflower,
Claridge's Hotel, London.
" Dear Miss Blanchflower, Pray let me send you my
most sincere condolence. Your poor father and I were
once great friends, and I am most truly sorry to hear of
his death.
" Thank you for your interesting letter. But I find it
impossible to refuse your father's dying request to me, nor
can I believe that I cannot be of some assistance to his
daughter. Let me try. We can always give it up, if we
38
Delia Blanchflower
cannot work it, but I see no reason why, with good will
on both sides, we should not make something of it.
" I am returning to London ten days from now, and
hope to see you within a fortnight.
" Please address, ' Junior Carlton Club, Pall Mall.'
Believe me.
Yours very truly,
" Mark Winnington."
On his arrival, in London, Winnington found a short
reply awaiting him.
" Dear Mr. Winnington, — As you please. I am how-
ever shortly leaving for Maumsey with Miss Marvell, who,
as I told you, has undertaken to live with me as my
chaperon.
" We shall hope to see you at Maumsey.
Yours faithfully,
" Delia Blanchflower."
A few days later, after long interviews with some
very meticulous solicitors, a gentleman, very much in
doubt as to what his reception would be, took train for
Alaumsey and the New Forest, with a view to making as
soon as possible a first call upon his ward.
Chapter III
' <T 71 TE ought soon to sec the house."
V V The speaker bent forward, as the train,
sweeping round a curve, emerged from some thick woods
into a space of open country. It was early September
and a sleepy autumnal sunshine lay upon the fields. The
stubbles just reaped ran over the undulations of the
land in silky purples and gold ; the blue smoke from the
cottages and farms hung poised in mid air; the eye could
hardly perceive any movement in the clear stream beside
the line, as it slipped noiselessly by over its sandy bed ;
it seemed a world where " it was always afternoon " ; and
the only breaks in its sunny silence came from the occa-
sional coveys of partridges that rose whirring from the
harvest-fields as the train passed.
Delia Blanchflower looked keenly at the English scene,
so strange to her after many years of Colonial and for-
eign wandering. She thought, but did not say —
" Those must be my fields — and my woods, that we have
just passed through. Probably I rode about them with
Grandpapa. I remember the pony — and the hon*id
groom I hated ! " Quick the memory returned of a tiny
child on a rearing pony, alone with a sulky groom, who,
out of his master's sight, could not restrain his temper,
and struck the pony savagely and repeatedly over the
head, to an accompaniment of oaths; frightening the
little girl who sat clinging to the creature's neck out of
her wits. And next she saw herself marching in erect
— a pale-faced thing of six, with a heart of fury, — to
39
40 Delia Blanchflower
her grandfather, to demand justice on the offender.
And grandpapa had done her bidding then as always ;
the groom was dismissed that day. It was only grand-
mamma who had ever tried to manage or thwart her ; re-
sult, perpetual war, decided often for the time by the
brute force at command of the elder, but ever renewed.
Delia's face flamed again as she thought of the most
humiliating incident of her childhood; when Grand-
mamma, unable to do anything with her screaming and
stamping self, had sent in despair for a stalwart young
footman, and ordered him to " carry Miss Delia up to
the nursery." Delia could still feel herself held, wrig-
gling and shrieking face downwards, under the young
man's strong arm, unable either to kick or to scratch,
while Grandmamma half fearful, half laughing, watched
the dire ascent from the bottom of the stairs.
" Male tyranny — my first taste of it ! " thought
Delia, smiling at herself. " It was fated then that I
should be a militant."
She looked across at her friend and travelling com-
panion, half inclined to tell the story ; but the sight of
Gertrude Marvell's attitude and expression checked the
trivial reminiscence on her lips.
" Are you tired? " she said, laying her hand on the
other'.«: knee.
" Oh, no. Only thinking."
" Thinking of what?"—
" Of all there is to do."—
A kind of flash passed from one face to the other,
Delia's eyes darkly answering. They looked at each
other for a little, as though in silent conversation, and
then Delia turned again to the landscape outside.
Yes, there was the house, its long, irregular line with
the village behind it. She could not restrain a slight ex-
Delia Blanchflower 41
clamation as she caught sight of it, and her friend op-
posite turned interrogatively.
What did you say ? "
Nothing — only there's the Abbey. I don't suppose
I've seen it since I was twelve."
The other lady put up an eye-glass and looked where
Miss Blanchflower pointed ; but languidly, as though it
were an effort to shake herself free from pre-occupying
ideas. She was a woman of about thirty-five, slenderly
made, with a sallow, regular face, and good, though
short-sighted eyes. The eyes were dark, so was the hair,
the features delicate. Under the black shady hat, the
hair was very closely and neatly coiled. The high col-
lar of the white blouse, fitting tightly to the slender neck,
the coat and skirt of blue serge without ornament of
any kind, but well cut, emphasized the thinness, almost
emaciation, of the form. Her attitude, dress, and ex-
pression conveyed the idea of something amazingly taut
and ready — like a ship cleared for action. The body
with its clotliing seemed to have been simplified as much
as possible, so as to become the mere instrument of the
will which governed it. No superfluity whatever,
whether of flesh on her small bones, or of a single un-
necessary button, fold, or trimming on her dress, had
Gertrude Marvell ever allowed herself for many years.
The general effect was in some way formidable ; though
why the neat precision of this little lady should convey
any notion of this sort, it would not at first sight have
been easy to say.
" How old did you say it is.'' " — she asked, after ex-
amining the distant building, which could be now plainly
seen from the train across a stretch of green park.
" Oh, the present building is nothing — a pseudo-
Gothic monstrosity, built about 1830," laughed Delia;
42 Delia Blanchflower
" but there are some old remains and foundations of the
abbey. It is a big, rambling old place, and I should
think dreadfully in want of doing up. My grandfather
was a bit of a miser, and though he was quite rich, he
never spent a penny he could help,"
" All the better. He left the more for other people
to spend." Miss Marvell smiled — a slight, and rather
tired smile, which hardly altered the face.
" Yes, if they are allowed to spend it ! " said Delia,
with a shrug. " Oh well, anyway the house must be done
up — painted and papered and that kind of thing. A
trustee has got to see that things of that sort are kept
in order, I suppose. But it won't have anything to do
with me, except that for decency's sake, no doubt, he'll
consult me. I shall be allowed to choose the wall-papers
I suppose ! "
" If you want to," said the other drily.
Delia's brows puckered.
" We shall have to spend some time here, you know,
Gertrude ! We may as well have something to do."
" Nothing that might entangle us, or take too much
of our thoughts," said Miss Marvell, gently, but de-
cidedl3\
" I'm afraid I like furnishing," said Delia, not with-
out a shade of defiance.
"And I object — because I know you do. After all
— you understand as well as I do that every day now is
important. There are not so many of us, Delia! If
you're going to do real work, you can't afford to spend
your time or thoughts on doing up a shabby house."
There was silence a moment. Then Delia said
abruptly — " I wonder when that man will turn up ?
What a fool he is to take it on ! "
" The guardianship? Yes, he hardly knows what he's
Delia Blanchflower 43
in for." A touch of grim amusement shewed itself for a
moment in Miss Marvell's quiet face.
" Oh, I daresay he knows. Perhaps he relies on what
everyone calls his ' influence.' Nasty, sloppy word —
nasty sloppy thing ! Whenever I'm ' influenced,' I'm
degraded ! " The young shoulders straightened them-
selves fiercely.
" I don't know. It has its uses," said the other
tranquilly.
Delia laughed radiantly.
" Oh well — if one can make the kind of weapon of
it you do. I don't mean of course that one shouldn't be
rationally persuaded. But that's a diff'erent thing.
' Influence ' makes me think of canting clergymen, and
stout pompous women, who don't know what they're
talking about, and can't argue — who think they've set-
tled everything by a stale quotation — or an appeal
to ' your better self ' — or St. Paul. If Mr. Winning-
ton tries it on with ' influence ' — we'll have some
fun."
Delia returned to her window. The look her com-
panion bent upon her was not visible to her. It was
curiously detached — perhaps slightly ironical.
" I'm wondering what part I shall play in the first
interview ! " said Miss Marvcll, after a pause. " I rep-
resent the first stone in Mr. Winnington's path. He
will of course do his best to put me out of it."
" How can he? " cried Delia ardently. " What can
he do.^ He can't send for the police and turn you out
of the house. At least I suppose he could, but he cer-
tainly won't. The last thing a gentleman of his sort
wants is to make a scandal. Every one says, after all,
that he is a nice fellow ! " — the tone was unconsciously
patronising — " It isn't his fault if he's been placed in
44 Delia Blanchflower
this false position. But the great question for me is
— how are we going to manage him for the best ? "
She leaned forward, her chin on her hands,! lier
sparkling eyes fixed on her friend's face.
" The awkward thing is " — mused Miss Marvell —
" that there is so little time in which to manao-e him.
If the movement were going on at its old slow pace,
one might lie low, try diplomacy, avoid alarming him,
and so forth. But we've no time for that. It is a case
of blow on blow — action on action — and the pub-
licity is half the battle."
" Still, a little management there must be, to begin
with ! — because I — we — want money, and he holds
the purse-strings. Hullo, here's the station ! "
She jumped up and looked eagerly out of the win-
dow.
" They've sent a fly for us. And there's the station-
master on the look-out. How it all comes back to me ! "
Her flushed cheek showed a natural excitement. She
was coming back as its mistress to a house where she
had been happy as a child, which she had not seen for
years. Thoughts of her father, as he had been in the
old days before any trouble had arisen between them,
came rushing through her mind — tender, regretful
thoughts — as the train came slowly to a standstill.
But the entire indifference or passivity of her com-
panion restrained her from any further expression.
The train stopped, and she descended to the platform
of a small country station, alive apparently with traffic
and passengers.
" Miss Blanchflower.'' " said a smiling station-master,
whose countenance seemed to be trying to preserve the
due mean between welcome to the living and condolence
for the dead, as, hat in hand, he approached the new-
Delia Blanchflower 4^
comers, and ^ided by lier deep mourning addressed
himself to Delia.
" Why, Mr. Stebbing, I remember you quite well,"
said Delia, holding out her hand. " There's my maid
— and I hope there's a cart for the luggage. We've
got a lot."
A fair-haired man in spectacles, who had also left just
the train, turned abruptly and looked hard at the group
as he passed them. He hesitated a moment, then
passed on, with a curious swinging gait, a long and
shabby over-coat floating behind him — to speak to the
porter who was collecting tickets at the gate opening
on the road beyond.
Meanwhile Delia had been accosted by another gen-
tleman, who had been sitting reading his Morning Post
on the sunny platform, as the train drew up. He too
had examined the new arrivals with interest, and while
Delia was still talking to the station-master, he walked
up to her.
"I think you are Miss Blanchflower: But you won't
remember me." He lifted his hat, smiling.
Delia looked at him, puzzled.
" Don't you remember that Christmas dance at tlie
Rectory, when you were ten, and I was home from Sand-
hurst.?"
" Perfectly ! — and I quarrelled with you because you
wouldn't give me champagne, when I'd danced with
you, instead of lemonade. You said what was good
for big boys wasn't good for little girls — and I called
you a bully "
"You kicked me! — you had the sharpest little
toes ! "
" Did I ?" said Delia composedly. " I was rather
good at kicking. So you are Billy Andrews.''"
46 Delia Blanchflower
"Right. I'm Captain now, and they've just made
me adjutant down here for the Yeomanry. My mother
keeps house for me. You're coming here to live.'*
Please let me say how sorry I was to see your sad news."
The condolence was a little clumsy but sincere.
" Thank you. I must go and see to the luggage.
Let me introduce you to Miss Marvell — Captain
Andrews — Miss Marvell."
That lady bowed coldly, as Delia departed. The
tail, soldierly man, whose pleasant looks were some-
what spoilt by a slightly underhung mouth, and prom-
inent chin, disguised, however, by a fine moustache, of-
fered assistance with the luggage.
" There is no need, thank you," said Miss Marvell.
*' Miss Blanchflower and her maid will see to it."
And the Captain noticed that the speaker remained
entirely passive while the luggage was being collected
and piled into a fly by the porters, directed by Miss
Blanchflower and her maid. She stood quietly on the
platform, till all was ready, and Delia beckoned to her.
In the interval the soldier tried to make conversation,
but with very small success. He dwelt upon some of
the changes Miss Blanchflower would find on the estate ;
how the old head-keeper, who used to make a pet of
her, was dead, and the new agent her father had put
in was thought to be doing well, how the village had
lost markedly in population in the last few years —
this emigration to Canada was really getting beyond a
joke! — and so forth. Miss Marvell made no replies.
But she suddenly asked him a question.
" What's that house over there? "
She pointed to a grey fa9ade on a wooded hill some
two miles off"."
" That's our show place — Monk Lawrence ! We're
Delia Blanchflower 47
awfully proud of it — Elizabethan, and that kind of
thing. But of course you're heard of Monk Lawrence !
It's one of the finest things in England."
"It belongs to Sir Wilfrid Lang?"
" Certainly. Do you know him ? He's scarcely
been there at all, since he became a Cabinet Minister;
and yet he spent a lot of money in repairing it a few
years ago. " They say it's his wife's health — that it's
too dump for her. Anyway it's quite shut up, — except
that they let tourists see it once a month."
" Docs anybody live in the house.'' " —
" Oh — a caretaker, of course, — one of the keepers.
They let the shooting. Ah ! there's Miss Blanchflower
calling you."
Miss Marvell — as the gallant Captain afterwards
remembered — took a long look at the distant house
and then went to join INIiss Blanchflower. The Captain
accompanied her, and helped her to stow away the
remaining bags into the fly, Avhile a small concourse
of rustics, sprung from nowhere, stolidly watched the
doings of the heiress and her friend. Delia suddenly
bent forward to him, as he was about to shut the door,
with an animated look — " Can you tell me who that
gentleman is who has just walked off^ towards the vil-
lage.'' " — she pointed.
" His name is Lathrop. He lives in a place just the
other side of yours. He's got some trout-hatching
ponds — will stock anybody's stream for them. Rather
a queer customer ! " — the good-natured Captain
dropped his voice. " Well, good-bye, my train's just
coming. I hope I may come and see you soon? '*
Delia nodded assent, and they drove off.
" By George, she's a beauty ! " said the Captain to
himself as he turned away. " Nothing wrong with
48 Delia Blanchflower
her that I can see. But there are some strange tales
going about. I wonder who that other woman is.
MarvelL? — Gertrude Marvell? — I seem to have heard
the name somewhere. — Hullo, Masham, how are you .'' "
He greeted the leading local solicitor who had just
entered the station, a man with a fine ascetic face, and
singularly blue eyes. Masham looked like a starved
poet or preacher, and was in reality one of the hardest
and shrewdest men of business in the southern counties.
"Well, did 3^ou see Miss Blanchflower?" said the
Captain, as Masham joined him on the platform, and
they entered the up train together.
" I did. A handsome young lady ! Have you heard
the news ? "
"No."
" Your neighbour, Mr. Winnington — Mark Win-
nington — is named as her guardian under her father's
will — until she is twenty-five. He is also trustee,
with absolute power over the property."
The Captain shewed a face of astonishment.
" Gracious ! what had Winnington to do with Sir
Robert Blanchflower.'* "
"An old friend, apparently. But it is a curious will."
The solicitor's abstracted look shewed a busy mind.
The Captain had never felt a livelier desire for informa-
tion.
"Isn't there something strange about the girl.'*"
— he said, lowering his voice, although there was no
one else in the railway carriage. " I never saw a more
beautiful creature! But my mother came home from
London the other day with some very queer stories,
from a woman who had met them abroad. She said
Miss Blanchflower was awfully clever, but as wild as a
hawk — mad about women's rights and that kind of
Delia Blanchflower 49
thing. In the hotel where slic met them, people fought
very shy of her."
" Oh, she's a militant suffragist," said the solicitor
quietly — " though she's not had time yet since her
father's death to do any mischief. That — in confi-
dence — is the meaning of the will."
The adjutant whistled.
" Cjoodness ! — Winnington will have his work cut
out for him. But he needn't accept."
" He has accepted. I heard this morning from the
London solicitor."
"Your fii-m does the estate business down here?"
" For many years. I hope to see Mr. Winnington
to-morrow or next day. He is evidently hurrying home
— because of this."
There was silence for a few minutes; then the Cap-
tain said bluntly:
" It's an awful pity, you know, that kind of tiling
cropping up down here. We've escaped it so far."
" With such a lot of wild women about, what can
you expect.-"' said the solicitor briskly. "Like the
measles — sure to come our way sooner or later."
"Do you think they'll get what they want.?"
"What — the vote.'' No — not unless the men are
fools." The refined, apostolic face set like iron.
" None of the womanly women want it," said the
Captain with con\'iction. " You should hear my
mother on it."
The solicitor did not reply. The adjutant's mother
was not in his eyes a model of wisdom. Nor did his
own opinion want any fortifying from outside.
Captain Andrews was not quite in the same position.
He was conscious of a strong male instinct which dis-
avowed Miss Blanchflower and all her kind ; but at the
50 Delia Blanchflower
same time he was exceedingly susceptible to female
beauty, and it troubled his reasoning processes that
anybody so wrong-headed should be so good-looking.
His heart was soft, and his brain all that was wanted
for his own purposes. But it did not enable him —
it never had enabled him — to understand these extraor-
dinary " goings-on," which the newspapers were
every day reporting, on the part of well-to-do, educated
women, who were ready — it seemed — to do anything
outrageous — just for a vote! "Of course nobody
would mind if the rich women — the tax-paying women
— had a vote — help us Tories famously. But the
women of the working-classes — why. Good Lord, look
at them when there's any disturbance on — any big
strike — look at Tonypandy ! — a deal sight worse
than the men ! Give them the vote and they'd take us
to the devil, even quicker than Lloyd George ! "
Aloud he said —
" Do you know anything about that lady Miss
Blanchflower had with her.'^ She introduced me. Miss
Marvell — I think that was the name. I thought I
had heard it somewhere."
The solicitor lifted his eyebrows.
" I daresay. She was in the stone-throwing raid
last August. Fined 20Z. or a month, for damage in
Pall Mall. She was in prison a week; then somebody
paid her fine. She professed great annoyance, but one
of the police told me it was privately paid by her own
society. She's too important to them — they can't do
without her. An extremely clever woman."
" Then what on earth does she come and bury herself
down here for? " cried the Captain.
Masham shewed a meditative twist of the lip.
Delia Blanchflower 91
a
Can't say, I'm sure. But the}' want money. And
Miss Blanchflower is an important capture."
** I hope that girl will soon have the sense to shake
them off" ! " said the Captain with energy. " She's a
deal too beautiful for that kind of thing. I shall get
my mother to come and talk to her."
The solicitor concealed his smile beliind his Daily
Telegraph. He had a real liking and respect for the
Captain, but the family affection of the Andrews house-
hold was a trifle too idyllic to convince a gentleman
so well acquainted with the seamy side of life. What
about that hunted-looking girl, the Captain's sister?
He didn't believe, he never had believed that Mrs.
Andrews was quite so much of an angel as she pretended
to be.
Meanwhile, no sooner had the fly left the station than
Delia turned to her companion —
" Gertrude! — did you see what that man was read-
ing who passed us just now.? Our paper! — the Toc-
sin.'''*
Gertrude Marvell lifted her eyebrows slightly.
" No doubt he bought it at Waterloo — out of cu-
riosity."
"Why not out of sympathy.? I thought he looked
at us rather closely. Of course, if he reads the Tocsin
he knows something about you ! What fun it would
be to discover a comrade and a brother down here ! "
" It depends entirely upon what use we could make of
him," said Miss Marvell. Then she turned suddenly on
her companion — " Tell me really, Delia — how long do
you want to stay here? "
" Well, a couple of months at least," said Delia, with
a rather perplexed expression. " After all, Gertrude,
52 Delia Blanchflower
it's my property now, and all the people on it, I suppose,
will expect to see one and make friends. I don't want
them to think that because I'm a suffragist I'm going
to shirk. It wouldn't be good policy, would it? "
" It's all a question of the relative importance of
things," said the other quietly. " London is our head
quarters, and things are moving very rapidly."
" I know. But, dear, you did promise ! for a time " —
pleaded Delia. " Though of course I know how dull it
must be for you, when you are the life and soul of so
many things in London. But you must remember that
I haven't a penny at this moment but what Mr. Win-
nington chooses to allow me! We must come to some
understanding with him, mustn't we, before we can do
anything.? It is all so difficult!" — the girl's voice
took a deep, passionate note — " horribly difficult, when
I long to be standing beside you — and the others —
in the open — fighting — for all I'm worth. But how
can I, just yet? I ought to have eight thousand a year,
and Mr. Winnington can cut me down to anything he
pleases. It's just as important that I should get hold
of my money — at this particular moment — as that I
should be joining raids in London, — more important,
surely — because we want money badly! — you say so
yourself. I don't want it for myself; I want it all —
for the cause! But the question is, how to get it —
with this will in our way. I "
a
Ah, there's that house again ! " exclaimed Miss Mar-
veil, but in the same low restrained tone that was habit-
ual to her. She bent forward to look at the stately
building, on the hill-side, which according to Captain
Andrews' information, was the untenanted property of
Sir Wilfrid Lang, whom a shuffle of offices had just ad-
mitted to the Cabinet.
Delia Blanchflower 53
"What house?" — said Delia, not without a vague
smart under the sudden change of subject. She had
a natural turn for declamation ; a girlish liking to hear
herself talk ; and Gertrude, her tutor in the first place,
and now her counsellor and friend, had a quiet way of
snubbing such inclinations, except when they' could
be practically useful. " You have the gifts of a
speaker — we shall want you to speak more and more,"
she would say. But in private she rarely failed to in-
terrupt an harangue, even the first beginnings of one.
However, the smart soon passed, and Delia too
turned her eyes towards the house among the trees.
She gave a little cry of pleasure.
" Oh, that's Monk Lawrence ! — such a lovely — lovely
old place ! I used often to go there as a child — I
adored it. But I can't remember who lives there
now."
Gertrude Marvell handed on the few facts learned
from the Captain.
"I knew"— she added— "that Sir Wilfrid Lang
lived somewhere near here. That they told me at the
office."
"And the house is empty.'*" Delia, flushing sud-
denly and vividly, turned to her companion.
" Except for the caretaker — who no doubt lives
some where on the ground-floor."
There was silence a moment. Then Delia lauffhcd
uncomfortably.
" Look here, Gertrude, we can't attempt anything
of that kind there: I remember now — it was Sir Wil-
frid's brother who had the house, when I used to go
there. He was a great friend of Father's ; and his little
girls and I were great chums. The house is just won-
derful — full of treasures ! I am sorry it belongs to
54 Delia Blanchflower
Sir Wilfrid — but nobody could lift a finger against
Monk Lawrence ! "
Miss Marvell's eyes sparkled.
" He is the most formidable enemy we have," she
said softly, between her closed lips. A tremor seemed
to run through her slight frame.
Then she smiled, and her tone changed.
" Dear Delia, of course I shan't run you into any
— avoidable — trouble, down here, apart from the
things we have agreed on."
" What have we agreed on.'' Remind me! "
" In the first place, that we won't hide our opinion*
— or stop our propaganda — to please anybody."
" Certainly ! " said Delia. " I shall have a drawing-
room meeting as soon as possible. You seem to have
fixed up a number of speaking engagements for us both.
And we told the office to send us down tons of litera-
ture." Then her face broke into laughter — " Poor
Mr. Winnington I "
((
A rather nice old place, isn't it?" said Delia, an
hour later, when the elderly housekeeper, who had re-
ceived them with what had seemed to Delia's companion
a quite unnecessary amount of fuss and family feeling,
had at last left them alone in the drawing-room, after
taking them over the house.
The girl spoke in a softened voice. She was stand-
ing thoughtfully by the open window looking out, her
hands clasping a chair behind her. Her thin black
dress, made short and plain, with a white frill at the
open neck and sleeves, by its very meagreness empha-
sized the young beauty of the wearer, — a beauty full
of significance, charged — over-charged — with char-
acter. The attitude should have been one of repose;
** Delia Blanchflower 55*
it was on the contrary one of tension, suggesting a
momentary balance only, of impetuous forces. Delia
was indeed suffering the onset of a wave of feeling which
had come upon her unexpectedly ; for which she had not
prepared herself. This rambling old house with its
quiet garden and early Victorian furniture, had ap-
pealed to her in some profound and touching way. Her
childliood stirred again in her, and deep inherited things.
How well she remembered the low, spacious room, with
its oak wainscotting, its book-cases and its pictures !
That crayon over the writing-table of her grandmother
in her white cap and shawl; her grandfather's chair,
and the old Bible and Prayer-book, beside it, from which
he used to read evening prayers ; the stiff arm-chairs
with their faded chintz covers ; the writing-table with
its presentation inkstand ; the groups of silhouettes
on the walls, her forbears of long ago; the needlework
on the fire-screen, in which, at nine years old, she had
been proud to embroider the white rose-bud still so
lackadaisically prominent ; the stool on which she used
to sit and knit beside her grandmother ; the place on the
rug where the old collie used to lie — she saw his ghost
there still! — all these familiar and even ugly objects
seemed to be putting out spiritual hands to her, playing
on nerves once eagerly responsive. She had never
stayed for long in the house ; but she had always been
happy there. The moral atmosphere of it came back
to her, and with a sense of the old rest and protection.
Her grandfather might have been miserly to others ;
he had been always kind to her. But it was her grand-
mother who had been supreme in that room. A woman
of clear sense and high character; narrow and preju-
diced in many respects, but sorely missed by many when
her turn came to die ; a Christian in more than name ;
56 Delia Blanchflower
sincerely devoted to her teasing little granddaughter.
A woman who had ordered her household justly and
kindly; a personalit}' not soon forgotten.
" There is something of her in me still," thought
Delia — " at least, I hope there is. And where — is the
rest of me going? "
" I think I'll take off my things, dear," said Gertrude
Mar\'ell, breaking in on the girl's reverie. " Don't
trouble. I know my room."
The door closed. Delia was now looking out into
the garden, where on the old grass-slopes the Septem-
ber shadows lay — still and slumbrous. The peace of it,
the breath of its old-world tradition, came upon her,
relaxing the struggle of mind and soul in which she
had been living for months, and that ceaseless memory
which weighed upon her of her dying father, — his
bitter and increasing recoil from all that, for a while,
he had indulgently permitted — his final estrangement
from her, her own obstinacy and suffering.
" Yes ! " — she cried suddenly, out loud, to the rose-
bushes beyond the open window — " but it had a reason
— it had a reason ! " She clasped her hands fiercely
to her breast. " And there is no birth without pain."
Chapter IV
A FEW days after her arrival, Delia woke up in
the early dawn in the large room that had been
her grandmother's. She sat up in the broad wliite bed
with its dimity curtains, her hands round her knees,
peering into the half darkened room, where, however, she
had thrown the windows wide open, behind the curtains,
before going to sleep. On the opposite wall she saw an
indifferent picture of her father as a boy of twelve on
his pony ; beside it a faded photograph of her mother,
her beautiful mother, in her wedding dress. There had
never been any real sympathy between her mother and
her grandmother. Old Lady Blanchflower had resented
her son's marriage with a foreign woman, with a Greek,
in particular. The Greeks were not at that moment of
much account in the political world, and Lady Blanch-
flower thought of them as a nation of shams, trading on
a great past which did not belong to them. Her secret
idea was that out of their own country' they grew rich
in disreputable ways, and while at home, where only the
stupid ones staj^ed, they were a shabb}', half-civilised
people, mostly bankrupt. She could not imagine how
a girl got any bringing up at Athens, and believed
nothing that her son told her. So that when the young
Mrs. Blanchflower arrived, there were jars in the house-
hold, and it was not long before the spoilt and handsome
bride went to her husband in tears, and asked to be
taken away. Delia was surprised and touched, there-
57
58 Delia Blanchflower
fore, to find her mother's portrait in her grandmother's
room, where nothing clearly had been admitted that
had not some connection with family affection or family
pride. She wondered whether on her mother's death
her grandmother had hung the picture there in dumb
confession of, or penance for, her own unkindness.
The paper of the room was a dingy grey, and the
furniture was heavily old-fashioned and in Delia's eyes
inconvenient. " If I'm going to keep the room I shall
make it all white," she thought, " with proper fitted
wardrobes, and some low bookcases — a bath, too, of
course, in the dressing-room. And they must put in
electric light at once ! How could they have done with-
out it all this time! I believe with all its faults, this
house could be made quite pretty ! "
And she fell into a reverie, — eagerly constructive —
wherein Maumsey became, at a stroke, a House Beau-
tiful, at once modem and aesthetically right, a dim har-
mony in lovely purples, blues and greens, with the few
fine things it possessed properly spaced and grouped,
the old gardens showing through the latticed windows,
and golden or silvery lights, like those in a Blanche in-
terior, gleaming in its now dreary rooms.
Then at a bound she sprang out of bed, and stood up-
right in the autumn dawn.
" I hate myself ! " she said fiercely — as she ran her
hands through the mass of her dark hair, and threw
it back upon her shoulders. Hurrying across the room
in her night-gown, she threw back the curtains. A light
autumnal mist, through which the sun was smiling, lay
on the garden. Stately trees rose above it, and masses
of flowers shewed vaguely bright ; while through the blue
distances beyond, the New Forest stretched to the sea.
But Delia was looking at herself, in a long pier-glass
Delia Blanchflower ^9
that represented almost the only concession to the typ-
ical feminine needs in the room. She was not admiring
her own seemliness ; far from it ; she was rating and de-
spising herself for a feather-brained waverer and good-
for-nothing.
" Oh yes, you can talk! " she said, to the figure in the
glass — " you are good enough at that ! But what are
you going to do\ — Spend your time at Maple's and
Waring — matching chintzes and curtains ? — when
you've promised — you've promised i Gertrude's right.
There are all sorts of disgusting cowardices and weak-
nesses in you ! Oh ! yes, you'd like to go fiddling and
fussing down here — playing the heiress — patronis-
ing the poor people — putting yourself into beautiful
clothes — and getting heaps of money out of Mr. Win-
nington to spend. It's in you — it's just in you — to
throw everything over — to forget everything you've
felt, and everything you've vowed — and just xcallow in
luxury and selfishness and snobbery ! Gertrude's ab-
solutely right. But you shan't do it ! You shan't put
a hand to it ! Why did that man take the guardianship?
Now it's his business. He may see to it ! But yon —
you have something else to do ! "
And she stood erect, the angry impulse in her stiff-
ening all her young body. And through her memory
there ran, swift-footed, fragments from a rhetoric of
which she was already fatally mistress, the formulse too
of those sincere and goading beliefs on which her youth
had been fed ever since her first acquaintance with Ger-
trude Marvell. The mind renewed them like vows ;
clung to them, embraced them.
What was she before she knew Gertrude.'* She
thought of that earlier Delia as of a creature almost
too contemptible to blame. From the maturity of her
6o Delia Blanchflower
twenty-one years she looked back upon herself at seven-
teen or eighteen with wonder. That Delia had read
nothing — knew nothing — had neither thoughts or
principles. She was her father's spoilt child and dar-
ling; delighting in the luxury that surrounded his West
Indian Governorship; courted and flattered by the few
English of the colonial capital, and by the members of
her father's staff" ; with servants for every possible need
or whim ; living her life mostly in the open air, riding at
her father's side, through the sub-tropical forests of the
colony; teasing and tyrannising over the dear old Ger-
man governess who had brought her up, and whose only
contribution to her education — as Delia now counted
education — had been the German tongue. Worth
something ! — but not all those years, " when I might
have been learning so much else, things I shall never
have time to learn now ! — things that Gertrude has at
her finger's end. Why wasn't I taught properly —
decently — like any board school child ! As Gertrude
says, we women want everything we can get ! We must
know the things that men know — that we may beat
them at their own game. Why should every Balliol
boy — years younger than me — have been taught
his classics and mathematics, — and have everything
brought to him — made easy for him — histor}^, polit-
ical economy, logic, philosophy, laid at his lordship's
feet, if he will just please to learn ! — while I, who have
just as good a brain as he, have had to pick up a few
scraps by the way, just because nobody who had charge
of me ever thought it worth while to teach a girl. But
I have a mind ! — an intelligence ! — even if I am a
woman ; and there is all the world to know. Marriage?
Yes ! — but not at the sacrifice of everything else —
of the rational, civilised self."
Delia Blanchflower 6l
On the whole though, her youth had been happy
enough, with recurrent intervals of ennui and discontent.
Intervals too of poetic enthusiasm, or ascetic religion.
At eighteen she had been practically a Catholic, in-
fluenced by the charming wife of one of her father's
aides-de-camp. And then — a few stray books or
magazine articles had made a Darwinian and an agnos-
tic of her; the one phase as futile as the other.
" I knew nothing — I had no mind ! " — she repeated
with energy, — " till Gertrude came."
And she thought with ardour of that intellectual
awakening, under the strange influence of the appar-
ently reserved and impassive woman, who had come to
read history with her for six months, at the sugges-
tion of a friend of her father's, a certain cultivated
and clever Lady Tonbridge, *' who saw how starved I
was."
So, after enquiry, a lady who was a B.A. of London,
and had taken first-class honours in history — Delia's
ambition would accept nothing less — had been found,
who wanted for health's sake a winter in a warm climate,
and was willing to read history with Governor Blanch-
flower's half-flcdgcd daughter.
The friendship had begun, as often, with a little
aversion. Delia was made to work, and having always
resented being made to do anything, for about a month
she disliked her tutor, and would have persuaded Sir
Robert to send her away, had not England been so
far off", and the agreement with Miss Marvell, whose
terms were high, unusually stringent. But by the end
of the month the girl of eighteen was conquered. She
had recognised in Gertrude Marvell accomplishments
that filled her with envy, together with an intensity of
will, a bitter and fiery purpose, that astounded and sub-
62 Delia Blanchflower
dued a young creature in whom inherited germs of
southern energy and passion were only waiting the
touch that starts the ferment. Gertinide Marvell had
read an amazing amount of history, and all from one
point of A^iew; that of the woman stirred to a kind of
madness by what she held to be the wrongs of her sex.
The age-long monopoly of all the higher forces of civil-
isation by men ; the cruel and insulting insistence upon
the sexual and maternal functions of women, as cover-
ing the whole of her destiny ; the hideous depreciation
of her as an inferior and unclean creature, to which
Christianity, poisoned by the story of Eve, and a score
of barbarous beliefs and superstitions more primitive
still, had largely contributed, while hypocritically pro-
fessing to enfranchise and exalt her ; the unfailing doom
to " obey," and to bring forth, that has crushed her ;
the labours and shames heaped upon her by men in the
pursuit of their own selfish devices ; and the denial to
her, also by men, of all the higher and spiritual activ-
ities, except those allowed by a man-made religion : —
this feminist gospel, in some respects so bitterly true,
in others so vindictively false, was gradually and un-
sparingly pressed upon Delia's quick intelligence. She
caught its fire ; she rose to its call ; and there came a day
when Gertrude Marvell breaking through the cold re-
serve she had hitherto interposed between herself and
the pupil who had come to adore her, threw her arms
round the girl, accepting from her what were practically
the vows of a neophyte in a secret and revolutionary
service.
Joyous, self-dedicating moment! But it had been
followed by a tragedy ; the tragedy of Delia's estrange-
ment from her father. It was not long before Sir
Robert Blanchflower, a proud self-indulgent man, with
Delia Blanchflower 63
a keen critical sense, a wide acquaintance with men and
affairs, and a number of miscellaneous acquirements of
which he never made the smallest parade, had divined
the spirit of irreconcilable revolt which animated the
slight and generally taciturn woman, who had obtained
such a hold upon his daughter. He, the god of liis
small world, was made to feel himself humiliated in her
presence. She was, in fact, his intellectual superior,
and the tmth was conveyed to him in a score of subtle
ways. She was in his house simply because she was
poor, and wanted rest from excessive overwork, at
someone else's expense. Othenvise her manner sug-
gested — often quite unconsciously — that she would
not have put up with his household and its regulations
for a single day.
Then, suddenly, he perceived that he had lost his
daughter, and the reason of it. The last year of his
official life was thencefonvard darkened by an ugly and
undignified struggle with the woman who had stolen
Delia from him. In the end he dismissed Gertrude
IMarv-ell. Delia shewed a passionate resentment, told
him frankly that as soon as she was twenty-one she
should take up " the Woman's movement " as her sole
occupation, and should offer herself wherever Gertrude
Marvell, and Gertrude's leaders, thought she could be
useful. " The vote must be got ! " — she said, stand-
ing white and trembling, but resolute, before her father
— " If not peaceably, then by violence. And when we
get it, father, you men will be astonished to see what
we shall do with it ! "
Her twenty-first birthday was at hand, and would
probably have seen Delia's flight from her father's
house, but for Sir Robert's breakdown in health. He
gave up his post, and it was evident he had not more
64 Delia Blanchflower
than a jear or two to live. Delia softened and sub-
mitted. She went abroad with him, and for a time he
seemed to throw off the disease which had attacked
him. It was during a brighter interval that, touched
by her apparent concessions, he had consented to her
giving the lecture in the Tyrolese hotel the fame of which
had spread abroad, and had even taken a certain pleas-
ure in her oratorical success.
But during the following winter — Sir Robert's last
— which thej spent at Mcran, tilings had gone from
bad to worse. For months Delia never mentioned Ger-
trude Marvell to her father. He flattered himself that
the friendship was at an end. Then some accident re-
vealed to him that it was as close as, or closer than ever ;
that they were in daily correspondence; that they had
actually met, unknown to him, in the neighbourhood of
Meran ; and that Delia was sending all the money she
could possibly spare from her very ample allowance to
" The Daughters of Revolt," the far-spreading society
in which Gertrude Marvell was now one of the leading
officials.
Some of these dismal memories of Meran descended
like birds of night upon Delia, as she stood with her
arms above her head, in her long night-gown, looking
intently but quite unconsciously into the depths of an
old rosewood cheval glass. She felt that sultry night
about her once more, when, after signing his will, her
father opened his eyes upon her, coming back with an
effort from the bound of death, and had said quite clearly
though faintly in the silence —
" Give up that woman, Delia ! — promise me to give
her up." And Delia had cried bitterly, on her knees
beside him — without a word — caressing his hand.
Delia Blanchflower 6^
And the cold fingers had been feebly withdrawn from
hers as the eyes closed.
" Oh papa — papa ! " The low murmur came from
her, as she pressed her hands upon her eyes. If the
Christian guesses were but true, and in some quiet
Elysian state he might now understand, and cease to be
angry with her ! Was there ever a great cause won
without setting kin against kin? "A man's foes shall
be they of his own household." " It wasn't my fault —
it wasn't my fault ! "
No ! — and moreover it was her duty not to waste
her strength in vain emotion and regret. Her task was
doing, not dreaming. She turned away, banished her
thoughts and set steadily about the task of dressing.
" Please Miss Blanchflower, there are two or three
people waiting to see you in the servants' hall."
So said the tall and gentle-voiced housekeeper, Mrs.
Bird, whose emotions had been, in Miss Marvell's view,
so unnecessarily exercised the evening before by Delia's
home-coming. Being a sensitive person, Mrs. Bird had
already learnt her lesson, and her manner had now be-
come as mildly distant as could be desired, especially
in the case of Miss Blanchflower's lady companion.
"People? What people?" asked Delia, looking
round with a furrowed brow. She and Gertrude were
sitting together on the sofa when the housekeeper
entered, eagerly reading a largo batch of letters which
the London post had just brought, and discussing their
contents in subdued tones.
" It's the cottages. Miss. Her Ladyship used always
to decide who should have those as were vacant about
this time of year, and two or three of these persons
66 Delia Blanchflower
liave been up several times to know when you'd be
home."
*' But I don't know anything about it " — said Delia,
rising reluctantly. " Why doesn't the agent — why
doesn't Mr. Frost do it?"
" I suppose — they thought — you'd perhaps speak
a word to Mr. Frost, Miss," suggested Mrs. Bird. " But
I can send them away of course, if you wish."
" Oh no, ril come "— said Delia. " But it's rather
tiresome — just as" — she looked at Gertrude.
" Don't be long," said Miss Marvell, sharply, " I'll
wait for you here." And she plunged back into the
letters, her delicate face all alive, her eyes sparkling.
Delia departed — evidently on a distasteful errand.
But twenty minutes later, she returned flushed and
animated.
" I am glad I went ! Such tyranny — such mon-
strous tyranny ! " She stood in front of Gertrude
breathing fast, her hands on her hips.
"What's the matter.?"
" My grandmother had a rule — can you imagine
anything so cruel ! — that no girl — who had gone
wrong — was to be allowed in our cottages. If she
couldn't be provided for in some Home or other, or if
her family refused to give her up, then the family must
go. An old man has been up to see me — a widower
with two daughters — one in service. The one in serv-
ice has come to grief — the son of the house ! — the
usual story ! " — the speaker's face had turned fiercely
pale — " and now our agent refuses to let the girl and
her baby come home. And the old father says — ' What
am I to do, Miss? I can't turn her out — she's my own
flesh and blood. I've got to stick to her — else there'll
be worse happening. It's not justice. Miss — and it's
Delia Blanchflower 67
not Gospel.' Well ! " — Delia seated herself with
energy, — *' I've told him to have her home at once —
and I'll see to it."
Gertrude lifted her eyebrows, a gesture habitual with
her, whenever Delia wore — as now — her young
prophetess look. Why feel these things so much? Hu-
man nerves have only a certain limited stock of reac-
tions. Avenge — and alter them !
But she merely said —
"And the others?"
" Oh, a poor mother with eight children, pleading for
a cottage with three bedrooms instead of two ! I told
her she should have it if I had to build it ! — And an
old woman who has lived fifty-two years in her cottage,
and lost all her belongings, begging that she mightn't
be turned out — for a family — now that it's too big
for her. She shan't be turned out I Of course I sup-
pose it would be common sense " — the tension of the
speaker's face broke up in laughter — " to put the old
woman into the cottage of the eiglit children — and
put the eight children into the old woman's. But hu-
man beings are not cattle 1 Sentiment's something !
Why shouldn't a woman be allowed to die in her old
home, — so long as she pays the rent? I hate all this
interference with people's lives ! And it's always the
women who come worst off. ' Oh ^Ir. Frost, he never
pays no attention to us women. He claps 'is 'ands to
his ears when he sees one of us, and jest runs for it.'
Well, I'll make ]Mr. Frost listen to a woman ! "
" I'm afraid Mr. Winnington is his master," said
Gertrude quietly. Delia, crimson again, shrugged her
shoulders.
" We shall see ! "
Gertrude Marvell looked up.
68 Delia Blanchflower
" Look here, Delia, if you're going to play the part
of earthly Providence to this village and your property
in general — as I've said to you before — you may as
well tell the ' Daughters ' you can't do anything for
them. That's a profession in itself ; and would take you
all your time."
*' Then of course, I shan't do it," said Delia, with
decision. " But I only want to put in an appearance
— to make friends with the people — just for a time,
Gertrude ! It doesn't do to be too unpopular. We're
not exactly in good odour just now, are we? "
And sitting down on a stool beside the elder woman,
Delia leant her head against her friend's knee caress-
ingly.
Gertrude gave an absent touch to the girl's beautiful
hair, and then said —
" So you zcill take these four meetings ? "
" Certainly ! " Delia sprang up. " What are they.?
One at Latchford, one at Brownmouth — Wanchester
— and Frimpton. All right. I shall be pelted at
Brownmouth. But rotten eggs don't matter so much
when you're looking out for them — except on your
face — Ugh ! "
" And the meeting here ? "
*' Of course. Can't I do what I like with my own
house.'' We'll have the notices out next week."
Gertrude looked up —
*' When did you say that man — Mr. Winnington —
was coming. P "
" His note this morning said 4.30."
" You'd better see him alone — for the first half hour
5»
anyway.
Delia made a face.
Delia Blanchflower 69
" I wish T knew what line to take up. You've been
no use at all, Gertrude ! "
Gertrude smiled.
" Wait till you see him," she said coolly. " Mother-
wit will help you out."
" I wish I had anything to bargain with."
" So you have."
"Pray, what?"
" The meeting here. You could give that up. And
he needn't know anything of the others yet awhile."
" What a charming opinion he will have of us both,
by and bye," laughed Delia, quietly. " And by all ac-
counts he himself is a simple paragon. — Heavens, how
tiresome ! "
Gertrude Marvell turned back to her letters.
"What does anyone know about a man? ^^ she said,
with slow deliberation.
The midday post at Maumsey brought letters just
after luncheon. Delia turning hers over was astonished
to see two or three with the local postmark.
" What can people from here be writing to me
about.?"
Gertiiide absorbed in the new weekly number of the
Tocsin took no notice, till she was touched on the
shoulder by Delia.
"Yes?"
" Gertrude ! — it's too amazing ! " The girl's tone
was full of a joyous wonder. " You know they told us
at head-quarters that this was one of the deadest places
in England — a nest of Antis — nothing doing Iv^re at
all. Well, what do you think? — here are three letters
by one post, from the village — all greeting us — all
knowing perfectly who you are — that you have been in
70 Delia Blanchflower
prison, etcetera — all readers of the Tocsin, and burn-
ing to be doing something "
" Burning something? " interposed the other in her
most ordinary voice.
Delia laughed, again with the note of constraint.
" Well, anyway, they want to come and see us."
Who are they? "
An assistant mistress at the little grammar-school
— that's No. 1. No. 2 — a farmer's daughter, who
says she took part in one of the raids last summer, but
nobody knows down here. Her father paid her fine.
And No. 3. a consumptive dressmaker, who declares she
hasn't much life left anyway, and she is quite willing to
give it to the ' cause ' ! Isn't it wonderful how it
spreads — it spreads ! "
" Hm " — said Miss Marvell. " Well, we may as well
inspect them. Tell them to come up some time next
week after dusk."
As she spoke, the temporary parlour-maid threw open
the door of the room which Delia had that morning
chosen as her own sitting-room.
"Are you at home. Miss? Mrs. France would like
to see you."
"Mrs. France? — Mrs. France? Oh, I know — the
doctor's wife — Mrs. Bird was talking of him this morn-
ing. Well, I suppose I must go." Delia moved unwill-
ingly. *'I 'm coming, Mary."
" Of course you must go," said Gertrude, a little
peremptorily. " The first thing we've got to do down
here is to reconnoitre the whole ground — find out every-
thing we can."
In the drawing-room, to which some flowers, and a
litter of new books and magazines had already restored
Delia Blanchflower 71
its inhabited look, Delia found a woman awaiting her,
in whom the girl's first glance discerned a personality.
She was dressed with an entire disregard of the fashion,
in plain, serviceable clothes. A small black bonnet tied
under the chin framed a face whose only beauty lay in
the expression of the clear kind eyes, and quiet mouth.
The eyes were a little prominent ; the brow above them
unusually smooth and untroubled, answering to the
bands of browTi hair touched with grey which defined
it. But the rest of the face was marked by many deep
lines — of experience, or suffering? — which showed
clearly that its owner had long left physical youth be-
hind. And yet perhaps youth — in some spiritual po-
etic sense — was what Mrs. France's aspect most sharply
conveyed.
She rose as Delia entered, and greeted her warml3%
" It is nice to see you settled here ! Dr. France and
I were great friends of your old grandmother. He and
she were regular cronies. We were very sorry to see
the news of your poor father's death."
The voice was clear and soft, and absolutely sincere.
Delia felt drawn to her. But it had become habitual to
her to hold herself on the defensive with strangers, to
suspect hostility and disapproval everywhere. So that
her manner in reply, though polite enough, was rather
chilly.
But — the girl's beauty ! The fame of it had indeed
reached IMaumsey in advance of the heiress. Mrs.
France, however, in its actual presence was inclined to
say " I had not heard the half ! " She remembered
Delia's mother, and in the face before her she recognised
again the Greek type, the old pure type, reappearing,
as it constantly does, in the mixed modern race. But
the daughter surpassed her mother. Delia's eyes, of
72 Delia Blanchflower
a lovely grey blue, lidded, and fringed, and arched with
an exquisite perfection ; the curve of the slightly
bronzed cheek, suggesting through all its delicacy the
fulness of young, sensuous life ; the mouth, perhaps a
trifle too large, and the chin, perhaps a trifle too firm ;
the abundance of the glossy black hair, curling wherever
it was allowed to curl, or wherever it could escape the
tight coils in which it was bound — at the temples, and
over the brow; the beauty of the uncovered neck, and
of the amply-rounded form which revealed itself through
the thin black stripe of the mourning dress : — none of
these " items " in Delia's good looks escaped her admir-
ing visitor.
" It's to be hoped Mr. Mark realises his responsi-
bilities," she thought, with amusement.
Aloud, she said —
" I remember you as quite a little thing staying with
your Grandmother — but you wouldn't remember me.
Dr. France was grieved not to come, but it's his hospital
day."_
Delia thanked her, without effusion. Mrs. France
presently began to feel conversation an eff'ort, and to
realise that the girl's' wonderful eyes were very observ-
ant and very critical. Yet she chose the very obvious
and appropriate topic of Lady Blanchflower, her strong
character, her doings in the village, her relation to the
labourers and their wives.
" When she died, they really missed her. They miss
her still."
" Is it good for a village to depend so much on one
person ."^ " said Delia in a detached voice.
Mrs. France looked at her curiously. Jealousy of
one's grandmother is not a common trait in the young.
It struck her that Miss Blanchflower was already de-
Delia Blanchflower 73
fending herself against examples and ideals she did not
mean to follow. And again amusement — and concern !
— on Mark Winnington's account made themselves felt.
Mrs. France was quite aware of Delia's " militant " an-
tecedents, and of the history of the lady she had brought
down to live witli her. But the confidence of the doc-
tor's wife in Winnington's powers and charm was bound-
less. " He'll be a match for them ! " she thought gaily.
Meanwhile in reply, she smilingly defended her old
friend Lady Blanchflower from the implied charge of
pauperising the village.
" Not at all ! She never gave money recklessly —
and the do-nothings kept clear of her. But she was the
people's friend — and they knew it. They're very ex-
cited about your coming ! "
" I daresay I shall change some things," said Delia
decidedly. " I don't approve of all Mr. Frost has been
doing."
" Well, you'll have your guardian to help you," said
Mrs. France quietly.
Delia flushed, straightened her shoulders, and said
nothing.
This time Mrs. France was fairly taken by surprise.
She knew notliing more of Sir Robert Blanchflower's
than that he had made ]Mr. Mark Winnington his daugh-
ter's guardian, till she reached the age of twenty-five.
But that any young woman — any motherless and
fatherless girl — should not think herself the most lucky
of mortals to have obtained INIark Winnington as guide
and defender, with first claim on his time, his brains,
his kindness, seemed incredible to Mark's old friend and
neighbour, accustomed to the daily signs of his immense
and deserved popularity. Then it flashed upon her — ■
*' Has she ever seen him? "
74 Delia Blanchflower
The doubt led to an immediate communication of the
news that Winnington had arrived from town that morn-
ing. Dr. France had seen him in the village.
"You know him, of course, already.''"
" Not at all," said Delia, indifferently. " He and I
are perfect strangers." Mrs. France laughed.
" I rather envy you the pleasure of making friends
with him ! We are all devoted to him down here."
Delia lifted her eyebrows.
"What are his particular virtues.'' It's monotonous
to possess them all.^' The slight note of insolence was
hardly disguised.
" No two friends of his would give you the same
answer. I should give you a different catalogue, for
instance, from Lady Tonbridgc — "
" Lady Tonbridgc ! " cried Delia, waking up at last.
" You don't mean that Lady Tonbridge lives in this
neighbourhood?"
" Certainly. You know her.f* "
" She came once to stay with us in the West Indies.
My father knew her very well before she married. And
I owe her — a great debt " — the last words were spoken
with emphasis.
Mrs. France looked enquiring.
" — she recommended to us the lady who is now living
with me here — my chaperon — Miss Marvell.'' "
There was silence for a moment. Then Mrs. France
said, not without embarrassment —
" Your father desired she should live with you? "
Delia Hushed again.
" No. My father did not understand her."
" He did not agree with her views ? "
" Nor with mine. It was horrid — but even relations
must agree to differ. Why is Lady Tonbridge here?
Delia Blanchflower 79
And where is Sir Alfred? Papa had not heard of them
for a long time."
" They separated last year " — said Mrs. France
gravely. " But Mr. Winnington will tell you. He's a
great friend of hers. She does a lot of work for
him."
"Work?"
" Social work ! " smiled ]\Irs. France — " poor-law —
schools — that kind of thing. He ropes us all in."
" Oh ! " said Delia, with her head in the air.
Mrs. France laughed outright.
" That seems to you so unimportant — compared to
the vote."
" It is unimportant ! " said Delia, impetuously.
" Nothing really matters but the vote. Aren't you a
Suffragist, Mrs. France? "
Mrs. France smilingly shook her head.
" I don't want to meddle with the men's business. And
we're a long way yet from catching up with our own.
Oh, my husband has a lot of scientific objections. But
that's mine." Then her face grew serious — " anyway,
we can all agree, I hope, in hating violence. That can
never settle it."
She looked a little sternly at her young companion.
" That depends," said Delia. " But we mustn't ar-
gue, Mrs. France. I should only make you angry.
Ah ! "
She sprang up and went to the window, just as steps
could be lucard on the gravel outside.
" Here's someone coming." She turned to Mrs.
France. " Is it Mr. Winnington? "
" It is ! " said her visitor, after putting on her glasses.
Delia surveyed him, standing behind the lace curtain,
and Mrs. France was relieved to see that a young per-
76 Delia Blanchflower
son of such very decided opinions could be still girlishly
curious. She herself rose to go.
" Good-bye, I won't interrupt your talk with him."
" Good-looking.'* " said Delia, with mischief in her eyes,
and a slight gesture towards the approaching visitor.
" Don't you know what an athlete he is — or was ? '*
" Another perfection ? Heavens ! — how does he en-
dure it.'' " said the girl, laughing.
Mrs. France took her leave. She was a very motherly
tender-hearted woman, and she would like to have taken
her old friend's grandchild in her arms and kissed her.
But she wisely refrained ; and indeed the instinct to shake
her was perhaps equally strong.
" How long will she stand gossiping on the doormat
with the paragon," said Delia savagely to herself, when
she was left alone. " Oh, how I hate a ' charming
man ' ! " She moved stomiily to and fro, listening to
the distant sounds of talk in the hall, and resenting them.
Then suddenly she paused opposite one of the large mir-
rors in the room. A coil of hair had loosened itself; she
put it right ; and still stood motionless, interrogating
herself in a proud concentration.
" Well.? — ^ I am quite ready for him."
But her heart beat uncomfortably fast as the door
opened, and Mark Winnington entered.
Chapter V
AS Winnington advanced with outstretched hand to
greet her, Delia was conscious of a striking ph^'s-
ical presence, and of an eye fixed upon her at once kind
and penetrating.
"How are 3^ou? You've been through a terrible
time! Are you at all rested? I'm afraid it has been
a long, long strain."
He held her hand in both his, asking gentle questions
about her father's illness, interrogating her looks the
while with a frank concern and sympathy.
Delia was taken by sui^prlse. For the first time that
day she was reminded of what was really the truth.
She was tired — morally and physically. But Ger-
trude Mar\''ell never recognised anything of the kind ;
and in her presence Delia rarely confessed any such
weakness even to herself.
As it was, her eyes and mouth wavered a little under
Winnington's look.
" Thank you," she said quietly. " I shall soon be
rested."
They sat down. Delia was conscious — unwillingly
conscious, of a nervous agitation she did her best to
check. For Winnington also it was clearly an awkward
moment. He began at once to talk of his old recollec-
tions of her parents, of her mother's beauty, of her
father's reputation as the most dashing soldier on the
North-West frontier, in the days when they first met
In India.
77
78 Delia Blanchflower
" Bat his health was even then very poor. I sup-
pose it was that made him leave the army? "
" Yes — and then Parliament," said Delia. " He
was ordered a warm climate for the winter. But he
could never have lived without working. His Governor-
ship just suited him."
She spoke with charming softness, beguiled from her
insensibly by Winnington's own manner. At the back
of Winnington's mind, as they talked, ran perpetual
ejaculations — ejaculations of the natural man in the
presence of so much beauty. But his conversation with
her flowed the while with an even gentleness which never
for a moment affected intimacy, and was touched here
and there with a note of deference, even of ceremony,
which disarmed his companion.
" I never came across your father down here — oddly
enough," he said presently. " When he was a boy at
Sandhurst, I was at Eton and Oxford, and then at the
bar. My little place belonged then to a cousin, and I
had hardly ever seen it. But of course I knew your
grandmother — everybody did. She was a great
centre — a great figure. She has left her mark here.
Don't you find it so? "
" Yes. Everybody seems to remember her."
But, in a moment, the girl before him had changed
and stiflTened. It seemed to Winnington, as to Mrs.
France, that she pulled herself up, reacting against
something that threatened her. The expression in her
eyes put something between them.
" Perhaps you know " — she said — " that my grand-
mother didn't always get on with my mother? "
He wondered why she had Teminded him of that old
family jar, which gossip had spread abroad. Did it
really rankle in her mind? Odd, that it should!
Delia Blanchflower 79
"Was that so?" he laughed. "Oh, Lady Blanch-
flower had her veins of unreason. One had to know-
where to have her."
" She took Greeks for barbarians — my father used
to say," said Deha, a little grimly. " But she was very
good to me — and so I was fond of her."
" And she of you. But there are still talcs going
about — do you mind? — of the dances you led her. It
took weeks and months, they say, before you and she ar-
rived at an armed truce — after a most appalling state
of war ! There's an old gardener here — retired now —
who remembers you quite well. He told me yesterday
that you used to be very friendly with him, and you said
to him once — ' I like Granny ! — she's the master of
me ! ' "
The laughter in Winnington's eyes again kindled hers.
" I was a handful — I know." There was a pause.
Then she added — " And I'm afraid — I've gone on be-
ing a handful ! " Gesture and tone showed that she
spoke deliberately.
" Most people of spirit are — till they come to handle
themselves," he replied, also with a slight change of
tone.
" But that's just what women are never allowed to do,
Mr. Winnington ! " She turned suddenly red, and
fronted him. " There's always some man, who claims to
manage them and their affairs. We're alwavs in lead-
ing-strings — nobody ever admits we're grown up.
Why can't we be allowed like men — to stumble along
our own way ? If we make mistakes, let's pay for them !
But let us at some time in our lives — at least — feel
ourselves free beings ! "
There was no mistaking the purport of these words.
They referred clearly to her father's will, and her own
8o Delia Blanchflower
position. After a moment's thought, Winnington bent
fonvard.
" I think I understand what you mean," he said
gravely. " And I sympathise with it more than you
imagine."
DeHa looked up impetuously —
" Then why, Mr. Winnington, did you consent to be
my guardian ? "
" Because — quite honestly — because I thought I
could be of more use to you perhaps than the Court of
Chancery ; and because your father's letter to me was
one very difficult to put aside."
" How could anyone in my father's state of health
really judge reasonably!" cried Delia. "I daresay it
sounds shocking to you, Mr. Winnington, but I can't
help putting it to myself like this — Papa was always
able to contrive his own life as he chose. In his Gover-
norship he was a small king. He tried a good many ex-
periments. Everybody deferred to him. Everybody
was glad to help him. Then when his money came and
the estate, nobody fettered him with conditions ; nobody
interfered with him. Grandpapa and he didn't agree
in a lot of things. Papa was a Liberal ; and Grandpapa
was an awfully hot Conservative. But Grandpapa
didn't appoint a trustee, or tie up the estates — or any-
thing of that kind. It is simply and solely because I
am a woman that these things are done ! I am not to be
allowed my opinions, in my life, though Papa was quite
free to work for his in his life ! This is the kind of thing
we call tyranny, — this is the kind of thing that's driving
women into revolt ! "
Delia had risen. She stood in what Gertrude Mar-
vell would have called her " pythian " attitude, hands be-
Delia Blanchflower 81
lilnd her, her head thrown back, delivering her prophetic
soul. Winnington, as he sur\'eyed her, was equally con-
scious of her beauty and her absurdity. But he kept
cool, or rather the natural faculty which had given him
so much authority and success in life rose with a kind
of zest to its new and unaccustomed task.
" May I perhaps suggest — that your father was
fifty-two when he succeeded to this estate — and that
you are twenty-one.'* "
" Nearly twenty-two," she interrupted, hastily.
" Nearly twenty-two," repeated Winnington. " And
I assure you, that what with ' People's Budgets,' and
prowling Chancellors, and all the new turns of the screw
that the Treasury is for ever putting on, inheriting an
estate nowadays is no simple matter. Your father
thought of that. He wished to provide someone to help
you."
" I could have found lawyers to help me."
" Of course you could. But my experience is that
solicitors are good servants but bad masters. It wants
a good deal of practical knowledge to direct them, so
that you get what you want. I have gone a little way
into the business of the estate this morning with Mr.
Masham, and in town, with the Morton Manners peo-
ple. I see already some complications which will take
me a deal of time and thought to straighten out. And I
am a lawyer, and if you will let me say so, just double
your age."
He smiled at her, but Delia's countenance did not re-
lax. Her mouth was scornful.
" I daresay that's quite true, Mr. Winnington. But
of course you know it was not on that account — or at
any rate not chiefly on that account, that my father
82 Delia Blanchflower
left things as he did. He wished " — she spoke clearlj
and slowly — " simply to prevent my helping the Suf-
frage movement in the way I think best."
Winnington too had risen, and was standing with one
hand on the mantelpiece. His brow was slightly fur-
rowed, not frowning exactly, but rather with the ex-
pression of one trying to bring his mind into as close
touch as possible with another mind.
" I must of course agree with you. That is evidently
one of the objects of the will, though by no means —
I think — the only one. And as to that, should you not
ask yourself — had not your father a right, even a
duty, to look after the disposal of his money as he
thought best.'' Surely it was his responsibility — espe-
cially as he was old, and you were young."
Delia had begun to feci impatient — to resent the
very mildness of his tone. She felt, as though she were
an insubordinate child, being gently reasoned with.
" No, I don't admit it ! " she said passionately. " It
was tampering with the right of the next generation ! "
" Might you not say the same of the whole — or al-
most the whole of our system of inheritance.'' " he argued.
" I should put it — that the old are always trying to
preserve and protect something they know is more pre-
cious to them than it can be to the young — something
as to which, with the experience of life behind them, they
believe they are wiser than the young. Ought the young
to resent it.'* "
" Yes," persisted Delia. " Yes! They should be
left to make their own experiments."
" They have life wherewith to make them ! But the
dead " He paused. But Delia felt and quivered
under the unspoken appeal ; and also under the quick
touch of something more personal — more intimate — in
Delia Blanchflower 8^
his manner, expressing, it seemed, some deep feeling of
his own. He, in turn, perceived that she had grown ver j
pale ; he guessed even that she was suddenly not very
far from tears. He seemed to realise the weeks, perhaps
months, of conflict through which the girl had just
passed. He was sincerely sorry for her — sincerely
drawn to her.
Delia broke the silence.
" It is no good I think discussing this any more —
is it? There's the will, and the question is " — she faced
him boldly — " how are you and I going to get on, Mr.
Winnington ? "
Winnington's seriousness broke up. He threw her a
smiling look, and with his hands in his pockets began to
pace the room reflectively.
" I really believe we can pull it off, if we look at it
coolly," he said at last, pausing in front of her. " I
am no bigot on the Suffrage question — frankly I have
not yet made up my mind upon it. All that I am clear
about — as your father was clear — is that outrage
and violence are wrong — in any cause. I cannot believe
that we shan't agree there ! "
He looked at her keenly. Delia was silent. Her face
betrayed nothing, though her eyes met his steadily.
" And in regard to that, there Is of course one thing
that troubles me " — he resumed — *' one thing in which
I beg you to take my advice " —
Delia breathed quick.
" Gertrude Marvell.'' " she said. " Of course I knew
that was coming ! "
" Yes. That we must settle, I think." He kept his
eyes upon her. " You can hardly know that she is men-
tioned by name in your father's last letter — the letter
to me — as the one person whose companionship he
84 Delia Blanchflower
dreaded for 3^ou — the one person he hoped you would
consent to part from."
Delia had turned white.
" No — I didn't know."
" For that reason, and for others, I do entreat you "
— he went on, earnestly — " not to keep her here. Miss
Marvell may be all that you believe her. I have nothing
to say against her, — except this. I am told by those
who know that she is already quite notorious in the mili-
tant movement. She has been in prison, and she has
made extremely violent speeches, advocating what Miss
Mars'ell calls war, and what plain people call — crime.
That she should live with you here would not only preju-
dice your future, and divide you from people who should
be your natural friends ; it would be an open disrespect
to your father's memory."
There was silence. Then Delia said, evidently
mastering her excitement with difficulty.
" I can't help it. She must stay with me. Nobody
need know — about my father. Her name is not men-
tioned in the will."
" No. That is true. But his letter to me as your
guardian and trustee ought to be regarded equitably as
part of the will ; and I do not see how it would be pos-
sible for me to acquiesce in something so directly con-
trary to his last wishes. I beg you to look at it from my
point of view "
" I do " — said Delia, flushing again. " But my let-
ter warned you "
" Yes — but I felt on receiving it that you could not
possibly be aware of the full strength of your father's
feeling. Let me read you his words."
He took an envelope from his pocket, observing her.
Delia hastily interposed.
Delia Blanchflower S^
" Don't, ]Mr Winnington ! — I'm sure I know."
" It is really my duty to read it to you," he said,
courteously but firmly.
She endured it. The only sign of agitation she
shewed was the tremblinfj of her hands on the back of
the chair she leant upon. And when he returned it to
his pocket, she considered for a moment or two, before
she said, breathing uncvcnh', and stumbling a little. —
" That makes no difference, Mr. Winnington. I ex-
pect you think me a monster. All the same I loved my
father in my own way. But I am not going to barter
away my freedom for anything or anyone. I am not
part of my father, I am myself. And he is not here to
be injured or hurt by anything I do. I intend to stick
to Gertrude Marvell — and she to me."
And having delivered her ultimatum, she stood like a
young goddess, expectant and defiant.
Winnington's manner changed. He straightened
himself, with a slight shake of his broad shoulders, and
went to look out of the window at the end of the room.
Delia was left to contemplate the back of a very tall man
in a serge suit and to rate herself for the thrill — or the
trepidation — she could not help feeling. What would
he say when he spoke again.'' She was angry with her-
self that she could not quite truthfully say that she did
not care.
Wlien he returned, she divined another man. The
tone was as courteous as ever, but the first relation be-
tween them had disappeared; or rather it had become a
business relation, a relation of affairs.
" You will of course understand — that I cannot
acquiesce in that arrangement ? "
Delia's uncomfortable sense of humor found vent in
a laugh — as civil however as she could make it.
86 Delia Blanchflower
" I do understand. But I don't quite see what yo*
can do, Mr. Winnington ! "
He smiled — quite pleasantly.
" Nor do I — just yet. But of course Miss Marvell
will not expect that your father's estate should provide
her with the salary that would naturally fall to a chap-
eron whom your guardian could approve? "
" I shall see to that. We shall not trouble you," said
Delia, rather fiercely.
" And I shall ask to see Miss Marvell before I go this
morning — that I may point out to her the impropriety
of remaining here against your father's express wishes."
Delia nodded.
" All right — but it won't do any good."
He made no reply, except to turn immediately to the
subject of her place of residence and her allowance.
" It is I believe understood that you will live mainly
here — at Maumsey."
" On the contrary ! — I wish to spend a great part of
the winter in London."
"With Miss Marvell.?"
" Certainly."
" I cannot, I am afraid, let you expect that I shall
provide the money."
" It is my own money ! "
" Not legally. I hate insisting on these things ; but
perhaps you ought to know that the wJiole of your
father's property — everything that he left behind him,
is in trust."
" Which means " — cried Delia, quivering again —
" that I am really a pauper ! — that I own nothing but
my clothes — barely those ! "
He felt himself a brute. "Can I really keep this
up ! " he thought. Aloud, he said — " If you would only
Delia Blanchflower 87
make it a little easy for your trustee, he would be only
too thankful to follow out your wishes ! "
Delia made no reply, and Winnington took another
turn up and down before he paused in front of her with
the words : —
" Can't we come to a compact? If I agree to London
— say for six or seven weeks — is there no promise you
can make me in return? "
With an inward laugli Delia remembered Gertrude's
injunction to " keep something to bargain with."
" I don't know " — she said, reluctantly. *' What sort
of promise do you want? "
" I want one equal to the concession you ask me to
make," he said gravely. " In my eyes nothing could be
more unfitting than that you should be staying in Lon-
don — during a time of particularly violent agitation
— under the chaperonage of Miss Marvell, who is al-
ready committed to this agitation. If I agree to such
a direct contradiction of your father's wishes, I must at
least have your assurance that you will do nothing vio-
lent or illegal, either down here or in London, and that in
this house above all you will take some pains to respect
Sir Robert's wishes. That I am sure you will prom-
ise me ? "
She could not deny the charm of his direct appealing
look, and she hesitated.
" I was going to have a drawing-room meeting here as
soon as possible " — she said, slowly.
" On behalf of the ' Daughters of Revolt '? "
She silently assented.
" I may feel sure — may I not? — that you will give
it up?"
" It is a matter of conscience with us " — she said
proudly — " to spread our message wherever we go."
88 Delia Bianchflower
" I don't think I can allow you a conscience all to
yourself," he said smiling. " Consider how I shall be
straining mine — in agreeing to the London plan ! "
" Very well " — the words came out reluctantly. " If
you insist — and if London is agreed upon — I will give
it up."
" Thank you," he said quietly. " And you will take
part in no acts of violence, either here or in London?
It seems strange to use such words to you. I hate
to use them. But with the news in this week's papers
I can't help it. You will promise.? "
There was a short silence.
*' I will join in nothing militant down here," said
Delia at last. " I have already told Miss Marvell so."
"Or in London.?"
She straightened herself.
" I promise nothing about London."
Guardian and ward looked straight into each other's
faces for a few moments. Delia's resistance had stirred
a passion — a tremor — in her pulses, she had never
known in her struggle with her father. Winnington
was clearly debating with himself, and Delia seemed to
see the thoughts coursing through the grey eyes that
looked at her, seriously indeed, yet not without suggest-
ing a man's humorous spirit behind them.
" Very well " — he said — " we will talk of London
later. — Now may we just sit down and run through the
household arrangements and expenses here — before I
see Miss Marvell. I want to know exactly what you
want doing to this house, and how we can fix you up
comfortably."
Delia assented. Winnington produced a note-book
and pencil. Through his companion's mind was running
meanwhile an animated debate.
Delia Blanchflower 89
" I'm not bound to tell him of those other meetings
I have promised? * Yes, you are!' No, — I'm not.
They're not to be here — and if I once begin asking his
leave for things — there'll be no end to it. I mean to
shew him — once for all — that I am of age, and my own
mistress. He can't star\'e me — or beat me ! "
Her face broke into suppressed laughter as she bent
it over the figures that Winnington was presenting to her.
" Well, I am rather disappointed that you don't want
to do more to the house," said Winnington, as he rose
and put up his note-book. " I thought it might have
been an occupation for the autumn and winter. But at
least we can decide on the essential things, and the work
can be done while you are in town. I am glad you like
the servants Mrs. Bird has found for you. Now I am
going off to the Bank to settle everything about the
opening of your account, and the quarterly cheque we
have agreed on shall be paid in to-morrow."
" Very well." But instantly through the girl's mind
there shot up the qualifying thought. " He may say
how it is to be spent — but / have made no promise ! "
He approached her to take his leave.
" My sister comes home to-night. Will you try the
new car and have tea with us on Thursday? " Delia as-
sented. " And before I go I should like to say a word
about some of the neighbours."
He tried to give her a survey of the land. Lady Ton-
bridge, of course, would be calling upon her directly.
She was actually in the village — in the tiniest handbox
of a house. Her husband's brutality had at last — two
years before this date — forced her to leave him, with
her girl of fifteen. " A miserable story — better taken
for granted. She is the pluckiest woman alive ! " Thea
90 Delia Blanchflower
the Amberleys — the Rector, his wife and daughter Susy
were pleasant people — " Susy is a particular friend of
mine. It'll be jolly if you like her."
" Oh, no, she won't take to me ! " said Delia with de-
cision.
"Why not?"
But Delia only shook her head, a little contemptu-
ously.
" We shall see," said Winnington. " Well, good
night. " Remember, anything I can do for you — here
I am."
His eyes smiled, but Delia was perfectly conscious
that the eager cordiality, the touch of something like
tenderness, which had entered into his earlier manner,
had disappeared. She realised, and with a moment's
soreness, that she had offended his sense of right —
of what a daughter's feeling should be towards a dead
father, at any rate, in the first hours of bereavement,
when the recollections of death and suffering are still
fresh.
" I can't help it," she thought stubbornly. " It's all
part of the price one pays."
But when he was gone, she stood a long time by the
window without moving, thinking about the hour which
had just passed. The impression left upon her by Win-
nington's personality was uncomfortably strong. She
knew now that, in spite of her bravado, she had dreaded
to find it so, and the reality had more than confirmed the
anticipation. She was committed to a struggle with a
man whom she must respect, and could not help liking;
whose only wish was to help and protect her. And be-
side the man's energetic and fruitful maturity, she be-
came, as it were, the spectator of her own youth and
stumbling inexperience.
Delia Blanchflower 91
But these misgivings did not last long. A passionate
conviction, a fanatical affection, came to her aid, and her
doubts vFcre impatiently dismissed.
Winnington found Miss Blanchflower's chaperon in a
little sitting-room on the ground floor already appropri-
ated to her, surrounded with a vast litter of letters and
newspapers which she hastily pushed aside as he entered.
He had a long interview with her, and as he afterwards
confessed to Lady Tonbridge, he had rarely put his best
powers forward to so little purpose. Miss Marvell did
not attempt to deny that she was coming to live at
Maumsey in defiance of the wishes of Delia's father and
guardian, and of the public opinion of those who were to
be henceforward Delia's friends and neighbours.
" But Delia has asked me to live with her. She is
twenty-one, and women are not now the mere chattels
they once were. Both she and I have wills of our own.
You will of course give me no salary. I require none.
But I don't see how you're going to turn me out of
Delia's house, if Delia wishes me to stay."
And Winnington must needs acknowledge, at least to
himself, that he did not see either.
He put the lady however through a cross-examination
as to her connection witli militanc}^ which would have
embarrassed or intimidated most women ; but Gertrude
Marvell, a slight and graceful figure, sitting erect on the
edge of her chair, bore it with perfect equanimity, ap-
parently frank, and quite unashamed. Certainly she be-
longed to the " Daughters of Revolt," the record of her
imprisonment was there to shew it ; and so did Delia.
The aim of both their lives was to obtain the parliamen-
tary vote for women, and in her opinion and that of
many others, the time for constitutional action — " for
92 Delia Blanchflower
that nonsense " — as she scornfully put it, had long
gone by. As to what she intended to do, or advise Delia
to do, that was her own affair. One did not give away
one's plans to the enemy. But she realised, of course,
that it would be unkind to Delia to plunge her into pos-
sible trouble, or to run the risk herself of arrest or im-
prisonment during the early days of Delia's mourning;
and of her own accord she graciously offered the assur-
ance that neither she nor Delia would commit any ille-
gality during the two months or so that they might be
settled at Maumsey. As to what might happen later,
she, like Delia, declined to give any assurances. The
parliamentary situation was becoming desperate, and
any action whatever on the part of women which might
serve to prod the sluggish mind of England before an-
other general election, was in her view not only legitimate
but essential.
" Of course I know what your conscience says on the
matter," she said, with her steady eyes on Winnington.
" But — excuse me for saying so — your conscience is
not my affair.'*
Winnington rose, and prepared to take his leave. If
he felt nonplussed, he managed not to shew it.
" Very Avell. For the present I acquiesce. But you
will scarcely wonder. Miss Marvell, after this interview
between us, if you find yourself henceforward under ob-
servation. You are here in defiance of Miss Blanch-
flower's legal guardian. I protest against your influ-
ence over her ; and I disapprove of your presence here.
I shall do my best to protect her from you."
She nodded.
" There of course, you will be in your right."
And rising, she turned to the open window and the
bright garden outside, with a smiling remark on the
Delia Blanchflower 93
decorative value of begonias, as though nothing had hap-
pened.
Winnington's temperament did not allow him to an-
swer a woman uncivilly under any circumstances. But
they parted as duellists part before the fray. Miss
Marvell acknowledged his " Good afternoon," with a
pleasant bow, keeping her hands the while in the pockets
of her serge jacket, and she remained standing till Win-
nington had left the room.
" Now for Lady Tonbridge ! " thought Winnington,
as he rode away. " If she don't help me out, I'm
done! "
At the gate of ]\Iaumsey he stopped to speak to the
lodge-keeper, and as he did so, a man opened the gate,
and came in. With a careless nod to Winnington he
took his way up the drive. Winnington looked after
him in some astonishment.
" What on earth can that fellow be doing here? "
He scented mischief; little suspecting however that a
note from Gertrude Marvell lay in the pocket of the
man's shabby overcoat, together with that copy of the
Tocsin which Delia's sharp eyes had detected the week
before in the hands of its owner.
Meanwhile as he drove homeward, instead of the de-
tails of county business, the position of Delia Blanch-
flower, her personality, her loveliness, her defiance of him,
absorbed his mind completely. He began to foresee the
realities of the struggle before him, and the sheer dram-
atic interest of it held him, as though someone presented
the case, and bade hkn watch how it worked out.
Chapter VI
THE village or rather small town of Great Maum-
sey took its origin in a clearing of that royal forest
which had now receded from it a couple of miles to the
south. But it was still a rural and woodland spot.
The trees in the fields round it had still a look of wild-
ness, as survivors from the primeval chase, and were
grouped more freely and romantically than in other
places ; while from the hill north of the church, one could
see the New Forest stretching away, blue beyond blue,
purple beyond purple, till it met the shining of the sea.
Great Maumsey had a vast belief in Itself, and was
reckoned exclusive and clannish by other places. It
was proud of its old Georgian houses, with their white
fronts, their pillared porches, and the pediment gables in
their low roofs. The owners of these houses, of which
there were many, charmingly varied, in the long main
street, were well aware that they had once been old-fash-
ioned, and were now as much admired in their degree, as
the pictures of the great English artists, Hogarth, Rey-
nolds, Romney, with which they were contemporary.
There were earlier houses too, of brick and timber, with
overhanging top stories and moss-grown roofs. There
was a green surrounded with post and rails, on which a
veritable stocks still survived, kept in careful repair as a
memento of our barbarous forbears, by the parish
Council. The church, dating from that wonderful four-
teenth century when all the world must have gone mad
for church-building, stood back from the main street,
94
Delia Blanchflower 9^
with the rectory beside it, in a modest seclusion of their
own.
It was all very English, very spick and span, and
apparently very well to do. That the youth of the vil-
lage was steadily leaving it for the Colonies, that the
constant marrying in and in which had gone on for
generations had produced an ugly crop of mental de-
ficiency, and physical deformity among the inhabitants
— that the standard of morals was too low, and the
standard of drink too high — were matters well known
to the Rector and the Doctor. But there were no in-
sanitary cottages, and no obvious scandals of any sort.
The Maumsey estate had alwa^'s been well managed ;
there were a good many small gentlefolk who lived in
the Georgian houses, and owing to the competition of the
railways, agricultural wages were rather better than
elsewhere.
About a mile from the eastern end of the village was
the small modernised manor-house of Bridge End, which
belonged to Mark Winnington, and where his sister
Alice, Mrs. Matheson, kept him company for the greater
part of the year. The gates leading to ^Maumsey lay
a little west of the village, while on the hill to the north
rose, conspicuous against its backgi'ound of wood, the
famous old house of Monk Lawrence. It looked down
upon Maumsey on the one hand and Bridge End on the
other. It was generally believed that the owner of it,
Sir Wilfrid Lang, had exhausted his resources in restor-
ing it, and that it was the pressure of debt rather than
his wife's health which had led to its being shut up so
long.
The dwellers in the village regarded it as the jewel
In their landscape, their conmion heritage and pride.
Lady Tonbridge, whose little drawing-room and garden
96 Delia Blanchflower
to the back looked out on the hill and the old house, was
specially envied because she possessed so good a view of
it. She herself inhabited one of the very smallest of the
Georgian houses, in the main street of Maumse3\ She
paid a rent of no more than £40 a year for it, and
Maumsey people who liked her, felt affectionately con-
cerned that a duke's grand-daughter should be reduced
to a rent and quarters so insignificant.
Lady Tonbridge however was not at all concerned for
the smallness of her house. She regarded it as the out-
ward and visible sign of the most creditable action of her
life — the action which would — or should — bring her
most marks when the recording angel came to make up
her account. Every time she surveyed its modest pro-
portions the spirit of freedom danced within her, and she
envied none of the noble halls in which she had formerly
lived, and to some of which she still paid occasional
visits.
At tea-time, on the day following Winnington's first
interview with his ward, Madeleine Tonbridge came into
her little drawing-room, in her outdoor things, and
carrying a bundle of books under the arm.
As far as such words could ever apply to her she was
tired and dusty. But her little figure was so alert and
trim, her grey linen dress and its appointments so dainty,
and the apple-red in her small cheeks so bright, that one
might have conceived her as just fresh from a maid's
hands, and stepping out to amuse herself, instead of as
just returning from a tedious afternoon's work, by
which she had earned the large sum of five shillings. A
woman of forty-five, she looked her age, and she had
never possessed any positive beauty, unless it were the
beauty of delicate and harmonious proportion. Yet
she had been pestered with suitors as a girl, and un-
Delia Blanchflower 97
fortunately had married the least desirable of them
all. And now in middle life, no one had more devoted
men-friends ; and that without exciting a breath of
scandal, even in a situation where one might have
thought it inevitable.
She looked round her as she entered.
" Nora ! — where are you ? "
A girl, apparently about seventeen, put her head
in through the French window that opened to the gar-
den.
" Ready for tea, Mummy ? "
" Rather ! " — said Lady Tonbridge, with energy, as
she put a match to the little spirit kettle on the tea-
table where everything stood ready. " Come in, dar-
ling."
And throwing off her hat and jacket, she sank into
a comfortable arm-chair with a sigh of fatigue. Her
daughter quietly loosened her mother's walking-shoes
and took them away. Then they kissed each other,
and Nora went to look after the tea. She was a slim,
pale-faced school-gnrl, with yellow-brown eyes, and
3'ellow-brown hair, not as yet very attractive in looks,
but her mother was convinced that it was only the plain-
ness of the cygnet, and that the swan was only a few
years off. Nora, who at seventeen had no illusions, was
grateful to her mother for the belief but did not share
it in the least.
" I'm sure you gave that girl half an hour over time,"
she said reprovingly, as she handed Lady Tonbridge her
cup of tea — " I can't think why you do it." She re-
ferred to the solicitor's daughter whom Lady Tonbridge
had been that afternoon instructing in the uses of the
French participle.
" Nor can I. A kind of ridiculous esprit de metier
98
Delia Blanchflower
I suppose. I undertook to teach her French, and when
after all these weeks she don't seem to know a thing
more than when she began, I feel as if I were picking
her dear papa's pockets."
" Which is absurd," said Nora, buttering her mother's
toast, " and I can't let j^ou do it. Half a crown an
hour is silly enough already, and for you to throw in
half an hour extra for nothing, can't be stood."
" I wish I could get it up to four hours a day," sighed
the mother, munching happily at her toast, while she
held out her small stockinged feet to the fire which Nora
had just lit. "Just think. Ten shillings a day — six
days a week — ten months in the year. Why it would
pay the rent, we could have another servant, and I could
give you twenty pounds a year more for your clothes."
" Much obliged — but I prefer a live Mummy — and
no clothes — to a dead one. More tea.? "
" Thanks. No chance, of course. Where could one
find four persons a day, in Maumsey, or near Maum-
sey, who want to learn French? The notion's absurd.
I shouldn't get the lessons I do, if it weren't for the
' Honourable.' "
" Snobs ! "
" Not at all ! Not a single family out of the people
I go to deserve to be called snobs. It's the natural
dramatic instinct in us all. You don't expect an ' Hon-
ourable ' to be giving French lessons at half a crown an
hour, and when she does, you say — * Hullo ! Some
screw loose, somewhere ! ' — and you at once feel a new
interest in the French tongue, and ask her to come along.
I don't mind it a bit. I sit and spin yarns about Draw-
ing-rooms and Court balls, and it all helps. — When did
you get home.'* "
For Nora attended a High School in a neighbouring
Delia Blanchflovver 99
town, some five miles away, journeying there and back
by train.
" Half-past four. I met Mr. Winnington in his car,
and he said he'd be here about six."
" Good. I'm dying to talk to him. I have written
to the Abbey to say we will call to-morrow. Of course.
I ought to be her nursing mother in these parts " — said
Lady Tonbridge reflectively — " I knew Sir Robert in
frocks, and we were always pals. But my dear, it was I
who hatched the cockatrice!"
Nora nodded gravely.
*' It was I," pursued Lady Tonbridge, pcnitentially,
— *' who saddled him with that woman — and I know he
never forgave me. He as good as told me so when we
last met — for those few hours — at Basle. But how
could I tell 'i How could anybody tell — she would turn
out such a creature.'' I only knew that she had taken all
kinds of honours. I thought I was sending him a treas-
ure."
" All the same you did it. Mummy. And it won't do
to give yourself airs now ! That's what Mr. Winning-
ton says. You've got to help him out."
" I say, don't talk secrets! " said a voice just outside
the room. " For I can't help hearing 'cm. May I come
in?"
And, pushing the half-open door, Mark Winnington
stood smiling on the threshold.
"^ I apologise. But your little maid let me in — and
then vanished somewhere, like greased lightning — after
a dog."
" Oh, come in," said Lady Tonbridge, with resigna-
tion, extending at the same time a hand of welcome —
" the little maid, as you call her, only came from your
workhouse yesterday, and I haven't yet discorered a
100 Delia Blanchflower
grain of sense in her. But she gets plenty of exercise.
If she isn't chasing dogs, it's cats."
" Don't you attack my schools," said Winnington
seating himself at the tea-table. They're Al, and you're
very lucky to get one of my girls."
Madeleine Tonbridge replied tartly, that if he was a
poor-law guardian, and responsible for a barrack school
it was no cause for boasting. She had not long parted
with another of his girls, who had tried on her blouses,
and gone out in her boots. She thought of offering the
new girl a free and open choice of her wardrobe to begin
with, so as to avoid unpleasantness.
" We all know that every mistress has the maid she
deserves," said Winnington, deep in gingerbread cake.
" I leave it there "
" Yes, jolly well do! " cried Nora, who had come to
sit on a stool in front of her mother and Winnington, her
eager eyes glancing from one to the other — " Don't
start Mummy on servants, Mr. Winnington. If you do,
I shall go to bed. There's only one thing worth talking
about — and that's "
" Maumsey ! " he said, laughing at her.
" Have you accomplished any thing. ^ " asked Lady
Tonbridge. I bet my best hat you haven't dislodged the
Fury.?"
Winnington shook his head.
" J^y suis — j^y reste! "
" I thought so. There is no civilised way by which
men can eject a woman. Sit down and tell me all about
it."
Winnington sat down, but instead of expatiating on
the Maumsey household, he turned the conversation
at once to something else — especially to Nora's first
attempts at golf, in which he had been her teacher.
Delia Blanchflower lOi
Nora, whose reasonableness was abnormal, very soon
took the hint, and after five minutes' " chafF " with
Winnington, to wlioni slie was devoted, she took up her
work and went back to the garden.
" Nobod}'^ ever snubs me so efficiently as Nora," said
Madeleine Tonbridge, with resignation, " though you
come a good second. Discreet I shall never be. Don't
tell me anything if you don't want to."
" But of course I want to ! And there is nobody in
the world so absolutely bound to help me as you."
" I knew you'd say that. Don't pile it on. Give me
the kitten — and describe your proceedings."
Winnington handed her the grey Persian kitten re-
posing on a distant chair, and Lady Tonbridge, who al-
ways found the process conducive to clear thinking,
stroked and combed the creature's beautiful fur, while
the man talked, — with entire freedom now that they
were tete-a-tete.
She was his good friend indeed, and she had also been
the good friend of Sir Robert Blanchflower. It was
natural that to her he should lay his perplexities bare.
But after she had heard his story and given her
best mind to his position, she could not refrain from
expressing the wonder she had felt from the beginning
that he should ever have accepted it at all.
"What on earth made you do it.'* Bobb}^ Blanch-
flower had no more real claim on you than this kitten ! "
Winnington's grey eyes fixed on the trees outside
shewed a man trying to retrace his own course.
" He wrote me a very touching letter. And I have
always thought that men — and women — ought to l)e
ready to do this kind of service for each other. I should
have felt a beast if I had said No, at once. But I con-
102 Delia Blanchflower
fess now that I have seen :Miss Delia, I don't know
whether I can do the slightest good."
" Hold on ! " said Lady Tonbridge, sharply, —
" You can't give it up — now."
Winnington laughed.
" I have no intention of giving it up. Only I warn
you that I shall probably make a mess of it."
" Well " — the tone was coolly reflective — " that may
do you good — whatever happens to the girl. You have
never made a mess of anything yet in your life. It will
be a new experience."
Winnington protested hotly that her remark only
shewed how httle even intimate friends know of each
other's messes, and that his were already legion. Lady
Tonbridge threw him an incredulous look. As he sat
there in his bronzed and vigorous manhood, the first
crowsfeet just beginning to shew round the eyes, and the
first streaks of grey in the brown curls, she said to her-
self that none of her young men acquaintance possessed
half the physical attractiveness of Mark Winnington ;
while none — old or young — could rival him at all in
the humane and winning spell he carried about with
him. To see Mark Winnington aux prises with an ad-
venture in which not even his tact, his knowledge of men
and women, his candour, or his sweetness, might be suf-
ficient to win success, piqued her curiosity ; perhaps even
flattered that slight inevitable malice, wherewith ordi-
nary mortals protect themselves against the favourites of
the gods.
She was determined however to help him if she could,
and she put him through a number of questions. The
girl then was as handsome as she promised to be? A
beauty, said Winnington — and of the heroic or poetic
type. And the Fury ? Winnington described the neat.
Delia Blanchflower 103
little lady, fashionably dressed and quiet mannered, who
had embittered the last j'ears of Sir Robert Blanch-
flower, and firmly possessed herself of liis daughter.
" You will see her to-morrow, at my house, when ycu
come to tea. I carefully didn't ask her, but I am cer-
tain she will come, and Alice and I shall of course have to
receive her."
" She is not thin-skinned then.'' "
"What fanatic is.? It is one of the secrets of their
strength."
" She probably regards us all as the dust under her
feet," said Lady Tonbridge. " I wonder what game she
will be up to here. Have you seen the Times this morn-
ing? "
Winnington nodded. It contained three serious cases
of arson, in which Suffragette literature and messages
had been discovered among the ruins, besides a number
of minor outrages. A grave leading article breathed
the exasperation of the public, and pointed out the
spread of the campaign of violence.
By this time Lady Tonbridge had carried her visitor
into the garden, and they were walking up and down
among the late September flowers. Beyond the garden
lay green fields and hedgerows ; beyond the fields rose
the line of wooded hill, and, embedded in trees, the grey
and gabled front of jVIonk Lawrence.
Winnington reported the very meagre promise he
had been able to get out of his ward and her compan-
ion.
" The comfort is," said Lady Tonbridge, " that this
is a sane neighbourhood — comparatively. They won't
get much support. Oh, I don't know though — " she
added quickly. " There's that man — Mr. Lathrop,
Paul Lathrop — who took Wood Cottage last year —
104 Delia Blanchflower
a queer vagabond sort of person. I'm told he's written
the most violent things backing up the militants gener-
ally. However, his own story has put Imn out of
Court."
"His own story.''" said Winnington, with a puzzled
look.
" Don't be so innocent ! " laughed Lady Tonbridge,
rather impatiently. " I always tell you you don't give
half place enough in life to gossip — " human nature's
daily food." I knew all about him a week after he ar-
rived. However, I don't propose to save you trouble,
Mr. Guardian ! Go and look up a certain divorce case,
with Mr. Lathrop's name in it, some time last year — if
you want to know. That's enough for that."
But Winnington interrupted her, with a disturbed
look. " I happened to meet that very man you are
speaking of — yesterday — in the Abbey drive, going to
call."
Lady Tonbridge shrugged her shoulders.
" There you see their freemasonry. I don't suppose
they approve his morals — but he supports their poli-
tics. You won't be able to banish him ! — Well, so the
child is lovely? and interesting. ^^ "
Winnington assented warmly.
" But determined to make himself a nuisance to you?
Hm ! Mr. Mark — dear Mr. Mark — don't fall in love
with her ! "
Winnington's expression altered. He did not answer
for a moment. Then he said, looking away —
" Do you think you need have said that ? "
" No ! " — cried Madeleine Tonbridge remorsefully.
*' I am a wretch. But don't — donH ! "
This time he smiled at her, though not without vexa-
ation.
Delia Blanchflower lO^
" Do you forget that I am nearly old enough to be her
father?"
" Oh that's nonsense ! " she said hastily. " However
— I'm not going to flatter you — or tease you. Forgive
me. I put it out of my head. I wonder if there is any-
body in the field already ? "
" Not that I am aware of."
" Of course you know this kind of thing spoils a girl's
prospects of marriage enomiously. Men won't nm the
risk."
Winnington laughed.
" And all the time, you're a Suffragist yourself ! "
" Yes, indeed I am," was the stout reply. " Here am
I, with a house and a daughter, a house-parlourmaid,
a boot-boy, and rates to pay. Why shouldn't I vote as
well as you? But the difference between me and the
Fury is that she wants the vote this year — this month
• — this minute — and I don't care whether it comes in
m}' time — or Nora's time — or my grandchildren's
time. I say we ought to have it — that it is our right
— and you men are dolts not to give it us. But I sit
and wait peaceably till 3'ou do — till the apple is ripe
and drops. And meanwhile these wild women prevent
its ripening at all. So long as they rage, there it
hangs — out of our reach. So that I'm not only
ashamed of them as a woman — but out of all patience
with them as a Suffragist ! However for heaven's
sake don't let's discuss the horrid subject. I'll do
all I can for Delia — both for your sake and Bob's —
I'll keep my best eye on the Fury — I feel myself of
course most abominably responsible for her — and
I hope for the best. Who's coming to your tea-
party ? "
Winnington enumerated. At the name of Susj
5 "
io6 Delia Blanchflower
Amberley, his hostess threw him a sudden look, but
said nothing.
" The Andrews' — Captain, Mrs. and Miss — ,"
Lady Tonbridge exclaimed.
" Wh}' did you ask that horrid woman ?
" We didn't ! Alice indiscreetly mentioned that
Miss Blanchflower was coming to tea, and she asked
herself."
" She's enough to make any one militant ! If I
hear her quote ' the hand that rocks the cradle rules
the world ' once more, I shall have to smite her. The
girl's down-trodden, I tell you! Well, well — if you
gossip too little, I gossip too much. Heavens! —
what a light ! "
Winnington turned to see the glow of a lovely after-
noon fusing all the hill-side in a glory of gold and ame-
thyst, and the windows in the long front of Monk
Lawrence taking fire under the last rays of a fast-
dropping sun.
" Do you know — I sometimes feel anxious about
that house ! " said Madeleine Tonbridge, abruptly.
" It's empty — it's famous — it belongs to a member
of the Government. What is to prevent the women
from attacking it? "
" In the first place, it isn't empty. The Keeper,
Daunt, from the South Lodge, has now moved into the
house. I know, because Susy Amberley told me. She
goes up there to teach one of my cripples — Daunt's
second girl. In the next, the police are on the alert.
And last — who on earth would dare to attack Monk
Lawrence? The odium of it would be too great. A
house bound up with English history and English poetrj
— No ! They are not such fools ! "
Lady Tonbridge shook her head.
Delia Blanchflower 107
" Don't be so sure. Anyway you as a magistrate can
keep the police up to the mark."
Winnington departed, and his old friend was left
to meditate on his predicament. It was strange to see
Mark Winnington, with his traditional, English ways
and feelings — carried, as she always felt, to their high-
est — thus face to face with the new feminist forces —
as embodied in Delia Blanchflower. He had resented,
clearly resented, the introduction — by her, Madeleine
— of the sex element into the problem. But how diffi-
cult to keep it out ! " He will see her constantly — he
will have to exercise his will against hers — he will get
his way — and then hate himself for conquering — he
will disapprove, and yet admire, — will offend her, yet
want to please her — a creature all fire, and beauty, and
heroisms out of place! And she — could she, could I,
could any woman I know, fight ]Mark Winnington —
and not love him all the time.'' Men are men, and women
are women — in spite of all these ' isms,' and ' causes.'
I bet — but I don't know what I bet ! " Then her
thoughts gradually veered away from Mark to quite an-
other person.
How would Susan Amberley be affected by this new
interest in Mark Winnington's life.? Madeleine's
thoughts recalled a gentle face, a pair of honest eyes,
a bearing timid and yet dignified. So she was teaching
one of Mark's crippled children? And Mark thought
no doubt she would have done the like for anyone else
with a charitable hobby? Perhaps she would, for her
heart was a fount of pity. All the same, the man —
blind bat! — understood nothing. No fault of his per-
haps ; but Lady Tonbridge felt a woman's angry sym-
pathy with a form of waste so common and so costly.
io8 Delia Blanchflower
And now the modest worshipper must see her hero
absorbed day by day, and hour by hour, in the doings
of a dazzhng and magnificent creature hke Deha
Blanchflower. What food for torment, even in the
meekest spirit !
So that the last word the vivacious woman said to
herself was a light. " Poor Susy ! " dropped into the
heart of a September rose as she stooped to gather it.
Chapter VII
A SMALL expectant party were gathered for after-
noon tea in the book-lined sitting-room — the house
possessed no proper drawing-room — of Bridge End.
Mrs. Matheson indeed, IMark's widowed sister, would
have resented it had anyone used the word " party " in
its social sense. Miss BlancMower's father had been
dead scarcely a month: and Mrs. Matheson in her quiet
way, held strongl}' by all the decencies of life. It was
merely a small gathering of some of the oldest friends and
neighbours of Miss Blanchflower's family — those who
had stood nearest to her grandparents — to welcome
the oi-phan girl among them. Lady Tonbridge — of
whom it was commonly believed, though no one ex-
actly knew why, that Bob Blanchflower, as a youth
had been in love with her, before ever he met his Greek
wife; Dr. France, who had attended both the old peo-
ple till their deaths, and had been much beloved by
them ; his wife ; the Rector, Mrs. Amberley, and Susy :
— Mrs. Matheson had not intended to ask anyone else.
But the Andrews' had asked themselves, and she had
not had the moral courage to tell them that the occa-
sion was not for them. She was always getting INIark
into difficulties, she penitently reflected, by her inability
to say No, at the right time, and with the proper force,
Mark could always say it, and stick to it smiling — ^
without giving offence.
Mrs. Matheson was at the tea-table. She was tall
and thin, with something of her brother's good looks,
109
110 Delia Blanchflovver
but none of his over-flowing vitality. Her iron-grey
hair was rolled back from her forehead; she wore a
black dress with a high collar of white lawn, and long
white cuffs. Little Mrs. Amberley, the Rector's wife,
sitting beside her, envied her hostess her figure, and
her long slender neck. She herself had long since
parted with any semblance of a waist, and the boned
collars of the day were a perpetual torment to one whose
neck, from the dressmaker's point of view, scarcely ex-
isted. But Mrs. Amberley endured them, because they
were the fashion; and to be moderately in the fashion
meant simply keeping up to the mark — not falling
behind. It was like going to church — an acceptance
of that " general will," which according to the philoso-
phers, is the guardian of all religion and all moral-
ity.
The Rector too, who was now handing the tea-cake,
believed in fashion — ecclesiastical fashion. Like his
wife, he was gentle and ineffective. His clerical dress
expressed a moderate Anglicanism, and his opinions
were those of his class and neighbourhood, put for him
day by day in his favourite newspaper, with a cogency
at which he marvelled. Yet he was no more a hypo-
crite than his wife, and below his common-places both
of manner and thought there lay warm feelings and a
quick conscience. He was just now much troubled
about his daughter Susy. The night before she had
told her mother and him that she wished to go to Lon-
don, to train for nursing. It had been an upheaval
in their quiet household. Why should she dream of
such a thing? How could they ever get on without
her? Who would copy out his sermons, or help with
the schools? And her mother — so dependent on her
only daughter! The Rector's mind was much dis-
Delia Blanchflower 1 1 1
tiirbcd, and he was accordingly more absent and more
ineffective than usual.
Susy herself, in a white frock, with touches of blue
at her waist, and in her shady hat, was moving about
with cups of tea, taking that place of Mrs. Matthews's
lieutenant, which was always tacitly given her by Win-
nington and his sister on festal occasions at Bridge
End. As she passed Winnington, who had been cap-
tured by Mrs. Andrews, he turned with alacrity —
" My dear Miss Susy! What are you doing.'' Give
me that cup ! "
"No — please! I like doing it!" And she passed
on, smiling, towards Lady Tonbridge, whose sharp eyes
had seen the trivial contact between Winnincrton and
the girl. How the mere sound of his voice had changed
the aspect of the young face ! Poor child — poor
child !
" How well you look Susy ! Such a pretty dress ! "
said Madeleine tenderly in the girl's ear.
Susy flushed.
" You really think so ? Mother gave it me for a
birthday present." She looked up with her soft, brown
eyes, which always seemed to have in them, even when
they smiled, a look of pleading — as of someone at a
disadvantage. At the same moment Winnington passed
her.
" Could you go and talk to jNIiss Andrews.'' " he said,
over his shoulder, so that only she heard.
Susy went obediently across the room to where a
silent, dark-haired girl sat by herself, quite apart from
the rest of the circle. Marion Andrews was plain, with
large features and thick wiry hair. Maumsey society
in general declared her " impossible." She rarely
talked ; she seemed to have no tastes ; and the world be-
112 Delia Blanchflower
lieved her both stupid and disagreeable. And by con-
trast with the effusive amiabihties of her mother, she
could appear nothing else. Mrs. Andrews indeed had
a way of using her daughter as a foil to her own quali-
ties, which must have paralysed the most self-confident,
and Marion had never possessed any belief in herself at
all.
As Susy Amberley timidly approached her, and be-
gan to make conversation, she looked up coldly, and
hardly answered. Meanwhile Mrs. Andrews was pour-
ing out a flood of talk under which the uncomfortable
Winnington — for it always fell to him as host to en-
tertain her — sat practising endurance. She was a
selfish, egotistical woman, with a vast command of
sloppy phrases, which did duty for all that real feeling
or sympathy of which she possessed uncommonly little.
On this occasion she was elaborately dressed, — over-
dressed — in a black satin gown, which seemed to Win-
nington, an ugly miracle of trimming and tortured
*' bits." Her large hat was thick with nodding plumes,
and beside her spotless white gloves and showy lace
scarf, her daughter's slovenly coat and skirt, of the
cheapest ready-made kind, her soiled gloves, and clumsy
shoes, struck even a man uncomfortably. That poor
girl seemed to grow plainer and more silent every year.
He was just shaking himself free from the mother,
when Dr. and Mrs. France were announced. The doc-
tor came in with a furrowed brow, and a preoccupied
look. After greeting Mrs. Matheson, and the other
guests, he caught a glance of enquiry from Winnington
and went up to him.
" The evening paper is full of the most shocking
news ! " he said, with evident agitation. " There has
been an attempt on Hampton Court — and two girls
Delia Blanchflower 113
who were caught breaking windows in Piccadilly have
been badly hurt by the crowd. A bomb too has been
found in the entrance of one of the tube stations. It
was discovered in time, or the results might have been
frightful."
" Good Heavens — those women again ! " cried Mrs.
Andrews, lifting hands and eyes.
No one else spoke. But in everyone's mind the same
thought emerged. At any moment the door might open,
and Delia Blanchflower and her chaperon might come in.
The doctor drew Winnington aside into a bow-win-
dow.
" Did you know that the lady living with ]\Iiss Blanch-
flower was a member of this League of Revolt? "
" Yes. You mean thc}'^ are implicated in these
things?"
" Certainly ! I am told Miss Marvell was once an
official — probably is still. My dear Winnington —
you can't possibly allow it ! " He spoke with the free-
dom of an intimate friend.
" How can I stop it," said Winnington, frowning.
" My ward is of age. If Miss Marvell does anything
overt — But she has promised to do nothing violent
down here — they both have."
The doctor, an impetuous Ulstennan with white hair,
and black eyes, shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
" When women once take to this kind of thing " —
Mrs. Andrews' heavy voice rose above the rather nerv-
ous and disjointed conversation of the other guests —
" If women only knew where their real power lies, Mrs.
Matheson ! Wh}', * the hand that rocks the cra-
dle ' "
A sudden slight crash was heard.
" Oh, dear " — cried Lady Tonbridgc, who had upset
114 Delia Blanchflower
a small table with a plate of cakes on it across the tail
of Mrs. Andrews' dress — " how stupid I am ! "
" Mj gown ! — my gown ! " cried Mrs. Andrews in
an anguish, groping for the cakes.
In the midst of the confusion the drawing-room door
had opened, and there on the threshold stood Delia
Blanchflower, with a slightly-built lady behind her.
Winnington turned with a start and went forward
to greet them. Dr. France left behind in the bow-win-
dow observed their entry with a mingling of curiosity
and repulsion. It seemed to him that their entry was
that of persons into a hostile camp, — the senses all alert
against attack. Delia was of course in black, her face
sombrely brilliant in its dark setting of a plain felt hat,
like the hat of a Cavalier without its feathers. " She
knows perfectly well we have been talking about her ! "
thought Dr. France, — " that we have seen the news-
papers. She comes in ready for battle — perhaps
thirsty for it ! She is excited — while the woman be-
hind her is perfectly cool. The two types ! — the en-
thusiast — and the fanatic. But, by Jove, the girl is
handsome ! "
Through the sudden silence created by their entry,
Delia made her way to Mrs. Matheson. Holding her
head very high, she introduced " My chaperon — Miss
Marvell." And Winnington's sister nervously shook
hands with the quietly smiling lady who followed in Miss
Blanchflower's wake. Then while Delia sat down be-
side the hostess, and Winnington busied himself in sup-
plying her with tea, her companion fell to the Rector's
care.
The Rector, like Winnington, was not a gossip, partly
out of scruples, but mainly perhaps because of a cer-
tain deficient vitality, and he had but disjointed ideas
Delia Blanchflower 1 1 5;
on the subject of the two ladies who had now settled
at the Abbey. He understood, however, that Delia,
whom he remembered as a child, was a " Suffragette,"
and that I\Ir. Winnington, Delia's guardian, disap-
proved of the lady she had brought with her, why, he
could not recollect. This vague sense of something
" naughty " and abnormal gave a certain tremor to
his manner as he stood beside Gertrude Marvell, shift-
ing from one foot to the other, and nervously plying her
with tea-cake.
Miss Marvell's dark eyes meanwhile glanced round
the room, taking in everybody. They paused a mo-
ment on the figure of the doctor, erect and spare in a
closely-buttoned coat, on his spectacled face, and con-
spicuous brow, under waves of nearly white hair; then
passed on. Dr France watched her, following the ex-
amining eyes with his own. He saw them change, with
a look — the slightest passing look — of recognition,
and at the same moment he was aware of Marion An-
drews, sitting in the light of a side window. What had
happened to the girl? He saw her dark face, for one
instant, exultant, transformed ; like some forest hollow
into which a sunbeam strikes. The next, she was stoop-
ing over a copy of " Punch " which lay on the table be-
side her. A rush of speculation ran through the doc-
tor's mind.
" And you are settled at jNIaumsey? " Mrs. Matthews
was saying to Delia ; aware as soon as the question was
uttered that it was a foolish one.
" Oh no, not settled. We shall be there a couple of
months."
" The house will want some doing up, Mark thinks."
" I don't tliink so. Not nmch anyway. It does
very well."
ii6 Delia Blanchflower
There was an entire absence of girlish softness or shy-
ness in the speaker's manner, though it was both courte-
ous and easy. The voice — musically deep — and the
splendid black eyes, that looked so steadily at her, in-
timidated IMark Winnington's gentle sister.
Mrs. Andrews, whose dress, after Susy's ministra-
tion, had been declared out of danger, bent across the
tea-table, all smiles and benevolence again, the plumes
in her black hat nodding —
" It's like old times to have the Abbey open again,
Miss Blanchflower ! Every week we used to go to your
dear grandmother, for her Tuesday work-party. I'm
afraid you'll hardly revive tJiatl '*
Delia smiled coldly.
" I don't know anything about work-parties."
Lady Tonbridge, who had already greeted Delia as
a woman naturally greets the daughter of an old friend,
came up as Delia spoke to ask for a second cup of tea,
and laid her hand on the girl's shoulder.
" Very sorry to miss you yesterday. I won't insult
you by saying you've grown. How about the singing?
You used to sing I remember when I stayed with you."
" Yes — but I've given it up. I took lessons at
Munich last spring. But I can't work at it enough.
And if one can't work, it's no good."
" Why can't you work at it? "
Delia suddenly looked up in her questioner's face.
Her gravity broke up in a broad smile.
" Because there's so much else to do."
"What else?"
The look of excited defiance in the girl's eyes sharp-
ened.
" Do you really want to know? "
Delia Blanchflower 117
« Certainly. The Suffrage and that kind of thing? "
said Madeleine Tonbridge lightly.
" The Suffrage and that kind of thing ! " repeated
Delia, still smiling.
Captain Andrews who was standing near, and whose
martial mind was all in confusion, owing to Miss Blanch-
flower's beauty, put in an eager word.
" I never can understand. Miss Blanchflower, why
you ladies want the vote ! Why, you can twist us round
your little fingers ! "
Delia turned upon him.
" But I don't want to twist you round my little
finger ! " she said, with energy. " It wouldn't give me
the smallest pleasure."
" I thought you wanted to manage us," said the Cap-
tain, unable to take his eyes from her. " But you do
manage us already 1 "
Delia's glance showed her uncertain whether the foe
was worth her steel.
" We want to manage ourselves," she said at last,
smiling indifferently. " We say you do it badly."
The Captain attempted to spar with her a little
longer. Winnington meanwhile stood, a silent listener,
amid the group round the tea-table. He — and Dr.
France — were both acutely conscious of the realities
behind this empty talk; of the facts recorded in the
day's newspapers ; and of the connection between the
quiet lady in grey who had come in with Delia Blanch-
flower, and the campaign of public violence, which was
now in good earnest alarming and exasperating the
country.
Where was the quiet lady in grey ? Winnington was
thinking too much about his ward to keep a constant
ii8 Delia Blanchflower
eye upon her. But Dr. France observed her closelj,
and he presently saw what puzzled him anew. After
a conversation, exceedingly bland, though rather mono-
syllabic, on Miss Marvell's part, with the puzzled and
inarticulate Rector, Delia's chaperon had gently and
imperceptibly moved away from the tea-table. That
she had been coldly received by the company in general
was no doubt evident to her. She was now sitting be-
side that strange girl Marion Andrews — to whom, as
the Doctor had seen, she had been introduced — ap-
parently — by the Rector. And as Dr. France caught
sight of her, she and Marion Andrews rose and walked
to a window opening on the garden, apparently to look
at the blaze of autumn flowers outside.
But it was the demeanour of the girl which again drew
the doctor's attention. Marion Andrews, who never
talked, was talking fast and earnestly to this complete
stranger, her normally sallow face one glow. It was
borne in afresh upon Dr. France that the two were al-
ready acquainted; and he continued to watch them as
close!}' as politeness allowed.
" Will you come and look at the house.'' " said Win-
nington to his ward. " Not that we have anything to
shew — except a few portraits and old engravings that
might interest you. But it's rather a dear old place,
and we're very fond of it."
Delia went with him in silence. He opened the oval
panelled dining-room, and shewed her the portraits of
his father, the venerable head of an Oxford college, in
the scarlet robes of a D.D., and others representing his
forebears on both sides — quiet folk, painted by decent
but not important painters. Delia looked at them and
hardly spoke. Then they went into Mrs. Matthews'
Delia Blanchflower iiQ
room, which was bright with pretty chintzes, books and
water-colours, and had a bow-window looking on the
garden. Still Delia said nothing, beyond an absent
Yes or No, or a perfunctory word of praise. Winning-
ton became very soon conscious of some strong tension
in her, which was threatening to break down ; a tension
evidently of displeasure and resentment. He guessed
what the subject of it might be, but as he was most
unwilling to discuss it with her, if his guess were correct,
he tried to soothe and evade her by such pleasant talk
as the different rooms suggested. The house through
which he led her was the home, evidently, of a man full
of enthusiasms and affections, caring intensely for many
things, for his old school Winchester, of which there
were many drawings and photographs in the hall and
passages, for the two great games, cricket and tennis,
in which he himself excelled ; for poetry and literature
— the house overflowed everywhere with books ; for his
County Council work, and all the projects connected
with it ; for his familj' and his intimate friends.
"Who is that? " asked Delia, pointing to a charcoal
drawing in Mrs. Matthews' sitting-room, of a noble-
faced woman of thirty, in a delicate evening dress of
black and white.
" That is my mother. She died the year after it
was taken."
Delia looked at it in silence a moment. There was
something in its dignity, its restfulness, its touch of
austerity which challenged her. She said abruptly —
" I want to speak to 3'ou please, Mr. Winnington.
May we shut the door.''"
Winnington shut the door of his sister's room, and
returned to his guest. Delia had turned very white.
" I hear Mr. Winnington you have reversed an order
120 Delia Blanchflower
I wrote to our agent about one of the cottages. May I
know your reasons ? "
" I was very sorry to do so," said WInnington gently ;
" but I felt sure you did not understand the real cir-
cumstances, and I could not come and discuss them with
you."
Delia stood stormily erect, and the level light of the
October afternoon streaming in through a west window
magnified her height, and her prophetess air.
" I can't help shocking you, Mr. Winnington. I don't
accept what you say. I don't believe that covering up
horrible things makes them less horrible. I want to
stand by that girl. It is cruel to separate her from her
old father ! "
Winnington looked at her in distress and embarrass-
ment.
" The story is not what you think it," he said ear-
nestly. " But it is really not fit for your ears. I have
given great thought and much time to it, yesterday and
to-day. The girl — who is mentally deficient — will
be sent to a home and cared for. The father sees now
that it is the best. Please trust it to me."
*' Why mayn't I know the facts ! " persisted Delia,
paler than before.
" A flash of some quick feeling passed through Win-
nington's eyes.
" Why should you ? Leave us older folk, dear Miss
Delia, to deal with these sorrowful things."
Indignation blazed up in her.
" It is for women to help women," she said, passion-
ately. " It is no good treating us who are grown up —
even if we are young — like children any more. We
intend to know — that we may protect — and save."
I assure you," said Winnington gravely, " that this
C£
Delia Blanchflower 121
poor girl shall have every care — every kindness. So
there is really no need for you to know. Please spare
yourself — and me! "
He had come to stand by her, looking down upon
her. She lifted her eyes to his unwillingly, and as she
caught his smile she was invaded by a sudden conscious-
ness of his strong magnetic presence. The power in
the grey eyes, and in the brow over-hanging them, the
kind sincerity mingled with the power, and the friend-
liness that breathed from his whole attitude and ex-
pression, disarmed her. She felt herself for a moment
— and for the first time — young and ignorant, — and
that Winnington was ready to be in the true and not
merely in the legal sense, her " guardian," if she would
only let him.
But the moment of weakening was soon over. Her
mind chafed and twisted. Why had he undertaken
it — a complete stranger to her ! It was most em-
barrassing — detestable — for them both !
And there suddenly darted through her memory the
recollection of a certain item in her father's will. Un-
der it Mr. Winnington received a sum of £4f,000 out of
her father's estate, " in consideration of our old friend-
ship, and of the trouble I am asking him to undertake
in connection with my estates," — or words to that ef-
fect.
Somehow, she had never yet paid much attention to
that clause in the will. It occui-rcd in a list of a good
many other legacies, and had been passed over by the
lawyers in explaining the will to her, as something en-
tirely in the natural course of things. But the poison-
ous thought suggested itself — " It was that which
bribed him ! — he would have given it up, but for that ! "
He might not want it for himself — very possibly ! —
122 Delia Blanchflower
but for his charities, his Cripple School and the rest.
Her face stiffened.
" If you have arranged with her father, of course I
can't interfere," she said coldly. " But don't imagine,
please, Mr. Winnington, for one moment, that I accept
3'our view of the things I ' needn't know.' If I am
to do my duty to the people on this estate "
" I thought you weren't going to live on the estate.'' "
he said, lifting his eyebrows.
" Not at once — not this winter." She was annoyed
to feel herself stammering. " But of course I have a
responsibility "
The kindly laugh in his grey eyes faded.
" Yes — I quite admit that, — a great responsibility,"
he said slowly. " Do you mind if I mention another
subject.'' '*
" The meetings ? " she said, quickly. " You mean
that?"
"Yes — the meetings. I have just seen the placard
in the village."
" Well ? " Her loveliness in defiance dazzled him,
but he held on stoutly.
" You said nothing to me about these meetings the
other day."
" You never asked me ! "
He paused a moment.
" No — but was it quite — quite fair to me — to let
me suppose that the drawing-room meeting at Maum-
sey, which you kindly gave up, was the only meeting you
had in view.'' "
He saw her breath fluttering.
" I don't know what you supposed, Mr. Winnington !
I said nothing."
" No. But you let me draw an inference — a mis-
Delia Blanchflower 123
taken inference. However — let that be. Can I not
persuade you — now — to give up the Latchford meet-
ing, and any others of the same kind you may have
ahead ? "
She flamed at him.
*' I refuse to give them up ! " she said, setting her
teeth. " I have as much right to my views as you, Mr.
Winnington ! I am of full age, and I intend to work -for
them."
" Setting fire to houses — which is what your society is
advocating — and doing — hardly counts as ' views,' "
he said, with sudden sternness. " Risking the lives, or
spoiling the property of one's fellow countrymen, Ls not
the same thing as political argument."
" It's our argument — " she said passionately. —
" The men who are denying us the vote understand noth-
ing else ! "
The slightest humorous quiver in Winnington's strong
mouth enraged her still further. But he spoke with
most courteous gravity,
" Then I can't persuade you to give up these meet-
ings.'* I should of course make no objection whatever,
if these were ordinary Suffrage meetings. But the
Society you are going to represent and collect money
for is a Society that exists to break the law. And
its members have — just lately — come conspicuously
into collision with the law. Your father would have
protested, and I am bound to protest — in his
name."
" I cannot give them up."
He was silent a moment.
" If that is so " — he said at last — " I must do my
best to protect you."
" I don't want any protection ! "
124 Delia Blanchflower
" I am a magistrate, as well as your guardian. You
must allow me to judge. There is a very bitter feeling
abroad, after these — outrages — of the last few days.
The village where you are going to speak has some rowdy
elements — drawn from the brickfields near it. You
will certainly want protection. I shall see that you get
it."
He spoke with decision. Delia bit her lip.
" We prefer to risk our lives," she said at last. " I
mean — there isn't any risk ! — but if there were — our
lives are nothing in comparison with the cause ! "
" You won't expect your friends to agree with you,"
he said drily ; then, still holding her with an even keener
look, he added —
" And there is another point in connection with these
meetings which distresses me. I see that you are speak-
ing on the same platform — with Mr. Paul Lathrop — "
" And why not.^ " — she flashed, the colour rushing to
her cheeks.
He paused, walked away with his hands in his pockets,
and came back again.
" I have been making some enquiries about him. He
is not a man with whom you ought to associate — either
in public, or in private."
She gave a sound — half scorn — half indignation
which startled him.
" You mean — because of the divorce case? "
He looked at her amazed.
" That is what I meant. But — I certainly do not
wish to argue it with you. Will you not take it from
me that Mr. Lathrop is not — cannot be — a man whom
as a young unmarried woman you ought to receive in
your house — or with whom you should be seen in pub-
lic."
Delia Blanchflower 125"
" No, indeed I won't take it from you ! " she said pas-
sionately. " Miss Mai-A-cll knows — Miss Marvell told
me. He ran away with some one he loved. Her hus-
band was vUe! But she couldn't get any help — be-
cause of the law — the abominable law — which punishes
women — and lets men go free. So they went away
together, and after a little she died. Alter your law,
Mr. Winnington! — make it equal for men and women
— and then we'll talk."
As she spoke — childishly, defiant — Winnington's
mind was filled with a confusion of clashing thoughts
— the ideals of his own first youth which made such a
speech in the mouth of a girl of twenty-one almost in-
tolerable to him — and the moral conditions — slowly
gained — of his maturity. He agreed with what she
said. And yet it was shocking to him to hear her say
it.
" I don't quarrel with you as to that," he said, gravely,
after a moment. " Though I confess that in my belief
you are too young to have any real opinion about it.
But there was much in the case which concerned Mr.
Lathrop, of which 3'ou can have no idea. I repeat —
he is not a fit companion for you — and you do your-
self harm by appearing with him — in public or pri-
vate."
" Miss ISIarvell approves " — said Delia obstinately.
Winnington's look grew sterner.
" I appeal again to your father's memory," he said
quietly.
He perceived her quickened breath, but she made no
no reply.
He walked away from her, and stood looking out of
the window for a little. When he came back to her, it
was with a change of manner and subject.
126 Delia Blanchflower
" I should like you to understand that I have been
doing all I could to carry out your wishes with regard
to the cottages."
He drew a paper out of his pocket, on which he had
made some notes representing his talk that morning with
the agent of the Maumsey estates. But in her sup-
pressed excitement she hardly listened to him.
" It isn't exactly business, what we've done," he said
at last, as he put up the papers ; " but we wanted you
to have your way — about the old woman — and the
family of children." He smiled at her. " And the es-
tate can afford it."
Delia thanked him ungraciously. She felt like a child
who is offered sixpence for being good at the dentist's.
It was his whole position towards her — his whole con-
trol and authority — that she resented. And to be
forced to be grateful to him at the same time, compelled
to recognise the anxious pains he had taken to please
her in nine-tenths of the things she wanted, was really
odious : she could only chafe under it.
He took her back to the drawing-room. Delia walked
before him in silence. She was passionately angry ; and
yet beneath the stormy currents of the upper mind,
there were other feelings, intermittently active. It was
impossible to hate him ! — impossible to help liking him.
His gentlemanliness, his delicacy of feeling and touch
forced themselves on her notice. " I daresay ! " — said
wrath ; *' — but that's the worst of it. If Papa hadn't
done this fatal, foolish thing, of course we should have
made friends ! "
The Amberlcys walked home together when the partj
dispersed. Mrs. Amberley opened the discussion on the
newcomers.
Delia Blanchflower 127
" She is certainly handsome, but rather bold-looking.
Didn't you think so, father? "
" I wasn't drawn to her. But she took no account
of us," said the Rector, with his usual despondent can-
dour. In truth he was not thinking about Miss Blanch-
flower, but only about the possible departure of his
daughter, Susy.
" I thought her beautiful ! — but I'm sorry for Mr.
Winnington ! " exclaimed Susy, a red spot of excitement
or indignation in each delicate cheek.
" Mrs. Matheson told mc they will only do exactly
what they wish — that they won't take her brother's
advice. Very wrong, very wrong." The Rector shook
his grey head. " Young women were different in my
youth."
Mrs. Amberley sighed, and Susy biting her lip, knew
that her own conduct was much more in question than
Miss Blanchflower's.
They reached home in silence. Susy went to light
her father's candles in his modest book-littered study.
Then she put her mother on the sofa in the drawing-
room, rubbed Mrs. Amberley's cold hands and feet, and
blew up the fire.
Suddenly her mother threw an arm round her neck.
" Oh, Susy, must you go? "
Susy kissed her.
*' I should come back " — she said after a moment in
a low troubled voice. " Let me get this training, and
then if you want me, darling, I'll come back."
" Can't you be happy with us, Susy? "
" I want to Icnow something — and do something,"
said Susy, with intensity — evading the question. " It's
such a big world, mother ! I'll be better worth having
afterwards."
128 Delia Blanchflower
Mrs. Amberley said nothing. But a little later she
went into her husband's study.
" Frank — I think we'll have to let her," she said
piteously.
The Rector looked up assentinglj'^, and put his hand
in his wife's.
" It's strange how different it all seems nowadays,"
said Mrs. Amberley, in her low quavering voice. " If
I'd wanted to do what Susy wants, my mother would
have called me a wicked girl to leave all my duties —
and I shouldn't have dared. But we can't take it like
that, Frank, somehow."
" No," said the Rector slowly. " In the old days it
used to be only duties for the young — now it's rights
too. It's God's will."
" Susy loves us, Frank. She's a good girl."
" She's a good girl — and she shall do what she
thinks proper," said the Rector, rising heavily.
So they gave their consent, and Susy wrote her ap-
plication to Guy's hospital. Then they all three lay
awake a good deal of the night, — almost till the autumn
robin began to sing in the little rectory garden.
As for Susy, in the restless intervals of restless sleep,
she was alwa^^s back in the Bridge End drawing-room
watching Delia Blanchflower come in, with Mark Win-
nington behind. How glorious she looked I And every
day he would be seeing her, every day he would be think-
ing about her — just because she was sure to give him
so much trouble.
" And what right have you to complain.? " she asked
herself, trampling on her own pain. Had he ever said
a word of love to her, ever shewn himself anything else
than the kind and sympathetic friend — sometimes the
inspiring teacher in the causes he had at heart.? Never !
Delia Blanchflower 129
And jct — insensibly — his smile, his word of praise or
thanks, the touch of his firm warm hand, the sound of
his voice, the look in his eyes — it was for them she
had now learned to live. Yes ! — and because she could
no longer trust herself, she must go. She would not
fail or harass him ; she was his friend. She would go
away and scrub hospital floors, and polish hospital taps.
That would tame the anguish in her, and some day she
would be strong again — and come back — to those be-
loTeds who had given her up — so tenderly.
Chapter VIII
THE whole of Maumsey and its neighbourhood had
indeed been thrown into excitement by certain pla-
cards on the walls announcing three public meetings to
be held — a fortnight later — by the " Daughters of
Revolt " — at Latchford, Brownmouth, and Frimpton.
Latchford was but fifteen miles from Maumsey, and
frequent trains ran between them. Brownmouth and
Frimpton, also, were within easy distance by rail, and
the Maumseyites were accustomed to shop at either.
So that a wide country-side felt itself challenged — in-
vaded ; at a moment when an actual and violent attack
upon the Prime Minister by a group of " Daughters "
had converted an already incensed public opinion into
something none the less ugly, none the less alarming, be-
cause it had as yet found no organised expression. The
police were kept hard at work protecting open-air meet-
ings on the Brownmouth and Frimpton beaches, from
an angry populace who desired to break them up ; every
unknown woman who approached a village or strolled
into a village church, was immediately noticed, imme-
diately reported on, by hungry eyes and tongues alert
for catastrophe ; and every empty house had become an
anxiety to its owners.
And of course the sting of the outrage lay in the two
names which blazed in the largest of black print from
the centre of the placards. " The meeting will be ad-
dressed by Gertrude Marvell (D.R.), Delia Blanchflower
(D.R.), and Paul Lathrop."
130
Delia Blanchflower 131
Within barely two months of her father's death, this
young lady to be speaking on public platforms, in the
district where she was still a new-comer and a stranger,
and flaunting in the black and orange of this unspeak-
able society ! — such was the thought of all quiet folk
for miles round. The tide of callers which had set in
towards Maumsey Abbey ceased to flow ; neighbours who
had been already introduced to her, old friends of her
grandparents, passed Delia on the road with either the
stiff'est of bows or no notice at all. The labourers
stared at her, and their wives, those deepest well-heads
of Conservatism in the country, were loud in reproba-
tion. Their astonishment that " them as calls their-
sclves ladies " should be found burning and breaking,
was always, in Winnington's ears, a touching thing, and
a humbling. " Violence and arson " they seemed to say,
" are good enough for the likes of us — you'd expect it
of us. But 2/011 — the glorified, the supei-fine — who
have your meals brought you regular, more food than
you can eat, and more clothes than you can wear —
you! "
So that, underlying the country women's talk, and
under the varnish of our modem life, one caught the
accents and the shape of an old hierarchical world; and
the man of sympathy winced anew under the perennial
submission and disadvantage of the poor.
Meanwhile Delia's life was one long excitement. The
more she realised the disapproval of her neighbours, the
more convinced she was that she was on the right road.
She straightened her girlish back ; she set her firm red
mouth. Every morning brought reams of letters and
reports from London, for Gertinide ]\Iarvell was an Im-
portant member of the " Daughters' " organisation, and
must be kept informed. The reading of them main-
132 Delia Blanchflower
tained a constant ferment in Delia. In any struggle
of women against men, just as in any oppression of
women by men, there is an element of fever, of madness,
which poisons life. And in this element Delia's spirit
lived, for the brief hour of her youth. Led by the per-
petual influence of the older mind and imagination at
her side, she was overshadowed with the sense of women's
wrongs, haunted by their grievances, burnt up by a
flame of revolt against fate, against society, above all,
against men, conceived as the age-long and irrational
barrier in the path of women. It was irrational, and
therefore no rational methods were any good. Nothing
but waspishly stinging and hurting this great Man-
Beast, nothing but defiance of all rules and decorums,
nothing but force — of the womanish kind — answering
to force, of the masculine kind, could be any use. Ar-
gument was foolish. They — the Suffragists — had
already stuff'ed the world with argument; which only
generated argument. To smash and break and bum,
in more senses than one, remained the only course, wit-
ness Nottingham Castle, and the Hyde Park railings.
And if a woman's life dashed itself to pieces in the
process, well, what matter.? The case would only be
advanced.
One evening, not long after the tea-party at Bridge
End, a group of persons, coming from diff'erent quarters,
converged quietly, in the autumn dusk, on Maumsey
Abbey. Marion Andrews walked in front, with a Miss
Foster, the daughter of one of the larger farmers in the
neighbourhood ; and a short limping woman, clinging to
the arm of a vigorously-built girl, the Science Mistress
of the small but ancient Grammar School of the vil-
lage, came behind. They talked in low voices, and any
shrewd bystander would have perceived the mood of
Delia Blanchflower 133
agitated expectancy in which they approached the
house.
" It's wonderful ! " said little IMiss Toogood, the lame
dressmaker, as they turned a corner of the shrubbery,
and the rambling south front rose before them, —
" wonderful! — when you think of the people that used
to live here ! Why, old Lady Blanchflower looked upon
you and me. Miss Jackson, as no better than earwigs!
I sent her a packet of our leaflets once by post. Well
— she never used to give me any work, so she couldn't
take it away. But she got ]Mrs. David Jones at Thring
Farm to take away hers, and Mrs. Willy Smith, the
Vet's wife, you remember? — and two or three more.
So I nearly starved one winter; but I'm a tough one,
and I got thi-ough. And now there's one of us sits in
the old lady's place! Isn't that a sign of the times? "
" But of course ! " said her companion, whose face
expressed a kind of gloomy ardour. " We're winning.
We must win — sometime ! "
The cheerfulness of the words was oddly robbed of
its effect by the tragic look of the speaker. Miss Too-
good's hand pressed her arm.
" I'm always so sorry " — murmured the dressmaker
— " for those others — those women — who haven't lived
to see what we're going to sec, aren't you ? "
" Yes," assented the other, adding — with the same
emotional, emphasis — " But they've all helped — every
woman's helped! They've all played their parts."
" Well, I don't know about Lady Blanchflower ! "
laughed Miss Toogood, happily.
" What did she matter? The Antis are like the bits
of stick you put into a hive. All they do is to stir
up the bees,"
Meanwhile Marion Andrews was mostly silent, glanc-
134 Delia Blanchflower
ing restlessly however from side to side, as though she
expected some spy, some enemy — her mother? — to
emerge upon them from the shadows of the shrubbery.
Her companion, Kitty Foster, a rather pretty girl with
flaming red hair, the daughter of a substantial farmer
on the further side of the village, chattered unceasingly,
especially about the window-breaking raid in which she
had been concerned, the figure she had cut at the police
court, the things she had said to the magistrate, and the
annoj^ance she had felt when her father paid her fine.
" They led me a life when they got me home. And
mother's been so ill since, I had to promise I'd stay
quiet till Christmas anywa3\ But then I'm off I It's
fine to feel you're doing something real — something
hot and strong — so that people can't help taking notice
of you. That's what I say to father, when he shouts at
me — ' we're not going to ask you now any more —
we've asked long enough — we're going to make you do
what we want.' "
And the girl threw back her head excitedly. Marion
vaguely assented, and the talk beside her rambled on,
now violent, now egotistical, till they reached the Maum-
sey door.
" Now that we've got women like you with us — it
can't be long — it can't be long!" repeated Miss Too-
good, clasping her hands, as she looked first at Delia,
and then at the distant figure of Miss Marvell, who in
the further drawing-room, and through an archway,
could be seen talking with Marion Andrews. \
Delia's brows puckered.
" I'm afraid it will be long," she said, with a kind
of weary passion. " The forces against us are so
Delia Blanchflower 135
strong. But wc must just go on — and on — straight
ahead."
She sat erect on her cliair, very straight and slim, in
her black dress, her hands, with their long fingers, tightly
pressed together on her knee. Miss Toogood thought
she had never seen anyone so handsome, or so — so
splendid! All that was romantic in the little dress-
maker's soul rose to appreciate Delia Blanchflower. So
young and so self-sacrificing — and looking like a pic-
ture of Saint Cecilia that hung in Miss Toogood's back
room ! The INIovement was indeed wonderful ! How it
broke down class barriers, and knit all women together !
As her eyes fell on the picture of Lady Blanchflower, in
a high cap and mittens, over the mantelpiece. Miss Too-
good felt a sense of personal triumph over the barbarous
and ignorant past.
" What I mind most is the apathy of people — the
people down here. It's really terrible ! " said the science
mistress, in her melancholy voice. " Sometimes I
hardly know how to bear it. One thinks of all that's
going on in London — and in the big towns up north
— and here — it's like a vault. Everyone's really
against us. Why the poor people — the labourers'
wives — they're the worst of any ! "
" Oh no ! — we're getting on — we're getting on ! "
said Miss Toogood, hastily. " You're too despondent.
Miss Jackson, if you'll excuse me — you are indeed.
Now I'm never downhearted, or if I am, I saj' to my-
self — ' It's all right somewhere ! — somewhere that you
can't see.' And I think of a poem my father was fond
of — ' If hopes are cheats, fears may be liars — And
somewhere in yon smoke concealed — Your comrades
chase e'en now the fliers — And but for you possess the
136 Delia Blanchflower
field ! ' That's bj a man called Arthur Clough — ■
Miss Blanchflower — and it's a grand poem ! "
Her pale blue eyes shone in their wrinkled sockets.
Delia remembered a recent visit to Miss Toogood's tinj
parlour behind the front room where she saw her few
customers and tried them on. She recollected the books
which the back parlour contained. Miss Toogood's
father had been a bookseller — evidently a reading book-
seller — in Winchester, and in the deformed and twisted
form of his daughter some of his soul, his affections and
interests, survived.
" Yes, but what are you going to give us to do. Miss
Blanchflower?" said Kitty Foster, impatiently — "I
don't care what I do ! And the more it makes the mea
mad, the better I "
She drew herself up affectedly. She was a strapping
girl, with a huge vanity and a parrot's brain. A year
before this date a " disappointment " had greatly em-
bittered her, and the processions and the crowded Lon-
don meetings, and the window-breaking riots into whick
she had been led while staying with a friend, had beea
the solace and relief of a personal rancour and misery
she might else have found intolerable.
" / can't do anything — not anything public " — said
Miss Jackson, with emphasis — " or I should lose mj
post. Oh the slavery it is ! and the pittance they pay us
— compared to the men. Every man in the Boys' school
get £120 and over — and we're thought lucky to get
£80. And I'll be bound we work more hours in the week
than they do. It's hard! "
" That'll soon be mended," said Miss Toogood hope-
fully. " Look at Norway ! As soon as the women got
the vote, why the women's salaries in public offices were
put up at once."
Delia Blanchflower 137
The strong, honest face of the teacher refused to
smile. " Well it isn't always so, Miss Toogood. I
know they say that in New Zealand and Colorado —
where we've got the vote — salaries aren't equal by any
manner of means."
The dressmaker's withered cheek flushed red.
" ' They say ' " — she repeated scornfully. " That's
one of the Anti dodges — just picking out the things
that suit 'em, and forgetting all the rest. Don't you
look at the depressing things — I never do! Look at
what helps us ! There's a lot o' things said — and
there's a lot of things ain't true — You've got to pick
and choose — you can't take 'em as they come. No
one can."
Miss Jackson looked puzzled and unconvinced; but
could think of no reply.
The two persons in the distance appeared in the arch-
way between the drawing-rooms, Gertrude Marvell lead-
ing. Everyone looked towards her; everybody listened
for what she would say. She took Delia's chair, Delia
instinctively yielding it, and then — her dark eyes meas-
uring and probing them all while she talked, she gave
the little group its orders.
Kitty Foster was to be one of the band of girl-sellers
of the Tocsin, in Latchford, the day of the meeting.
The town was to be sown with it from end to end, and
just before the meeting, groups of sellers, in the
" Daughters' " black and orange, were to appear in
every corner of the square where the open-air meeting
was to be held.
" But we'll put you beside the speaker's waggon.
You're so tall, and your hair is enough to advertise any-
thing!" With a grim little smile, she stretched out a
kand and touched Kittv Foster's arm.
138
Delia Blanchflower
" Yes, Isn't it splendid ! " said Delia, ardently.
Kitty flushed and bridled. Her people in the farm-
house at home thought her hair ugly, and frankly told
her so. It was nice to be admired by Miss Blanch-
flower and her friend. Ladies who lived in a big house,
with pictures and fine furniture, and ever\i;hing hand-
some, must know better than farm-people who never
saw an3'thing but their cattle and their fields.
" And you " — the clear authoritative voice addressed
Miss Toogood — "can you take round notices?"
The speaker looked doubtfully at the woman's lame
foot and stick.
Miss Toogood replied that she would be at Latchford
by midday, and would take round notices till she
dropped.
The teacher who could do nothing public, was in-
vited to come to Maumsey in the evening, and address
envelopes. Miss Marvell had lately imported a Secre-
tary, who had set up her quarters in the old gun room
on the ground floor, and had already filled it with cor-
respondence, and stacked it with the literature of the
Daughters.
Miss Jackson eagerl}' promised her help.
Nothing was apportioned to Marion Andrews. She
sat silent following the words and gestures of that spare
figure in the grey cloth dress, in whom they all recog-
nised their chief. There was a feverish brooding In her
look, as though she was doubly conscious — both of the
scene before her, and of something only present to the
mind.
" You know why we are holding these meetings " —
said Gertrude Marvell, presently.
No one answered. They waited for her.
" It is a meeting of denunciation," she said, sharply^
Delia Blanchflower 139
" You know in the Land League days in Ireland they
used to hold meetings to denounce a landlord — for evic-
tions — and that landlord went afterwards in fear —
scorned — and cursed — and boycotted. Well, that's
what we're going to do with Ministers in their own lo-
calities where they live ! We can't boycott yet — we
haven't the power. But we can denounce — we can set
people on — we can hold a man up — we can make his
life a burden to him. And that's what we're going to
do — with Sir Wilfrid Lang. He's one of this brutal
Cabinet that keeps women in prison — one of the
strongest of them. His speeches have turned votes
against us in the House of Commons, time after time.
We mean to be even with Sir Wilfrid Lang ! "
She spoke quite quietly — almost under licr breath ;
but her slender fingers interlocked, and a steady glow
had overflowed her pale cheeks.
A tremor passed through all her listeners — a tremor
of excitement.
" What can we do? " said Miss Toogood at last, in
a low voice. Her eyes stared out of her kind old face,
which had grown white. " Ah, leave that to us ! " said
Miss Marvell, in another voice, the dry organising voice,
which was her usual one. And dropping all emotion and
excitement, she began rapidly to question three out of
the four women as to the neiglibourhood, the opinions of
individuals and classes, the strength in it of the old Suf-
frage societies, the presence or absence of propaganda.
They answered her eagerly. They all felt themselves
keyed to a higher note since she had entered the room.
They had got to business ; they felt themselves a power,
the rank and file of an " army with banners," under di-
rection. Even Delia, clearly, was in the same relation
towards this woman whom the outer world only knew as
140 Delia Blanchflower
her — presumably — paid companion. She was ques-
tioned, put right, instructed with the rest of them.
Only no one noticed that Marion Andrews took little or
no part in the conversation.
An autumn wind raged outside, and the first of those
dead regiments of leaves which would soon be choking
the lanes were pattering against the windows. Inside,
the fire leapt as the daylight faded, helped by a couple
of lamps, for Maumsey knew no electricity, and Delia,
under Gertrude's prompting, had declared against the
expense of putting it in. In the dim illumination the
faces of the six women emerged, typical all of them of
the forces behind the revolutionary wing of the woman's
movement. Enthusiasms of youth and age — hard-
ships of body and spirit — rancour and generous hope
— sore heart and untrained mind — fanatical brain and
dreaming ignorance — love unsatisfied, and energies un-
used — they were all there, and all hanging upon, con-
ditioned by something called " the vote," conceived as
the only means to a new heaven and a new earth.
When Delia had herself dismissed her guests into the
darkness of the October evening, she returned thought-
fully to where Gertrude Marvell was standing by the
drawing-room fire, reading a letter.
" You gave them all something to do except that Miss
Andrews, Gertrude? I wonder why you left her out.? "
" Oh, I had a talk with her before."
The tone was absent, and the speaker went on reading
her letter.
" When you took her into the back drawing-
room ? "
The slightest possible flicker passed through Ger-
trude's drooj>cd eyelids.
Delia Blanchflower 141
" She was telling me a lot about her home-life —
poor down-trodden thing ! "
Delia asked no more. But she felt a vague dis-
comfort.
Presently Gertrude put down her letter, and turned
towards her.
" May I have that cheque, dear — before post-time .''
If you really meant it-f* "
" Certainly." Delia went to her writing-table,
opened a drawer and took out her cheque-book.
A laugh — conscious and unsteady — accompanied
the dipping of her pen into the ink.
" I wonder what he'll say.-^ "
"Who.?"
" Mr. Winnington — when I send him all the bills to
be paid."
" Isn't he there to pay the bills.? "
Delia's face shewed a little impatience.
" You're so busy, dear, that I am afraid you forget
all I tell you about my own affairs. But I did tell you
that my guardian had trustingly paid eight hundred
pounds into the bank to last me till the New Year, for
house and other expenses — without asking me to prom-
ise anything either ! "
" Well, now, you are going to let us have £500. Is
there any difficulty ? "
" None — except that the ordinary bills I don't l>ay,
and can't pay, will now all go in to my guardian, who
will of course be curious to know what I have done with
the money. Naturally there'll be a row."
"Oh, a row!" said Gertrude ]\Iarvell, indiffc^entl3^
" It's your own money, Delia. Spend it as you like ! "
" I intend to," said Delia. " Still — I do rather wish
I'd given him notice. He ma}^ think it a mean trick."
142 Delia Blanchflower
" Do you care what he thinks ? "
" Not — much," said Deha slowly. " All the same,
Gertrude " — she threw her head back — " he is an
awfully good sort."
Gertrude shrugged her shoulders.
" I daresay. But you and I are at war with him and
his like, and can't stop to consider that kind of thing.
Also your father arranged that he should be well paid
for his trouble."
Delia turned back to the writing-table, and wrote the
cheque.
" Thank you, dearest," said Gertrude Marvell, giving
a light kiss to the hand that offered the cheque. " It
shall go to headquarters this evening — and you'll have
the satisfaction of knowing that you've financed all the
three bye-election campaigns that are coming — or
nearly."
Gertrude had gone away to her own sitting-room and
Delia was left alone. She hung over the fire, in an ex-
cited reverie, her pulses rushing ; and presently she took
a letter from the handbag on her wrist, and read it for
the second time by the light of the blaze she had kindled
in the grate.
" I will be at the Rose and Crown at least half an hour
before the meeting. We have got a capital waggon for
you to speak from, and chosen the place where it is to stand.
I am afraid we may have some rough customers to deal
with. But the police have been strongly warned — that
I have found out — though I don't know by whom — and
there will be plenty of them. My one regret is that I
cannot be in the crowd, so as both to see and hear you. I
must of course stick to the waggon. What a day for us
all down here ! — for our little down-trodden band ! You
Delia Blanchflower 143
come to us as our Joan of Arc, leading? us on a holy war.
You shame us into action, and to figlit witli you is itself vic-
tory. When I think of how you looked and how you
talked the other night! Do you know that you have a face
' to fire a thousand ships ? ' No, I am convinced you never
think of it — you never take your own beauty into con-
sideration. And you won't imagine that I am talking in
this way from any of the usual motives. Your personal
charm, if I may say so, is merely an item in our balance
sheet ; your money — I understand you have money — is
another. You bring your beauty and your money in your
hand, and throw them into the great conflagration of the
Cause — just as the women did in Savonarola's day. Yoil
flina: them away — if need be — for an idea. And because
of it, all the lovers of ideas, and all the dreamers of great
dreams will be your slaves and servants. Understand ! —
you are going to be loved and followed, as no ordinary
woman, even with your beauty, is ever loved and followed.
Your footsteps may be on the rocks and flints — I promise
you no easy, nor royal road. There may be blood on the
path ! But a cloud of witnesses will be all about you —
some living and some dead; you will be carried in the hearts
of innumerable men and women — Avomen above all ; and
if you stand firm, if your soul rises to the height of your
call, you will be worshipped, as the saints were worshipped.
" Only let nothing bar your path. Winnington is a good
fellow, but a thickheaded Philistine all the same. You
spoke to me about him with compunction. Have no com-
punctions. Go straight forward. Women have got to shew
themselves ruthless, and hard, and cunning, like men — if
they are to fight men.
" Yours faithfully,
" Paul Lathrop."
Delia's thoughts danced and flamed, like the pile of
blazing wood before her. What a singular being was
this Paul Lathrop! He had paid them four or five
144 Delia Blanchflower
visits already ; and they had taken tea with him once
in his queer hermitage under the southern slope of the
Monk Lawrence hill — a one-storey thatched cottage,
mostly built by Lathrop himself with the help of two
labourers, standing amid a network of ponds, stocked
with trout in all stages. Inside, the roughly-plastered
walls were lined with books — chiefly modem poets, with
French and Russian novels, and with unframed sketches
by some of the ultra clever fellows, who often, it seemed,
would come down to spend Sunday with Lathrop, and
talk and smoke till dawn put out the lights.
She found him interesting — certainly interesting.
His outer man — heavy mouth and lantern cheeks —
dreamy blue eyes, and fair hair — together with the
clumsy power in his form and gait, were not without a
certain curious attraction. And his story — as Ger-
trude Mar^'ell told it — would be forgiven by the ro-
mantic. All the same his letter had offended Delia
greatly. She had given him no encouragement to write
in such a tone — so fervid, so emotional, so intimate ;
and she would shew him — plainly — that it offended
her.
Nevertheless the phrases of the letter ran in her mind ;
until her discomfort and resentment were lost in some-
thing else.
She could not quiet her conscience about that cheque !
Not indeed as to giving it to the " Daughters." She
would have given everything she possessed to them, keep-
ing the merest pittance for herself, if fate and domestic
tyranny had allowed. No ! — but it hurt her — un-
reasonably, foolishly hurt her • — that she must prepare
herself again to face the look of troubled amazement in
Mark Winnington's eyes, without being able to justify
Delia Blanchflower 145
herself to herself, so convincingly as she would have liked
to do.
" I am simply giving my own money to a cause I
adore!" said one voice in the mind.
" It is not legally yours — it is legally his," said an-
other. " You should have warned him. You have got
hold of it under false pretences."
" Quibbles ! It is mine — equitably," replied the first.
*' He and I are at war. And I have warned him."
"At war.''" Her tiresome conscience kicked again.
Why, not a day had passed since her settlement at
Maumsey, without some proof, small or great, of Win-
nington's consideration and care for her. She knew
— guiltily knew, that he was overwhelmed by the busi-
ness of the executorship and the estate, and had been
forced to put aside some of his own favourite occupa-
tions to attend to it.
" Well ! — my father made it worth his while ! "
But her check reddened, with a kind of shame, as the
thought passed through her mind. Even in this short
time and because of the dail}^ contact which their busi-
ness relations required, she was beginning to know Win-
nington, to realise something of his life and character.
And as for the love borne him in the neighbourhood —
it was really preposterous — bad for any man ! Delia
pitied herself, not only because she was Winnington's
ward against her will, but because of the silent force of
public opinion that upheld him, and must necessarily
condemn her.
So he had once been engaged.!^ Lady Tonbridge had
told her so. To a gentle, saintly person of course ! —
a person to suit him. Delia could not help a movement
of half petulant curiosity — and then an involuntary
146 Delia Blanchflower
thrill. Many women since had been in love with him.
Lady Tonbridge had said as much. And he — with
no one! But he had a great many women friends? No
doubt ! — with that manner, and that charm. Delia
resented the women friends. She would have been quite
ready indeed to enrol herself among them — to worship
with the rest — from afar; were it not for ideas, and
principles, and honesty of soul ! As it was, she despised
the worship of which she was told, as something blind
and overdone. It was not the greatest men — not the
best men — who were so easily and universally beloved.
What did he really think of her? Did he ever guess
that there was something else in her than this obstinacy,
this troublesomeness with which she was forced to meet
him? She was sorry for herself, much more than for
him ; because she must so chill and mislead a man who
ought to understand her.
Looking up she saw a dim reflection of her own beauty
in the glass above the mantelpiece. " No, I am not
either a minx, or a wild-cat ! " — she thought, as though
she were angrily arguing with someone. " I could be
as attractive, as ' feminine,' as silly as anyone else, if
I chose! I could have wooers — of course — just like
other girls — if it weren't " —
For what? At that moment she hardly knew. And
why were her eyes filling with tears? She dashed them
indignantly away.
But for the first time, this cause, this public cause
to which she was pledged presented itself to her as a
sacrifice to be offered, a noble burden to be borne,
rather than as something which expressed the natural
and spontaneous impulse of her life.
Which meant that, already, since her recapture by
this English world, since what were hearsay had begun
Delia Blanchflower 147
to be experience, the value of things had sh'ghtly and
imperceptibly changed.
The days ran on. One evening, just before the first
of the " Daughters' " meetings, which was to be held at
Latchford, Winnington appeared in Lady Tonbridge's
drawing-room to ask for a cup of tea on his way to a
public dinner in Wanchester.
He seemed pre-occupied and worried ; and she fed him
before questioning him. But at last she said —
" You couldn't prevail on her to give up any of these
performances.^ "
" ]\Iiss Delia .'^ Not one. But it's only the Latchford
one that matters. Have j'ou been talking to her? "
He looked at her a little plaintively, as though he
could have reminded her that she had promised him a
friend's assistance.
" Of course ! But I might as well talk to this table.
She won't really make friends — nor will Miss ]Mar\'elI
allow her. It's the same, I find, with everyone else.
However, I'm bound to say, the neighbourhood is just
now in the mood that it doesn't much want to make
friends ! "
*' I know," said Winnington, with a sigh — relapsing
into silence.
" Is she taking an interest in the property — the
cottages.'' "
He shook his head.
" I'm sure she meant to. But it seems to be all
dropped."
" Provoking ! " said Madeleine, drily — " considering
how 3'ou've been slaving to please her — "
Winnington interrupted — not without annoyance —
" How can she think of anything else when she's once
148 Delia Blanchflower
deep in this campaign? One must blame the people
who led her into it ! "
" Oh ! I don't know ! " said Lady Tonbridge, pro-
testing. " She's a very clever young woman, with a
strong will of her own."
" Captured just at the impressionable moment ! " cried
Winnington — " when a girl will do anything — believe
anything — for the person she loves ! "
" Well the prescription should be easy — at her age.
Change the person ! But then comes the question : Is
she loveable.? Speak the truth, Mr. Guardian!"
Winnington began a rather eager assent. Watch her
with the servants, the gardeners, the animals ! Then
you perceived what should be the girl's natural charm
and sweetness —
" 'Hm. Does she show any of it to you.'' "
Winnington laughed.
" You forget — I am always there as the obstacle
in the path. But if it weren't for the sinister influence
— in the background."
And again he went off at score — describing various
small incidents that had touched or pleased him, as
throwing light upon what he vowed was the real Delia.
Madeleine listened, watching him attentively the while.
When he took his leave and she was alone, she sat think-
ing for some time, and then going to a cupboard in her
writing-table, which held her diaries of past years, she
rummaged till she found one bearing a date fifteen years
old. She turned up the entry for the sixteenth of May :
" She died last night. This morning, at early service,
Mark was there. We walked home together. I doubt
whether he will ever marry — now. He is not one of
those men who are hurried by the mere emotion and un-
Delia Blanchfiower 149
bcarableness of grief, into a fresli emotion of love. But
what a lover — what a husband lost ! "
She closed the book, and stood with it in her hand —
pondering.
As he left her house, and turned towards the station
Winnington passed a lady to whom he bowed, recognis-
ing her as Miss Andrews.
" Hope 3'ou've got an umbrella ! " he said to her
cheerily, as he passed. " The rain's coming ! "
She smiled, pleased like all the world to be addressed
with that Winningtonian manner which somehow im-
plied that the person addressed was, for the moment
at any rate, his chiefest concern. Immediately after
meeting him she turned from the village street, and be-
gan to mount a lane leading to the slope on which Monk
Lawrence stood. Her expression as she walked along,
sometimes with moving lips, had grown animated and
sarcastic. Here were two men, a dead father and a
live guardian, trying to coerce one simple girl — and
apparently not making much of a job of it. She gloried
in what she had been told or perceived of Delia Blanch-
flower's wilfulness, which seemed to her mother and her
brother the Captain so monstrous. Only — could one
entirely trust anybody like Delia Blanchfiower — so
prosperous — and so good-looking?
Miss Andrews mounted the hill, passed through a
wood that ran along its crest, and took a footpath,
leading past the edge of a railway cutting, from which
the wonderful old house could be plainly seen. She
paused several times to look at it, wrapped in a kind of
day-dream, which gave a growing sombreness to her
harsh and melancholy features. Beyond the footpath a
150 Delia Blanchflower
swing gate opened into a private path leading to the
house.
She opened the gate, and walked a little way up the
path, in the fast gathering darkness. But she was
suddenly arrested by the appearance of a figure in the
far distance, black against the pale greys of the house.
It was a policeman on his beat — she caught one of the
gleams of a lantern.
Instantly she turned back, found her way again
through the wood, and into a side road leading to her
brother's house.
She found her mother lying on the sofa in the draw-
ing-room, the remains of a rather luxurious tea beside
her — her outdoor clothes lying untidily about the room.
"Where have you been?" said Mrs. Andrews, fret-
fully — " there were several letters I wanted written be-
fore post."
" I wanted a little air. That linen business took me
all the morning."
For it was the rale in the Andrews' household that
the house linen should be gone through every six months
with a view to repairs and renewals. It was a tedious
business. Mrs. Andrews' nerves did not allow her to
undertake it. It fell therefore, and had always fallen
to the only daughter, who was not made for housewifery
tasks, and detested the half-yearly linen day accordingly.
Her tone displeased her mother.
" There you are — grumbling again, Marion ! What
else have you to do, I should like to know, than your
home duties? "
Marion made no reply. What was the use of reply-
ing? But her black eyes, as she helped herself wearily
to some very cold tea, took note of her mother's attitude.
Delia Blanchflower 151
It was only tlic week before that Dr. France had ex-
pressed himself rather pointedly to the effect that more
exercise and some fresh interests in life " would be good
for Mrs. Andrews."
Mrs. Andrews returned to the ladies' paper she was
reading. The fashion plates for the week were un-
usually attractive. Marion observed her unseen.
Suddenly the daughter said : —
" I must ask you for that five pounds, mother. Bill
promised it me. My underclothing is literally in rags.
I've done my best, and it's past mending. And I must
have another decent dress."
" There 3'ou are, — clamouring for money again " —
said her mother, bouncing up on the sofa — " when you
know how hard-pressed Bill is. He's got another in-
stalment to pay for the motor the end of this week."
" Yes — the motor you made him get ! " — said
Marion, as though the words burst from her.
" And why shouldn't he, pray ! The money's his —
and mine. It was high time we got rid of that rattle-
trap. It jolted me to pieces."
" You said a little while ago it would do very well
for another year. Anyway, Bill promised me something
for clothes this month — and he also said that he'd pay
my school of art fees, at Wanchcstcr, and give me a
third season ticket. Is that all done with too?"
The girl sat erect, her face with its sparkling eyes
expressing mingled humiliation and bitterness.
*' Oh, well really, I can't stand these constant dis-
putes ! " said Mrs. Andrews, rising angrily from the sofa.
" You'd better go to your brother. If he likes to waste
his money, he can of course. But I've got none to
spare." She paused at the door — " As for your under-
152 Delia Blanchflower
clothing, I daresay I could find you something of mine
you could make do for a bit. Now do be sensible ! — •
and don't make a scene with Bill ! "
She closed the door. Marion walked to the side
window of the drawing-room, and stood looking at the
wooded slope of the hill, with Monk Lawrence in the
distance.
Her heart burned within her. She was thirty-four.
She had never had any money of her own — she had
never been allowed any education that would fit her to
earn. She was absolutely dependent on her mother and
brother. Bill was kind enough, though careless, and
often selfish. But her mother rubbed her dependence
into her at every turn — " And yet I earn my clothes and
my keep — every penny of them ! " she thought, fiercely.
A year before this date she had been staying in Lon-
don with a cousin who sometimes took pity on her and
gave her a change of scene. They had gone together
for curiosity's sake to a " militant " meeting in London.
A lady, slight in figure, with dark eyes and hair, had
spoken on the " economic independence of women " —
as the only path to the woman's goal of " equal rights "
with men. She had spoken with passion, and Marion's
sore heart had leapt to answer her.
That lady was Gertrude Marvell. Marion had writ-
ten to her, and there had been a brief acquaintance,
enough to kindle the long-repressed will and passion of
the girl's stormy nature. She had returned home, to
read, in secret, everything that she could find on the
militant movement. The sheer violence of it appealed
to her like water to the thirsty. War, war ! — on
a rotten state of society, and the economic slavery of
women !
And now her first awakener, her appointed leader, her
Delia Blanchflower 153
idol had appeared in this dead country-side, witli orders
to give, and tasks to impose. And she should be obeyed
— to the letter !
The girl's heavy eyes kindled to a mad intensity, as
she stood looking at the hill-side, now almost dark, ex-
cept for that distant light, which she know as the elec-
tric lamp still lit at sunset, even in Sir Wilfrid's absence,
over the stately doorAvay of Monk Lawrence.
But she was not going to the Latchford meeting.
" Don't give yourself away. Don't be seen with the
others. Keep out of notice. There are more important
things for you to do — presently. Wait ! "
The words echoed in her ears. She waited ; exulting
in the thought that no one, not even Miss Blanchflower,
knew as much as she ; and that neither her mother nor
her brother had as yet any idea of her connection with
the " Daughters." Her " silly suffrage opinions " were
laughed at by them both — good-humouredly, by Bill.
Of the rest, they knew nothing.
Chapter IX
' 'TV yTARK! you've done the day's work of two peo-
-i-^-l- pie already ! " cried Mrs. Matheson in a tone
of distress. " You don't mean to say you're going in to
Latclif ord again ? — and without waiting for some
food?"
She stood under the porch of Bridge End remon-
strating with her brother.
"Can't be helped, dear!" said Winnington, as he
filled his pipe — " I'm certain there'll be a row to-night,
and I must catch this train ! "
" What, that horrid meeting ! Delia Blanchflower
lets you slave and slave for her, and never takes the
smallest notice of your wishes or your advice! She
ought to be ashamed ! "
The sister's mild tone trembled with indignation.
" She isn't ! " laughed Winnington. " I never knew
anyone less so. But we can't have her ill treated.
Expect me back when you see me ! "
And kissing his hand to his sister, he went out into
a dark and blustering evening. Something had just
gone wrong with the little motor car he generally drove
himself, and there was nothing for it but to walk the
mile and a half to the railway station.
He had spent the whole day in County Council busi-
ness at Wanchester, was tired out, and had now been
obliged to leave home again without waiting even for a
belated cup of tea. But there was no help for it. He
had only just time to catch the Latchford train.
154
Delia Blanchflower 155
As he almost ran to the station he was not conscious
however of any of these small discomforts ; his mind
was full of Delia. He did not encourage anyone but
]Madeleine Tonbridge to talk to him about his ward;
but he was already quite aware, before his old friend
laid stress on it, of the hostile feeling towards Delia
and her chaperon that was beginning to show itself in
the neighbourhood. He knew that she was already
pronounced heartless, odious, unprincipled, consumed
with a love of notoriety, and ready for any violence, at
tlie bidding of a woman who was probably responsible
at that very moment — as a prominent organiser in
the employ of the society contriving them — for some
of the worst of the militant outrages. His condemna-
tion of Delia's actions was sharp and unhesitating; his
opinion of Miss MarvcU not a whit milder than that of
his neighbours. Yet he had begun, as we have seen, to
discover in himself a willingness, indeed an eagerness
to excuse and pity the girl, which was wholly lacking
in the case of the older woman. Under the influence,
indeed, of his own responsive temperament, Winnington
was rapidly drifting into a state of feeling where his
perception of Delia's folly and unreason was almost
immediately checked by some enchanting memory of her
beauty, or of those rare moments in their brief ac-
(}uaintance, when the horrid shadow of the " ]Move-
ment " had been temporarily lifted, and he had seen
her, as in his indulgent belief she truly was — or was
meant to be. She flouted and crossed him perpetually ;
and he was beginning to discover that he only thought
of her the more, and that the few occasions when he
])ad been able to force a smile out of her, — a sudden
softness in her black eyes, gone in a moment ! — were
constantly pleading for her in his mind. All part no
156 Delia Blanchflower
doubt of his native and extreme susceptibility to the
female race — the female race in general. For he could
see himself, and laugh at himself, ab extra, better than
most men.
At the station he came across Captain Andrews, and
soon discovered from that artless warrior that he also
was bound for Latchford, with a view to watching over
Delia Blanchflower.
" Can't have a lot of hooligans attacking a good-
looking girl like that — whatever nonsense she talks ! "
murmured the Captain, twisting his sandy moustache ;
" so I thought I'd better come along and see fair play.
Of course I knew you'd be there."
The train was crowded. Winnington, separated
from the Captain, plunged into a dimly-lighted third
class, and found himself treading on the toes of an
acquaintance. He saluted an elderly lady wearing a
bonnet and mantle of primeval cut, and a dress so
ample in the skirt that it still suggested the days of crin-
oline. She was abnormally tall, and awkwardly built ;
she wore cotton gloves, and her boots were those of a
peasant. She carried a large bag or reticule, and her
lap was piled with brown parcels. Her large thin face
was crowned by a few straggling locks of what had once
been auburn hair, now nearly grey, the pale spectacled
eyes were deeply wrinkled, and the nose and mouth
slightly but indisputably crooked.
" My dear Miss Dempsey ! — what an age since we
met! Where are you off to.'* Give me some of those
parcels ! "
And Winnington, seizing what he could lay hands on,
transferred them to his own knees, and gave a cordial
grip to the right hand cotton glove.
Miss Dempsey replied that she had been in Brown-
Delia Blanchflower 157
mouth for the day, and was going home. After which
she smiled and said abruptly, bending across her still
laden knees and his — so as to speak unheard by their
neighbours —
" Of course I know where you're going to! "
" Do you ? "
The queer head nodded.
" Why can't you keep her in order.'' "
"Her.? Who?"
" Your ward. Why don't you stop it? "
" Stop these meetings? My ward is of age, please
remember, and quite aware of it."
Miss Denipscy sighed.
" Naughty young woman ! " she said, yet with the
gentlest of accents. " For us of the elder generation
to see our work all undone by these maniacs ! They
have dashed the cup from our very lips."
" Ah ! I forgot you were a Suffragist," said Win-
nington, smiling at her.
"Suffragist?" she held up her head indignantly —
" I should rather think I am. ]My parents were friends
of Mill, and I heard him speak for Woman Suffrage
when I was quite a child. And now, after the years
we've toiled and moiled, to sec these mad women wreck-
ing the whole thing ! "
Winnington assented gravely.
" I don't wonder you feel it so. But you still want
it — the vote — as much as ever?"
" Yes ! " she said, at first with energy ; and then on
a more wavering note — " Yes, — but I admit a great
many things have been done without it that I thought
couldn't have been done. And these wild women give
one to think. But you? Are you against us? — or
has Miss Delia converted you?
5>
158 Delia Blanchflower
He smiled again, but without answering her ques-
tion. Instead, he asked her in a guarded voice —
" You are as busy as ever? "
" I am there always — just as usual. I don't have
much success. It doesn't matter."
She drew back from him, looking quietly out of
window at the autumn fields. Over her wrinkled face
with its crooked features, there dawned a look of strange
intensity, mingled very faintly with something exquisite
— a ray from a spiritual world.
Winnington looked at her with reverence. He knew
all about her ; so did many of the dwellers in the Maum-
sey neighbourhood. She had lived for half-a-century
in the same little house in one of the back-streets of
Latchford, a town of some ten thousand inhabitants.
Through all that time her life had been given to what
is called " rescue work " — though she herself rarely
called it by that name. She loved those whom no one
else would love — the meanest and feeblest of the out-
cast race. Every night her door stood on the latch,
and as the years passed, thousands knew it. Scarcely
a week went by, that some hand did not lift that latch,
and some girl in her first trouble, or some street-walker,
dying of her trade, did not step in to the tiny hall where
the lamp burnt all night, and wait for the sound of the
descending footsteps on the stairs, which meant shelter
and pity, warmth and food. She was constantly de-
ceived, sometimes robbed; for such things she had no
memory. She only remembered the things which can-
not be told — the trembling voices of hope or returning
joy — the tenderness in dying eyes, the clinging of
weak hands, the kindness of " her poor children." She
had written — without her name — a book describing
the condition of a great seaport town where she had
Delia Blanchflower 159
once lived. The facts recorded in it had inspired a
great refonning Act. No one knew anything of her
part in it — so far as the public was concerned. Many
persons indeed came to consult her ; she gave all her
knowledge to those who wanted it; she taught, and she
counselled, always as one who felt herself the mere
humble mouthpiece of things divine and compelling ; and
those who went away enriched did indeed forget her
in her message, as she meant them to do. But in her
own town as she passed along the streets, in her queer
garb, blinking and absently smiling as though at her
own thoughts, she was greeted often with a peculiar
reverence, a homage of which her short sight told her
little or nothing.
Winnington especially had applied to her in more
than one difficulty connected with his public work. It
was to her he had gone at once when the Blanchflower
agent had come to him in disma}" reporting the decision
of ]Miss Blanchflower with regard to the half-witted
girl whose third illegitimate child by a quite uncertain
father had finally proved her need of protection both
from men's vileness, and her own helplessness. Miss
Dempscy had taken the girl first into her own house,
and then, persuading and comforting the old father,
had placed her in one of the Homes where such victims
are sheltered.
Winnington briefly enquired after the girl. She as
briefly replied. Then she added : — as other travellers
got out and they were left to themselves.
" So Miss Blanchflower wanted to keep her in the
village?"
Winnington nodded, adding —
*' She of course had no idea of the real facts."
No. Why should she? — ^Vhi/ should she! — "
a
i6o Delia Blanchflower
the old lips repeated ■with passion. " Let her keep her
youth while she can ! It's so strange to me — how
they will throw away their youth ! Some of us must
know. The black ox has trodden on us. A woman of
thirty must look at it all. But a girl of twenty I
Doesn't she see that she helps the world more by not
knowing ! — that her mere unconsciousness is our gain
■ — our refreshment."
The face of the man sitting opposite her, reflected
her own feeling.
" You and I always agree," he said warmly. " I
wish you'd make friends with her."
"Who? Miss Blanchflower? What could she make
out of an old stager like me ! " Miss Dempsey's face
broke into amusement at the notion. " And I don't
know that I could keep my temper with a militant.
Well now you're going to hear her speak — and here
we are."
Winnington and Captain Andrews left the station
together. Latchford owned a rather famous market,
and market day brought always a throng of country'
folk into the little town. A multitude of booths under
flaring gas jets — for darkness had just fallen — held
one side of the square, and the other was given up to
the hurdles which penned the sheep and cattle, and to
their attendant groups of farmers and drovers.
The market place was full of people, but the crowd
which filled it was not an ordinary market-day crowd.
The cattle and sheep indeed had long since gone off
with their new owners or departed homeward unsold.
The booths were most of them either taken down or
were In process of being dismantled. For the evening
was falling fast ; it was spitting with rain ; and business
Delia Blanchflower l6i
was over. But the sliop windows in the market-place
were still hrilliantly lit, and from the windows of the
Crown Inn, all tenanted by spectators, light streamed
out on the crowd below. The chief illumination came
however from what seemed to be a large shallow waggon
drawn up not far from the Crown. Three people stood
in it ; a man — who was speaking — and two women.
From either side, a couple of motor lamps of great
brilliance concentrated upon them threw their faces
and figures into harsh relief.
The crowd was steadily pressing toward the waggon,
and it was evident at once to Winnington and his com-
panion that it was not a friendly crowd.
" Looks rather ugly, to me ! " said Andrews in Win-
nington's ear. " They've got hold of that thing which
happened at Wanchester yesterday, of the burning of
that house where the care-taker and his children only
just escaped."
A rush of lads and young men passed them as he
spoke — shouting —
" Pull 'em down — turn 'em out ! "
Andrews and Winnington pursued, but were soon
forced back by a retreating movement of those in front.
Winnington's height enabled him to see over the heads
of the crowd.
" The police are keeping a ring," he reported to his
companion — " they seem to have got it in hand ! Ah !
now they've seen me — they'll let us through."
Meanwhile the shouts and booing of the hostile por-
tion of the audience — just augmented by a number of
rough-looking men from the neighbouring brickfields —
prevented most of the remarks delivered by the male
speaker on the cart from reaching the audience.
" Cowards ! " said an excited woman's voice — " that's
i62 Delia Blanchflower
all they can do ! — howl like wild beasts — that's all
they're fit for ! "
Winnington turned to see a tall girl, carrying an
armful of newspapers. She had flaming red hair, and
she wore a black and orange scarf, with a cap of the
same colours. " Foster's daughter," he thought, won-
dering. " What happens to them all ! " For he had
known Kitty Foster from her school days, and had
never thought of her except as a silly simpering flirt,
bent on the pursuit of man. And now he beheld a
maenad, a fury.
Suddenly another woman's voice cut across the
others —
" Aren't you ashamed of those colours ! Go home
— and take them off^. Go home and behave like a
decent creature ! "
Heads were turned — to see a middle-aged woman
of quiet dress and commanding aspect, sternly pointing
to the astonished Kitty Foster. " Do you see that
girl ? " — the woman continued, addressing her neigh-
bours, — " she's got the ' Daughters' ' colours on. Do
you know what the Daughters have been doing in town?
You've seen about the destroying of letters in London.
Well, I'll tell you what that means. I had a little
servant I was very fond of. She left me to go and live
near her sister in town. The sister died, and she got
consumption. She went into lodgings, and there was
no one to help her. She wrote to me, asking me to
come to her. Her letter was destroyed in one of
the pillar-boxes raided — by those women — " She
pointed. " Then she broke her heart because she
thought I'd given her up. She daren't write again.
And now I've found her out — in hospital — dying.
Delia Blanchflower 163
I've seen her to-day. If it hadn't have been for these
demented creatures she'd be alive now."
The woman paused, her voice breaking a little.
Kitty Foster tossed her head.
"What are most women in hospital for?" she said,
shrilly. " By the fault of men ! — one way or the
other. That's what we think of."
" Yes I know — that's one of the shameless things
you say — to us who have husbands and sons we thank
God for ! " said the elder woman, quivering. " Go and
get a husband ! — if you can find one to put up with
you, and hold your tongue ! " She turned her back.
The girl laughed affectedly.
" I can do without one, thank you. It's you happy
married women that are the chief obstacle in our path.
Selfish things ! — never care for anybody but your-
selves ! "
" Hallo — Lathrop's down — that's Miss Blanch-
flower ! " said Andrews, excitedly. " Let's go on ! "
And at the same moment a mounted constable, who
had been steadily making his way to them, opened a
way for the two J.P.'s through the crowd, which after
the tumult of hooting mingled with a small amount of
applause, which had greeted Lathrop's peroration, had
relapsed into sudden silence as Delia Blanchflower came
forward, so that her opening words, in a rich clear voice
were audible over a large area of the market-place.
What did she say? Certainl}' nothing new! Win-
nington knew it all by heart — had read it dozens of
times in their strident newspaper, which he now perused
weekly, simply that he might discover if he could, what
projects his ward might be up to.
164 Delia Blanchflower
The wrongs of women, their wrongs as citizens, as
wives, as the victims of men, as the " refuse of the fac-
tory system " — Winnington remembered the phrase in
the Tocsin of the week before — the uselessness of con-
stitutional agitation — the need " to shake England to
make her hear " — it was all the " common form " of
the Movement ; and yet she was able to infuse it with
passion, with conviction, with a wild and natural elo-
quence. Her voice stole upon him — hypnotized him.
His political and economic knowledge told him that half
the things she said were untrue, and the rest irrelevant.
His moral sense revolted against her violence — her
defence of violence. A girl of twenty-one addressing
this ugly, indifferent crowd, and talking calmly of
stone-throwing and arson, as though they were occu-
pations as natural to her youth as dancing or love-
making ! — the whole thing was abhorrent — prepos-
terous — to a man of order and peace. And yet he
had never been more stirred, more conscious of the mad,
mixed poetry of life, than he was, as he stood watching
the slender figure on the waggon — the gestures of the
upraised arm, and the play of the lights from the hotel,
and from the side lamps, now on the deep white collar
that lightened her serge jacket, on the gestulating
hand, or the face that even in these disfiguring cross-
lights could be nothing else than lovely.
She was speaking too long — a common fault of
women.
He looked from her to the faces of the crowd, and
saw that the spell, compounded partly of the speaker's
good looks and partly of sheer gaping curiosity, was
breaking. They were getting restless, beginning to
heckle and laugh.
Then he heard her say.
Delia Blanchflower 165
" Of course we know — you think us fools — silly
fools ! You say it's a poor sort of figliting — and what
do we hope to get by it? Pin-pricks you call it — all
that women can do. Well, so it is — we admit it.
It is a poor sort of fighting — wc don't admire it any
more than you. But it's all men have left to women.
You have disarmed us — and fooled us — and made
slaves of us. You won't allow us the constitutional
weapon of the vote, so we strike as we can. and with
what weapons we can "
" Makin' bonfires of inncrcent people an' their
property, ain't politics, Miss ! " shouted a voice.
" Hear, Hear ! " from the crowd.
" We haven't killed anybody — but ourselves ! "
The answer flashed.
" Pretty near it ! Them folks at Wanchester only
just got out — an' there were two children among 'em,"
cried a man near the waggon.
" An' they've just been up to something new at
Brownmouth "
All heads turned towards a young man who spoke
from the back of the audience. " News just come to
the post-office," he shouted — " as the new pier was
burnt out early this morning. There's a bit o' wanton
mischief for you ! "
A howl of wrath rose from the audience, amid which
the closing words of Delia's speech were lost. Win-
nington caught a glimpse of her face — pale and ex-
cited — as she retreated from the front of the waffffon
in order to make room for her co-speaker.
Gertrude Marvell, as Winnington soon saw, was far
more skilled in street oratory than her pupil. By
sheer audacity she caught her audience at once, and
very soon, mingling defiance with sarcasm, she had
i66 Delia Blanchflower
turned the news of the burnt pier into a Suffragist
parable. What was that blaze in the night, lighting
up earth and sea, but an emblem of women's revolt
flaming up in the face of dark injustice and oppression?
Let them rage ! The women mocked. All tyrannies
disliked being disturbed — since the days of Nebuchad-
nezzar. And thereupon, without any trace of excite-
ment, or any fraction of Delia's eloquence, she built up
bit by bit, and in face of the growing hostility' of the
crowd, an edifice of selected statements, which could
not have been more adroit. It did not touch or per-
suade, but it silenced ; till at the end she said — each
word slow and distinct —
" Now — all these things you may do to women, and
nobody minds — nobody troubles at all. But if we
make a bonfire of a pier, or an empty house, by way of
drawing attention, with as little damage as possible,
to your proceedings, then, you see red. Well, here we
are ! — do what you like — torture, imprison us ! —
you are only longing, I know — some of you — to pull
us down now and trample on us, so that 3'ou may show
us how much stronger men are than women ! All right !
— but where one woman falls, another will spring up.
And meanwhile the candle we are lighting will go on
burning till you give us the vote. Nothing simpler —
nothing easier. Give us the vote! — and send your
canting Governments, Liberal, or Tory, packing, till we
get it. But until then — windows and empty houses,
and piers and such-like, are nothing — but so many
opportunities of making our masters uncomfortable, till
they free their slaves ! Lucky for you, if the thing is
no worse ! "
She paused a moment, and then added with sharp
and quiet emphasis —
Delia Blanchfiower 167
" And why is it specially necessary that we .should
try to stir up this district — whether you like our
methods or whether you don't? Because — you have
living here among you, one of the worst of the perse-
cutors of women ! You have here a man who has backed
up every cruelty of the Government — who has denied
us every right, and scoffed at all our constitutional
demands — your neighbour and great landlord. Sir
Wilfrid Lang! I call upon every woman in this dis-
trict, to avenge women on Sir Wilfrid Lang! W^e are
not out indeed to destroy life or limb — we leave that
to the men who are trying to coerce women — but we
mean to sweep men like Sir Wilfrid Lang out of our
way ! Meanwhile we can pay special attention to his
meetings — we can meet him at railway stations — we
can sit on his doorstep — we can speak plainh' to him
in letters and post-cards — in short we can make his
life a tenth part as disagreeable to him as he can make
ours to us. We can make it a burden to him — give
him no quarter — and we intend to do so ! And don't
let men — or women either — waste their breath in
preaching to us of ' law and order.' Slaves who have
no part in making the law, are not bound by the law.
Enforce it if you can ! But while you refuse to free
us, we despise both the law and the making of the law.
Justice — which is a very different thing from law —
Justice is our mistress ! — and to her we appeal."
Folding her arms, she looked the crowd in the face.
They seemed to measure each other ; on one side, the
lines of upturned faces, gaping youths, and smoking
workmen, farmers and cattlemen, women and children ;
on the other, defying them, one thin, neatly-dressed
woman, her face, under the lamps, a gleaming point in
the dark.
i68 Delia Blanchflower
Then a voice rose from a lounging group of men,
smoking like chimneys — powerful fellows ; smeared
with the clay of the brickfields.
" Who's a-makin' slaves of you, Ma'am ? There's
most of us workin' for a woman ! "
A woman in the middle of the crowd laughed shrilly
• — a queer, tall figure in a battered hat —
" Aye — and a lot yo' give 'er ov a Saturday night,
don't yer ? "
" Sir Wilfrid's a jolly good feller, miss," shouted
another man. " Pays 'is men good money, an' no
tricks. If you come meddlin' with him, in these parts,
you'll catch it."
" An' we don't want no suffragettes here, thank
you ! " cried a sarcastic woman's voice. " We was
quite 'appy till you come along, an' we're quite willin'
now for to say * Good-bye, an' God bless yer ! ' "
The crowd laughed wildly, and suddenly a lad on the
outskirts of the crowd picked up a cabbage-stalk that
had fallen from one of the market-stalls, and flung it
at the waggon. The hooligan element, scattered
through the market-place, took up the hint at once;
brutal things began to be shouted ; and in a moment the
air was thick with missiles of various sorts, derived
from, the refuse of the day's market — vegetable re-
mains of all kinds, fragments of wood and cardboard
boxes, scraps of filthy matting, and anything else that
came handy.
The audience at first disapproved. There were loud
cries of "Stow it!— "Shut up ! "— " Let the ladies
alone ! " — and there was little attempt to obstruct the
police as they moved forward. But then, by ill-luck,
the powerfully-built fair-haired man, who had been
speaking when Winnington and Andrews entered the
Delia Blanchflower 169
market place, rushed to the front of the waggon, and in
a white heat of fury, began to denounce both the assail-
ants of tlie speakers, and the crowd in general, as
" cowardly louts " — on whom argument was thrown
aw^ay — who could only be reached "through their
backs, or their pockets " — with other compliments of
the same sort, under which the temper of the " moder-
ates " rapidly gave way.
" What an ass ! What a damned ass ! " groaned An-
drews indignantly. " Look here Winnington, you take
care of Miss Blanchflower — I'll answer for the other ! "
And amid a general shouting and scuffling, through
which some stones were beginning to fly, Winnington
found himself leaping on tlie waggon, followed by An-
drews and a couple of police.
Delia confronted him — undaunted, though breath-
less.
What do you want? We're all right!"
You must come away at once. I can get you
through the hotel."
" Not at all! We must put the Resolution."
" Come Miss ! — " said the tall constable behind
Winnington — " no use talking I There's a lot of fel-
lows here tliat mean mischief. You go with this gentle-
man. He'll look after you."
" Not without my friend ! " cried Delia, both hands
behind her on the edge of the waggon — erect and defi-
ant. " Gcrti-ude ! — " she raised her voice — " What
do you wish to do ? "
But amid the din, her appeal was not heard.
Gertrude Marvell however could be clearly seen on
the other side of the waggon, with Paul Lathrop be-
side her, listening to the remonstrances and entreaties
of Andrews, with a smile as cool, as though she were
((
((
170 Delia Blanchflower
in the drawing-room of ]\Iaumsey Abbey, and the Cap-
tain were inviting her to trifle with a cup of tea.
" Take her along, Sir ! " said the policeman, with a
nod to Winnington. " It's getting ugly." And as he
spoke, a man jumped upon the waggon, a Latchford
doctor, an acquaintance of Winnington's, who said
something in his ear.
The next moment, a fragment of a bottle, flung
from a distance, struck Winnington on the wrist. The
blood rushed out, and Delia, suddenly white, looked
from it to Winnington's face. The only notice he took
of the incident was expressed in the instinctive action
of rolling his handkerchief round it. But it stirred
him to lay a grasp upon Delia's arm, which she could
hardly have resisted. She did not, however, resist.
She felt herself lifted down from the waggon, and hur-
ried along, the police keeping back the crowd, into the
open door of the hotel. Shouts of a populace half en-
raged, half amused, pursued her.
" Brutes — Cowards ! " she gasped, between her
teeth — then to Winnington — " Where are you taking
me ? I have the car ! "
" There's a motor belonging to a doctor ready at
once in the yard of the hotel. Better let me take you
home in it. Andrews, I assure you, will look after
Miss Marvell!"
They passed through the brilliantly-lighted inn,
where landlady, chambermaids, and waiters stood grin-
ning in rows to see, and Winnington hurried his charge
into the closed motor standing at the inn's back door.
*' Take the street behind the hotel, and get out by
the back of the town. Be quick ! " said Winnington
to the chauffeur.
Booing groups had already begun to gather at the
Delia Blanchflower 171.
entrance of the yards, and in the side street to which
it led. The motor passed slowly through them, then
quickened its pace, and in what seemed an incredibly
short time, the}' were in country lanes.
Delia leant back, drawing long breaths of fatigue
and excitement. Then she perceived with disgust that
her dress was bemircd with scraps of dirty refuse, and
that some mud was dripping from her hat. She took
off the hat, shook it out of the window of the car, but
could not bring herself to put it on again. Her hair,
loosely magnificent, framed a face that was now all
colour and passion. She hated herself, she hated the
crowd ; it seemed to her she hated the man at her side.
Suddenly Winnington turned on the electric light —
with an exclamation.
" So sorry to be a nuisance — but have you got a
spare handkerchief? I'm afraid I shall spoil your
dress ! "
And Delia saw, to her disma\^, that his own hand-
kerchief which he had originally tied round his wound
was already soaked, and the blood was dripping from
it on to the motor-rug.
" Yes — yes — I have ! " And opening her little
wrist-bag, she took out of it two spare handkerchiefs,
and tied them, with tremulous hands, round the wrist
he held out to her, — a wrist brown and spare and
powerful, like the rest of him.
" Now — have you got anything you could tie round
the arm, above the wound — and then twist the knot ? "
She thought.
" My veil ! " She slipped it off in a moment, a long
motor veil of stout make. He turned towards her,
pushing up his coat sleeve as high as it would go, and
shewing her where to put the bandage. She helped
172 Delia Blanchflower
him to turn baclc his shirt sleeve, and then wound the
veil tightly round the arm, so as to compress the arter-
ies. Her fingers were warm and strong. He watched
them — he felt their touch — with a curious pleasure.
" Now, suppose jou take this pencil, and twist it in
the knot — you know how.? Have you done any First
Aid.?"
She nodded.
" I know."
She did it well. The tourniquet acted, and the
bleeding at once slackened.
" All right ! " said Winnington, smiling at her.
" Now if I keep it up that ought to do ! " She drew
down the sleeve, and he put his hand into the motor-
strap hanging near him, which supported it. Then he
threw his head back a moment against the cushions of
the car. The sudden loss of blood on the top of a long
fast, had made him feel momentarily faint.
Delia looked at him uneasily — biting her lip.
" Let us go back to Latchford, Mr. Winnington, and
find a doctor."
" Oh dear no ! I'm only pumped for a moment.
It's going off. I'm perfectly fit. When I've taken
you home, I shall go in to our Maumsey man, and get
tied up."
There was silence. The hedges and fields flew by
outside, under the light of the motor, stars overhead.
Delia's heart was full of wrath and humiliation.
" Mr. Winnington "
*' Yes ! " He sat up, apparently quite revived.
" Mr. Winnington — for Heaven's sake — do gire
me up ! "
He looked at her with amused astonishment.
" Give you up ! — How ? "
Delia Blanchflower 173
" Give up being my guardian ! I really can't stand
it. I — I don't mind what happens to myself. But
it's too bad that I should be forced to — to make my-
self such a nuisance to you — or desert all my princi-
ples. It's not fair to me — that's what I feel — it's
not indeed ! " she insisted stormily.
He saw her dimly as she spoke — the beautiful oval
of the face, the white brow, the general graciousness
of line, so feminine, in truth! — so appealing. The
darkness hid away all that shewed the " female franzy."
Distress of mind — distress for his trumpery wound?
— had shaken her, brought her back to youth and child-
ishness ? Again he felt a rush of sympathy — of
tender concern.
" Do you think 3'ou would do any better with a
guardian chosen by the Court.? " he asked her, smiling,
after a moment's pause.
" Of course I should ! I shouldn't mind fighting a
stranger in the least."
" They would be very unlikely to appoint a stranger.
They would probably name Lord Frederick."
" He wouldn't dream of taking it ! " she said, startled.
" And you know he is the laziest of men."
They both laughed. But her laugh was a sound of
agitation, and in the close contact of the motor he was
aware of her quick breathing.
" Well, it's true he never answers a letter," said
Winnington. " But I suppose he's ill."
" He's been a malade imaginaire all his life, and he
isn't going to begin to put himself out for anybody
now!" she said, scornfully.
"Your aunt. Miss Blanchflower?"
" I haven't spoken to her for years. She used to
live with us when I was eighteen. She tried to boss
174 Delia Blanchflower
me, and set father against me. But I got the best of
her."
" I am sure you did," said Winnington.
She broke out —
" Oh, I know you think me a perfectly impossible
creature whom nobody could ever get on with ! "
He paused a moment, then said gravely —
" No, I don't think anything of the kind. But I do
think that, given what you want, you are going entirely
the wrong way to get it."
She drew a long and desperate breath.
" Oh, for goodness sake don't let's argue ! "
He refrained. But after a moment he added, still
more gravely — " And I do protest — most strongly !
— against the influence upon you of the lady you have
taken to live with you ! "
Delia made a vehement movement.
*' She is my friend ! — my dearest friend ! " she said,
in a shaky voice. " And I believe in her, and admire
her with all my heart ! "
" I know — and I am sorry. Her speech this even-
ing — all the latter part of it — was the speech of an
Anarchist. And the first half was a tissue of misstate-
ments. I happen to know something about the facts
she dealt with."
" Of course you take a different view ! "
" I know,'''' he said, quietly — a little sternly. " Miss
Marvell either does not know, or she wilfully misrepre-
sents."
" You can't prove It ! "
" I think I could. And as to that man — Mr.
Lathrop — but you know what I think."
They both fell silent. Through all his own annoy-
ance and disgust, Winnington was sympathetically
Delia Blanchflower 175
conscious of what she too must be feeling — chafed and
thwarted, at every turn, by his legal power over her
actions, and by the pressure of his male will. He
longed to persuade her, convince her, soothe her; but
what chance for it, under the conditions she had chosen
for her life?
The motor drew up at the door of the Abbey, and
Winnlngton turned on the light.
" I am afraid I can't help you out. Can you man-
age?"
She stooped anxiously to look at his wrist.
" It's bleeding worse again ! I am sure I could im-
prove that bandage. Do come in. My maid's got
everything."
He hesitated — then followed her into tlie house.
The maid was summoned, and proved an excellent nurse.
The wound was properly bandaged, and the arm put
in a sling.
Then, as the maid withdrew, Delia and her guardian
were left standing together in the drawing-room, lit
only by a dying gleam of fire, and a single lamp.
" Good-night," said Winnington, gently. " Don't
be the least alarmed about Miss Marvel!. Tlie train
doesn't arrive for ten minutes yet. Thank you for
looking after me so kindly."
Delia laughed — but it was a sound of distress.
Suddenly he stooped, lifted her hand, and kissed it.
" What you are doing seems to me foolish — and
wrong! I am afraid I must tell you so plainly," he
said, with emotion. " But although I feel like that —
my one wish — all the time — is — forgive me if it
sounds patronising! — to help you — and stand by
you. To see you in that horrid business to-night • —
made me — very unhappy. I am old-fashioned I sup-
176 Delia Blanchflower
pose — but I could hardly bear it. I wish I could
make you trust me a little ! "
"I do ! " she said, choked. "I do — but I must
follow my conscience."
He shook his head, but said no more. She mur-
mured good-night, and he went. She heard the motor
drive away, and remained standing where he had left
her, the hand he had kissed hanging at her side. She
still felt the touch of his lips upon it, and as the blood
rushed into her cheeks, her heart was conscious of new
and strange emotions. She longed to go to him as a
sister or a daughter might, and say — " Forgive me —
understand me — don't despair of me!"
The trance of feeling broke, and passed away. She
caught up a cloak and went to the hall door to listen
for Gertrude Marvell.
" What I shall have to say to him before long, is —
* I have tricked you this quarter out of £500 — and I
mean to do it again next quarter — if I can ! " He
won't want to kiss my hand again ! "
Chapter X
*'C^0 you were at another of these meetings last
i5 night?"
" Yes. A disgusting failure ! They did not even
take the trouble to pelt us."
" And what the deuce do you expect to gain by it
all?"
Paul Lathrop threw himself back in his chair, and
watched the curling smoke of his cigarette Avhile he
thought over his friend's question. Finally, he said
with a lift of the eyebrows : —
" I have no illusions ! "
His companion, Roger Blaydes, a young journalist
with an alert and agreeable expression, threw him an en-
quiring glance.
" One may have faith without illusions. I doubt
whether you have either ! "
" What's the good of ' faith ' — and what docs anyone
mean by it? Sympathies — and animosities: they're
enough for me."
" And you really are in sympathy with this cam-
paign? " said the other incredulously.
Paul Lathrop sat up.
" In sympathy with anything that harasses, and
bothers and stings the governing classes of this coun-
try ! " he said, with energy. " What fools they are !
In this particular business the Government is an ass,
the public is an ass, the women, if you like, are asses.
But I prefer to bra}' with tliem than with their enemies
177
»j
lyS Delia Blanchflower
Blaydes laughed.
" There are not many of them, I understand, as
good-looking as Miss Blanchflower," he said slyly.
Lathrop's aspect was undisturbed.
" Nothing to do with it ! — though your silly little
mind will no doubt go on thinking so."
The other laughed again — with a more emphatic
mockery. Lathrop reddened — then said quietly —
" Well, I admit that was a lie. Yes, she is hand-
some — and if she were to stick to it — sacrifice all
her life to it — in time she might make a horrible suc-
cess of this thing. Will she stick to it? "
*' Are you in love with her, Paul? "
" Of course ! I am in love with all pretty women —
especially when I daren't shew it."
" You daren't shew it ? "
" The smallest advance on my part, in this quarter,
brings me a rap on the knuckles. I try to pitch what
I have to say in the most impersonal and romantic
terms. No good at all ! But all egg-dancing is amus-
ing, so I dance — and accept all the drudgery she and
Alecto give me to do."
"Alecto? Miss MarveU?"
" Naturally."
" These meetings must be pretty boring."
" Especially because I can't keep my temper. I lose
it in the vulgarest way — and say the most idiotic
things."
There was a pause of silence. The eyes of the jour-
nalist wandered round the room, coming back to La-
throp at last with renewed curiosity.
" How are your affairs, Paul? "
" Couldn't be worse. Everything here would have
been seized long ago, if there had been anything to
Delia Blanchflower 179
seize. But you can't distrain on trout — dear slithery
things. And as the ponds afford my only means of
sustenance, and do occasionally bring in something, my
creditors have to leave me the house and a few beds and
chairs so that I may look after them."
" Why don't you write another book? "
" Because at present I have nothing to say. And on
that point I happen to have a conscience — some rays
of probity, left."
He got up as he spoke, and went across the room, to
a covered basket beside the fire.
" Mimi ! " he said caressingly — " poor Mimi ! "
He raised a piece of flannel, and a Persian kitten ly-
in<r in the basket — a sick kitten — lifted its head Ian-
guidly.
" Tu m'aimes, Mimi? "
The kitten looked at him with veiled eyes, already
masked with death. Lathrop stooped for a saucer of
warm milk standing by the fire. The kitten refused it,
but when he dipped his fingers in the milk, it made a mo-
mentary effort to lick them, then subsiding, sank to sleep
again.
" Poor little beast ! " said Blaydes — " what's the mat-
ter? "
" Some poison — I don't know what. It'll die to-
night."
"Then you'll be all alone?"
" I'm never alone," said Lathrop, with decision. And
rising he went to the door of the cottage — which opened
straight on the hill-side, and set it open.
It was four o'clock on a November day. The autumn
was late, and of a marvellous beauty. The month was
a third gone and still there were trees here and there,
isolated trees, intensely green as though they defied
i8o Delia Blanchflower
decay. The elder trees, the first to leaf under the
Spring, were now the last to wither. The elms in
twenty-four hours had turned a pale gold atop, while
all below was still round and green. But the beeches
were nearly gone; all that remained of them was a thin
pattern of separate leaves, pale gold and faintly spark-
ling against the afternoon sky. Such a sky ! Bands
of delicate pinks, lilacs and blues scratched across an
inner-heaven of light, and in the mid-heaven a blazing
furnace, blood-red, wherein the sun had just plunged
headlong to its death. And under the sky, an English
scene of field and woodland, fading into an all-environ-
ing forest, still richly clothed. While in the foreground
and middle distance, some trees already stripped and
bare, winter's first spoil, stood sharply black against
the scarlet of the sunset. And fusing the whole scene,
hazes of blue, amethyst or purple, beyond a Turner's
brush.
"What beauty! — my God!"
Blaydes came to stand beside the speaker, glancing
at him with eyes half curious, half mocking.
" You get so much pleasure out of it.'^ "
For answer, Lathrop murmured a few words as
though to himself, a sudden lightening in his sleepy
eyes —
L'univers — si liquide, si pur ! —
Une belle eau qu'on voudrait boire.
" I don't understand French " — said Blaydes, with
a shrug — " not French verse, anyway."
" That's a pity," was the dry reply — " because you
can't read Madame de Noailles. Ah ! — there are
Lang's pheasants calling ! — wild ones I suppose — for
he's given up preserving."
Delia Blanchflower 181
He pointed to a mass of wood on his left hand from
■which the sound came.
" They say he's never here ? "
"Two or three times a year, — just on business.
His wife — a httle painted doll — hates the place, and
they've built a villa at Beaulieu."
" Rather risky leaving a big house empty in these
days — with your wild women about ! "
Lathrop looked round.
" Good heavens ! — wlio would ever dream of touch-
ing Monk Lawrence ! I bet even Gertrude Marvell
hasn't nerve enough for that. Look here ! — have you
ever seen it ? "
« Never."
*' Come along then. There's just time — while this
light lasts."
They snatched their caps, and were presently mount-
ing the path whicli led ultimately through the woods
of Monk Lawrence to the western front.
Blaydcs frowned as he walked. He was a young man
of a very practical turn of mind, who in spite of an
office-boy's training possessed an irrelevant taste for
literature which had made him an admirer of Lathrop's
two published volumes. For some time past he had
been Latlirop's cliancellor of the exclicquer — self-ap-
pointed, and had done his best to keep his friend out of
the workhouse. From the tone of Paul's recent letters
he had become aware of two things — first, that La-
throp was in sight of his last five pound note, and did
not see his way to either earning or borrowing another ;
and secondly, that a handsome girl had appeared on
the scene, providentially mad with the same kind of
madness as had recently seized on Lathrop, belonging
to the same anarchial association, and engaged in the
i82 Delia Blanchflower
same silly defiance of society ; likely therefore to be
thrown a good deal in his company ; and last, but most
important, possessed of a fortune which she would no
doubt allow the " Daughters of Revolt " to squander —
unless Paul cut in. The situation had begun to seem
to him interesting, and having already lent Lathrop
more money than he could afford, he had come down
to enquire about it. He himself possessed an income
of three hundred a year, plus two thousand pounds
left him by an uncle. Except for the single weakness
which had induced him to lend Lathrop a couple of
hundred pounds, his principles with regard to money
were frankly piratical. Get what you can — and how
you can. Clearly it was Lathrop's game to take ad-
vantage of this queer friendship with a militant who
happened to be both rich and young, which his dab-
bling in their " nonsense " had brought about. Why
shouldn't he achieve it? Lathrop was as clever as sin;
and there was the past history of the man, to shew
that he could attract women.
He gripped his friend's arm as they passed into the
shadow of the wood. Lathrop looked at him with sur-
prise —
" Look here, Paul " — said the younger man in a
determined voice — " You've got to pull this thing
off."
"What thing?"
" You can marry this girl if you put your mind to it.
You tell me you're going about the country with her
speaking at meetings — that you're one of her helpers
and advisers. That is — you've got an Al chance with
her. If you don't use it, you're a blithering idiot."
Paul threw back his head and laughed.
"And what about other people? What about her
Delia Blanchflower 183
guardian, for instance — who is the sole trustee of the
property — wlio has a thousand chances with her to
my one — and holds, I venture to say — if he knows
anything about me — the strongest views on the sub-
ject of my moral character? "
" Who is her guardian? "
" Mark Winnington. Does that convey anything to
you ? "
Blaj'des whistled.
" Jiminy ! "
" Yes. Precisely ' Jiminy ! ' " said Lathrop, mock-
ing. " I may add that everybody here has their own
romance on the subject. The^' are convinced that Win-
nington will soon cure her of her preposterous notions,
and restore her, tamed, to a normal existence."
Blaydes meditated, — his aspect showing a man
checked.
" I saw Winnington playing in a county match last
August, " he said — with his eyes on the ground —
" I declare no one looked at anybody else. I suppose
he's forty; but the old stagers tell you that he's just
as much of an Apollo now as he was in his most fa-
mous days — twenty years ago."
" Don't exaggerate. He is forty, and I'm thirty —
which is one to me. I only meant to suggest to 3'ou a
reasonable view of the chances."
" Look here — is she as handsome as people say ? "
" Blaydes ! — this is the last time I shall allow you
to talk about her — you get on my nerves. Handsome?
I don't know."
He walked on, muttering to himself and twitching at
the trees on either hand.
" I am simply putting what is your duty to your-
self — and your creditors," said Blaydes, sulkily —
184 Delia Blanchflower
" You must know your affairs are in a pretty desperate
state."
" And a girl like that is to be sacrificed — to my
creditors ! Good Lord ! "
" Oh, well, if you regard yourself as such an unde-
sirable, naturally, I've nothing to say. Of course I
know — there's that case against you. But it's a good
while ago ; and I declare women don't look at those things
as they used to do. Why don't you play the man of
letters business.'' You know very well, Paul, you could
earn a lot of money if you chose. But you're such a
lazy dog ! "
" Let me alone ! " said Lathrop, rather fiercely.
" The fact that you've lent me a couple of hundred really
doesn't give you the right to talk to me like this."
" I won't lend you a farthing more unless you promise
me to take this thing seriously," said Blaydes, doggedly.
Lathrop burst into a nervous shout of laughter.
** I say, do shut up ! I assure you, you can't bully
me. Now then — here's the house ! "
And as he spoke they emerged from the green oblong,
bordered by low yew edges, from M'hich as from a flat
and spacious shelf carved out of the hill, Monk Law-
rence surv'eyed the slopes below it, the clustered village,
the middle distance with its embroidery of fields and
trees, with the vaporous stretches of the forest beyond,
and in the far distance, a shining line of sea.
" My word ! — that is a house ! " cried Bla3'des, stop-
ping to survey it and get his townsman's breath, after
the steep pitch of hill.
" Not bad? "
" Is it shown ? "
" Used to be. It has been shut lately for fear of the
militants."
Delia Blanchflower 185
" But they keep somebody in it ? "
" Yes — in some room at the back. A keeper, and
his tliree children. The wife's dead. Shall I go and
see if he'll let us in.? But he won't. He'll have seen
my name at that meeting, in the Latchford paper."
" No, no. I shall miss ray train. Let's walk round.
Why, you'd think it was on fire already ! " said Blaydes,
with a start, gazing at the house.
For the marvellous evening now marching from the
western forest, was dyeing the whole earth in crimson,
and the sun just emerging from one bank of cloud, be-
fore dropping into the bank below, was flinging a fierce
glare upon the wide grey front of Monk Lawrence.
Every window blazed, and some fine oaks still thick with
red leaf, which flanked the house on the north, flamed
in concert. The air was suffused with red ; every minor
tone, blue or brown, green or purple, shewed through it,
as through a veil.
And yet how quietly the house rose, in the heart of
the flame ! Peace brooding on memory seemed to
breathe from its rounded oriels, its mossy roof, its
legend in stone letters running round the eaves, the tall
mullioned windows which flanked the carved doorway,
the sleepy fountain in the courtyard. It stood, aloof
and self-possessed, amid the lightnings and arrows of
the departing sun.
" No — they'd never dare to touch that ! " said La-
throp as he led the way to the path skirting the house.
" And if I caught Miss Marv'cll at it, I'm not sure
I shouldn't hand her over myself ! "
" Aren't we trespassing? " said Blaydes, as their foot-
steps rang on the broad flagged path which led from
the front court to the terrace at the back of the house.
" Certainly. Ah, the dog's heard us."
i86 Delia Blanchflower
And before they had gone more than a few steps
further, a burly man appeared at the further corner
of the house, holding a muzzled dog — a mastiff — on
a leash.
"What might yon be wanting, gentlemen?" he said
gruffly.
" Why, you know me. Daunt. I brought a friend up
to look at your wonderful place. We can walk through,
can't we ? "
" Well, as you're here. Sir, I'll let you out b}' the
lower gate. But this is private ground. Sir, and Sir
Wilfrid's orders are strict, — not to let anybody through
that hasn't either business with the house or an order
from himself."
" All right. Let's have a look at the back and the
terrace, and then we'll be off ; Sir Wilfrid coming here.'' "
" Not that I know of. Sir," said the keeper shortly,
striding on before the two men, and quieting his dog,
who was growhng at their heels.
As he spoke he led the way down a stately flight of
stone steps by which the famous eastern terrace at the
back of the house was reached. The three men and the
dog disappeared from view.
Steadily the sunset faded. An attacking host of
cloud rushed upon it from the sea, and quenched it. The
lights in the windows of Monk Lawrence went out.
Dusk fell upon the house and all its approaches.
Suddenly, two figures — figures of women — emerged
in the twilight from the thick plantation, which pro-
tected the house on the north. They reached the
flagged path with noiseless feet, and then pausing, they
began what an intelligent spectator would have soon
seen to be a careful reconnoitering of the whole north-
Delia Blanchflower 187
ern side of the house. They seemed to examine the
windows, a garden door, the recesses in the walls, the
old lead piping, the creepers and shrubs. Then one
of them, keeping close to the house wall, which was in
deep shadow, went quickly round to the back. The
other awaited her. In the distance rose at intervals a
dog's uneasy bark.
In a very few minutes the woman who had gone
round the house returned and the two, slipping back
into the dense belt of wood from which they had come,
were instantly swallowed up by it. Their appearance
and their movements throughout had been as phantom-
like and silent as the shadows which were now engulfing
the house. Anyone who had seen them come and go
might almost have doubted his own eyes.
Daunt the Keeper returned leisurely to his quarters
in some back premises of Monk Lawrence, at the south-
eastern corner of the house. But he had but just
opened his own door when he again heard the sound of
footsteps in the fore-court.
" Well, what's come to the folk to-night " — he mut-
tered, with some ill-humour, as he turned back towards
the front.
A woman ! — standing with her back to the house, in
the middle of the forecourt as though the place belonged
to her, and gazing at the piled clouds of the west, still
haunted by the splendour just past away.
A veritable IMasque of Women, all of the Maenad
sort, had by now begun to riot through Daunt's brain
by night and day. He raised his voice sharply —
"What's your business here, Ma'am? There is no
public road past this house."
i88 Delia Blanchflower
The lady turned, and came towards him.
" Don't you know who I am, Mr. Daunt? But I re-
member you when I was a child."
Daunt peered through the dusk.
" You have the advantage of me. Madam," he said,
stiffly. " Kindly give me your name."
'* Miss Blanchflower — from Maumscy Abbey ! " said
a young, conscious voice. " I used to come here with
my grandmother. Lady Blanchflower. I have been in-
tending to come and pay you a visit for a long time —
to have a look at the old house again. And just now
I was passing the foot of your hill in a motor; some-
thing went wrong with the car, and while they were
mending it, I ran up. But it's getting dark so quick,
one can hardly see anything ! "
Daunt's attitude showed no relaxation. Indeed,
quick recollections assailed him of certain reports in
the local papers, now some ten days old. Miss Blanch-
flower indeed ! She was a brazen one — after all done
and said.
" Pleased to see you, Miss, if you'll kindly get an or-
der from Sir Wilfrid. But I have strict instructions
from Sir Wilfrid not to admit anyone — not anyone
whatsoever — to the gardens or the house, without his
order."
" I should have thought, Mr. Daunt, that only ap-
plied to strangers." The tones shewed annoyance.
*' My father. Sir Robert Blanchflower, was an old friend
of Sir Wilfrid's."
" Can't help it, Miss," said Daunt, not without the
secret zest of the socialist putting down his " betters."
*' There are queer people about. I can't let no one in
without an order."
As he spoke, a gate slammed on his left, and Daunt,
Delia Blanchflower 189
■with the feeling of one beset, turned in wrath to see
who might be this new intruder. Since the house had
been closed to visitors, and a notice to the effect had
been posted in the village, scarcely a soul had pene-
trated through its enclosing woods, except IMiss Am-
bcrlej, who came to teach Daunt's crippled child. And
now in one evening here were three assaults upon its
privacy !
But as to the third he was soon reassured.
" Hullo, Daunt, is that you ? Did I hear you telling
Miss Blanchflower you can't let her in? But you know
her of course? " said a man's easy voice.
Delia started. The next moment her hand was in
her guardian's, and she realised that he had heard the
conversation between herself and Daunt, realised also
that she had committed a folly not easily to be ex-
plained, either to Winnington or herself, in obeying the
impulse which — half memory, half vague anxiety, —
had led her to pay this sudden visit to the house. Ger-
trude Marvcll had left ]\Iaumsey that morning, saying
she should be in London for the day. Had Gertrude
been with her, Delia would have let Monk Lawrence go
by. For in Gertrude's company it had become an in-
stinct with her — an instinct she scarcely confessed to
herself — to avoid all reference to the house.
At sight of Winnington, however, who was clearly a
privileged person in his eyes, Daunt instantly changed
his tone.
" Good evening. Sir. Perhaps you'll explain to this
young lady? We've got to keep a sharp lookout —
you know that. Sir."
" Certainly, Daunt, certainly. I am sure Miss
Blanchflower understands. But you'll let me shew her
the house, I imagine ? "
190 Delia Blanchflower
" Whj, of course, Sir ! There's nothing you can't
do here. Give me a few minutes — I'll turn on some
lights. Perhaps the young lady will walk in? " He
pointed to his own rooms.
" So you still keep the electric light going? "
" By Sir Wilfrid's wish, Sir, — so as if anything did
happen these winter nights, we mightn't be left in dark-
ness. The engine works a bit now and then."
He led the way towards his quarters. The door into
his kitchen stood open, and in the glow of fire and lamp
stood his three children, who had been eagerly listening
to the conversation outside. One of them, a little girl,
was leaning on a crutch. She looked up happily as
Winnington entered.
" Well, Lily — " he pinched her cheek — " I've got
something to tell Father about you. Say ' how do
you do ' to this lady." The child put her hand in
Delia's, looking all the while ardently at Winnington.
"Am I going to be in your school, Sir? "
" If you're good. But you'll have to be dreadfully
good ! "
" I am good," said Lily, confidently. " I want to be
in your school, please Sir."
" But such a lot of other little girls want to come
too ! Must I leave them out ? "
Lily shook her head perplexed. " But you pro-
mithed," she lisped, very softly.
Winnington laughed. The child's hand had trans-
ferred itself to his, and nestled there.
"What school does she mean? " asked Delia.
At the sound of her voice Winnington turned to her
for the first time. It was as though till then he had
avoided looking at her, lest the hidden thought in each
mind should be too plain to the other. He had found
Delia Blanchflower IQi
her — Sir Robert Blanchflower's daughter — on the
point of being curtly refused admission to the house
where her father had been a familiar inmate, and where
she herself had gone in and out as a child. And he
knew why ; she knew why ; Daunt knew why. She was
a person under suspicion, a person on whom the com-
munity was keeping watch.
Nevertheless, Winnington entirely believed what he
had overheard her say to the keeper. It was no doubt
quite true that she had turned aside to see Monk Law-
rence on a sudden impulse of sentiment or memory.
Odd that it should be so ! — but like her. That she
could have any designs on the beautiful old place was
indeed incredible ; and it was equally incredible that
she would aid or abet them in anyone else. And yet —
there was that monstrous speech at Latchford, made in
her hearing, by her friend and co-militant, the woman
who shared her life! Was it any wonder that Daunt
bristled at the sight of her.?
He had, however, to answer her question.
" My county school," he explained. " The school
for invalid children — ' physical defectives ' — that we
are going to open next summer. I came to tell Daunt
there'd be a place for this child. She's an old friend
of mine." He smiled down upon the nestling crea-
ture — " Has Miss Amberley been to see you lately,
Lily.?"
At this moment Daunt returned to the kitchen, with
the news that the house was ready. " The light's not
quite what it ought to be, Sir, but I daresay you'll be
able to see a good deal. Miss Amberley, Sir, she's
taught Lily fine. I'm sure we're very much obliged to
her — and to 3'ou for asking her."
" I don't know what tlie sick children here will do
192 Delia Blanchflower
without her, Daunt. She's going away — wants to be
a nurse."
" Well, I'm very sorr}', Sir. She'll be badly missed."
" That she will. Shall we go in ? " Winnington
turned to Delia, who nodded assent, and followed him
into the dim passages beyond the brightly-lighted
kitchen. The children, looking after them, saw the
beautiful lady disappearing, and felt vaguely awed bj
her height, her stiff carriage and her proud looks.
Delia, indeed, was again — and as usual — in revolt,
against herself and circumstances. Why had she been
such a fool as to come to Monk Lawrence at all, and then
to submit to seeing it — on sufferance ! — in Winning-
ton's custody? And how he must be contrasting her
with Susy Amberley ! — the soft sister of charity, ply-
ing her womanly tasks, in the manner of all good women,
since the world began ! She saw herself as the anarchist
prowling outside, tracked, spied on, held at arm's length
by all decent citizens, all lovers of ancient beauty, and
moral tradition ; while, within, women like Susy Amber-
ley sat Madonna-like, with the children at their knee.
" Well, we stand for the children too — the children
of the future ! " she said to herself defiantly.
" This is the old hall — and the gallery that was put
up in honour of Elizabeth's visit here in 1570 " she
heard Winnington saying — " One of the finest things
of its kind. But you can hardly see it."
The electric light indeed was of the feeblest. A dim
line of it ran round the carved ceiling, and glimmered
in the central chandelier. But the mingled illumina-
tion of sunset and moonrise from outside contended with
it on more than equal terms ; and everything in the
hall, tapestries, armour, and old oak, the gallery above,
the dais with its carved chairs below, had the dim mys-
Delia Blanchflower 193
tcrj of a stage set ready for the play, before the lights
are on.
Daunt apologised.
" The gardener'll be here directly, Sir. He knows
how to manage it better tlian I."
And in spite of protests from the two visitors he ran
off again to see what could he done to better the light.
Delia turned impetuously on her companion.
" I know you think I have no business to be here ! "
Winnington paused a moment, then said —
" I was rather astonished to see you here, certainly."
" Because of what we said at Latchford the other
day.?"
" You didn't say it!"
" But I agreed with it — I agreed with every word
of it!"
" Then indeed I am astonished that you should wish
to see Sir Wilfrid Lang's house ! " he said, with en-
ergy.
" My recollections of it have nothing to do with Sir
Wilfrid. I never saw him that I know of."
" All the same, it belongs to him."
" No ! — to history — to the nation ! "
" Then let the nation guard it — and every individual
in the nation! But do you think Miss Mars'ell would
take mucli pains to protect it.'' "
" Gertrude said nothing about the house."
" No ; but if I had been one of the excitable women
you command, my one desire after that speecli would
have been to do some desperate damage to Sir Wilfrid,
or his property. If anything does happen, I am afraid
everyone in the neighbourhood will regard her as re-
sponsible."
Delia moved impatiently. " Can't we say what we
194 Delia Blanchflower
think of Sir Wilfrid — because he happens to possess
a beautiful house? "
" If jou care for Monk Lawrence, you do so, — with
this campaign on foot — only at great risk. Confess,
Miss Delia ! — that you were sorry for that speech ! "
He turned upon her with animation.
She spoke as though under pressure, her head thrown
back, her face ivory within the black frame of the veil.
"I — I shouldn't have made it."
" That's not enough. I want to hear you say you
regret it ! "
The light suddenly increased, and she saw him look-
ing at her, his eyes bright and urgent, his attitude that
of the strong yet mild judge, whose own moral life
watches keenly for any sign of grace in the accused
before him. She realised for an angry moment what his
feeling must be — how deep and invincible, towards
these " outrages " which she and Gertrude Marvell re-
garded by now as so natural and habitual — outrages
that were calmly planned and organised, as she knew
well, at the head offices of their society, by Gertrude
Marvell among others, and acquiesced in — ap-
proved — by hundreds of persons like herself, who
either shrank from taking a direct part in them, or had
no opportunity of doing so. " But I shall soon make
opportunities ! — " she thought, passionately ; " I'm
not going to be a shirker ! " Aloud she said in her
stifFest manner — " I stand by my friends, Mr. Winning-
ton, especially when they are ten times better and
nobler than I ! "
His expression changed. He turned, like any cour-
teous stranger, to playing the part of showman of
the house. Once more a veil had fallen between them.
He led her through the great suite of rooms on the
Delia Blanchflower 195
ground-floor, the drawing-room, the Red Parlour, the
Chinese room, the Library. They recalled her child-
ish visits to the house with her grandmother, and a score
of recollections, touching or absurd, rushed into her
mind — but not to her lips. Dumbness had fallen on
her ; — nothing seemed worth saying, and she hurried
through. She was conscious only of a rich confused
impression of old seemlincss and mellowed beauty, —
steeped in fragrant and famous memories, English his-
tory, English poetry, English art, breathing from every
room and stone of the house. " In the Red Parlour,
Sidney wrote part of the * Arcadia.' • — In the room
overhead Gabriel Harvey slept. — In the Porch rooms
Chatham stayed — his autograph is there. — Fox ad-
vised upon all the older portion of the Library " — and
so on. She heard Winnington's voice as though through
a dream. What did it matter.'' She felt the house an
oppression — as though it accused or threatened her.
As they emerged from the library into a broad pas-
sage, Winnington noticed a garden door at the north
end of the passage, and called to Daunt who was walk-
ing behind them. They went to look at it, leaving Delia
in the corridor.
" Not very secure, is it? " said Winnington, pointing
to the glazed upper half of the door — " anyone might
get in there."
" I've told Sir Wilfrid, Sir, and sent him the measure-
ments. There's to be an iron shutter."
" H'm — that may take time. Why not put up
something temporary.'' — cross-bars of some sort.''"
They came back towards Delia, discussing it. Un-
reasonably, absurdly, she held it an offence that Win-
nington should discuss it in her presence; her breath
grew stormy.
196 Delia Blanchflower
Daunt turned to the right at the foot of a carved
staircase, and down a long passage leading to the
kitchens, he and Winnington still talking. Suddenly —
a short flight of steps, not very visible in a dark place.
Winnington descended them, and then turned to look
for Delia who was just behind
" Please take care ! "
But he was too late. Head in air — absorbed in
her own passionate mood, Delia never saw the steps, till
her foot slipped on the topmost. She would have fallen
headlong, had not Winnington caught her. His arms
received her, held her, released her. The colour rushed
into his face as into hers. " You are not hurt ? " he
said anxiously. " I ought to have held a light," said
Daunt, full of concern. But the little incident had
broken the ice. Delia laughed, and straightened her
Cavalier hat, which had suffered. She was still rosy
as they entered Daunt's kitchen, and the children who
had seen her silent and haughty entrance, hardly rec-
ognised the creature all life and animation Avho re-
turned to them.
The car stood waiting in the fore-court. Winning-
ton put her in. As Delia descended the hill alone in
the dark, she closed her eyes, that she might the more
completely give herself to the conflict of thoughts which
possessed her. She was bitterly ashamed and sore,
torn between her passionate aff'ection for Gertrude Mar-
vell, and what seemed to her a weak and traitorous wish
to stand better with Mark Winnington. Nor could she
escape from the memory — the mere physical memory —
of those strong arms round her, resent it as she might.
As for Winnington, when he reached home in the
moonlight, instead of going in to join his sister at tea,
Delia Blanchflower 197
he paced a garden path till night had fallen. What
was this strong insurgent feeling he could neither rea-
son with nor silence? It seemed to have stolen upon
him, amid a host of other thoughts and pre-occupations,
secretly and insidiously, till there it stood — full-
grown — his new phantom self — challenging the old,
the normal self, face to face.
Trouble, self-scorn overAvhelmed him. Recalling all
his promises to himself, all his assurances to Lady Ton-
bridge, he stood convicted, as the sentry who has shut
his eyes and let the Invader pass. Monstrous ! — that
in his position, with this difference of age between them,
he should have allowed such ideas to grow and gather
head. Beautiful wayward creature ! — all the more be-
guiling, because of the difficulties that bristled round
her. His common sense, his judgment were under no
illusions at all about Delia Blanchflower. And yet —
This then was passion! — which must be held down
and reasoned down. He would reason it down. She
must and should marry a man of her own generation — ■
youth with youth. And, moreover, to give way to these
wild desires would be simply to alienate her, to destroy
all his own power with her for good.
The ghostly presence of his life came to him. He
cried out to her, made appeal to her, in sackcloth and
ashes. And then, in some mysterious, heavenly way she
was revealed to him afresh ; not as an encni}- whom he
had offended, not as a lover slighted,* but as his best and
tcnderest friend. She closed no gates against the fu-
ture : — that was for himself to settle, if closed they
were to be. She seemed to walk with him, hand In hand,
sister with brother — in a deep converse of souls.
Chapter XI
GERTRUDE MARVELL was sitting alone at the
iMaumsey breakfast-table, in the pale light of a
December day. All around her were letters and news-
papers, to which she was giving an attention entirely
denied to her meal. She opened them one after another,
with a frown or a look of satisfaction, classifying them
in heaps as she read, and occasionally remembering her
coffee or her toast. The parlourmaid waited on her,
but knew very well — and resented the knowledge —
that Miss Marvell was scarcely aware of her existence,
or her presence in the room.
But presently the lady at the table asked —
"Is Miss Blanchflower getting up?"
" She will be down directly, Miss."
Gertrude's eyebrows rose, unconsciously. She her-
self was never late for an 8.30 breakfast, and never
went to bed till long after midnight. The ways of
Delia, who varied between too little sleep and the long
nights of fatigue, seemed to her self-indulgent.
After her letters had been put aside and the ordinary
newspapers, she took up a new number of the Tocsin.
The first page was entirely given up to an article headed
*' Lang — How long?" She read it with care, her
delicate mouth tightening a little. She herself had sug-
gested the lines of it a few days before, to the Editor,
and her hints had been partially carried out. It gave
a scathing account of Sir Wilfrid's course on the suf-
frage question — of his earlier coquettlngs with the
198
Delia Blanchflower 199
woman's cause, his defection and " treachery," tlie bit-
ter and ingenious hostility with whicli he was now pur-
suing the Bill before the House of Commons. " An
amiable, white-haired nonentity for the rest of the
world — who only mention him to marvel that such a
man was ever admitted to an English Cabinet — to us
he is the ' smiler with the knife,' the assassin of the
hopes of women, the reptile in the path. The Bill is
weakening every day in the House, and on the night
of the second reading it will receive its ' coup de grace '
from the hand of Sir Wilfrid Lang. Women of Eng-
land — liow long! "
Gertrude pushed the newspaper aside in discontent.
Her critical sense was beginning to weary of the shriek-
ing note. And the descent from the *' assassin of the
hopes of women " to " the reptile in the path " struck
her as a silly bathos.
Suddenl}^, a reverie — a waking dream — fell upon
her, a visionary succession of sights and sounds. A
dying sunset ■ — and a rising wind, sighing through
dense trees — old walls — the light from a kitchen win-
dow — voices in the distance — the barking of a
dog. . . .
" Oh Gertrude ! — how late I am ! "
Delia entered hurriedly, Avitli an anxious air.
" I should have been down long ago, but Weston had
one of her attacks, and I have been looking after
her."
Weston was Delia's maid who had been her constant
companion for ten years. She was a delicate nervous
woman, liable to occasional onsets of mysterious pain,
which terrified both herself and her mistress, and had
hitherto puzzled the doctor.
Gertrude received the news with a passing concern.
200 Delia Blanchflower
" Better send for France, if you are TTorried. But
I expect it will be soon over."
" I don't know. It seems worse than usual. ' The
man in Paris threatened an operation. And here we
are — going up to London in a fortnight ! "
" Well, you need only send her to the Brownmouth
hospital, or leave her here with France and a good
nurse."
" She has the most absurd terror of hospitals, and I
certainly couldn't leave her," said Delia, with a fur-
rowed brow.
" You certainly couldn't stay behind ! " Gertrude
looked up pleasantly.
" Of course I want to come " said Delia slowly.
" Why, darling, how could we do without you.'' You
don't know how you're wanted. Whenever I go up
town, it's the same — ' When's she coming? ' Of course
they understood you must be here for a while — but the
heart of things, the things that concern us — is Lon-
don."
" What did you hear yesterday ? " asked Delia, help-
ing herself to some very cold coffee. Nothing was ever
kept warm for her, the owner of the house ; everything
was always kept warm for Gertrude. Yet the fact
arose from no Sybaritic tendency whatever on Ger-
trude's part. Food, clothing, sleep — no religious
ascetic could have been more sparing than she, in her
demands upon them. She took them as they came —
well or ill supplied ; too pre-occupied to be either grate-
ful or discontented. And what she neglected for her-
self, she equally neglected for other people.
" What did I hear? " repeated Gertrude. « Well, of
course, everything is rushing on. There is to be a
raid on Parliament as soon as the session begins — and
Delia Blanchflower 201
a deputation to Downing Street. A number of ncvr
plans and devices are being discussed. And there
seemed to me to be more volunteers than ever for ' spe-
cial service '? "
She looked up quietly and her eyes met Delia's ; —
in hers a steely ardour, in Delia's a certain trou-
ble.
" Well, we want some cheering up," said the girl,
rather wearily. " Tliose two last meetings were —
pretty depressing! — and so were the bye-elections."
She was thinking of the two open-air meetings at
Brownmouth and Frimpton. There had been no vio-
lence offered to the speakers, as in the Latchford case;
the police had seen to that. Her guardian had made
no appearance at either, satisfied, no doubt, after en-
quiry, that she was not likely to come to harm. But the
evidence of public disapproval could scarcely have been
more chilling — more complete. Both her speaking,
and that of Gertrude and Paul Lathrop, seemed to her
to have dropped dead in exhausted air. An audience
of boys and girls — an accompaniment of faint jeers,
testifying rather to boredom tlian hostility — a sense of
blank waste and futility when all was over: — her recol-
lection had little else to shew.
Gertrude interrupted her thought.
" My dear Delia ! — what you want is to get out of
this backwater, and back into the main stream ! Even
I get stale here. But in those great London meet-
ings — there one catches on again ! — one realises
again — what it all means! Why not come up with
me next week, even if the flat's not ready? I can't
have you running down like this ! Let's hurry up and
get to London."
The speaker had risen, and standing behind Delia,
202 Delia Blanchflower
she laid her hand on the waves of the girl's beautiful
hair. Delia looked up.
" Very well. Yes, I'll come. I've been getting de-
pressed. I'll come — at least if Weston's all right."
" I'm afraid, Miss Blanchflower, this is a very serious
business ! "
Dr. France was the speaker. He stood with his back
to the fire, and his hands behind him, surveying Delia
with a look of absent thought fulness ; the look of a man
of science on the track of a problem.
Delia's aspect was one of pale consternation. She
had just heard that the only hope of the woman, now
wrestling upstairs with agonies of pain, lay in a critical
and dangerous operation, for which at least a fortnight's
preliminary treatment would be necessary. A nurse
was to be sent for at once, and the only question to be
decided was where and by whom the thing was to be
done.
" We can move her," said France, meditatively ;
" though I'd rather not. And of course a hospital is
the best place."
" She won't go ! Her mother died in a hospital, and
W^eston thinks she was neglected."
" Absurd ! I assure you," said France warmly.
" Nobody is neglected in hospitals."
" But one can't persuade her — and if she's forced
against her will, it'll give her no chance ! " said Delia
in distress. " No, it must be here. You say we can
get a good man from Brownmouth ? "
They discussed the possibilities of an operation at
Maumsey.
Insensibly the doctor's tone during the conversation
grew more friendly, as it proceeded. A convinced op-
Delia Blanchflower 203
poncnt of " feminism " in all its forms, he had thought
of Delia hitherto as merely a wrong-headed, foolish
girl, and could hardly hring himself to be civil at all to
her chaperon, who in his eyes belonged to a criminal
society, and was almost certainly at that very moment
engaged in criminal practices. But Delia, absorbed in
the distresses of someone she cared for, all heart and
eager sympathy, her loveliness lending that charm to
all she said and looked which plainer women must so
frequently do without was a very mollif3ang and in-
gratiating spectacle. France began to think her —
misled and unbalanced of course — but sound at bot-
tom. He ended by promising to make all arrangements
himself, and to go in that very afternoon to see the
great man at Brownmouth.
When Delia returned to her maid's room, the mor-
phia which had been administered was beginning to take
effect, and Weston, an elderly woman with a patient,
pleasing face, lay comparatively at rest, her tremulous
look expressing at once the keenness of the suffering
past, and the bliss of respite. Delia bent over her, dim-
eyed.
" Dear Weston — we've arranged it all — it's going
to be done here. You'll be at home — and I shall look
after you."
Weston put out a clammy hand and faintly pressed
Delia's warm fingers —
" But you were going to London, Miss. I don't want
to put you out so."
" I shan't go till you're out of the wood, so go to
sleep — and don't worry."
" Delia ! — for Heaven's sake be reasonable. Leave
Weston to France, and a couple of good nurses. She'll
204 Delia Blanchflower
be perfectly looked after. You'll put out all our
plans — you'll risk everything ! "
Gertrude Marvell had risen from her seat in front
of a crowded desk. The secretary who generally
worked with her in the old gun room, now become a
militant office, had disappeared in obedience to a signal
from her chief. Anger and annoyance were plainly
visible on Gertrude's small chiselled features.
Delia shook her head.
" I can't ! " she said. " I've promised. Weston has
pulled me through two bad illnesses — once when I had
pneumonia in Paris — and once after a fall out riding.
I daresay I shouldn't be here at all, but for her. If she's
going to have a fight for her life — and Doctor France
doesn't promise she'll get through — I shall stand by
her."
Gertrude grew a little sallower than usual as her
black eyes fastened themselves on the girl before her
who had hitherto seemed so ductile in her hands. It
was not so much the incident itself that alarmed her
as a certain new tone in Delia's voice.
" I thought we had agreed — that nothing — noih^
ing — was to come before the Cause ! " she said quietly,
but insistently.
Delia's laugh was embarrassed.
" I never promised to desert Weston, Gertrude. I
couldn't — any more than I could desert you."
" We shall want every hand — every ounce of help
that can be got — through January and February.
You undertook to do some office work, to help in the
organisation of the processions to Parliament, to speak
at a number of meetings "
Delia interrupted.
" As soon as Weston is out of danger, I'll go — of
Delia Blanchflower 205
•ourse I'll go ! — about a month from now, perhaps
less. You will have the flat, Gertrude, all the same, and
as much money as I can scrape together — after the
operation's paid for. I don't matter a tenth part as
much as you, you know I don't ; I haven't been at all a
success at these meetings lately ! "
There was a certain 3'oung bitterness In the tone.
" Well, of course you know what people will say."
" That I'm shirking — giving in ? Well, you can
contradict it."
Delia turned from the window beside which she was
standing to look at Gertrude. A pale December sun-
shine shone on the girl's half-seen face, and on the lines
of her black dress. A threatening sense of change, min-
gled with a masterful desire to break down the resistance
offered, awoke in Gertrude. But she restrained the dic-
tatorial instinct. Instead, she sat down beside the desk
again, and covered her face with her hand.
" If I couldn't contradict it — if I couldn't be sure
of you — I might as well kill myself," she said with
sudden and volcanic passion, though in a voice scarcely
raised above its ordinarj' note.
Delia came to her impulsively, knelt down and put
lier arms round her.
" You know you can be sure of me ! " she said, re-
proach full}'.
Gertrude held her away from her. Her eyes ex-
amined the lovely face so close to her.
" On the contrary ! You are being influenced against
me."
»
Delia laughed.
" By whom, please?
" By the man who has you in his power — under our
abominable laws."
2o6 Delia Blanchflower
"By my guardian? — by Mark Winnington?
Realh' ! Gertrude ! Considering that I had a fresh
quarrel with him only last week — on your account —
at Monk Lawrence "
Gertrude released herself by a sudden movement.
"When were you at Monk Lawrence?"
*' ^Vh}", that afternoon, when you were in town. I
missed my train at Latchford, and took a motor home."
There was some consciousness in the girl's look and tone
which did not escape her companion. She was evidently
aware that her silence on the incident might appear
strange to Gertrude. However, she frankly described
her adventure, Daunt's surliness, and Winnington's ap-
pearance.
" He arrived in the nick of time, and made Daunt let
me in. Then, while we were going round, he began
to talk about your speech, and wanted to make me say
I was sorry for it. And I wouldn't ! And then — well,
he thought very poorly of me — and we parted —
coolly. We've scarcely met since. And that's all."
"What speech?" Gertrude was sitting erect now
with queerly bright eyes.
" The speech about Sir Wilfrid — at Latchford."
" What else does he expect ? "
" I don't know. But — well, I may as well say,
Gertrude — to you, though I wouldn't say it to him —
that I — I didn't much admire that speech either ! "
Delia was now sitting on the floor with her hands
round her knees, looking up. The slight stiffening of
her face shewed that it had been an effort to say what
she had said.
" So you think that Lang ought to be approached
with ' bated breath and whispering humbleness ' —
Delia Blanchflower 207
just as he is on the point of trampling us and our cause
into the dirt?"
" No — certainly not ! But why hasn't he as good
a right to his opinion as we to ours — without being
threatened with personal violence? "
Gertrude drew a long breath of amazement.
" I don't quite see, Deha, wliy you ever joined the
* Daughters ' — or why you stay with them."
" That's not fair ! " — protested Delia, the colour
flooding in her cheeks. " As for burning stupid villas —
that are empty and insured — or boathouses — or
piers — or tea-pavilions, to keep the country in mind of
us, — that's one thing. But threatening persons with
violence — that's — somehow — another thing. And
as to villas and piers even — to be quite honest — I
sometimes wonder, Gertrude ! — I declare, I'm begin-
ning to wonder ! And why shouldn't one take up one's
policy from time to time and look at it, all round, with
a free mind? We haven't been doing particularly well
lately."
Gertrude laughed — a dry, embittered sound — as
she pushed the Tocsin from her.
" Oh well, of course, if you're going to desert us in
the worst of the fight, and to follow your guardian's
lead "
" But I'm not ! " cried Delia, springing to her feet.
" Try me. Haven't I promised — a hundred things ?
Didn't I say all you expected me to say at Latchford?
And, on the whole " — her voice dragged a little — " the
empty houses and the cricket pavilions — still seem to
me fair game. It's only — as to the good it does. Of
course — if it were Monk Lawrence "
Well — if it were Monk Lawrence?"
((
2o8 Delia Blanchflower
" I should think that a crime ! I told you so before.'*
"Why?"
Delia looked at her friend with a contracted brow.
" Because — it's a national possession ! Lang's
only the temporary owner — the trustee. We've no
right to destroy what belongs to England."
Gertrude laughed again — as she rose from the tea-
table.
" Well, as long as women are slaves, I don't see what
England matters to them. However, don't trouble
yourself. Monk Lawrence is all right. And Mr.
Winnington's a charmer — we all know that."
Delia flushed angrily. But Gertinide, having
gathered up her papers, quietly departed, leaving her
final shaft to work.
Delia went back to her own sitting-room, but was
too excited, too tremulous indeed, to settle to her let-
ters. She had never yet found herself in direct col-
lision with Gertrude, impetuous as her own temper was.
Their friendship had now lasted nearly three years.
She looked back to their West Indian acquaintance, that
first year of adoration, of long-continued emotion, —
mind and heart growing and blossoming together.
Gertrude, during that year, had not only aroused her
pupil's intelligence ; she had taught a motherless girl
what the love of women may be for each other. To
make Gertrude happy, to be approved by her, to watch
her, to sit at her feet — the girl of nineteen had asked
nothing more. Gertrude's accomplishments, her cool-
ness, her self-reliance, the delicate precision of her
small features and frame, the grace of her quiet move-
ments, her cold sincerity, the unyielding scorns, the
passionate loves and hates that were gradually to be
discovered below the even dryness of her manner, — by
Delia Blanchflower 209
these Delia had been captured ; by these indeed, she was
still held. Gertrude was to her everything that she
herself was not. And when her father had insisted on
separating her from her friend, her wild resentment, and
her girlish longing for the forbidden had ^ nly increased
Gertrude's charm tenfold.
The eighteen months of their separation, too, had co-
incided with the rise of that violent episode in the femin-
ist movement which was represented by the founding and
organisation of the " Daughters " society. Gertrude
though not one of the first contrivers and instigators of
it, had been among the earliest of its converts. Its
initial successes had been the subject of all her letters
to Delia ; Delia had walked on air to read them. At
last the world was moving, was rushing — and it seemed
that Gertrude was in the van. Women were at last
coming to their own ; forcing men to acknowledge them
as equals and comrades ; and able to win victor}^ not by
the eld whining and wheedling, but by their own
strength. The intoxication of it filled the girl's days
and nights. She thought endlessly of processions and
raids, of street-preaching, or Hyde Park meetings.
Gertrude went to prison for a few days as the result of
a raid on Downing Street. Delia, in one dull hotel
after another, wearily following her father from " cure "
to " cure," dreamed hungrily and enviously of Ger-
trude's more heroic fate. Everything in those days
"was haloed for her — the Movement, its first violent
acts, what Gertrude did, and what Gertrude thought —
she saw it all transfigured and aflame.
And now, since her father's death, they had been
four months together — she and her friend — in the
closest intimac}', sharing — or so Delia supposed —
every thought and every prospect. Delia for the
210 Delia Blanchflower
greater part of that time had been all glad submission
and unquestioning response. It was quite natural —
absolutely right — that Gertrude should command her
house, her money, her daily life. She only waited for
Gertrude's orders ; it would be her pride to carry thena.
out. Until
What had happened? The girl, standing motion-
less beside her window, confessed to herself, as she had
not been willing to confess to Gertrude, that something
Jiad happened — some change of climate and tempera-
ture in her own life.
In the first place, the Movement was not prospering.
Why deny It? Who could deny it? Its first successes
were long past ; Its uses as advertisement were ex-
hausted ; the old violences and audacities, as they were
repeated, fell dead. The cause of Woman Suffrage
had certainly not advanced. Check after check had
been Inflicted on it. The number of its supporters in
the House of Commons had gone down and down. By-
elections were only adding constantly to the number of
Its opponents.
" Well, what then ? " — said the stalwarts of the
party — " More outrages, more arson, more violence !
We must win at last!" And, meanwhile, blowing
through England like a steadily increasing gale, could
be felt the force of public anger, public condemnation.
Delia since her return to England had felt the chill
of It, for the first time, on her own nerves and con-
science. For the first time she had winced — morally —
even while she mocked at her own shrinking.
Was that Gertrude pacing outside? The day was
dark and stormy. But Gertrude, who rarely took a
walk for pleasure, scarcely ever missed the exercise
which was necessary to keep her in health. Her slight
Delia Blanchflower 2ii
figure, wrapped in a fur cape, paced a sheltered walk.
Her shoulders were bent, her eyes on the ground. Sud-
denly it struck Delia that she had begun to stoop, that
she looked older and thinner than usual.
" She is killing herself ! " — thought the girl in a sud-
den anguish — " killing herself with work and anxiety.
x\nd yet she always says she is so strong. What can I
do.'' There is nobody that matters to her — nobody ! —
but me ! "
And she recalled all she knew — it was very little —
of Gertrude's personal history. She had been unhappy
at home. Her mother, a widow, had never been able to
get on with her elder daughter, while petting and spoil-
ing her only son and her younger girl, who was ten
years Gertrude's junior. Gertrude had been left a
small sum of money by a woman friend, and had spent
it in going to a west-country university and taking
honours in histor}-. She never spoke now of either her
mother or her sister. Her sister was married, but
Gertrude held no communication with her or her chil-
dren. Delia had always felt it impossible to ask ques-
tions about her, and believed, Avith a thrilled sense of
mystery, that some tragic incident or experience had
separated the two sisters. Her brother also, it seemed,
was as dead to her. But on all such personal matters
Gertrude's silence was insuperable, and Delia knew no
more of them than on the first day of their meeting.
Indomitable figure ! Worn with effort and strug-
gle — worn above all with hating. Delia looked at it
with a sob in her throat. Surely, surely, the great
passion, the great uplifting faith they had felt in com-
mon, was vital, was true ! Only, somehow, after the
large dreams and hopes of the early days, to come down
to this perpetual campaign of petty liiw-breaking, and
212 Delia Blanchflower
futile outrage, to these odious meetings and shrieking
newspapers, was to be — well, discouraged ! — heart-
wearied.
" Onlj^ she is not wearied, or discouraged ! " thought
Delia, despairingly. " And why am I ? "
Was it hatefully true — after all — that she was be-
ing influenced — drawn away ?
The girl flushed, breathing quick. She must master
herself! — get rid of this foolish obsession of Winning-
ton's presence and voice — of a pair of grave, kind
eyes — a look now perplexed, now sternly bright — a
personality, limited no doubt, not very accessible to
what Gertrude called " ideas," not quick to catch the
last new thing, but honest, noble, tender, through and
through.
Absurd ! She was holding her own with him ; she
would hold her own. That very day she must grapple
with him afresh. She had sent him a note that morning,
and he had replied in a message that he would ride over
to luncheon.
For the question of money was urgent. Delia was
already overdrawn. Yet supplies were wanted for the
newly rented flat, for Weston's operation, for Gertrude's
expenses in London — for a hundred things.
She paced up and down, imagining the conversation,
framing eloquent defences for her conduct, and again,
from time to time, meanly, shamefacedly reminding her-
self of Winnington's benefit under the will. If she
was a nuisance, she was at least a fairly profitable nuis-
ance.
Winnington duly arrived at luncheon. The two
ladies appeared to him as usual — Gertrude Marvell,
self-possessed and quietly gay, ready to handle politics
Delia Blanchflower 213
or books, on so light a note, that Winnington's acute
recollection of her, as the haranguing fury on the Latch-
ford waggon, begun to seem absurd even to himself.
Delia also, lovely, restless, with bursts of talk, and more
significant bursts of silence, produced on him her nor-
mal effect — as of a creature made for all delightful
uses, and somehow jangled and out of tune.
After luncheon, she led the way to her own sitting-
room. " I am afraid I must talk business," she said
abruptly as she closed the door and stood confronting
him. " I am overdrawn, Mr. Winnington, and I must
have some more money."
Winnington laid down his cigarette, and looked at
her in open-mouthed amazement.
" Overdrawn ! — but — we agreed "
" I know. You gave me what you thought was am-
ple. Well, I have spent it, and there is nothing left
to pay house bills, or servants with, or — or anything."
Her pale defiance gave him at once a hint of the
truth.
" I fear I must ask what it has been spent on," he said,
after a pause.
" Certainly. I gave £500 of it in one cheque to Miss
Marvell. Of course you will guess how it has been
spent."
Winnington took up his cigarette again, and smoked
it thoughtfully. His colour was, perhaps, a little
higher than usual.
"" I am sorry you have done that. It makes it rather
awkward both for you and for me. Perhaps I had
better explain. The lawyers have been settling the
debts on your father's estate. That took a consider-
able sum. A mortgage has been paid off, according
to directions in Sir Robert's will. And some of the
214 Delia Blanchflower
death duties have been paid. For the moment there is
no money at all in the Trust account. I hope to have
replenished it by the New Year, when I understood you
would want fresh funds."
He sat on the arm of a chair and looked at her
quietly.
Delia made no attempt at explanation or argument.
After a short silence, she said —
"What will you do?"
" I must, of course, lend you some of my own."
Delia flushed violently.
" That is surely absurd, Mr. Winnington ! My
father left a large sum ! "
" As his trustee I can only repeat that until some
further securities are realised — which may take a lit-
tle time — I have no money. But you must have
money — servants and tradesmen can't go unpaid. I
w ill give you, therefore, a cheque on my own bank — to
replace that £500."
He drew his cheque book from his breast pocket.
Delia was stormily walking up and down. It struck
him sharply, first that she was wholly taken by sur-
prise; and next that shock and emotion play finely
with such a face as hers. He had never seen her so
splendid. His own pulses ran.
" This — this is not at all what I want, Mr. Win-
nington ! I want my own money — my father's money !
W^hy should I distress and inconvenience you.'^ "
" I have tried to explain."
" Then let the lawyers find it somehow. Aren't they
there to do such things ? "
" I assure you this is simplest. I happen " — be
smiled — " to have enough in the bank. Alice and I can
manage quite well till January ! "
Delia Blanchflower 215
The mention of Mrs. Mathcson was quite intolerable
in Delia's ears. She turned upon him • —
" I can't accept it ! You oughtn't to ask it."
*' I think you must accept it," he said with decision.
" But the important question with me is — the further
question — am I not really bound to restore this money
to 3'our father's estate? "
Delia stared at him bewildered.
" What do you mean ! "
" Your father made me his trustee in order that I
might protect his monc}^ — from uses of which he dis-
approved — and protect you, if I could, from actions
and companions he dreaded. This £500 has gone —
where he expressly wished it not to go. It seems to me
that I am liable, and that I ought to repay."
Delia gasped.
" I never heard anything so absurd ! "
" I will consider it," he said gravely. " It is a case
of conscience. Meanwhile " — he began to write the
cheque — " here is the money. Only, let me warn you,
dear Miss Delia, — if this were repeated, I might find
myself embarrassed. I am not a rich man ! "
Silence. He finished writing the cheque, and handed
it to her. Delia pushed it away, and it dropped on the
table between them.
" It is simply tyranny — monstrous tyranny — that
I should be coerced like this ! " she said, choking. " You
must feel it so yourself ! Put yourself in my place, Mr.
Winnington."
" I think — I am first bound — to try and put myself
in your father's place," he said, with vivacity. " Where
has that money gone. Miss Delia ? "
He rose, and in his turn began to pace the little
room. " It has been proved, in evidence, that a great
2i6 Delia Blanchflower
deal of this outrage Is paid outrage — that it could not
be carried on without money — however madly and
fanatically devoted, however personally disinterested the
organisers of it may be — such as Miss Marvell. You
have, therefore, taken your father's money to provide
for this payment — payment for all that his soul most
abhorred. His will was his last painful effort to pre-
vent this being done. And yet — you have done it ! "
He looked at her steadily.
" One may seem to do evil " — she panted — " but we
have a faith, a cause, which justifies it!"
He shook his head sadly.
Delia sat very still, tormented by a score of harass-
ing thoughts. If she could not provide money for the
" Daughters " what use could she be to Gertrude, or
Gertrude's Committee? She could speak, and walk in
processions, and break up meetings. But so could hun-
dreds of others. It was her fortune — she knew it —
that had made her so important in Gertrude's eyes. It
had always been assumed between them that a little dar-
ing and a little adroitness would break through the
meshes of her father's will. And how difficult it was
turning out to be!
At that moment, an idea occurred to her. Her face,
responsive as a wave to the wind, relaxed. Its sullen-
ness disappeared in sudden brightness — in something
like triumph. She raised her eyes. Their tremulous,
half whimsical look set Winnington wondering what
she could be going to say next.
" You seem to have beaten me," she said, with a
little nod — " or you think you have."
" I have no thoughts that you mightn't know," was
the quiet reply.
"You want me to promise not to do it again?
»»
Delia Blanchflower 217
*' If you mean to keep it."
As he stood by the fire, looking down upon her rather
sternly — she yet perceived in his grey eyes, something
of that expression she had seen there at their first meet-
ing — as though the heart of a good man tried to speak
to her. The same expression — and yd different ; with
something added and interfused, which moved her
strangely.
" Odd as it may seem, I will keep it ! " she said.
" Yet without giving up any earlier purpose, or prom-
ise, whatever." Each word was emphasized.
His face changed.
*' I won't worry i/ou in any such wa}' again," she
added hastily and proudly.
Some other words were on her lips, but she checked
them. She held out her hand for the cheque, and the
smile with which she accepted it, after her preceding
passion, puzzled him.
She locked up the cheque in a drawer of her writing-
table. Winnington's horse passed the window, and he
rose to go. She accompanied him to the hall door and
waved a light farewell. Winnington's response was
ceremonious. A sure instinct told him to shew no fur-
ther softness. His dilemma was getting worse and
worse, and Lady Tonbridge had been no use to him what-
ever.
Chapter XII
ONE of the first days of the New year rose clear
and frosty. When the young housemaid who had
temporarily replaced Weston as Delia's maid drew back
her curtains at half-past seven, Delia caught a vision
of an opaline sky with a sinking moon and fading stars.
A strewing of snow lay on the ground, and the bare
black trees rose, vividly separate, on the white stretches
of grass. Her window looked to the north along the
bases of the low range of hills which shut in the valley
and the "sallage. A patch of paler colour on the purple
slope of the hills marked the long front of ]\Ionk Law-
rence.
As she sleepily roused herself, she saw her bed lit-
tered with dark objects — two leather boxes of some
size, and a number of miscellaneous cases — and when
the maid had left the room, she lay still, looking at them.
They were the signs and symbols of an enquiry she
had lately been conducting into her possessions, which
seemed to her to have yielded very satisfactory re-
sults. They represented in the main the contents of
a certain cupboard in the wall of her bedroom where
Lady Blanchflower had always kept her jewels, and
where, in consequence, Weston had so far locked away
all that Delia possessed. Here were all her own girl-
ish ornaments — costly things which her father had
given her at intervals during the three or four years
since her coming out; here were her Mother's jewels,
which Sir Robert had sent to his bankers after his wife's
218
Delia Blanchflower 219
death, and had never seen again during his lifetime ; and
here were also a number of famil}' jewels wliicli had
belonged to Delia's grandmother, and had remained,
after Lady Blanchflower's death, in the custody of the
family lawyers, till Delia, to wliom they had been left by
will, had appeared to claim them.
Delia had always known that she possessed a quan-
tity of valuable things, and had hitherto felt but small
interest in them. Gertrude's influence, and her own
idealism had bred in her contempt for gauds. It was
the worst of breeding to wear anything for its mere
money value ; and nothing whatever should be worn
that wasn't in itself beautiful. Lady Blanchflower's
taste had been, in Delia's eyes, abominable ; and her
diamonds, — tiaras, pendants and the rest — had abso-
lutely nothing to recommend them but their sheer brute
cost. After a few glances at them, the girl had shut
them up and forgotten them.
But they were diamonds, and they must be worth
some thousands.
It was this idea which had flashed upon her during
her last talk with Winnington, and she had been brood-
ing over it, and pondering it ever since. Winnington
himself was away. He and his sister had been spend-
ing Christmas with some cousins in the midlands.
Meanwhile Delia recognised that his relation to her
had been somewhat strained. His letters to her on
various points of business had been more formal than
usual ; and though he had sent her a pocket Keats
for a Christmas present, it had arrived accompanied
merely by his " kind regards " and she had felt un-
reasonably aggrieved, and much inclined to send it
back. His cheque meanwhile for £500 had gone into
Delia's bank. No help for it — considering all the
220 Delia Blanchflower
Christmas bills which had been pouring in ! But she
panted for the time when she could return it.
As for his threat of returning the money to her
account out of his own pocket, she remembered it with
soreness of spirit. Too bad !
Well, there they lay, on the counterpane all round
her — the means of checkmating her guardian. For
while she was rummaging in the wall-safe, the night
before, suddenly the fire had gone down, and the room
had sunk to freezing point. Delia, brought up in
warm climates, had jumped shivering into bed, and
there, heaped round with the contents of the cupboard,
had examined a few more cases, till sleep and cold over-
powered her.
In the grey morning light she opened some of the
cases again. Vulgar and ugly, if you like — but un-
deniably, absurdly worth money ! Her dark eyes
caught the sparkle of the jewels running through her
fingers. These tasteless things — mercifully — were
her own — her very own. Winnington had nothing to
say to them ! She could wear them — or give them —
or sell them, as she pleased.
She was alternately exultant, and strangely full of
a fluttering anxiety. The thought of returning Win-
nington's cheque was sweet to her. But her disputes
with him had begun to cost her more than she had ever
imagined they could or would. And the particular way
out, which, a few weeks before, she had so impatiently
desired — that he should resign the guardianship, and
leave her to battle with the Court of Chancery as best
she could — was no longer so attractive to her. To be
cherished and cared for by Mark Winnington — no
woman yet, but had found it delightful. Insensibly
Delia had grown accustomed to it — to his comings
Delia Blanchflower 221
and goings, his business-ways, abrupt sometimes, even
peremptory, but informed always by a kindness, a self-
ishness that amazed her. Everyone wanted his heJp
or advice, and he must refuse now — as he had never
refused before — because his time and thoughts were
so much taken up with his ward's affairs. Delia knew
that she was envied; and knew also that the neighbours
thought her an ungrateful, unmanageable hoyden,
totally unworthy of such devotion.
She sat up in bed, dreaming, her hands round her
knees. No, she didn't want Winnington to give her
up ! Especially since she had found this easy way out.
Why should there be any more friction between them
at all? All that he gave her henceforward should be
religiously spent on the normal and necessary things.
She would keep accounts if he liked, like an}^ good little
girl, and shew them up. Let him do with the trust
fund exactly' what he pleased. For a long time at any
rate, she could be independent of it. Why had she
never thought of such a device before?
But how to realise the jewels? In all business af-
fairs, Delia was the merest child. She had been brought
up in the midst of large expenditure, of which she had
been quite unconscious. All preoccupation with money
had seemed to her mean and pettifogging. Have it !
— and spend it on what you want. But wants must
be governed by ideas — by ethical standards. To
waste money on personal luxury, on eating, drinking,
clothes, or any form of mere display, In such a world
as Gertrude Marvell had unveiled to her, seemed to
Delia contemptible and idiotic. One must have some
nice clothes — some beauty in one's surroundings —
and the means of living as one wished to live. Other-
wise, to fume and fret about money, to be coveting in-
222 Delia Blanchflower
stead of giving, buying and bargaining, instead of
thinking — or debating — was degrading. She
loathed shopping. It was the drug which put women's
minds to sleep.
Who would help her? She pondered. She would
tell no one till it was done ; not even Gertrude, whose
cold, changed manner to her hurt the girl's proud
sense to think of.
" I must do it properly — I won't be cheated ! "
The London lawyers.? No. The local solicitor, Mr.
Masham ? No ! Her vanity was far too keenly con-
scious of their real opinion of her, through all their
politeness.
Lady Tonbridge? No! She was Mark Winning-
ton's intimate friend — and a constitutional Suffragist.
At the notion of consulting her, — on the means of
providing funds for " militancy " — Delia sprang out
of bed, and went to her dressing, dissolved in
laughter.
And presently — sobered again, and soft-eyed —
she was stealing along the passage to Weston's door
for a word with the trained nurse who was now in
charge. Just a week now — to the critical day.
" Is Miss Marvell in ? Ask if she will see Mr. Lath-
rop for a few minutes ? "
Paul Lathrop, left to himself, looked round Delia's
drawing-room. It set his teeth on edge. What pic-
tures — what furniture ! A certain mellowness born of
sheer time, no doubt — but with all its ugly ingredients
still repulsively visible. Why didn't the heiress burn
everything and begin again? Was all her money to be
spent on burning other people's property, when her own
was so desperately in need of the purging process —
Delia Blanchflower 223
or on dreary meetings and unreadable newspapers?
Lathrop was already tired of these delights ; his essen-
tially Hedonist temper was re-asserting itself. The
*' movement " had excited and interesteB ham for a
time ; had provided besides easy devices for annoying
stupid people. He had been eager to speak and write
for it, had persuaded himself that he really cared.
But now candour — and he was generally candid
with himself — made him confess that but for Delia
Blanchflower he would already have cut his connection
with the whole thing. He thought with a mixture of
irony and discomfort of his " high-falutin " letter to
her.
" And here I am — hanging round her " — he said to
himself, as he strolled about the room, peering through"
his eye-glass at its common vases, and trivial knick-
knacks — "just because Blaydes bothers me. I might
as well cry for the moon. But she's worth watching,
by Jove. One gets copy out of her, if nothing else !
I vow I can't understand why my dithyrambs move her
so little — she's dithyrambic enough herself ! "
The door opened. He quickly pulled himself to-
gether. Gertrude Marvell came in, and as she gave
him an absent greeting, he was vaguely struck by some
change in her aspect, as Delia had long been. She
had always seemed to him a cold half-human being, in
all ordinary matters. But now she was paler, thinner,
more remote than ever. " Nerves strained — probably
sleepless — " he said to himself. " It's the pace they
will live at — it kills them all."
This kind of comment ran at the back of his brain,
while he plunged into the " business " — which was his
pretence for calling. Gertrude, as a District Organ-
izer of the League of Revolt, had intrusted him with
224 Delia Blanchflower
the running of various meetings in small places, along
the coast, for which it humiliated him to remember that
he had agreed to be paid. For at his very first call
upon them, Miss Marvell had divined his impecunious
state, and pounced upon him as an agent, — unknown,
he thought, to Miss Blanchflower. He came now to
report what had been done, and to ask if the meetings,
should be continued.
Gertrude Marvell shook her head.
" I have had some letters about your meetings. I
doubt whether they have been worth while."
Miss Marvell's manner was that of an employer to
an employee. Lathrop's vanity winced.
" May I know what was wrong with them.'* "
Gertrude Marvell considered. Her gesture, uncon-
sciously judicial, annoyed Lathrop still further.
" Too much argument, I hear, — and too little feel-
ing. Our people wanted more about the women in
prison. And it was thought that you apologised too
much for the outrages."
The last word emerged quite simply, as the only fit-
ting one.
Lathrop laughed, — rather angrily.
" You must be aware, Miss Marvell, that the public
thinks they want defence."
" Not from us ! " she said, with energy. " No one
speaking for us must ever apologise for militant acts.
It takes all the heart out of our people. Justify them
— glory in them — as much as you like."
There was a pause.
"Then you have no more work for me.''" said La-
throp at last.
" We need not, I think, trouble you again. Your
cheque will of course be sent from head-quarters."
Delia Blanchflower 225
" That doesn't matter," said Lathrop, hastily.
The reflection crossed his mind that there is an in-
solence of women far more odious than the insolence of
men.
" After all they are our inferiors ! It doesn't do to
let them command us," he thouglit, furiously.
He rose to take his leave.
" You are going up to London ? "
" I am going. Miss Blanchflower stays behind, be-
cause her maid is ill."
He stood hesitating. Gertrude lifted her eyebrows
as though he puzzled her. She never had liked him,
and by now all her instincts were hostile to him. His
clumsy figure, and slovenly dress off*ended her, and the
touch of something grandiose in his heavy brow, and
reddish-gold hair, seemed to her merely theatrical.
Her information was that he had been no use as a
campaigner. Why on earth did he keep her wait-
ing?
" I suppose you have heard some of the talk going
about? " he said at last, shooting out the words.
"What talk?"
" They're very anxious about Monk Lawrence —
after your speech. And there are absurd stories.
Women have been seen — at night — and so on."
Gertrude laughed.
" The more panic the better — for us."
" Yes — so long as it stops there. But if anything
happened to that place, the whole neighbourhood would
turn detective — myself included."
He looked at her steadily. She leant one thin hand
on a table behind her.
" No one of course would have a better chance than
you. You are so near."
226 Delia Blanchflower
Their eyes crossed. " By George ! " he thought —
" you're in it. I believe to God you're in it."
And at that moment he felt that he hated the wil-
lowy, intangible creature who had just treated him with
contempt.
But as they coldly touched hands, the door opened
again, and Delia appeared.
" Oh I didn't mean to interrupt — " she said, re-
treating.
" Come in, come in ! " said Gertrude. " We have
finished our business — and Mr. Lathrop I am sure will
excuse me — I must get some letters off by post — "
And with the cutest of bows she disappeared.
" I have brought you a book. Miss Blanchflower,"
Lathrop nervously began, diving into a large and sag-
ging pocket. " You said you wanted to see Madame
de Noaillcs' second volume."
He brought out " Les Eblouissements," and laid it
on the table beside her. Delia thanked him, and then,
all in a moment, as she stood beside him, a thought
struck her. She turned her great eyes full upon him,
and he saw the colour rushing into her cheeks.
" Mr. Lathrop ! "
« Yes."
" Mr. Lathrop — I — I dreadfully want some prac-
tical advice. And I don't know whom to ask."
The soreness of his wounded self-love vanished in a
moment.
" What can I do for you ? " he asked eagerly. And
at once his own personality seemed to expand, to throw
off the shadow of something ignoble It had worn in
Gertrude's presence. For Delia, looking at him, was
attracted by him. The shabby clothes made no im-
pression upon her, but the blue eyes did. And the
Delia Blanchflower 227
childishness which still siir\'ived in her, beneath all her
intcllectualisms, came impulsively to the surface.
" Mr. Lathrop, do you — do you know anything
about jewelry? "
"Jewelry? Nothing! — except that I have dabbled
in pretty things of that sort as I have dabbled in most
things. I once did some designing for a man who set
up — in Bond Street — to imitate Lalique. Why do
you ask? I suppose you have heaps of jewels?"
" Too many. I want to sell some jewels."
"Sell? — But — " he looked at her in astonishment.
She reddened still more deeply ; but spoke with a
frank charm.
" You thought I was rich ? Well, of course I ought
to be. My father was rich. But at present I have
nothing of my own — nothing! It is all in trust —
and I can't get at it. But I must have some money !
Wait here a moment ! "
She ran out of the room. When she came back she
was carrying a miscellaneous armful of jewellers' cases.
She threw them down on the sofa.
" They are all hideous — but I am sure they're
worth a great deal of money."
And she opened them with hasty fingers before his
astonished eyes. In his restless existence he had ac-
cumulated various odd veins of knowledge, and he knew
something of the jewelry trade of London. He had
not only drawn designs, he had speculated — unluckily
— in " Dc Beers." For a short time Diamonds had
been an obsession with him, then Bunnali rubies. He
had made money out of neither ; it was not in his horo-
scope to make money out of anything. However there
was the result — a certain amount of desultory infor-
mation.
228 Delia Blanchflower
He took up one piece after another, presently draw-
ing a magnifying glass out of his pocket to examine
them the better.
" Well, if you want money — " he said at last, put-
ting down a riviere which had belonged to Delia's
mother — " That alone will give you some thousands ! "
Delia's eyes danced with satisfaction — then dark-
ened.
" That was Mamma's. Papa bought it at Constan-
tinople — from an old Turkish Governor — who had
robbed a province — spent the loot in Paris on his
wives — and then had to disgorge half his fortune — to
the Sultan — who got wind of it. Papa bought it at a
great bargain, and was awfully proud of it. But after
Mamma died, he sent it to the Bank, and never thought
of it again. I couldn't wear it, of course — I was too
young."
" How much money do you want ? "
" Oh, a few thousands," said Delia, vaguely. " Five
hundred pounds, first of all."
" And who will sell them for you ? "
She frowned in perplexity.
"I — I don't know."
" You don't wish to ask Mr. Winnington? "
" Certainly not ! They have nothing to do with him.
They are my own personal property," she added
proudly.
"Still he might object — Ought you not to ask
him.?"
" I shall not tell him ! " She straightened her shoul-
ders. ** He has far too much bother on my account
already."
" Of course, if I could do anything for you — I
should be delighted. But I don't know why you should
Delia Blanchflov/er 229
trust me. You don't know anything about me ! " He
laughed uncomfortably.
Delia lauglied too — in some confusion. It seemed
to him she suddenly realised she had done something
unusual.
" It is very kind of you to suggest it — " she said,
hesitating.
" Not at all. It would amuse me. I have some
threads I can pick up still — in Bond Street. Let me
advise you to concentrate on that riviere. If you
really feel inclined to trust me, I will take it to a man
I know ; he will show it to — " he named a famous firm.
" In a few days — well, give me a week — and I under-
take to bring you proposals. If you accept them, I
will collect the money for you at once — or I will return
you the necklace, if you don't."
Delia clasped her hands.
" A week ! You think it might all be finished in a
week ? "
" Certainly — thereabouts. These things — " he
touched the diamonds — " are practically money."
Delia sat ruminating, with a bright excited face.
Then a serious expression returned. She looked up.
" Mr. Lathrop, this ought to be a matter of business
between us — if you do me so great a service ? "
*' You mean I ought to take a commission? " he said,
calmly. " I shall do nothing of the kind."
" It is more tlian I ought to accept ! " she cried.
" Let your kindness — include what I wish."
He shook his fair hair impatiently.
*' Why should you take away all my pleasure in the
little adventure ? "
She looked embarrassed. He went on —
" Besides we are comrades — we have stood together
230 Delia Blanchflower
in the fight. I expect this is for the Cause ! If so I
ought to be angry that you even suggested it ! "
" Don't be angry ! " she said gravely. '' I meant
nothing unkind. Well, I thank you very much — and
there are the diamonds."
She gave him the case, with a quiet deliberate move-
ment, as if to emphasize her trust in him. The sim-
plicity with which it was done pricked him uncomfort-
ably. " I'm no thief ! — " he thought angrily. " She's
safe enough with me. All the same, if she knew — she
wouldn't speak to me — she wouldn't admit me into her
house. She doesn't know — and I am a cad ! "
" You can't the least understand what it means to
be allowed to do you a service ! " he said, with emo-
tion.
But the tone evidently displeased her. She once
more formally thanked him ; then sprang up and began
to put the cases on the sofa together. As she did so,
steps on the gravel outside were heard through the low
casement window. Delia turned with a start, and saw
Mark Winnington approaching the front door.
" Don't say anything please! " she said urgently.
" This has nothing to do with my guardian."
And opening the door of a lacquer cabinet, she
hurriedly packed the jewelry inside with all the speed
she could. Her flushed cheek shewed her humiliated by
the action.
Winnington stood in the doorway, silent and wait-
ing. After a hasty greeting to the new-comer, Delia
was nervously bidding Lathrop good-bye.
" In a week ! " he said, under his breath, as she gave
him her hand.
" A week ! " she repeated, evidently impatient for him
Delia Blanchflower 231
io be gone. He exchanged a curt bow witli Winning-
ton, and the door closed on him.
There was a short silence. Winnington remained
standing, hat in hand. He was in riding dress — a
conimanding figure, his lean face reddened, and the
waves of his grizzled hair slightly loosened, by a buf-
feting wind. Delia, stealing a glance at him, divined
a coming remonstrance, and awaited it with a strange
mixture of fear and pleasure. They had not met for
ten days ; and she stammered out some New Year's
wishes. She hoped that he and Mrs. Matheson had
enjoyed their visit.
But without any reply to her politeness, he said
abruptly —
*' Were you arranging some business with Mr.
Lathrop?"
She supposed he was thinking of the militant Cam-
paign.
" Yes," she said, eagerly. " Yes, I was arranging
some business."
Winnington's eyes examined her.
"Miss Delia, what do j'ou know about that man?
— except that story — which I understand Miss Mar-
vell told you."
" Nothing — nothing at all ! Except — except that
he speaks at our meetings, and generallj' gets us into
hot water. He has a lot of interesting books — and
drawings — in his cottage ; and he has lent me
Madame de Noaillcs' poems. Won't you sit down? I
hope you and Mrs. Matheson have had a good time?
We have been to church — at least I have — and given
away lots of coals and plum-puddings — at least I
have. Gertrude thought me a fool. We have had the
choir up to sing carols in the servants' hall, and given
232 Delia Blanchflower
them a sovereign — at least I did. And I don't want
any more Christmas — for a long, long, time ! "
And with that, she dropped into a chair opposite
Winnington, who sat now twirling his hat and studying
the ground.
" I agree with you," he said drily when she paused.
" I felt when I was away that I had better be here.
And I feel it now doubly."
" Because? "
" Because — if my absence has led to your develop-
ing any further acquaintance with the gentleman who
has just left the room, when I might have prevented
it, I regret it deeply."
Delia's cheeks had gone crimson again.
" You knew perfectly well Mr. Winnington, that we
had made acquaintance with Mr. Lathrop ! We never
concealed it ! "
" I knew, of course, that you were both members of
the League, and that you had spoken at meetings to-
gether. I regretted it — exceedingly — and I asked
you — in vain — to put an end to it. But when I
find him paying a morning call here — and lending you
books — that is a very different matter ! "
I>elia broke out —
" You really are too Early-Victorian, Mr. Winning-
ton ! — and I can't help being rude. Do you suppose
you can ever turn me into a bread-and-butter miss.'*
I have looked after myself for years — you don't under-
stand ! " She faced him indignantly.
Winnington laughed,
" All right — so long as the Early Victorians may
have their say. And my say about Mr. Lathrop is —
again that he is not a fit companion for you, or any
young girl, — that he is a man of blemished character
Delia Blanchflower 233
— both in morals and business. Ask anybody in this
neighbourliood ! *'
He had spoken with firm emphasis, his eyes
sparkling.
" Everybody in the neighbourhood believes anything
bad, about him — and us ! " cried Delia.
" Don't, for Heaven's sake, couple yourself, and the
man — together ! " said Winnington, flushing with
anger. " I knew nothing about him, when 3'ou first
arrived here. Mr. Lathrop didn't matter twopence to
me before. Now he does matter."
"Why,''" Delia's eyes were held to his, fascinated.
" Simply because I care — I care a great deal —
what happens to you," he said quietly, after a pause.
" Naturally, I must care."
Delia looked away, and began twisting her black
sash into knots.
" Bankruptcy — is not exactly a crime."
" Oh, so you knew that farther fact about him? But
of course — it is the rest that matters. Since we
spoke of this before, I have seen the judge who tried
the case in which this man figured. I hate speaking of
it in your presence, but you force me. He told me it
was one of the worst he had ever known — a case for
which there was no defence or excuse whatever."
"Why must I believe it?" cried Delia impetuously.
" It's a man's judgment ! The woman may have been
— Gertrude says she was — horribly unhappy and ill-
treated. Yet nothing could be proved — enough to
free her. Wait till we have women judges — and
women lawyers — then you'll see ! "
He laughed indignantly — though not at all inclined
to laugh. And what seemed to him her stubborn per-
versity drove liim to despair.
234 Delia Blanchflower
" In this case, if there had been a woman judge, I
am inclined to think it would have been a good deal
worse for the people concerned. At least I hope so.
Don't try to make me believe, Miss Delia, that women
are going to forgive treachery and wickedness more
easily than men ! "
" Oh, ' treachery ! ' — " she murmured, protesting.
His look both intimidated and drew her. Winnington
came nearer to her, and suddenly he laid his hand on
both of hers. Looking up she was conscious of a look
that was half raillery, half tenderness.
" My dear child ! — I must call you that — though
you are so clever — and so — so determined to have
your own way. Look here! I'm going to plead my
rights. I've done a good deal for you the last three
months — perhaps you hardly know all that has been
done. I've been your watch-dog — put it at that.
Well, now give the watch-dog, give the Early-Victorian,
his bone ! Promise me that you will have no more
dealings with Mr. Lathrop. Send him back his books
— and say ' Not at Home ! ' "
She was really distressed.
" I can't, Mr. Winnington ! — I'm so sorry ! — but I
can't."
" Why can't you ? " He still held her.
A score of thoughts flew hither and thither in her
brain. She had asked a great favour of Lathrop — she
had actually put the jewels into his hands! How could
she recall her action? And when he had done her
such a service, if he succeeded in doing it — how was
she to turn round on him, and cut him the very next
moment ?
Nor could she make up her mind to confess to Win-
nington what she had done. She was bent on her
Delia Blanchflower 235
scheme. If she disclosed it now everything might be
upset.
"I really cant!'' she repeated, gravely, releasing
her hands.
Winnington rose, and began to pace the drawing
room. Delia watched him — quivering — an exquisite
■vision herself, in the half lights of the room.
When he paused at last to speak, she saw a new ex-
pression in his eyes.
*' I shall have to think this over. Miss Blanchflower
— perhaps to reconsider my whole position."
She was startled, but she kept her composure.
" You mean — you may have — after all — to give
me up.'' "
He forced a very chilly smile.
" You remember — you asked me to give you up.
Now if it were only one subject — however important
— on which we disagreed, I might still do my best,
thougR the responsibility of all you make me connive
at is certainly heavy. But if you are entirely to set
at defiance not only my advice and wishes as to this
illegal society to which you belong, and as to the vio-
lent action into which I understand you may be led
when you go to town, but also in such a matter as we
have just been discussing — then indeed, I see no place
for me. I must think it over. A guardian appointed
by the Court nn'ght be more effective — might influence
you more."
" I told you I was a handful," said Delia, trying to
laugh. But her voice sounded hollow in her own ears.
He offered no reply — merely repeating " I must
think it over!" — and resolutely changing the subject,
he made a little perfunctory conversation on a few mat-
ters of business — and was gone.
236
Delia Blanchflower
After his departure, Delia sat motionless for half
an hour at least, staring at the fire. Then suddenly
she sprang up, went to the writing-table, and sat down
to write —
" Dear Mr. Mark — Don't give me up ! You don't
know. Trust me a little ! I am not such a fiend as you
think. I am grateful — I am indeed. I wish to good-
ness I could show it. Perhaps I shall some day. I hadn't
time to tell you about poor Weston — who's to have an
operation — and that I'm not going to town with Gertrude
— not for some weeks at any rate. I shall be alone here,
looking after Weston. So I can't disgrace or worry you
for a good while any way. And you needn't fret about
Mr. Lathrop — you needn't really! I can't explain — not
just yet — but it's all right. Mayn't I come and help with
some of your cripple children? or the school? or something?
If Susy Amberly can do it, I suppose I can — I'd like to.
May I sign myself — though I am a handful —
" Yours affectionately,
" Delia Blanchflower."
She sat staring at the paper, trembling under a
stress of feeling she could not understand — the large
tears in her eyes.
Chapter XII
* ' T)ACK the papers as quickly as you can — I ana
A going to town this afternoon. Whatever can't
be packed before then, you can bring up to me to-
morrow."
A tired girl lifted her head from the packing-case
before wliich she was kneeling.
" I'll do my best, Miss Mar\'ell — But I'm afraid it
will be impossible to finish to-day." And she looked
wcarilj^ round the room laden with papers — letters,
pamphlets, press-cuttings — on every available table
and shelf.
Gertrude gave a rather curt assent. Her reason told
her the thing was impossible; but her will chafed
against the delay, which her secretary threatened, of
even a few hours in the resumption of her work in Lon-
don, and the re-housing of all its tools and materials.
She was a hard mistress ; though no harder on her
subordinates than she was on herself.
She began to turn her own hand to the packing,
and missing a book she had left in the drawing-room
the night before, she went to fetch it. It was again
a morning of frosty sunshine, and the garden outside
lay in dazzling light. The drawing-room windows were
open, and through one of them Gertrude perceived
Delia moving about outside on the whitened grass. She
was looking for the earliest snowdrops which were just
beginning to bulge from the green stems, pushing up
through the dead leaves under the beech trees. She
238
Delia Blanchflower
wore a blue soft shawl round her head and shoulders,
and she was singing to herself. As she raised herself
from the ground, and paused a moment looking towards
the house, but evidently quite unconscious of any spec-
tators, Gertrude could not take her eyes from the vision
she made. If radiant beauty, if grace, and flawless
youth can " lift a mortal to the skies," Delia stood like
a young goddess under the winter sun. But there was
much more than beauty in her face. There was a flut-
tering and dreamy joy which belongs only to the chil-
dren of earth. The low singing came unconsciously
from her lips, as though it were the natural expression
of the heart within. Gertrude caught the old lilting
tune : —
" For oh, Greensleaves was all my joy —
For oh, Greensleaves was my heart's delight —
And who but my lady Greensleaves — "
The woman observing her did so with a strange mix-
ture of softness and repulsion. If Gertrude Marvell
loved anybody, she loved Delia — the captive of her own
bow and spear, and until now the most loyal, the most
single-minded of disciples. But as she saw Delia walk
away to a further reach of the garden, the mind of the
elder woman bitterly accused the younger. Delia's re-
fusal to join the militant forces in London, at this most
critical and desperate time, on what seemed to Ger-
trude the trumpery excuse of Weston's illness, had
made an indelible impression on a fanatical temper. If
she had cared — if she had really cared — she could
not have done any such thing. " What have I been
wasting my time here for ? " she asked herself ; and re-
viewing the motives which had induced her to accept
Delia's proposal that they should live together, she
Delia Blanchflower 239
accused herself sharply of a contemptible lack of judg-
ment and foresight.
For no mere affection for Delia Blanchflower would
have influenced her, at the time when Delia, writing
to tell her of the approaching death of Sir Robert, im-
plored her to come and share her life. " You know I
shall have money, dearest Gertrude," — wrote Delia —
" Come and help me to spend it — for the Cause."
And for the sake of the Cause, — which was then sorely
in want of money — and only for its sake, Gertrude
had consented. She was at that time rapidly becoming
one of the leading spirits in the London office of the
" Daughters," so that to bury herself, even for a time,
in a country village, some eighty miles from London,
was a sacrifice. But to secure what seemed likely to
be a some thousands a year from a willing giver, such
a temporary and modified exile had appeared to her
worth while ; and she had at once planned a campaign
of " militant " meetings in the towns along the South
Coast, by way of keeping in touch with " active work."
But, in the first place, the extraordinary terms of
Sir Robert's will had proved far more baffling than she
and Delia had ever been willing to believe. And, in
the next place, the personality of Mark Winnington
had almost immediately presented itself to Gertrude as
something she had never reckoned with. A blustering
and tyrannical guardian would have been comparatively
easy to fight. Winnington was formidable, not be-
cause he was hostile, resolutely hostile, to their whole
propaganda of violence ; that might only have spurred
a strong-willed girl to more passionate extremes. He
was dangerous, — in spite of his forty years — because
he was delightful; because, in his leisurely, old-fash-
ioned way, he was so loveable, so handsome, so inevi-
240 Delia Blanchflower
tablj attractive. Gertrude, looking back, realised that
she had soon perceived — vaguely at least — what
might happen, what had now — as she dismally guessed
— actually happened.
The young, impressionable creature, brought into
close contact with this charming fellow — this agree-
able reactionary • — had fallen in love ! That was all.
But it was more than enough. Delia might be still un-
conscious of it herself. But this new shrinking from
the most characteristic feature of the violent policy —
this new softness and fluidity in a personality that
when they first reached Maumsey had begun already
to stiffen in the fierce mould of militancy — to what
could any observer with eyes in their head attribute
them but the influence of Mark Winnington — the
daily unseen presence of other judgments and other
ideals embodied in a man to whom the girl's feelings
had capitulated.'*
" If I could have kept her to myself for another
year, he could have done nothing." But he has inter-
vened before her opinions were anything more than the
echoes of mine ; — and for the future I shall have less
and less chance against him. What shall we ever get
out of her as a married woman .f* What would Mark
Winnington — to whom she will give herself, body and
soul, — allow us to get out of her.'' Better break with
her now, and disentangle my own life ! "
With such thoughts, a pale and brooding woman
pursued the now distant figure of Delia. At the same
time Gertrude Marvcll had no intention whatever of
provoking a premature breach which might deprive
either the Cause or herself of any help they might still
get out of Delia in the desperate fight ahead. She, per-
sonally, would have infinitely preferred freedom and a
Delia Blanchflower 241
garret to Delia's flat, and any kind of dependence on
Delia's money. " I was not born to be a parasite ! "
she angrily thouglit. But she had no right to prefer
them. All that could be extracted from Delia should
be extracted. She was now no more to Gertrude than
a pawn in the game. Let her be used — if she could
not be trusted !
But if this had fallen differently, if she had remained
the true sister-in-arms, given wholly to the joy of the
fight, Gertrude's stern soul would have clasped her to
itself, just as passionately as it now dismissed her.
" No matter ! " The hard brown eyes looked steadily
into the future. " That's done with. I am alone —
I shall be alone. What does it signify? — a little
sooner or later.'' "
The vagueness of the words matched the vagueness
of certain haunting premonitions in the background of
the mind. Her own future always shaped itself in
tragic terms. It was impossible — she knew it — that
it should bring her to any kind of happiness. It was
no less impossible that she should pause and submit.
That active defiance of the existing order, on which
she had entered, possessed her, gripped her, irrevocably.
She was like the launched stone which describes its ap-
pointed curve — till it drops.
As for any interference from the side of her own
personal ties and affections, — she had none.
In her pocket she carried a letter she had received
that morning, from her mother. It was plaintive, as
usual.
" Winnie's second child arrived last week. It was an
awful confinement. The first doctor had to get another,
and they only just pulled her through. The child's a mis-
erv. It would be much better if it had died. I can't think
242 Delia Blanchflower
■what she'll do. Her husband's a wretched creature — just
manages to keep in work — but he neglects her shamefully
— and if there ever is anything to spend, he spends it —
on his own amusement. She cried the other day, when we
were talking of you. She thinks you're living with a rich
lady, and have everything you want — and she and her
children are often half-starved. * She might forgive me
now, I do think — ' she'll say sometimes — ' And as for
Henry, if I did take him away from her, she may thank
her stars she didn't marry him. She'd have killed him by
now. She never could stand men like Henry. Only, when
he was a young fellow, he took her in — her first, and then
me. It was a bad job we ever saw him.'
" Why are you so set against us, Gertrude ? — your own
flesh and blood. I'm sure if I ever was unkind to you I'm
sorry for it. You used to say I favoured Albert at your
expense — Well, he's as good as dead to me now, and I've
got no good out of all the spoiling I gave him. I sit at
home by myself, and I'm a pretty miserable woman. I
read everything I can in the papers about what you're doing
— you, who were my only child, seven years before Albert
came. It doesn't matter to you what I think — at least,
it oughtn't. I'm an old woman, and whatever I thought
I'd never quarrel with you. But it would matter to me a
good deal, if you'd sometimes come in, and sit by the fire
a bit, and chat. It's three years since I've even seen you.
W^innie says you've forgotten us — you only care about the
vote. But I don't believe it. Other people may think the
vote can make up for everything — but not you. You're
too clever. Hoping to see you,
" Your lonely old mother,
" Janet Marvell."
To that letter, Gertrude had already written her
reply. Sometime — in the summer, perhaps, she had
said to her mother. And she had added the mental
proviso — " if I am alive." For the matters in which
Delia Blanchflower 243
she was engaged were no child's play, and the excite-
ments of prison and hunger-striking might tell even on
the strongest physique.
No — her family were nothing to her. Her mother's
appeal, though it should not be altogether ignored, was
an insincere one. She had always stood by the men of
the family ; and for the men of the family, Gertrude,
its eldest daughter, felt nothing but loathing and con-
tempt. Her father, a local government official in a
western town, a small-minded domestic tyrant, ruined
by long years of whisky-nipping between meals ; her
only brother, profligate and spendthrift, of whose
present modes of life the less said the better ; her
brother-in-law, Henry Lewison, the man whom, in her
callow, ignorant youth, she was once to have married,
before her younger sister supplanted her — a canting
hypocrite, who would spend his day in devising petty
torments for his wife, and begin and end it with family
prayers : — these types, in a brooding and self-centred
mind, had gradually come to stand for the whole male
race.
Nor had her lonely struggle for a livelihood, after
she had fled from home, done anything to loosen the
hold of these images upon her. She looked back upon
a dismal t^'pe-writing office, run by a grasping em-
ployer ; a struggle for health, warring with the struggle
for bread; sick headache, sleeplessness, an.Tmia, yet
always within, the same iron will driving on the weary
body ; and always the same grim perception on the dark
horizon of an outer gulf into which some women fell,
with no hope of resurrection. She burnt again with
the old bitter sense of Injustice, on the economic side;
remembering fiercely her own stinted earnings, and the
higher wages and larger opportunities of men, whom,
244 Delia Blanchflower
Intellectually, she despised. Remembering too the
development of that new and ugly temper in men —
men hard-pressed themselves — Avho must now see in
women no longer playthings or sweethearts, but rivals
and supplanters.
So that gradually, year by year, there had
strengthened in her that strange, modern thing, a
woman's hatred of men — the normal instincts of sex
distorted and embittered. And when suddenly, pre-
pared by many causes, long-working and obscure, the
Woman Suffrage movement had broken into flame and
violence, she had flung her very soul to it as fuel, with
the passion of one to whom life at last " gives room."
In that movement were gathered up for her all the ran-
cours, and all the ideals of life, all its hopes and all its
despairs. Not much hope ! — and few ideals. Her
passion for the Cause had been a grim force, hardly
mixed with illusion ; but it had held and shaped her.
Meanwhile among women she has found a few kin-
dred souls. One of them, a fellow-student, came into
money, died, and left Gertrude Marvell six hundred
pounds. On that sum she had educated herself, had
taken her degree at a West Country University, had
moved to London and begun work as a teacher and
journalist. Then again, a break down in health, fol-
lowed by a casual acquaintance with Lady Tonbridge
— Sir Robert's offer — its acceptance — Delia !
How much had opened to her with Delia ! Pleasure,
for the first time ; the sheer pleasure of travel, society,
tropical beauty ; the strangeness also of finding herself
adored, of feeling that young loveliness, that young in-
telligence, all yielding softness in her own strong
hands —
Well, that was done ; — practically done. She
Delia Blanchflower 245
cheated herself with no vain hopes. The process which
had begun in Delia would go forward. One more de-
feat to admit and forget. One more disaster to turn
one's back upon.
And no disabling regrets ! Her eyes cleared, her
mouth stiffened. She went quietly back to her packing.
"Gertrude! What are you doing?" The voice
was Delia's. She stood on the threshold of Gertrude's
den, looking with amazement, at the littered room and
the packing-cases.
" I find I must go up at once — They want help at
the office." Gertrude, who was writing a letter, deliv-
ered the information over her shoulder.
" But the fiat won't be ready ! "
" Never mind. I can go to a hotel for a few days.'*
A cloud dropped over the radiance of Delia's face,
fresh from the sun and frost outside.
" I can't bear your going alone ! "
*' Oh, you'll come later," said Gertrude indifferently.
" Did you — did you — have such urgent letters this
morning? "
((
Well — you know things are urgent ! But then,
you see, you have made up your mind to stay with
Weston ! "
A slight mocking look accompanied the words.
" Yes — I must stay with Weston," said Delia,
slowly, and then perceiving that the typist showed no
signs of leaving them together, and that confidential
talk was therefore impossible, she reluctantly went
away.
Weston that morning was in much pain, and Delia
sat beside her, learning by some new and developing
instinct how to soothe her. The huntress of the
246 Delia Blanchflower
Tyrolesc woods had few caressing ways, and pain had
always been horrible to her; a thing to be shunned, even
by the spectator, lest it should weaken the wild natural
energies. But Weston was very dear to her, and the
maid's suffering stirred deep slumbering powers in the
girl's nature. She watched the trained Nurse at her
work, and copied her anxiously. And all the time she
was thinking, thinking, now of Gertrude, now of her
letter to Winnington. Gertrude was vexed with her,
thought her a poor creature — that was plain. " But
in a fortnight, I'll go to her, — and they'll see ! — '*
thought the girl's wrestling mind. " And before that,
I shall send her money. I can't help what she thinks.
I'm not false ! — I'm not giving in ! But I must have
this fortnight, — just this fortnight; — for Weston's
sake, and "
For her proud sincerity would not allow her to pre-
tend to herself. What had happened to her? She
felt the strangest lightness — as though some long
restraint had broken down; a wonderful intermittent
happiness, sweeping on her without reason, and setting
the breath fluttering. It made her think of what an
old Welsh nurse of her childhood had once told her of
" conversion," in a Welsh revival, and its marvellous
effects ; how men and women walked on air, and the
iron bands of life and custom dropped away.
Then she rose impatiently, despising herself, and
went downstairs again to try and help Gertrude. But
the packing was done, the pony-cart was ordered, and
in an hour more, Gertrude was gone. Delia was left
standing on the threshold of the front door, listening
to the sound of the receding wheels. They had parted
in perfect friendliness, Gertrude with civil wishes for
Weston's complete recovery, Delia with eager promises
Delia Blanchflower 247
• — " I shall soon come — very soon ! " — promises of
which, as she now remembered, Gertrude had taken but
little notice.
But as she went back into the house, the girl had a
queer feeling of catastrophe, of radical change. She
passed the old gun-room, and looked in. All its brown
paper bundles, its stacks of leaflets, its books of refer-
ence were gone ; only a litter of torn papers remained
here and there, to shew what its uses had been. And
suddenU', a swell of something like exultation, a wild
sense of deliverance, rushed upon her, driving out de-
pression. She went back to the drawing-room, with
little dancing steps, singing under her breath. The
flowers wanted freshening. She went out to the green-
house, and brought in some early h^'acinths and violets
till the room was fragrant. Some of them she took up
to Weston, chatting to the patient and her nurse as she
arranged them, with such sweetness, such smiles, such
an abandonment of kindness, that both looked after her
amazed, when, again, she vanished. What had become
of the imperious absent-minded young woman of or-
dinary days?
Delia lunched alone. And after lunch she grew rest-
less.
He must have received her letter at breakfast-time.
Probably he had some tiresome meetings in the morn-
ing, but soon — soon —
She tried to settle to some reading. How long it
was since she had read anything for the joy of it! —
anything that in some shape or other was not the mere
pemmican of the Suff'rage Movement; dusty arguments
for, or exasperating arguments against. She plunged
into poetry — a miscellaneous volume of modern verse
— and the new world of feeling in which her mind had
248 Delia Blanchflower
begun to move, grew rich, and deep, and many-col-
oured about her.
Surel}' — a sound at the gate ! She sat up, crimson.
Well ? — she was going to make friends with her guar-
dian — to bury the hatchet — for a whole fortnight at
least. Only that. Nothing more — nothing — noth-
ing!
Steps approached. She hastily unearthed a neg-
lected work-basket, and a very ancient piece of half-
done embroidery. Was there a thimble anywhere —
or needles ! Yes ! — by good luck. Heavens ! — what
shamming! She bent over the dingy bit of silk, her
cheeks dimpling with laughter.
Their first greetings were done, and Winnington was
sitting by her — astride a chair, his arms lying along
the top of it, his eyes looking down upon her, as she
made random stitches in what looked like a futurist
design.
" Do you know that you wi'ote me a very, very nice
letter? " and as he spoke, she heard in his voice that
tone — that lost tone, which she had heard in it at
their very first interview, before she had chilled and
flouted him, and made his life a burden to him. Her
pulses leapt ; but she did not look up.
"I wonder whether — you quite deserved it.'' You
were angry with me — for nothing ! "
" I am afraid I can't agree ! " The voice now was a
little dry, and a pair of very keen grey eyes examined
her partially hidden face.
She pushed her work away and looked up.
" You ought ! " she said vehemently. " You accused
me — practically — of flirting with Mr. Lathrop.
And I was doing nothing of the kind ! "
Delia Blanchflower 249
He laughed.
" I never Imagined that you were — or could be —
flirting with Mr. Lathrop."
" Then why did you threaten to give me up if I went
on seeing him? "
He hesitated — but said at last — gravely —
" Because I could not take the responsibility."
" How would it help me — to give me up ? Accord-
ing to you — " she breathed fast — " I should only —
go to perdition — the quicker ! " Her eyes still
laughed, but behind the laughter there was a rush of
feeling which communicated itself to him.
" May I suggest that it is not necessary to go to
perdition — at all — fast or slow?"
She shook her head. Silence followed ; which Win-
nington broke.
" You said you would like to come and see some of
the village people — your own people — and the school?
Was that serious ? "
" Certainly ! " She raised an indignant countenance.
" I suppose you think — like everybody — that be-
cause I want the vote, I can't care about an^'thing
else? "
" You'll admit it has a way of driving everything
else out," he said, mildly. " Have you ever been into
the village — for a month ? — for two months ? The
things you wanted have been done. But you haven't
been to see."
She sprang to her feet.
" Shall I come now ? "
*' If it suits you. I've saved the afternoon."
She ran out of the room to put on her things, up-
setting as she did so, the work-box with which she
had been masquerading, and quite unconscious of it.
250 Delia Blanchflov/er
Winnington, smiling to himself, stooped to pick up the
reels and skeins of silk. One, a skein of pink silk with
which she had been working, he held in his hand a
moment, and, suddenly, put in his pocket. After which
he drifted absently to the hearthrug, and stood waiting
for her, hat in hand. He was thinking of that moment
in the wintry dawn when he had read her letter. The
shock of emotion returned upon him. But what was he
to do ? What was really in her mind ? — or, for the
matter of that, in his own?
She re-appeared, radiant in a moleskin cap and furs,
and then they both awkwardly remembered — he, that
he had made no inquiry about Weston, and she, that
she had said nothing of Gertrude Marvell's hurried de-
parture.
"Your poor maid.? Tell me about her. Oh, but
she'll do well. We'll take care of her. France is an
awfully good doctor."
Her e3^es thanked him. She gave him a brief ac-
count of Weston's state ; then looked away.
" Do you know - — that I'm quite alone ? Gertrude
went up to town this morning?"
Winnington gave a low whistle of astonishment.
" She had to — " said Delia, hurriedly. " It was the
office — they couldn't do without her."
" I thought she had undertaken to be your chap-
eron ? "
The girl coloured.
" Well yes — but of course — the other claim came
first."
" You don't expect me to admit that," said Winning-
ton, with energy. " Miss MarveU has left you
alone? — alone? — at a moment's notice — with your
Delia Blanchflower 251
maid desperately ill — and without a word to nic, or
anybody?" His eyes sparkled.
*' Don't let's quarrel ! " cried Delia, as she stood
opposite to him, putting on her gloves. *' Don't!
Not to-day — not this afternoon ! And we're sure to
quarrel if we talk about Gertrude."
His indignation broke up in laughter.
" Very well. We won't mention her. Well, but look
here — " he pondered — " You rrnist have somebody. I
would propose that Alice should come and keep you
company, but I left her in bed with what looks like the
flu. Ah ! — I have it. But — am I really to advise ?
You are twenty-one, remember, — nearly twenty-two ! "
The tender sarcasm in his voice brought a flood of
colour to her checks.
" Go on ! " she said, and stood quivering.
" Would you consider asking Lady Tonbridge to
come and stay with you? Nora is away on a visit."
Delia moved quietly to the writing-table, pulled off
her gloves, sat down to write a note. He watched her,
standing behind her ; his strained yet happy look rest-
ing on the beautiful dark head.
She rose, and held out the note, addressed to Lady
Tonbridge. He took the note, and the hand together.
The temptation was irresistible. He raised the hand
and kissed it. Both were naturally reminded of the
only previous occasion on which he had done such a
thing; and as he dropped his hold, Delia saw the ugly
scar which w^ould always mark his left wrist.
" Thank you ! " — he said warmly — " That'll be an
immense relief to my mind."
*' You mustn't think she'll convert me," said Delia,
quickly.
252 Delia Blanchflower
" Why, she's a Suffragist 1 "
Delia shrugged her shoulders.
"Pour rire! "
"Let's leave the horrid subject alone — shall we?"
Delia assented ; and they set out, just as the winter
sun of a bright and brilliant afternoon was beginning
to drop towards its setting.
When Delia afterwards looked back on those two
hours in Mark Winnington's company, she remembered
them as a time enskied and glorified. First, the mere
pleasure of the senses — the orange glow of the De-
cember evening, the pleasant crackling of the frosty
ground, the exhilaration of exercise, and of the keen
pungent air; then the beauty of the village and of the
village lanes in the dusk, of the blue smoke drifting
along the hill, of the dim reds and whites of the old
houses, and the occasional gleams of fire and lamp
through the small-paned windows ; the gaiety of the
children racing home from school, the dignity of the old
labourers, the seemliness of the young. It was good to
be alive — in England — breathing English air. It
was good to be young and strong-limbed, with all one's
life before one.
And next — and greater — there was the pleasure of
Winnington beside her, of his changed manner, of their
new comradeship. She felt even a curious joy in the
difference of age between them. Now that by some
queer change, she had ceased to stand on her dignity
with him, to hold him arrogantly at ann's length, there
emerged in her a childish confidence and sweetness, en-
chanting to the man on whom it played. " May I? — "
"Do you think I might? — " she would say, gently,
throwing out some suggestion or other, as they went ia
Delia Blanchflower 293
and out of the cottages, and the humbleness in her dark
eyes, as though a queen stooped, began to turn his
head.
And how beautiful this common human life seemed
that evening — after all the fierce imaginings in which
she had lived so long! In the great towns beyond the
hills, women were still starved and sweated, — still en-
slaved and degraded. Man no doubt was still the
stupid and vicious tyrant, the Man-Beast that Gertrude
Marvell believed him. But here in this large English
village, how the old primal relations stood out ! — sor-
row-laden and sin-stained often, yet how touching, how
worthy, in the main, of reverence and tenderness ! As
they went in and out of the cottages of her father's
estate, the cottages where Winnington was at home, and
she a stranger, all that " other side " of any great ar-
gument began to speak to her — without words. The
world of politics and its machinery, how far away ! —
instead, the world of human need, and love, and suffer-
ing unveiled itself this winter evening to Delia's soul,
and spoke to her in a new language. And always it was
a language of sex, as between wives and husbands,
mothers and sons, sisters and brothers. No isolation
of one sex or the other. No possibility of thinking
of them apart, as foes and rivals, with jarring rights
and claims. These old couples tending each other,
clinging together, after their children had left them, till
their own last day should dawn ; these widowed men
or women, piteously lost without the old companion,
like the ox left alone in the furrow ; these j^oung couples
with their first babies ; these dutiful or neglectful sons,
these hard or tender daughters ; these mothers young
and old, selfish or devoted : — with Winnington beside
her, Delia saw them all anew, heard them all anew. And
254 Delia Blanchflower
Love, in all its kinds, everywhere the governing force,
by its presence or its absence ! — Love abused and de-
graded, or that Love, whether in the sunken eyes of
the old, or on the cheeks of the young, which is but
" a little lower than the angels."
And what frankly amazed her was Winnington's place
in this world of labouring folk. He had given it ten
years of service ; not charity, but simply the service of
the good citizen ; moved by a secret, impelling motive,
which Delia had yet to learn. And how they rewarded
him ! She walked beside a natural ruler, and felt her
heart presently big with the pride of it.
" But the cripples ? " She enquired for them, with
a touch of sarcasm. " So far," she said, " the popula-
tion ]\Iaumsey, appeared to be quiet exceptionally able-
bodied."
" Goodness ! " said Winnington — " I can't shew you
more than two or three cripples to a village. Maum-
sey only rejoices in two. My county school will col-
lect from the whole county. And I should never have
found out the half of them, if it hadn't been for Susy
Amberley."
" How did she discover them ? " asked Delia, without
any sort of cordiality.
" We — the County Council — put the enquiry into
her hands. I showed her — a bit. But she's done it
admirably. She's a wonderful little person, Susy.
What the old parents will do without her when she goes
to London I can't think."
*' Why is she going? "
Winnington shrugged his shoulders kindly.
" Wants a training — wants something more to do.
Quite right — if it makes her happy. You women have
all grown so restless nowadays." He laughed into the
Delia Blanchflower 255
rather sombre face beside him. And the face lit up — ■
amazingly.
" Because the world's so marvellous," said Delia, with
her passionate look. " And there's so little time to ex-
plore it in. You men have always known that. Now
we women know it too."
He pondered the remark — half smiling.
*' Well, you'll see a good deal of it before you've
done," he said at last. " Now come and look at what
I've been trying to do for the women who complained
to you."
And he shewed her how everything had been arranged
to please her, at the cost of infinite trouble, and much
expense. The woman with the eight children had been
moved into a spacious new cottage made out of two old
ones ; the old granny alone in a house now too big for
her, had been induced to take in a prim little spinster,
the daughter of a small grocer just deceased; and the
father of the deficient girl, for whom ]\Iiss Dcmpscy had
made herself responsible, received Winnington with a
lightening of his tired eyes, and taking him out of ear-
shot of Delia, told him how Bessie " had got through
her trouble," and was now earning money at some sim-
ple hand-work under ]Miss Dcmpscy's care.
" I didn't know you were doing all this ! " said Delia,
remorsefully, as they walked along the village street.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
" I think I did tell you — once or twice. But you
had other things to think about."
" I hadn't ! " said Delia, with angry energy. " I
hadn't, you needn't make excuses for me ! "
He smiled at her, a little gravely, but said nothmg —
till they reached a path leading to an isolated cottage —
"Here's a cripple at last! — Susy! — You here.''"
256 Delia Blanchflower
For as the door opened to his knock, a lady rose from
a low seat, and faced them.
Winnington grasped her by the hand.
" I tliought you were already gone."
" No — they've put it off again for a week or two —
no vacancy yet."
She shook hands formally with Delia. " I came to
have another look at this boy. Isn't he splendid? "
She pointed to a grinning child of five sitting on the
edge of the kitchen table, and dangling a pair of heavily
ironed legs. The mother proudly shewed them. He
had been three months in the Orthopaedic Hospital, she
told Delia. The legs twisted with rickets had been
broken and set twice, and now he was " doing fine."
She set him down, and made him walk. " I never
thought to see him do that ! " she said, her wan face
shining. " And it's all his doing — " she pointed to
Winnington, " and Miss Susy's."
Meanwhile Susy and Winnington were deep in con-
versation — ver}' technical much of it — about a host
of subjects they seemed to have in common.
Delia silent and rather restless, watched them both,
the girl's sweet, already faded, face, and Winnington's
expression. When they emerged from the cottage Susy
said shyly to Delia —
" Won't you come to tea with me some day next
week ? "
" Thank you. I sliould like to. But my maid is
very ill. Else I should be in London."
*' Oh, I'm very sorr3^ But I'll come to you."
Delia thanked her coldly. She could have beaten
herself for a rude, ungracious creature ; yet for the
life of her she could not command another manner.
Susy retreated. She and Winnington began to talk
Delia Blanchflower 257
again, ranging over persons and incidents quite un-
known to Delia — the frank talk, full of matter of com-
rades in a public service. And again Delia watched
them acutely — jealous — yet not in any ordinary
sense. When Susy turned back towards the Rectory,
Delia said abruptly —
" She's helped you a great deal ? "
** Susy ! ** He went off at score, ending with —
" What France and I shall do without her, I don't know.
If we could only get more women — scores more
women — to do the work ! There we sit, perched up
aloft on the Council, and what we want are the women
to advise us, and the women's hands — to do the little
things — which make just all the difference ! "
She was silent a moment, and then said sorely —
" I suppose that means, that if we did all the work
we might do — we needn't bother about the vote."
He turned upon with animation —
" I vow I wasn't thinking about the vote ! "
" Miss Amberley doesn't seem to bother about it."
Winnington's voice shewed amusement.
" I can't imagine Susy a sufF. It simply isn't in
her."
" I know plenty of suffragists just as good and use-
ful as she is," said Delia, bristling.
Winnington did not immediately repl3\ They had
left the village behind, and were walking up the Maum-
sey lane in a gathering darkness, each electrically con-
scious of the other. At last he said in a changed
tone —
" Have I been saying anything to wound you ? I
didn't mean it."
She laughed unsteadily.
" You never say anything to wound me. I was
258 Delia Blanchflower
't)nly — a kind of fretful porcupine — standing up for
■my side."
" And the last thought in my mind to-night was to
attack your ' side,' " he protested.
Her tremulous sense drank in the gentleness of his
voice, tlie joy of his strong, enveloping presence, and
the sweetness of her own surrender which had brought
him back to her, the thought of it vibrating between
them, unspoken. Until, suddenly, at the door of the
Abbey, Winnington halted and took her by both hands.
" I must go home. But I must say something first.
You did write me a dear letter this morning."
She flushed deeply.
" Did I ? Why shouldn't I go and see cripples —
as well as Miss Amberley ? "
" How many do you want ? Any number supplied !
Good-night — Good-night ! Have you got books to
amuse you ? "
" Plenty."
" Poor child ! — all alone ! But you'll have Lady
Tonbridge to-morrow."
" How do you know? She mayn't come."
" I'm going there now. I'll make her. You — you
won't be doing any more embroidery to-night ? "
He looked at her slyly. Delia laughed out.
" There ! — when one tries to be feminine, that's how
you mock ! "
" * Mock! ' I admired. Good-night ! — I shall be
here to-morrow."
He was gone — into the darkness.
Delia entered the lonely house, in a bewilderment of
feeling. As she passed Gertrude's deserted sitting-room
on her way to the staircase, she saw that the parlour-
maid had lit a useless lamp there. She went in to put
Delia Blanchflower 259
it out. As she did so, a torn paper among the litter on
the floor attracted her notice. She stooped and took
it up.
It seemed to be a fragment of a plan — a plan of a
house. It shewed two series of rooms, divided by a
long passage. One of the rooms was marked " Red
Parlour," another, " Hall," and at the end of the pas-
sage, there were some words, clearly in Gertrude Mar-
veil's handwriting —
" Garden door, north."
With terror in her heart, Delia brought the frag-
ment to the lamp, and examined every word and line of
it.
Recollections flashed into her mind, and turned her
pale. That what she held was part of a general plan
of the ^lonk Lawrence ground-floor, she was certain —
dismally certain. And Gertrude had made it. Why.''
Delia tore the paper into shreds and burnt the shreds.
Aftci'wards she spent an oppressed and miserable night.
Her friend reproached her, on the one side ; and Win-
nington, on the other.
Chapter XIV
LADY TONBRIDGE was sitting in the window-
seat of a little sitting-room adjoining her bed-
room at Maumsey Abbey. That the young mistress of
Maumsey had done her best to make her guest comfort-
able, that guest most handsomely acknowledged. Some
of the few pretty things which the house contained had
been gathered there. The chintz covered sofa and
chairs, even though the chintz was ugly, had the pleas-
ant country-house look, which suggests afternoon tea,
and chatting friends ; a bright fire, flowers and a lavish
strewing of books completed the hospitable impression.
Yet Madeleine Tonbridge had by no means come to
Maumsey Abbey, at Winnington's bidding, as to a Land
of Cockaigne. She at all events regarded Delia as a
" handful," and was on the watch day by day for things
outrageous. She could not help liking the beautiful
creature — almost loving her ! But Delia was still a
" Daughter of Revolt " — apparently unrepentant ;
that dangerous fanatic, her pretended chaperon, was
still in constant correspondence with her ; the papers
teemed with news of militant outrages, north, south, cast
and west ; and riotous doings were threatened for the
meetings of Parliament by Delia's Society. On all
these matters Delia shut her proud lips. Indeed her
new reticence with regard to militant doings and be-
liefs struck Lady Tonbridge as more alanning than
the young and arrogant defiance with which on her
first arrival she had been wont to throw them at the
260
Delia Blanchflower 261
world. Madeleine could not rid herself of the impres-
sion during these weeks that Delia had some secret
cause of anxiety connected with the militant propa-
ganda. She was often depressed, and there were mo-
ments when she shewed a nervousness not easily ac-
counted for. She scarcely ever mentioned Gertrude
Marvell ; and she never wrote her letters in public ;
while those she received, she would carry away to the
gun room — which she had now made her own par-
ticular den — before she opened them.
At the same time, if Weston recovered from the
operation, in three weeks or so it would be possible for
Delia to leave Maumsey ; and it was generally under-
stood that she would then join her friend in London,
just in time for the opening of Parliament. For the
moment, it was plain she was not engaged in any violent
doings. But who could answer for the future?
And meanwhile, what was Mark Winnington about.'*
It was all very well to sit there trifling with the pages
of the Quarterly Revietc! In her moments of solitude
by night or day, during the five days she had already
spent at Maumsey, Madeleine had never really given
her mind to anything else but the engrossing question.
" Is he in love with her — or is he not? "
Of course she had foreseen — had feared — the pos-
sibility of it, from that very first moment, almost —
when Winnington had written to her describing the
terms of Bob Blanchflower's will, and his own accept-
ance of the guardianship.
Yet why " feared "? Had she not for years desired
few things so sincerely as to see Winnington happily
married? As to that old tragedy, with Its romantic
effect upon his life, it had always seemed to her in-
vincible common sense an intolerable thing that it should
262 Delia Blancliflower
for ever shut him off from husbandhood and father-
hood. Absurd ! — entirely absurd ! No mortal
"vvoman — let alone her shade ! — could possibly be
worth it. It was positively anti-social — bad citizen-
ship — that such a man as Mark Winnington should
not produce sons and daughters for the State, when
all the wastrels and cheats in creation were so active in
the business.
All the same she had but rarely ventured to attack
him on the subject, and the results had not been en-
couraging. She was certain that he had entered upon
the guardianship of Delia Blanchflower in complete
single-mindedness — confident, disdainfully confident,
in his own immunity ; and after that first outburst into
which friendship had betrayed her, she had not dared
to return to the subject. But she had watched him —
with the lynx eyes of a best friend ; and that best friend,
a woman to whom love aflpairs were the most interesting
things in existence. In which, of course, she knew she
was old-fashioned, and behind the mass of the sex, now
racing toward what she understood was called the
" economic independence of women " — i.e. a life with-
out man.
But in spite of watching, she was much perplexed —
as to both the persons concerned. She had now been
nearly a week at Maumsey, in obedience to Delia's
invitation and Winnington's urging. The opportunity
indeed of getting to know Mark's beautiful — and
troublesome — ward, more intimately, was extremely
welcome to her curiosity. Hitherto Gertrude Marvell
had served as an effective barrier between Delia and
her neighbours. The neighbours did not want to know
Miss Marvell, and Miss Marvell, Madeleine Tonbridge
Delia Blanchflower iG"^
was certain, had never intended that the neiglibours
sliould rob her of Delia.
But now Gertrude Marvell liad in some strange sud-
den way vacated her post ; and the fortress lay open to
attack and capture, were anyone strong enough to
seize it. Moreover Delia's visitor had not been twenty-
four hours in the house before she had perceived that
Delia's attitude to her guardian was new, and full of
suggestion to the shrewd bystander. Winnington had
clearly begun to interest the girl profoundly — both in
himself, and in his relation to her. She now wished to
please him, and was nervously anxious to avoid hurt-
ing or offending him. She was always conscious of his
neighbourhood or his mood ; she was eager — though
she tried to conceal it — for information about him ; and
three nights already had Lady Tonbridge lingered over
Delia's bedroom fire, the girl on the rug at her feet,
while the elder woman poured out her recollections of
Mark Winnington, from the days when she and he had
been young together.
As to that vanished betrothed, Agnes Cla}', — the
heroine of Winnington's brief engagement — Delia's
tliirst for knowledge, in a restless, suppressed way, had
been insatiable. Was she jealous of that poor ghost,
and of all those delicate, domestic qualities with which
her biographer could not but invest her? The daugh-
ter of a Dean of Wanchester — retiring, spiritual, ten-
der, — suggesting a cloistered atmosphere, and The
Christian Year — she was still sharp in Madeleine's
recollection, and that lady felt a certain secret and
mischievous zest in drawing her portrait, while Delia,
her black broMs drawn together, her full red mouth
compressed, sat silent.
264 Delia Blanchflower
Then — Winnington as a friend ! — upon that theme
indeed Madeleine had used her brightest colours. And
to make this passive listener understand what friend-
ship meant in Winnington's soul, it had been necessary
for the speaker to tell her own story, as much at least
as it was possible for her to tell, and Delia to hear. A
hasty marriage — " my own fault, my dear, as much
as my parents' ! " — twelve years of torment and hu-
miliation at the hands of a bad man, descending rapidly
to the pit, and quite willing to drag his wife and child
with him, ending in a separation largely arranged by
Winnington — and then —
" We retired, Nora and I, on a decent allowance, my
own money really, only like a fool, I had let it all get
into Alfred's hands. We took a house at Richmond.
Nora was fifteen. For two years my husband paid the
money. Then he wrote to say he was tired of doing
without his daughter, and he required her to live with
him for six months in the year, as a condition of con-
tinuing the allowance. I refused. We would sooner
both of us have thrown ourselves into the Thames.
Alfred blustered and threatened — but he could do noth-
ing — except cut off the allowance, which he did, at
once. Then Mark Winnington found me the cottage
here, and made everything smooth for us. I wouldn't
take any money from him, though he was abominably
ready to give it us ! But he got me lessons — he got
me friends. He's made everybody here feel for us, and
respect us. He's managed the little bits of property
we've got left — he's watched over Nora — he's been
our eartlily Providence — and we both adore him ! "
On which the speaker, with a flickering smile and
tear-dashed eyes, had taken Delia's face in her two
slender hands —
Delia Blanchflower 265
" And don't be such a fool, dear, as to imagine there's
been anything in it, ever, but the purest friendship and
good-heartedness that ever bound three people together !
My greatest joy would be to see him married — to a
'rvonian worthy of him — if there is one ! And he I
suppose will find his reward in marrying Nora — to some
nice fellow. He begins to match-make for her al-
ready."
Delia slowly withdrew herself.
"And he himself doesn't intend to marry?" She
asked the question, clasping her long arms round her
knees, as she sat on the floor, her dark eyes — defiantly
steady on her guest's face.
Lady Tonbridge could hear her own answer.
"L'homme px'opose ! Let the right woman try ! "
Whereupon Delia, a delicious figure, in a slim white
dressing-gown, a flood of curly brown hair falling about
her neck and shoulders, had sprung up, and bidden her
guest a hasty good-night.
One other small incident she recalled.
A propos of some anxious calculation made by Win-
nington's sister Alice jNIatheson one day in talk with
Lady Tonbridge — Delia being present — as to whether
Mark could possibly afford a better motor than the
" ramshackle little horror " he was at present depend-
ent on, Delia had said abruptly, on the departure of
Mrs. Matheson —
" But surely the legacy my father left Mr. Winning-
ton would get a new motor ! "
a
But he hasn't taken it, and never will ! " Lady
Tonbridge had cried, amazed at the girl's ignorance.
" Why not ? " Delia had demanded, almost fiercely,
looking very tall, and oddly resentful.
Why not? "Because one doesn't take payment
266 Delia Blanchflower
for that sort of thing ! " had been Mark's laughing ex-
planation, and the only explanation that she, Madeleine,
had been able to get out of him. She handed it on —
to Delia's evident discomfort. So, all along, this very
annoying — though attaching — young woman had im-
agined that Winnington was being handsomely paid for
putting up with her.''
And Winnington?
Here again, it was plain there was a change of atti-
tude, though what it meant Madeleine could not satis-
factorily settle with herself. In the early days of his
guardianship he had been ready enough to come to
her, his most Intimate woman-friend, and talk about
his ward, though always with that chivalrous delicacy
which was his gift among men. Of late he had been
much less ready to talk ; a good sign ! And now, since
Gertrude Marvell's blessed departure, he was more at
Maumsey than he had ever been before. He seemed in-
deed to be pitting his own influence against Miss Mar-
vell's, and in his modest way, yet consciously, to be tak-
ing Delia in hand, and endeavouring to alter her out-
look on life; clearing away, so far as he could, the at-
mosphere of angry, hearsay propaganda in which she
had spent her recent years, and trying to bring her
face to face with the deeper loves and duties and sor-
rows which she in her headstrong youth knew so little
about, while they entered so profoundly into his own
upright and humane character.
Well, but did all this mean love? — the desire of the
man for the woman.
Madeleine Tonbridge pondered it. She recollected
a number of little acts and sayings, throwing light upon
his profound feeling for the girl, his sympathy with her
Delia Blanchflower 267
convictions, her difficulties, her wild revolts against ex-
isting abuses and tyrannies. " I learn from her " —
he had said once, in conversation, — " she teaches me
many things." Madeleine could have laughed in his
face — but for the passionate sincerity in his look.
One thing she perceived — that he was abundantly
roused on the subject of that man Lathrop's acquaint-
ance with his ward. Lathrop's name had not been men-
tioned since Lady Tonbridge's arrival, but she received
the impression of a constant vigilance on Winnington's
part, and a certain mystery and unhappiness on Delia's.
As to the notion that such a man as Paul Lathrop could
have any attraction for such a girl as Delia Blanch-
flower, the idea was simply preposterous, — except on
the general theory that no one is really sane, and
every woman " is at heart a rake." But of course there
was the common interest, or what appeared to be a
common interest in this militant society to which Delia
was still so intolerably committed ! And an unscrupu-
lous man might easily make capital out of it.
At this stage in the rambling reverie which possessed
her, Lady Tonbridge was aware of footsteps on the
gravel outside. Winnington? He had proposed to
take Delia for a ride that afternoon, to distract her
mind from Weston's state, and from the operation which
was to take place early the following morning. She
drew the curtain aside.
Paul Lathrop !
Madeleine felt herself flushing with surprise and in-
dignation. The visitor was let in immediately. It
surely was her duty to go down and play watch-
dog.
She firmly rose. But as she did so, there was a
knock at her door, and Delia hurriedly entered.
268 Delia Blanchflower
"I — I thought I'd better say — Mr. Lathrop's just
come to see me — on business. I'm so sorry, but you
won't mind my coming to say so ? "
Lady Tonbridge raised her eyebrows.
" You mean — you want to see him alone ? All right.
I'll come down presently."
Delia disappeared.
For more than half an hour did that " disreputable
creature," as Lady Tonbridge roundly dubbed him, re-
main closeted with Delia, in Delia's drawing-room.
Towards the end of the time the visitor overhead was
walking to and fro impatiently, vowing to herself that
she was bound — positively bound to Winnington — to
go down and dislodge the man. But just as she was
about to leave her room, she again heard the front door
open and close. She ran to the window just in time to
see Lathrop departing — and Winnington arriving! —
on foot and alone. She watched the two men pass each
other in the drive — Winnington's start of haughty
surprise — and Lathrop's smiling and, as she thought,
Insolent greeting. It seemed to her that Winnington
hesitated — was about to stop and address the intruder.
But he finally passed him by with the slightest and
curtest nod. Lathrop's fair hair and slouching shoul-
ders disappeared round a comer of the drive. Win-
nington hurried to the front door and entered.
Lady Tonbridge resolutely threw herself into an
arm-chair and took up a novel.
" Now let them have it out ! I don't interfere."
Meanwhile Delia, with a red spot of agitation on
either cheek, was sitting at the old satin-wood bureau in
the drawing-room, writing a cheque. A knock at the
Delia Blanchflower 269
door disturbed her. She half rose, to see Winnington
open and close it.
A look at his face startled her. She sank back into
her chair, in evident confusion. But her troubled eyes
met his appealingly.
Winnington's disturbance was plain.
" I had ventured to think — to hope — " he began,
abruptly — " that although you refused to give me j-our
promise when I asked it, yet that you would not again —
or so soon again — receive Mr. Lathrop — privately."
Delia rose and came towards him.
" I told Lady Tonbridge not to come down. Was
that very wrong of me? "
She looked at him, half smiling, half hanging her
head.
" It was unwise — and, I think, unkind ! " said Win-
nington, with energy.
"Unkind to you?" She lifted her beautiful eyes.
There was something touching in their strained expres-
sion, and in her tone.
" Unkind to yourself, first of all," he said, firmly.
" I must repeat Miss Delia, that this man is not a fit
associate for you or any young girl. You do yourself
harm by admitting him — by allowing him to see you
alone — and you hurt your friends."
Delia paused a moment.
" Then you don't trust me at all ? " she said at last,
slowly.
Winnington melted. How pale she looked ! He
came forward and took her hand —
" Of course I trust you ! But j^ou don't know —
you are too young. You confess you have some busi-
ness with Mr. Lathrop that you can't tell me — your
guardian ; and you have no idea to what misrepresenta-
270 Delia Blanchflower
tions you expose yourself, or with what kind of a man
you have to deal ! "
Delia withdrew her hand, and dropped into a chair —
her eyes on the carpet.
" I meant — " she said, and her tone trembled — " I
did mean to have told you everything to-day."
" And now — now you can't ? "
She made no reply, and in the silence he watched her
closely. What could account for such an eclipse of
all her young vivacity.'* It was clear to him that that
fellow was entangling her in some monstrous way —
part and parcel no doubt of this militant propa-
ganda — and calculating on developments. Winning-
ton's blood boiled. But while he stood uncertain, Delia
rose, went to the bureau where she had been writing,
brought thence a cheque, and mutely offered it.
"What is this?" he asked.
" The money you lent me."
And to his astonishment he saw that the cheque was
for £500, and was signed " Delia Blanchflower."
"You will of course explain.?" he said, looking at
her keenly. Suddenly Delia's embarrassed smile broke
through.
" It's — it's only that I've been trying to pay my
debts ! "
His patience gave way.
" I'm afraid I must tell you — very plainly — that
unless you can account to me for this cheque, I must
entirely refuse to take it ! "
Delia put her hands behind her, like a scolded child.
" It is my very own," she protested, mildly. " I had
some ugly jewels that my grandmother left me, and
I have sold them — that's all."
Winnington's grey eyes held her.
Delia Blanchflower 271
" H'm — and — has Mr. Lathrop had anything to
do with the sale? "
" Yes ! " She looived up frankly, still smiling. " He
has managed it for inc."
" And it never occurred to you to apply to your
guardian in such a matter.'' Or to your lawyer.'*"
She laughed — with what he admitted was a very
natural scorn. '* Ask my guardian to provide me with
the means of helping the * Daughters ' — when he re-
gards us all as criminals.'' On the contrary, I wanted
to relieve j-our conscience, Mr. Winnington ! "
" I can't say you have succeeded," he said, grimly,
as he began to pace the drawing-room, with slow steps,
his hands in his pockets.
" Why not ? Now — everything you give me — can
go to the right things — what you consider the right
things. And what is my own — my very own — I can
use as I please."
Yet neither tone nor gesture were defiant, as they
would have been a few weeks before. Rather her look
was wistful — appealing — as she stood there, a per-
plexing, but most charming figure, in her plain black
dress, with its Quakerish collar of white lawn.
He turned on her impetuously.
"And Mr. Lathrop has arranged it all for you?"
" Yes. He said he knew a good deal about jewellers.
I gave him some diamonds. He took them to London,
and he has sold them."
" How do you know he has even treated you honestly ! "
" I am certain he has done it honestly ! " she cried
indignantly. " There are the letters — from the
jewellers — " And running to the bureau, she took
thence a packet of letters and thrust them into Win
nington's hands.
272 Delia Blanchflower
He looked them through in silence, — turning to her,
as he put them down.
" I see. It is of course possible that this firm of
jewellers have paid Mr. Lathrop a heavy commission be-
hind the scenes, of which you know nothing. But I
don't press that. Indeed I will assume exactly the con-
trary. I will suppose that Mr. Lathrop has acted with-
out any profit to himself. If so, in my eyes it only
makes the matter worse — for it establishes a claim on
you. Miss Delia ! — " his resolute gaze held her — " I
do not take a farthing of this money unless you allow
me to write to Mr. Lathrop, and offer him a reasonable
commission for his services ! "
" No — no ! Impossible ! "
She turned away from him, towards the window, bit-
ing her lip — in sharp distress.
" Then I return you this cheque " — he laid it down
beside her. " And I shall replace the money, — the
£500 — which I ought never to have allowed you to
spend as you have done, out of my own private pocket."
She stood silent, looking into the garden, her chest
heaving. She thought of what Lady Tonbridge had
told her of his modest means — and those generous hid-
den uses of them, of which even his most intimate friends
only got an occasional glimpse. Suddenly she went up
to him —
"Will you — will you promise me to write civilly?"
she said, in a wavering voice.
" Certainly."
"You won't offend — insult him?"
" I will remember that you have allowed him to come
into this drawing-room, and treated him as a guest,"
said Winnington coldly. " But why, Miss Delia, are
Delia Blanchflower 273
you so careful about this man's feelings? And is it still
impossible that you should meet my wishes — and refuse
to see him again? "
She shook her head — mutely.
" You Intend — to see him again ? "
" You forget — that we have — business together."
Winnington paused a moment, then came nearer to
the chair on which she had dropped.
" This last week — we have been very good friends —
haven't we, Miss Delia?"
" Call me Delia, please ! "
" Delia, then ! — we have come to understand each
other much better — haven't we? "
She made a drooping sign of assent.
" Can't I persuade you — to be guided by me — as
your father wished — during these next years of your
life? I don't ask you to give up your convictions —
your ideals. We should all be poor creatures without
them ! But I do ask you to give up these violent and
illegal methods — this violent and illegal Society —
with which you have become entangled. It will ruin
your life, and poison your whole nature ! — unless you
can shake yourself free. Work for the Suffrage as
much as you like — but work for it honourably — and
lawfull}'. I ask you — I beg of you ! — to give up
these associates — and these methods."
The tenderness and gravity of his tone touched the
girl's quivering senses almost unbearably. It was like
the tenderness of a woman. She felt a wild impulse to
throw herself into his arms, and weep. But instead she
grew very white and still.
" I can't ! " — was all she said, her eyes on the ground.
Winnington turned away.
274 Delia Blanchflower
Suddenly — a sound of hasty steps in the hall out-
side — and the door was opened by a nurse, in uni-
form.
" Miss Blanchflower ! — can you come? "
Delia sprang up. She and the nurse disappeared to-
gether.
Winnington guessed what had happened. Weston
who was to face a frightful operation on the morrow as
the only chance of saving her life, had on the whole
gone through the fortnight of preparatory treatment
with wonderful courage. But during the last forty-
eight hours, there had been attacks of crying and ex-
citement, connected with the making of her will, which
she had insisted on doing, being herself convinced that
she would die under the knife. Medically, all such
agitation was disastrous. But the only person who
could calm her at these moments was Delia, whom she
loved. And the girl had shewn in dealing with her a
marvellous patience and strength.
Presently Madeleine Tonbridge came downstairs —
with red eyes. She described the scene of which she
had just been a witness in Weston's room. Delia, she
said, choking again at the thought of it, had been
" wonderful." Then she looked enquiringly at Win-
nington —
"You met that man going away?"
He sat down beside her, unable to disguise his trou-
ble of mind, or to resist the temptation of her sym-
pathy and their old friendship.
" I am certain there is some plot afoot — some des-
perate business — and they are trying to draw her into
it ! What can we do ? "
Lady Tonbridge shook her head despondently. What
Delia Blanchflower 275"
indeed could they do, with a young lady of full age, —
bent on her own way?
Then she noticed the cheque lying open on the table,
and asked what it meant.
" Miss Delia wishes to repay me some money I lent
her," said Winnington, after a pause. " As matters
stand at present, I prefer to wait. Would you kindly
take charge of the cheque for her.'' No need to worry
her about it again, to-night."
Delia came down at tea-time, pale and quiet, like
one from whom virtue has gone out. By tacit consent
Winnington and Lady Tonbridge devoted themselves to
her. It seemed as though in both minds there had
arisen the same thought of her as orphaned and mother-
less, the same pity, the same resentment that anything
so lovely should be unhappy — as she clearly was ; and
not only, so both were convinced, on account of her
poor maid.
Winnington stayed on into the lamplight, and pres-
ently began to read aloud. The scene became intimate
and domestic. Delia very silent, sat in a deep arm
chair, some pretence at needlework on her knee, but in
reality doing nothing but look into the fire, and listen
to Winnington's voice. She had changed while up-
stairs into a white dress, and the brilliance of her hair,
and wide, absent eyes above the delicate folds of white,
seemed to burn in Winnington's consciousness as he
read. Presently however, Lady Tonbridge looking up,
was startled to see that the girl had imperceptibly fallen
asleep. The childish sadness and sweetness of the face
in its utter repose seemed to present another Delia, with
another history. INLideleine hoped that Winnington
had not observed the girl's sleep ; and he certainly gave
276 Delia Blanchflower
no sign of it. He went on reading; and presently his
companion, noticing the clock, rose very quietly, and
went out to give a letter to the parlour-maid for post.
As she entered the room again, however, she saw that
Winnington had laid down his book. His eyes were now
on Delia — his lips parted. All the weather-beaten
countenance of the man, its deep lines graven by strenu-
ous living, glowed as from an inward light — mar-
vellously intense and pure. Madeleine's pulse leapt.
She had her answer to her speculations of the after-
noon.
Meanwhile through Delia's sleeping mind there swept
scenes and images of fear. She grew restless, and as
Lad}"^ Tonbridge slipped again into her chair by the
fire, the girl woke suddenly with a long quivering sigh,
a sound of pain, which provoked a quick movement of
alarm in Winnington.
But she very soon recovered her usual manner; and
Winnington said good-night. He went away carrying
his anxieties with him through the dark, carrying also
a tumult of soul that would not be stilled. Whither was
he drifting? Of late he had felt sure of himself again.
Her best friend and guide — it was that he was rapidly
becoming — with that, day by day, he bade himself be
content. And now, once more, self-control was uprooted
and tottering. It was the touch of this new softness,
this note of innocent appeal, even of bewildered dis-
tress, in her, which was kindling all his manhood, and
breaking down his determination.
He raged at the thought of Lathrop. As to any
danger of a love-affair, like Lady Tonbridge, he scouted
the notion. It would be an insult to Delia to suppose
such a thing. But it was simply intolerable in his ej^es
that she should have any dealings with the fellow —
Delia Blanchflower 277
that he should have the audacity to call at her house,
to put her under an obligation.
And he was persuaded there was more than appeared
in it ; more than Delia's devices for getting money, where-
with to feed the League of Revolt. She was clearly
anxious, afraid. Some shadow was brooding over her,
some terror that she could not disclose : — of that Wln-
nlngton was certain. And this man, whom she had al-
ready accepted as her colleague in a public campaign,
was evidently in the secret ; might be even the cause of
her fears.
He began hotly to con the terms of his letter to La-
throp : and then had to pull himself up, remembering
unwillingly what he had promised Delia.
Chapter XV
* ' I VO you know an3'thing more?"
-L^ The voice was Delia's ; and the man who had
just met her in the shelter of the wooded walk which
ran along the crest of the hill above the Maumsey valley,
was instantly aware of the agitation of the speaker.
" Nothing — precise. As I told you last week — you
needn't be afraid of anything immediate. But my Lon-
don informants assure me that elaborate preparations
are certainly going on for some great coup as soon as
Parliament meets — against Sir Wilfrid. The police
are uneasy, though puzzled. They have warned Daunt,
and Sir Wilfrid is guarded."
" Then of course our people won't attempt it ! It
would be far too dangerous."
" Don't be too sure ! You and I know Miss Marvell.
If she means to burn Monk Lawrence, she'll achieve it,
whatever the police may do."
The man and the girl walked on in silence. The
January afternoons were lengthening a little, and even
under the shadow of the wood Lathrop could see with
sufficient plainness Delia's pale beauty — strangely worn
and dimmed as it seemed to him. His mind revolted.
Couldn't the jealous gods spare even this physical per-
fection.'* What on earth had been happening to her?
He supposed a Christian would call the face "spiritual-
ised." If so, the Christian — in his opinion — would
be a human ass.
" I have written several times to Miss Marvell — very
2;8
Delia Blanchflower 27Q
strongly," said Delia at last. " I thought you ought to
know that. But I have had no reply."
" Why don't you go — instead of writing? "
" It has been impossible. My maid has been so ter-
ribly ill."
Lathrop expressed his sympathy. Delia received
it with coldness and a slight frown. She hurried on —
" I've written again — but I haven't sent it. Per-
haps I oughtn't to have written by post."
" Better not. Shall I be your messenger? Miss
Marvell doesn't like me — but that don't matter."
" Oh, no, thank you." The voice was hastily em-
phatic; so that his vanity winced. " There are several
members of the League in the village. I shall send one
of them."
He smiled — rather maliciously.
" Are you going to tackle Miss Andrews herself? "
" You're still — quite certain — that she's con-
cerned? "
" Quite certain. Since you and I met — a fortnight
ago isn't it? — I have seen her several times, in the
neighbourhood of the house — after dark. She has no
idea, of course, that I have been prowling round."
"What have you seen? — what can she be doing?"
asked Delia. " Of course I remember what you told me
— the other day."
Lathrop's belief was that a close watch was now be-
ing kept on Daunt — on his goings and comings — with
a view perhaps to beguiling him away, and then getting
into the house.
" But he has lately got a niece to stay with him, and
help look after the children, and the house. His sister
who is married in London, offered to send her down for
six months. He was rather surprised, for he had quite
28o Delia Blanchflower
lost sight of his sister ; but he tells me it's a great relief
to his mind.
" So you talk to him? "
*' Certainly. Oh, he knows all about me — but he
knows too that I'm on the side of the house ! He thinks
I'm a queer chap — but he can trust me — in that busi-
ness. And by the way, Miss Blanchflower, perhaps I
ought to let you understand that I'm an artist and a
writer, before I'm a Suffragist, and if I come across Miss
Marvcll — engaged in what you and I have been talking
of — I shall behave just like any other member of the
public, and act for the police. I don't want to sail —
with you — under any false pretences ! "
" I know," said Delia, quietly. " You came to warn
me — and we are acting together, I understand per-
fectly. You — you've promised however " — she could
not keep her voice quite normal — " that you'd let me
know — that you'd give me notice before you took any
step."
Lathrop nodded. " If there's time — I promise.
But if Daunt or I come upon Miss Marvcll — or any of
her minions — torch in hand — there would not be time.
Though, of course, if I could help her escape, consist-
ently with saving the house — for your sake — I should
do so. I am sure you believe that .'' "
Delia made no audible reply, but he took her silence
for consent.
" And now " — he resumed — " I ought to be informed
without delay, how Miss Marvell receives your let-
ter."
" I will let you know at once."
" A telegram brings me here — this same spot. But
you won't wire from the village.^ "
" Oh no, from Latchford."
Delia Blanchflower 281
" Well, then, that's settled. Regard me, please, as
your henchman. Well! — have you read any ^Madame
dcNoailles?"
He fancied he saw a slight impatient movement.
" Not yet, I'm afraid. I've been living in a sick
room."
Again he expressed polite sympathy, while his
thoughts repeated — " What waste ! — what absurdity ! "
" She might distract you — especially in these winter
days. Her verse is the very quintessence of summer —
of hot gardens and their scents — of roses — and June
twilights. It takes one out of this leafless north." He
stretched a hand to the landscape.
And suddenly, while his heavy face kindled, he began
to recite. His French was immaculate — even to a sen-
sitive and well-trained ear ; and his voice, which in speak-
ing was disagreeable, took in reciting deep and beautiful
notes, which easily communicated to a listener the thrill,
the passion, of sensuous pleasure, which certain poetry
produced in himself.
But it communicated no such thrill to Delia. She
was only irritably conscious of the uncouthness of his
large cadaverous face, and straggling fair hair ; of his
ragged ulster, his loosened tie, and all the other untidy
details of his dress. " And I shall have to go on meet-
ing him!" she thought, with repulsion. "And at the
end of this walk (the gate was in sight) I shall have to
shake hands with him — and he'll hold my hand."
She loathed the thought of it ; but she knew very well
that she was under coercion — for Gertiiide's sake.
The recollection of Winnington — away in Latchford
on county business — smote her sharply. But how could
she help it.? She must — must keep in touch with this
man — who had Gertrude in his power.
282 Delia Blanchflower
While these thoughts were running through her mind,
he stopped his recitation abruptly.
" Am I to help you any more — with the jewels? "
Delia started. Lathrop was smiling at her, and she
resented the smile. She had forgotten. But there was
no help for it. She must have more money. It might
be, in the last resort, the means of bargaining with Ger-
trude. And how could she ask Mark Winnington !
So she hurriedly thanked him, naming a tiara and two
pendants, that she thought must be valuable.
" All right," said Lathrop, taking out a note-book
from his breast pocket, and looking at certain entries
he had made on the occasion of his visit to Maumsey.
" I remember — worth a couple of thousand at least.
When shall I have them.^ "
" I will send them registered — to-morrow — from
Latchford."
*' Tres bien! I will do my best. You know Mr.
Winnington has offered me a commission.'' " His eyes
laughed.
Delia turned upon him.
" And you ought to accept it, Mr. Lathrop ! It
would be kinder to all of us."
She spoke with spirit and dignity. But he laughed
again and shook his head.
"My reward, you see, is just not to be paid. My
fee is your presence — in this wood — your little word
of thanks — and the hand you give me — on the bar-
gain ! "
They had reached the gate, and he held out his hand.
Delia had flushed violently, but she yielded her own.
He pressed it lingeringly, as she had foreseen, then
released it and opened the gate for her.
" Good-bye then. A word commands me — when you
Delia Blanchflower 283
wish. We keep watch — and each informs the other — -
barring accidents. Tliat is, I think, the bargain."
She niurniured assent, and they parted. Half way
back towards his own cottage, Lathrop paused at a
spot where the trees were thin, and the slopes of the
valley below could be clearly seen. He could still make
out her figure nearing the first houses of the village.
"I think she hates me. Never mind! I command
her, and meet me she must — when I please to summon
her. There is some sweetness in that — and in teasing
the stupid fellow who no doubt will own her some
day."
And he thought exultantly of Winnington's letter to
him, and his own insolent reply. It had been a perfectly
civil letter — and a perfectly proper thing for a
guardian to do. But — for the moment —
" I have the whip hand — and it amuses me to keep
it, — Now then for Blaydes ! "
For there, in the doorway of the cottage, stood the
young journalist, waiting and smoking. He was evi-
dently in good humour.
"Well? She came.?"
*' Of course she came. But it doesn't matter to you."
" Oh, doesn't it ! I suppose she wants you to sell
something more for her?"
Lathrop did not reply. Concerning Gertrude Mar-
vcll, he had not breathed a word to Blaydes.
They entered the hut together, and Lathrop re-
kindled the fire. The two men sat over it smoking.
Blaydes plied his companion with eager questions, to
which Lathrop returned the scantiest answers. At last
he said with a sarcastic look —
" I was offered four hundred pounds this afternoon —
and refused it."
284 Delia Blanchflower
((
The deuce you did ! " cried Blaydes, fiercely.
" What about ray debt — and what do you mean? "
" Ten per cent, commission," said Lathrop, drawing
quietly at his cigar. " Sales up to two thou., a fort-
night ago. I shall get the same money — or more — for
the next batch."
" Well, that's all right ! No need to get it out of
the lady, if you're particular. Get it out of the other
side. Any fool could manage that."
" I shall not get a farthing out of the other side. I
shall not make a doit out of the whole transaction ! "
" Then you're a d d fool," said Blaydes, in a pas-
sion. " And a dishonest fool besides ! "
" Easy, please ! What hold should I have on this
girl — this splendid creature — if I were merely to make
money out of her? As it is, she's obliged to me — she
treats me like a gentleman. I thought you had matri-
monial ideas."
" I don't believe you've got the ghost of a chance ! "
grumbled Blaydes, his mind smarting under the thought
of the lost four hundred pounds, out of which his debt
might have been paid,
" Nor do I," said Lathrop, coolly. " But I choose
to keep on equal terms with her. You can sell me up
when you like."
He lounged to the window, and threw it open. The
January day was closing, not in any glory of sunset,
but with interwoven greys and pearls, and delicate yel-
low lights slipping through the clouds.
" I shall always have this " — he said to himself,
passionately, as he drank in the air and the beauty —
*' whatever happens."
Recollection brought back to him Delia's proud,
virginal youth, and her springing step as she walked
Delia Blanchflower 285
boside him tlirougli the wood. His mind wavered again
between triumph and self-disgust. His muddy past
returned upon him, mingled, as always, with that in-
vincible respect for lier, and belief in something high
and unstained in the depths of his own nature, to which
his weakened and corrupt will was yet unable to give
any effect.
" What I have done is not ' me ' " — he thought.
" At any rate not all ' me,' I am better than it. I sus-
pect Winnington has told her something — measuring
it chastely out. All the same — I shall see her again."
Meanwhile Delia was descending the hill in a dull storm
of trouble. She was torn between the two master pas-
sions of the human heart, loj-alty — and love. Loj'alty
to her friend, and the Cause which was her friend's life,
and had been, she once supposed, her owm ; and
this overmastering, imperious feeling which during the
last few weeks, slowly acknowledged, reluctantly ad-
mitted, had changed for her all the aspects of the
world.
Since that day, the day before Weston's operation,
when Paul Lathrop had brought her evidence — col-
lected partly from small incidents and obscrs'ations orv,
the spot, partly from information supplied him by
friends in London — which had sharpened all her own
suspicions into certainties, she had never known an
hour free from fear. Her letters had remained wholly
unanswered. She did not even know where Gertrude
was ; though it seemed to her that letters addressed
to the head office of the League of Revolt must have
been forwarded. No ! Gertrude was really planning
this hateful thing; the destruction of this beautiful and
historic house, with all its memories and its treasures.
286 Delia Blanchflower
in order to punish a Cabinet Minister for his opposition
to Woman Suffrage, and so terrorise others. Moreover
it meant the risking of human life — Daunt — his
children.
What was she to do? Betray her friend? — go to
Winnington for help? But he was a magistrate. If
such a plot were really on foot — and Lathrop was him-
self convinced that petroleum and explosives were al-
ready stored somewhere in the neighbourhood of the
house — Winnington could only treat such a thing
as a public servant, as a guardian of the law. Any
appeal to him to let private interests — even her
interests — interfere, would, she felt certain, be entirely
fruitless. Once go to him, the police must be informed
— it would be his clear duty ; and if such proofs of
the plot existed as Lathrop believed, Gertrude would be
arrested, and her accomplices. Including Delia her-
self?
That possibility, instead of frightening her, gave the
girl some momentary comfort. For that might perhaps
secure Winnington's silence?
But no ! — her common sense dismissed the notion.
W^innington would discover at once that she had had no
connection whatever with the business. Lathrop's evi-
dence alone would be enough. And that being so, her
confession would simply hand Gertrude over to Win-
nington's conscience. And Mark Winnington's con-
science was a thing to fear.
And yet the yearning to go to him — like the
yearning of an unhappy child — was so strong that
Delia could hardly bear it.
Traitor ! — yes traitor! — double-dyed.
And pausing just outside the village, at a field gate,
Delia leant over it, gazing into the evening sky, and
Delia Blanchflower 287
vaguely* wildly imploring guidance from some power
beyond herself — some God, " if any Zeus there be," on
whom the heart in its trouble might throw itself.
She thought of all the women and girls who had suf-
fered for " the Cause " — suffered imprisonment, loss of
health, loss of employment, public abuse. Was she
alone to desert — to fail — to fail Gertrude.'^ — who had
taught her everything?
" Ah, but if I believed in it still — if I only believed
in. it ! " — she moaned to herself. And why was her faith
gone ! Because she herself had come to see the folly,
the ludicrous folly of a " physical force " movement,
which opposed the pin-pricks of women to the strength
of men ? — or simply because — a man — who felt thus,
judged thus, had become so dear to her that his beliefs,
his convictions, had enwrapped, absorbed, transmuted
her own, as though her life had slipped into his, and
suffered some amazing and mysterious change.''
Yet all the emotions which Gertrude had evoked, on
which Gertrude had built, were still there — her pas-
sionate sympathy with her sex, with the wrongs of
women, with their toils, their sufferings, their weakness.
• " I could give up everything still — everything! —
only not in this way. He^s right — not Gertrude."
But Gertrude still expected her in London — on
the scene of action.
" And I shall go," she said to herself with resolute
inconsistency, " / shall go! "
What an angel ^Nlark Winnington had been to her,
this last fortnight ! She recalled the da^' of Weston's
operation, and all the long days since. The poor gen-
tle creature had suffered terribly; death had been just
held off, from hour to hour ; and was only now with-
drawing. And Delia, sitting by the bed, or stealing
288 Delia Blanchflower
with hushed foot about the house, was not only torn
b}' pity for the living sufferer, she was haunted again
by all the memories of her father's dying struggle —
bitter and miserable days ! And with what tenderness,
what strength, what infinite delicacy of thought and
care, had she been upheld through it all I Her heart
melted within her. " There are such men in the world
— there are ! — and a year ago I should have simply
despised anyone who told me so ! "
Yet after these weeks of deepening experience, and
sacred feeling, in which she had come to love Mark
Winnington with all the strength of her young heart,
and to realise that she loved him, the first use that she
was making of a free hour was to go, unknown to him —
for he was away on county business at Wanchester —
and meet Paul Lathrop !
" But he would understand," she said to herself,
drearily, as she moved on again. " If he knew, he
would understand."
Now she must hurry on. She turned into the broad
High Street of the village, observed by many people,
and half way down, she stopped at a door on which
was a brass plate, " Miss Toogood, Dressmaker."
The lame woman greeted her with delight, and there
in the back parlour of the little shop she found them
gathered, — Kitty Foster, the science-mistress, Miss
Jackson, and Miss Toogood, — the three " Daughters,"
who were now coldly looked on in the village, and
found pleasure chiefly in each other's society. Marion
Andrews was not there. Delia indeed fancied she had
seen her in the dusk, walking in a side lane, that led
into the Monk Lawrence road, with another girl, whom
Delia did not know.
Delia Blanchflower 289
It was a relief, however, not to find her — for the
moment. The faces of the three women in the back
parlour, were all strained and nenous; the}' spoke low,
and they gathered round Delia with an eagerness which
betrayed their own sense of isolation — of being left
leaderless.
" You will be going up soon, won't you? " whispered
Miss Toogood, as she stroked the sleeve of Delia's
jacket. " The Tocsin says there'll be great doings
next week — the day Parliament meets."
" I've got my orders ! " — said Kitty Foster, tossing
her red hair mysteriously. " Father won't keep me
down here any longer. I've made arrangements td go
up tomorrow and lodge with a cousin in Battersca.
She's as deep in it as I am."
" And I'm hoping they'll find room for me in the
League office," said the science-mistress. " I can't
stand this life here much longer. My Governors are
always showing me the}' think us all criminals, and
they'll find an excuse for getting rid of me whenever
they can. I daren't even put up the ' Daughters '
colours in my room now."
Her hollow, anxious eyes, with the fanatical light
in them clung to Delia — to the girl's noble head, and
the young face flushed with the winter wind.
" But we shall get it this session, shan't we? " said
Miss Toogood eagerly, still stroking Delia's fur. " The
Government will give in — they must give in."
And she began to talk with hushed enthusiasm of
the last month's tale of outrages — houses burnt, win-
dows broken, Downing Street attacked, red pepper
thrown over a Minister, ballot-boxes spoiled
Suddenly it all seemetl to Delia so absurd — so pa-
thetic —
290 Delia Blanchflower
"/ don't think we shall get the Bill!" she said,
sombrely. " We shall be tricked again."
" Dear, dear ! " said Miss Toogood, helplessly.
" Then we shall have to go on. It's war. We can't
stop."
And as she stood there, sadly contemplating the
*' war," in which, poor soul, she had never yet joined,
except by sympathy, a little bill-distributing and a
modest subscription, she seemed to carry on her shoul-
ders the whole burden of the " Movement " — herself,
the little lame dressmaker, on the one side — and a
truculent British Empire on the other.
" We'll make them smart anyway ! " cried Kitty
Foster. " See if we don't ! "
Delia hurriedly opened her business. Would one
of them take a letter for her to London — an important
letter to Miss Marvell that she didn't want to trust to
the post. Whoever took it must go to the League
office and find out where Miss Marvell was, and deliver
it — personally. She couldn't go herself — till after
the doctors' consultation, which was to be held on Mon-
day — if then.
Miss Jackson at once volunteered. Her face light-
ened eagerly.
" It's Saturday. I shall be free. And then I shall
see for myself — at the office — if they can give me
anything to do. When they write, they seem to put
me ofF."
Delia gave her the letter, and stayed talking with
them a little. They, it was evident, knew northing of
the anxiety which possessed her. And as to their
hopes and expectations — why was it they now seemed
to her so foolish and so igmorant.^ She had shared
them all, such a little while before.
Delia Blanchflower 291
And meanwhile they made much of her. They tried
to keep her witli them in the little stuffy parlour, with
its books which had belonged to Miss Toogood's father,
and the engraving of Winchester cathedral, and the
portrait of Mr. Keble. That " Miss Blanchflower "
was with them, seemed to reflect a glory on their little
despised coterie. They admired her and listened to
her, loath to let her go.
But at last Delia said Good-bye, and stepped out
again into the lights of the village street. As she
walked rapidly towards Maumsey, and the village houses
thinned and fell away, she suddenly noticed a dark
figure in front of her. It was Marion Andrews. Delia
ran to overtake her.
Marion stopped uncertainly when she heard herself
called. Delia, breathless, laid a hand on her arm.
" I wanted to speak to you ! "
" Yes ! " The girl stood quiet. It was too dark
now to see her face.
" I wanted to tell you — that there are suspicions —
about Monk Lawrence. You are being watched. I
want you to promise to give it up ! "
There was no one on the road, above which some
frosty stars had begun to come out. Marion Andrews
moved on slowly.
" I don't know what you mean. Miss Blanchflower."
" Don't, please, try to deceive me ! " cried Delia, with
low-voiced urgency'. " You have been seen at night
— following Daunt about — examining the doors and
windows. The person who suspects won't betray us.
I've seen to that. But you must give it up — you
must! I have written to Miss Marvell."
Marion Andrews laughed, — a sound of defiance.
" All right. I don't take my orders from any one
292 Delia Blanchflower
but her. But you are mistaken, Miss Blanchflower,
quite mistaken. Good night."
And turning quickl}' to the left, she entered a field
path leading to her brother's house, and was imme-
diately out of sight.
Delia went on, smarting and bewildered. How clear
it was that she was no longer trusted — no longer in
the inner circle — and that Gertrude herself had given
the cue ! The silent and stubborn Marion Andrews
was of a very different type from the three excitable
or helpless women gathered in Miss Toogood's parlour.
She had ability, passion, and the power to hold her
tongue. Her connection with Gertrude Marvell had
begun, in London, at the " Daughters " office, as Delia
now knew, long before her own appearance at Maumsey.
When Gertrude came to the Abbey, she and this strange,
determined woman were already well acquainted, though
Delia herself had not been aware of it till quite lately.
" I have been a child in their hands ! — they have never
trusted me ! " Heart and vanity were equally wounded.
As she neared the Maumsey gate, suddenly a sound
— a voice — a tall figure in the twilight.
" Ah, there you are ! " said Winnington. " Lady
Tonbridge sent me to look for you."
"Aren't you back very early,? " Delia attempted her
usual voice. But the man who joined her at once de-
tected the note of effort, of tired pre-occupation.
" Yes — our business collapsed. Our clerk's too
good — leaves us nothing to do. So I've been having
a talk with Lady Tonbridge."
Delia was startled ; not by the words, but by the
manner of them. While she seemed to Winnington to
be thinking of something other than the moment —
the actual moment, her impression was the precise op-
Delia Blanchflower 293
posite, as of a sharp, intense, consciousness of the mo-
ment in him, whicli presently communicated its own
emotion to her.
They walked up the drive together.
" At last I have got a horse for you," said Win-
nington, after a pause. "Shall I bring it tomorrow?
Weston is going on so well to-night, France tells me,
that he may be able to say ' out of danger ' to-morrow.
If so, let me take you far afield, into the Forest. We
might have a joll}' run."
Delia hesitated. It was very good of him. But
she was out of practice. She hadn't ridden for a long
time.
Winnington laughed aloud. He told — deliberately
— a tale of a young lady on a black mare, whom no
one else could ride — of a Valkyrie — a Brunhilde —
who had exchanged a Tyrolese hotel for a forest lodge,
and ranged the wide world alone —
"Oh!" — cried Delia, "where did you hear that?"
He described the talk of the little Swedish lad}', and
that evening on the heights when he had first heard
her name.
" Next day came the lawyers' letter — and yours —
both in a bundle."
" You'll agree — I did all I could — to put you off ! "
" So I understood — at once. You never beat about
tlie bush."
There was a tender laughter in his voice. But she
had not the heart to spar with him. He felt rather
than saw her drooping. Alarm — anxiety — rushed
upon him, mingled in a tempest-driven mind with all
that jMadeleine Tonbridge, in the ]\Iaumsey drawing-
room, had just been saying to him. That had been in-
deed the plain speaking of a friend! — attacking his
294 Delia Blanchflower
qualms and scruples up and down, denouncing them
even ; asking him indignantly^ who else could save this
child — who else could free her from the sordid en-
tanglement into which her life had slipped — but he ?
" You — you only, can do it ! " The words were still
thundering through his blood. Yet he had not meant
to listen to his old friend. He had indeed withstood her
firmly. But this sad and languid Delia began, again,
to put resistance to flight — to tempt — to justify him
— driving him into action that his cooler will had just
refused.
Suddenly, as they walked under the overshadowing
trees of the drive, her ungloved hand hanging beside
her, she felt it taken, enclosed in a warm strong clasp.
A thrill, a shiver ran through her. But she let it
stay. Neither spoke. Only as they neared the front
door with the lamp, she softly withdrew her fingers.
There was no one in the drawing-room, which was
scented with early hj^acinths, and pleasantly aglow
with fire-light. Winnington closed the door, and they
stood facing each other. Delia wanted to cry out — to
prevent him from speaking — but she seemed struck
dumb.
He approached her.
" Delia ! "
She looked at him still helplessly silent. She had
thrown off her hat and furs, and, in her short walking-
dress, she looked singularly young and fragile. The
change which had tempered the splendid — or insolent
— exuberance of her beauty, which Lathrop had per-
ceived, had made it in Winnington's eyes infinitely more
appealing, infinitely more seductive. Love and fear,
mingled, had " passed into her face," like the sculp-
tor's last subtle touches on the clay.
Delia Blanchflower 295
" Delia ! " How strange his voice sounded in his
own ears ! " I'm not sure that I ought to speak ! I'm
not sure it's fair. It — it seems like taking advantage.
If you think so, don't imagine I shall ever press it
again. I'm twenty years older than you — I've had
my youth. I thought everything was closed for me —
but I've come to love you — oh, so deeply ! And I
just wanted you to know that here I am — and that
if you could ever trust yourself to me — as your guard-
ian indeed, your lover, husband "
He came nearer. His face spoke the rest. But
she put out her hands in despair to ward him off.
" Don't — don't !— I can't bear it."
His look changed.
" Delia — darling ! "
" Oh, I do thank you ! " she said, piteously. " I
would — if I could. I — I shall never care for any
one else — but I can't — I can't."
He was silent a moment, and then said, taking her
hands, and putting them to his lips —
" Won't you explain .'' "
" Yes, I'll try — I ought to. You see " — she looked
up in anguish — " I'm not my own — to give — and I
— No, no, I couldn't make you happy ! "
" You mean — you're — you're too deeply pledged
to this Society .P "
He had dropped her hands, and stood looking at her,
as if he would read her through.
" I must go up to town next week," she said hur-
riedly. " I must go, and I must do what Gertrude
tells me. Perhaps — I can protect — save her. I
don't know. I daresay I'm absurd to think so — but
I might — and I'm bound. There is a great deal of it
now — I hate. But I seem promised — promised in
296 Delia Blanchflower
honour — and I can't — get free. And besides — you
see — I should just make you miserable!"
He walked away, his hands in his pockets, and came
back. Then suddenly he took her by the shoulders.
" You don't imagine I shall acquiesce in this ! " he
said passionately — " that I shall endure to see you
tied and chained by a woman whom I know you have
ceased to respect, and I believe you have ceased to
love ! "
" No ! — no ! — " she protested.
*' I think it is so," he said, steadily. " That is how
I read it ! " Then, in a cry — " Delia, I believe you
love me I "
She gave a sob — quickly repressed. Then she vio-
lently mastered herself.
" If it were true — I can't marry you. I won't be
treacherous — nor a coward. And I won't ruin your
life. Dear Mr. Mark — it's quite, quite impossible.
Let's never talk of it again."
And straightening all her slender body, she faced
him with that foolish courage, that senseless heroism,
v.hich women have so terribly at command.
So far, however from obliging her, he broke into a
tempest of discussion bringing to bear upon her all the
arguments that love or common sense dictated. If she
really cared for him at all, if she even thought it pos-
sible she might care, was she going to refuse all help
— all advice — from one to whom she had grown so
dear.'* — to whom everything she did was now of such
vital, such desperate importance.'' He pleaded for him-
self — guessing it to be the more hopeful way.
" It's been a lonely life, Delia, till you came ! And
now you've filled it. For God's sake, listen to me ! Let
me protect you, dear — let me advise you — trust your-
Delia Blanchflower 2Q7
self to me. Do you imagine I should want to dictate
to you — or tyrannise over you? Do you imagine I
don't sympathise with your faiths, your ideals — that
I don't feel for women — what they suffer — what they
endure — in this hard world? Delia, we'd work to-
gether ! — it mightn't be always in the same way —
nor always with the same opinions — but we'd teach —
we'd help each other. Your own conscience — your
own mind — I see it plainly — have turned against this
horrible campaign — and the woman who's led you into
it. Come out of it, darling! Work for what you be-
lieve, innocently, and in daylight — wuth tools you
needn't be ashamed of. I would never put the smallest
hinderance in your way — even if I didn't alwaj's agree
— But why shouldn't we agree? What discoveries we'd
make together — what fights we'd put up ! "
But she was just strong enough, alas! — the poor
child ! — to resist him. She scarcelj- replied ; but her
silence held the gate — against his onslaughts. And at
last she tottered to her feet.
" Mr. Mark — dear IMr. Mark I — let me go ! "
Her voice, her aspect struck him dumb. And before
he could rally his forces again, the door shut, and she
was gone.
Chapter XVI
*'Q^0 I mustn't argue any more?" said Lady Ton-
^^ bridge, looking at Delia, who was seated by her
guest's fire, and wore the weary aspect of one who had
already been argued with a good deal.
Madeleine's tone was one of suppressed exasperation.
Exasperation rather with the general nature of things
than with Delia. It was difficult to be angry with
one whose perversity made her so evidently wretched.
But as to the *' intolerable woman " who had got the
girl's conscience — and Winnington's happiness — in
her power, Lady Tonbridge's feelings were at a white
heat. How to reason with Delia, without handling
Gertrude Marvell as she deserved — there was the dif-
ficulty.
In any case, Delia was unshakeable. If Weston were
really out of danger — Dr. France was to bring over
the Brownmouth specialist on Monday — then that
verjf afternoon, or the next morning, Delia must and
would go to London to join Gertrude Marvell, And
six days later Parliament would re-assemble under the
menace of raids and stone-throwings, to which the Toc-
sin had been for weeks past summoning " The Daugh-
ters of Revolt," throughout the country, in terms of
passionate violence. In those proceedings Delia had
apparently determined to take her part. As to this
Lady Tonbridge had not been able to move her in the
least.
The case for Winnlngton seemed indeed for the
298
Delia Blanchflower 299
moment desperate. After liis scene with Delia, he had
left the Abbey immediately, and Lady Tonbridge,
though certain that something important — and dis-
astrous — had happened, would have known nothing,
but for a sudden confession from Delia, as the two
ladies sat together in the drawing-room after dinner.
Delia had abruptly laid down her book, with which she
was clearly only trifling — in order to say —
" I think I had better tell you at once that my guard-
ian asked me to marry him, this afternoon, and I re-
fused."
Since this earthquake shock, Madeleine Tonbridge
could imagine nothing more unsatisfactory than the con-
versations between them which had begun in the draw-
ing-room, and lingered on till, now, at nearly midnight,
sheer weariness on both sides had brought them to
an end. When Madeleine had at last thrown up ar-
gument as hopeless, Delia with a face of carven wax,
and so handsome through it all that Lady Tonbridge
could have beaten her for sheer vexation, had said a
quiet goodnight and departed.
But she was in love with him, the foolish, obstinate
child ! — Avildly, absorbingly in love with him ! The
fact was tragically evident, in ever^'thing she said, and
everything she left unsaid.
The struggle lay then between her loyalty to her
friend, the passionate lo^'alty of woman to woman, so
newly and strangely developed by the Suffrage move-
ment, and Winnington's advancing influence, — the in-
fluence of a man equipped surelj' with all the means of
victory — character, strength, charm — over the girl's
heart and imagination. He must conquer!
And yet Madeleine Tonbridge, staring into the ashes
of a dwindling fire, had never persuaded herself — in-
300 Delia Blanchflower
corrigible optimist that she was — to so little pur-
pose.
What was there at the back of the girl's mind?
Something more than appeared; though what appeared
was bad enough. One seemed at times to catch a
glimpse of some cloaked and brooding Horror, in the
dim background of the girl's consciousness, and over-
shadowing it; What more likely indeed, with this wild
campaign sweeping through the country? She prob-
ably knew or suspected things that her moral sense con-
demned, to which she was^ nevertheless committed.
" We shall end by proving all that the enemy says of
us ; we shall give our chance away for a generation ! "
" Do for Heaven's sake keep the young lady at
home ! "
The speaker was Dr. France. After seeing his pa-
tient, dismissing the specialist, and spending half an
hour tete-a-tete with Delia, he came down to see Lady
Tonbridge in a state that in any one else would have
been a state of agitation. In him all that appeared was
a certain hawkish glitter in the eye, and a tendency to
pull and pinch a scarcely existing moustache. But
Madeleine, who knew him well, understood that he was
just as much at feud with the radical absurdity of
things as she was.
" No one can keep her at home. Delia Is of age,"
she said, rising to meet him, with a face as serious as
his own.
" If she gets Into prison, and hunger-strikes, she'll
injure herself! She's extraordinarily run down with
this business of Weston's. I don't believe she could
stand the sheer excitement of what she proposes to do."
"She's told you?"
Delia Blanchflower 301
" Quite enough. If she once goes up to town — if
she once gets into that woman's clutclies, no one can
tell what will happen ? Oh you women — you women ! "
And the doctor walked tigerishly up and down the
room.
" I want the vote just as much as Delia does! " said
Lady Tonbridge firmly. " Don't forget that."
" No, you don't — you don't ! Excuse me. You are
a reasonable woman."
" Half the reasonable women in England want the
vote. Why shouldn't I have a vote — as well as you ? "
" Because, my dear lady — " the doctor smote the
table with his hand for emphasis — " because the par-
liamentary vote means the government of men hy men
— without which we go to pieces. And you propose
now to make it include the government of men by women
— which is absurd ! — and if you try it, will only break
up the only real government that exists, or can exist ! "
" Oh ! — ' physical force,' " said Madeleine, contemp-
tuously, with her nose in the air.
" Well — did I — did you — make the physical dif-
ference between men and women? Can we unmake it.'' "
" We are governed by discussion — not by force."
"Are we? Look at South Africa — look at Ulster
— look at the labour troubles that have been, and are
to be. And then you women come along with your
claim to the vote! What are you doing but breaking
up all the social values — weakening all the foundations
of the social edifice ! Woe ! — to you women especially
— when you teach men to despise the vote — when men
come to know that behind the paper currency of a
vote which ma}'^ be a man's or a woman's, there is noth-
ing but an opinion — bad or good ! At present, I tell
you, the great conventions of democracy hold because
302 Delia Blanchflower
there is reality of bone and muscle behind them !
Break down that reality — and sooner or later we
come back to force again — through bloodshed and
anarch}' ! "
" Inevitable — all the same ! " cried Madeleine.
" Why did you ever let us taste education ? — if you
are to deny us for ever political equality?"
" Use your education, my dear Madam ! " said the
doctor, indignantly. " Are there not man}' roads to
political equality? — many forms of government within
government, that may be tried, before you insist on ruin-
ing us by doing men's work in the men's way? Hasn't
it taken more than a hundred years to settle that Irish
question, which began with the Union? Is it a hundred
years since it was a hanging matter to steal a handker-
chief off a hedge? Can't you give us a hundred years
for the Woman Question? Sixty years only, since the
higher education of women began ! Isn't the science of
government developing every day? Women have got,
you say, to be fitted into government — I agree ! I
agree! But don^t rush it? Claim everything — what
you like ! — except only that sovereign vote, which con-
trols, and must control, the male force of an Empire ! "
" Jove's thunder ! " scoffed Lady Tonbridge. " Well
— my dear old friend ! — you and I shan't agree —
you know that. Now what can I do for Delia? "
" Nothing," said France gloomily. " Unless some
one goes up to watch over her."
" Her guardian will go," said Madeleine quietly, aff er
a pause.
They eyed each other.
" You're sure? " said France.
" Quite sure — though I've not said a word to him
— nor he to me."
Delia Blanchflower 303
" All right then — she's worth it ! By George, she's
got the makings of something splendid in her. I tell
you she's had as much to do as any of us with saving
the life of that woman upstairs. Courage? — tender-
ness?— 'not arf."
The slangy term shewed the speaker's desire to get
rid of his own feelings. He had, at any rate, soon
smothered them, and he and Lady Tonbridge, their
chairs drawn close, fell into a very confidential dis-
cussion. France was one of those country doctors,
not rare fortunately in England, in whom a whole
neighbourhood confides, whom a whole neighbourhood
loves; all the more if a man betrays a fair allowance
of those gnarls and twists of character, of strong preju-
dices, and harmless manias, which enable the common
herd to take him to their bosoms. Dr. France was
a stamp-collector, a player — indifferent — on the
comet, a rabid Tory, and a person who could never be
trusted to deal faithfully and on C.O.S. principles with
tramps and " undesirables." Such things temper the
majesty of virtue, and make even the good human.
He had known and prescribed for Winnington since
he was a bo}' in knickers ; he was particularly attached
to Lady Tonbridge. What he and Madeleine talked
about is not of great importance to this narrative ; but
it is certain that France left the house in much con-
cern for a man he loved, and a girl who, in the teeth
of his hottest beliefs, had managed to touch his feel-
ings.
Delia spent the day in packing. Winnington made
no sign. In the afternoon, — it was a wet Saturday
afternoon — Lady Tonbridge sitting in the drawing-
room, saw the science mistress of the Dame Perrott
School coming up the drive. Madeleine knew her as a
304 Delia Blanchflower
" Daughter," and could not help scowling at her — un-
seen.
She was at once admitted however, and spent a short
time with Delia in the Library.
And when Miss Jackson closed the Library door be-
hind her on her way out of the house, Delia broke the
seal of a letter which had been given into her hands : —
" I am very sorry, my dear Delia, you should have taken
these silly reports so much to heart. You had better dis-
miss them from your mind. I have given no such orders
as you suppose — nor has the Central Office. The plan
you found referred to something quite different — I really
can't remember what. I can't of course be responsible for
all the ' Daughters ' in England, but I have much more
important business to think of just now than the nonsense
Mr. Lathrop seems to have been stuffing you with. As to
W L , it would only be worth while to strike at
him, if our aflfairs go wrong- — through him. At present,
I am extraordinary hopeful. We are winning every day.
People see that we are in earnest, and mean to succeed —
at whatever cost.
" I am glad you are coming up on Monday. You will
find the flat anything but a comfortable or restful place, —
but that you will be prepared for. Our people are amaz-
ing ! — and we shall get into the House on Thursday, or
know the reason why.
" For the money you sent, and the money you promise —
best thanks. Everybody is giving. It is the spirit of the
Crusader, ' Dieu le veult ! '
" Your affectionate
" G. M."
Delia read and re-read it. It was the first time
Gertrude had deliberately tried to deceive her, and the
girl's heart was sore. Even now, she was not to be
trusted — " now that I am risking everything — every-
Delia Blanchflower 305
thing! ''"'' And with the letter in her lap, she sat and
thought of Winnington's face, as he had turned to look
at her, before leaving the drawing-room the night be-
fore.
The day passed drearily. The hills and trees were
wrapped in a damp fog, and though the days were
lengthening fast, the evening closed like November.
Madeleine thought with joy of getting back to her tiny
house and her Nora. Nora, who was not yet out,
seemed to have been enjoying a huge success in the
large cousinly party with whom she had been spending
the Christmas holidays. " But it's an odd place.
Mummy. In the morning we * rag ' ; and the rest of
the day we talk religion. Everybody is either Buddhist
or ' Bahai ' — if that's the right way to spell it. It
sounds odd, but it seems to be a very good way of get-
ting on with young men."
Heavens ! What did it matter how you played the
old game, or with what counters, so long as it was
played ?
And as Lady Tonbridge watched the figure of Delia
gliding through the house, wrapped in an estranging
silence, things ancient and traditional returned upon
her in flood, and nothing in the world seemed worth
having but young love and happy marriage ! — if you
could get them ! She — and her heart knew its bit-
terness — had made the great throw and lost.
Sunday passed in the same isolation. But on Sun-
day afternoon Delia took the motor out alone, and
gave no reason either before or after.
" If she's gone out to meet that man, it's a scandal ! "
thought Madeleine wrathfully, and could hardly bring
3o6
Delia Blanchflower
herself to be civil when the girl returned — pale,
wearied, and quite uncommunicative. But she was very
touching in a mute, dignified way, all the evening, and
Madeleine relented fast. And, as they sat in the fire-
lit drawing-room, when the curtains were drawn, Delia
suddenly brought a stool close to Lady Tonbridge's
side, and, sitting at her feet, held up appealing arms.
Madeleine, with a rush of motherliness, gathered her
close; and the beautiful head lay, very quiet, on her
breast. But when she would have entreated, or argued,
again, Delia implored her — " Don't — don't talk ! —
it's no good. Just let me stay."
Late that night, all being ready for departure, Delia
went in to say goodnight, and goodbye to Weston.
" You'll be downstairs and as strong as a horse,
when I come back," she said gaily, stroking the patient's
emaciated fingers.
Weston shook her head.
*' I don't think I shall ever be good for much. Miss
Delia. But " — and her voice suddenly broke — " I be-
lieve I'd go through it all again — just to know — what
— you could be — to a poor thing — like me."
" Weston ! — " said Delia, softly — " if you talk like
that — and if you dare to cry, Nurse will turn me out.
You're going to get quite well, but whether you're
well or ill, here you stay, Miss Rosina Weston ! — and
I'm going to look after you. Polly hasn't packed my
things half badly." Polly was the under-housemaid,
whom Delia was taking to town.
" She wouldn't be worth her salt, if she hadn't," said
Weston tartly. " But she can't do your hair, Miss —
and it's no good saying she can."
" Then I'll do it myself. I'll make some sort of a
glorious mess of it, and set the fashion."
Delia Blanchflower 307
But her thought said — " If I go to prison, they'll
cut it off. Poor Weston ! "
Weston moved uneasily —
"Miss Delia?"
« Yes."
" Don't you go getting yourself Into trouble. Now
don't you ! " And with tears In her eyes, the ghostly
creature pressed the girl's hand to her lips. Delia
stooped and kissed her. But she made no reply. In-
stead she began to talk of the new bed-rest which had
just been provided for Weston, and on which the patient
professed herself wonderfully comfortable.
" It's better than tlie one we had at Meran — for
papa." Her voice dropped. She sat at the foot of
Weston's bed looking absently into some scene of the
past.
" Notliing ever gave him ease — your poor Papa ! "
said Weston, pitifully. "He did suffer! But don't
you go thinking about it this time of night, Miss Delia,
or you won't sleep."
Delia said goodnight, and went away. But she did
think of her father — with a curious intensity. And
when she fell fitfully asleep, she dreamt that she saw
him standing beside her in some open foreign place,
and that he looked at her in silence, steadily and coldly.
And she stretched out her hands, in a rush of grief —
" Kiss me, father ! I was unkind — horribly — hor-
ribly unkind ! "
With the pain of it, she woke suddenly and the
visualising sense seemed still to perceive In the dark-
ness the white head and soldierly form. She half rose,
gasping. Then, as though a photographic shutter were
let down, the Image passed from the brain, and she
lay with heaving breast, trying to find her way back
3o8 Delia Blanchflower
into what we call reality. But it was a reality even
more wretched than those recollections to which her
dream had recalled her. For it was held and possessed
by Winnington.
The doctors came early. They gave a favourable
verdict, and Delia at once decided on an afternoon
train.
All the morning. Lady Tonbridge hovered round her,
loth to take her own departure, and trying every now
and then to re-open the subject of London, to make
the girl promise to send for her — to consult Winning-
ton, if any trouble arose.
But Delia would not allow any discussion. " I shall
be with Gertrude — she'll tell me what to do," was all
she would say.
Lady Tonbridge was dropped at her own door by
Delia, on her way to the station. Nora was there to
welcome her, but not all their joy in recovering each
other, could repair Madeleine's cheerfulness. She
stood, looking after the retreating car with such a face
that Nora exclaimed —
" Mother, what is the matter ! "
" I'm watching the tumbril out of sight," said Lady
Tonbridge incoherently. " Shall we ever see her
again ? "
That, however, was someone else's affair.
Delia took her own and her housemaid's tickets for
London, saw her companion established, and then, pre-
ferring to be alone, stepped into an empty carriage
herself. She had hardly disposed her various packages,
and the train was within two minutes of starting,
when a tall man came quickly along the platform, in-
specting the carriages as he passed. Delia did not see
Delia Blanchflower 309
him till he was actually at her window. In another
moment he had opened and closed the door, and had
thrown down his newspapers and overcoat on the seat.
The train was just starting, and Delia, crimson, found
herself mechanically shaking hands with Mark Win-
nington.
" You're going up to town .'' " She stammered it.
" I didn't know — "
" I shall be in town for a few days. Are you quite
comfortable.'' A footwarmer.^' "
For the day was cold and frosty, with a bitter east
wind.
" I'm quite warm, thank you."
The train ran out of the station, and they were soon
in the open country'. Delia leant back in her seat,
silent, conscious of her own hurrying pulses, but de-
termined to control them. She would have liked to be
indignant — to protest that she was being persecuted
and coerced. But the recollection of their last meeting,
and the sheer, inconvenient, shameful, joy of his pres-
ence there, opposite, interposed.
Winnington himself was quite cool ; there were no
signs whatever of any intention to renew their Friday's
conversation. His manner and tone were just as usual.
Some business at the Home Office, connected with his
County Council work, called him to town. He should
be staying at his Club in St. James's St. Alice Mathe-
son also would be in town.
" Shall we join for a theatre, one night? " he asked
her.
She felt suddenly angered. Was she never to be
believed, never to be taken seriously?
" To-morrow, Mr. Mark, is the meeting of Parlia-
ment."
310 Delia Blanchfiower
'* That I am aware of."
" The da}' after, I shall probably be in prison ! "
She fronted him braveh', though, as he saw, with an
effort. He paused a moment, but showed no astonish-
ment.
" I hope not. I think not," he said, quietly.
Delia took up the evening paper she had just bought
at the station, opened it, and looked at the middle page.
" There are our plans," she said, defiantly, handing
it to him.
" Thank you. I have already seen it."
But he again read through attentively the paragraph
to which she pointed him. It was headed " Militant
Plans for To-morrow." A procession of five hundred
women was to march on the Houses of Parliament, at
the moment of the King's Speech. " We insist " — said
the Manifesto issued from the offices of the League
cf Revolt — " upon our right of access to the King, or
failing His Majest}', to the Prime Minister. We mean
business and we shall be armed."
Winnington pointed to the word " armed."
" With stones — I presume ? "
" Well, not revolvers, I hope ! " said Delia. " I
should certainly shoot myself."
Tension broke up in slightly hysterical laughter.
She was already in better spirits. There was some-
thing exciting — exhilarating even — in the duel be-
tween herself and Winnington, which was implied in the
conversation. His journey up to town, the look in his
grey eyes meant — " I shall prevent you from doing
what you are intending to do." But he could not pre-
vent it. If he was the breakwater, she was the storm-
wave, driven by the gale — by the wind from afar, of
which she felt herself the sport, and sometimes the
Delia Blanchflower 311
Tictim — without its changing her purpose in the
least.
" Only I shall not refuse food ! " she thought. " I
shall spare him that. I shall serve my sentence. It
won't be long."
But afterwards? Would she then be free.'* Free
to follow Gertrude or not, according to her judgement?
Would she have " purged " her promise — paid her shot
— recovered the governance of herself?
Her thovights discussed the future, when, all in a
moment, Winnington, watching her from behind his
Times, saw a pale startled look. It seemed to be caused
by something in the landscape. He turned his eyes
to the window and saw that they were passing an old
manor house, with a gabled front, standing above the
line, among trees. What could that have had to do
with the sudden contraction of the beautiful brow, the
sudden look of terror — or distress? The house had
a certain resemblance to ]Monk Lawrence. Had it re-
minded her of that speech in the Latchford market-
place from which he was certain she had recoiled, no
less than he?
"You'll let me take you to the flat? I've been over
it once, but I should like to see it's in order."
She hesitated, but how could she refuse? He put
her into a taxi, having already dispatched her maid
with the luggage in another, and they started.
" I expect you'll find a lot of queer people there ! "
she said, trying to laugh. " At least you'll think them
queer."
" I shall like to see the people you are working with,"
he said, gravely.
Half way to Westminster, he turned to her.
312 Delia Blanchflower
" Miss Delia ! — it's my plain duty to tell you —
again — and to keep on telling you, even though it
makes you angry, and even though I have no power to
stop you, that in taking part in these doings to-morrow,
you are doing a wrong thing, a grievously wrong thing !
If I were only an ordinary friend, I should try to dis-
suade 3'ou with all my might. But I represent your
father — and you know what he would have felt."
He saw her lips tremble. But she spoke calmly,
" Yes, — I know. But it can't be helped. We can't
agree, Mr. Mark, and it's no good my trying to ex-
plain, any more — just yet! — " she added, in a lower
tone.
" 'Just yet '.'* What do you mean by that? "
" I mean that some time, — perhaps sometime soon
— I shall be ready to argue the whole thing with you
— what's right and what's wrong. Now I can't argue
— I'm not free to. Don't you see — ' Ours not to make
reply, — ours but to do, or die.' " Her smile flashed
out. " There's not going to be any dying about it
however — you know that as well as I do." Then with
a touch of mockery she bent towards him. " You won't
persuade me, Mr. Mark, that you take us very seriously !
But I'm not angry at that — I'm not angry — at any-
thing ! "
And her face, as he scanned it, melted — changed
— became all soft sadness, and deprecating appeal.
Never had she seemed to him so fascinating. Never
had he felt himself so powerless. He thought, despair-
ingly — " If I had her to myself, I could take her in my
arms, and make her give way ! "
But here were the first signs of arrival — a narrow
Westminster street — a towering group of flats. The
taxi stopped, and Winnington jumped out.
Chapter XVII
DELIA'S luggage was brought in by tlie hall porter,
and she and Winnlngton stood waiting for the lift.
Meanwhile Winnington happened to notice, through the
open door of the mansions, a couple of policemen stand-
ing just outside, on the pavement, and two others on
the further side of the street. It seemed to him they
were keeping the house which Delia and he had just
entered under observation.
The lift descended. There were in it four women,
all talking eagerly in subdued tones. One was grey-
haired, the others were quite young girls. The strained,
excited look on all their faces struck Winnington
sharply as they emerged from the lift. One of the
girls looked curiously at Delia and her tall companion.
The grey-haired lady's attention was caught by the
policeman outside. She gave a little chuckle.
" We shall have plenty to do with those gentry
to-morrow ! " she said to the girl beside her, drawing
her cloak round her so that it displayed a black and
orange badge.
Delia approached her.
"Is Miss Marvcll here?"
They all stopped and eyed her.
"Yes, she's upstairs. She's just come back from
the Central. But she's very bus}^," said the elder lady.
" She won't see you without an appointment."
One of the girls suddenly looked at Delia, and
whispered to the speaker.
313
314 Delia Blanchflower
" Oh, I see ! " said that lady, vaguely. " Are you
]\Hss Blanchflower? "
" Yes."
** I beg your pardoH. Miss Marvell's expecting you
of course. Do make her rest a bit if you can. She's
simply splendid! She's going to be one of our great
leaders. I'm glad you won't miss it after all. You've
been delayed, haven't you.'' — by somebody's illness.
Well, it's going magnificently ! We shall make Parlia-
ment listen — at last. Though they'll protect them-
selves no doubt with any number of police — cowards ! "
The eyes of the speaker, as her face came into the
light of the hall lamp, sparkled maliciously. She
seemed to direct her words especially to Winnington,
who stood impassive. Delia turned to the lift, and they
ascended.
They were admitted, after much ringing. A be-
wildered maid looked at Delia, and the luggage behind
her, as though she had never heard of her before. And
the whole flat in the background seemed alive with voices
and bustle. Winnington lost patience.
" Tell this man, please, where to take Miss Blanch-
flower's luggage at once. And where is the drawing-
room ? "
"Are you going to stay. Miss.''" said the girl.
" There's only the small bedroom vacant."
Delia burst out laughing — especially at the sight of
Winnington's irate countenance.
" All right. It'll do quite well. Now tell me where
Miss Marvell is."
" I mustn't interrupt her. Miss."
" This is my flat," said Delia, good-humouredly —
" so I think you must. And please shew Mr. Winning-
ton the drawing-room.
i>
Delia Blanchflower 315
The girl, with an astonished face, opened a door
for Winnington, into a room filled with people,
and then — unwillingly — led Delia along the pas-
sage.
Winnington looked round him in bewilderment. He
had entered, it seemed, upon a busy hive of women. The
room was full, and everybody in it seemed to be working
at high pressure. A young lady at a central table
was writing telegrams as fast as possible, and handing
them to a telegraph clerk who was waiting. Two type-
writers were busy in the further corners. A woman,
Avith a sharply clever face, was writing near by, holding
her pad on her knee, while a printer's bo}', cap in hand,
was sitting by her waiting for her " copy." Two other
women were undoing and sorting rolls of posters. Win-
nington caught the head-lines — " Women of England,
strike for your liberties 1 " " Remember our martyrs
in prison ! " — " Destro}^ property — and save lives ! "
"■ If violence won freedom for men, why not for women ! "
And in the distance of the room were groups in eager
discussion. A few had maps in their hands, and others
note-books, in which they took down the arrangements
made. So far as their talk reached Winnington's ears,
it seemed to relate to the converging routes of proces-
sions making for Parliament Square.
" How do you do, Mr. Winnington," said a laughing
voice, as a daintily-dressed woman, with fair fluffy hair
came towards him.
He recognised the sister of a well-known member of
Parliament, a lady who had already been imprisoned
twice for window-breaking in Downing Street.
" Who would have thought to see you here ! " she
said, gaily, as they shook hands.
" Surprising — I admit ! I came to see Miss Blanch-
3i6
Delia Blanchflower
flower settled in her flat. But I seem to have stumbled
into an office."
" The Central Office simply couldn't hold the work.
We were all in each other's way. So yesterday, by
Miss Marvell's instructions, some of us migrated here.
We are only two streets from the central."
" Excellent ! " said Winnington. " But it might per-
haps have been well to Inform Miss Blanchflower."
The flushed babyish face under the fashionable hat
looked at him askance. Lady Fanny's tone changed —
took a sharpened edge.
*' Miss Blanchflower — you may be quite sure — will
be as ready as anyone else to make sacrifices for the
cause. But Ave don't expect you to understand that ! "
" Nobody can doubt your zeal. Lady Fanny."
" Only my discretion? Oh, I've long left that to take
care of Itself. What are you here for? "
" To look after my ward." j
Lady Fanny eyed him again.
*' Of course ! I had forgotten. Well, she'll be all
right."
" What are you really preparing to do to-morrow? "
" Force our way Into the House of Commons ! "
" Which means — get Into an ugly scrimmage with
the police, and put your cause back another few years ? "
" Ah ! I can't talk to you, if you talk like that !
There Isn't time," she threw back, with laughing affecta-
tion, and nodding to him, she fluttered off to a distant
table where a group of girls were busy making black
and orange badges. But her encounter with him
seemed to have affected the hive. Its buzz sank, almost
ceased.
Winnington Indeed suddenly discovered that all eyes
were fixed upon him — that he was being closely and
Delia Blanchflower 317
angrily observed. He was conscious, quickly and
strangely conscious, of an atmosphere of passionate
hostility, as though a pulse of madness ran through the
twenty or thirty women present. Meredithian lines
flashed into memory —
" Thousand eyeballs under hoods
Have you by the hair — "
and a shock of inward laughter mingled in his mind
with irritation for Delia — who was to have no place
apparently in her own jflat for either rest or food —
and the natural wish of a courteous man not to give
offense. At the same moment, he perceived on one
of the tables a heap of new and bright objects; and
saw at once that they were light hammers, fresh from
the ironmongers. Near them lay a pile of stones, and
two women were busily casing the stones in a printed
leaflet. But he had no sooner become aware of these
things than several persons in the room moved so as
to stand between him and them.
He went back into the passage, closing the door
behind him.
The little parlour-maid came hurriedly from the
back regions carrying a tray on which was tea and bread
and butter.
" Are you taking that to Miss Blanchflower? "
"Yes, Sir."
" Shew me the waj', please."
Winnington followed her, and she, after a scared
look, did not attempt to stop him.
She paused outside a door, and instantly made way
for him. He knocked, and at the " Come in " he
entered, the maid slipping in after him with the tea.
Two persons rose startled from their seats — Delia
3i8
Delia Blanchflower
and Gertrude Marvell. He had chanced upon the din-
ing-room, which no less than the drawing-room had been
transformed into an office and a store-room. Masses of
miHtant literature, copies of the Tocsin, books and sta-
tionery covered the tables, while, on the wall opposite
the door, a large scale map of the streets in the neigh-
bourhood of the Houses of Parliament had been hung
over a picture.
It seemed to him that Delia looked ill and agitated.
He walked up to her companion, and spoke with vi-
vacity —
" Miss Marvell ! — I protest altogether against your
proceedings in this house ! I protest against Miss
Blanchflower's being drawn into what is clearly in-
tended to be an organised riot, which may end in phys-
ical injury, even in loss of life — which will certainly
entail imprisonment on the ringleaders. If you have
any affection for Delia you will advise her to let me
take her to my sister, who is in town to-night, at Smith's
Hotel, and will of course most gladly look after her."
Gertrude, who seemed to him somehow to have
dwindled and withered into an elderly woman since he
had last seen her, looked him over from head to foot
with a touch of smiling insolence, and then turned
quietly to Delia.
"Will you go, Delia?"
" No ! " said Delia, throwing back her beautiful head.
" No ! This is my place, Mr. Mark. I'm very sorry
— but you must leave me here. Give my love to Mrs.
Matheson."
" Delia ! " He turned to her imploringly. But the
softness she had shewn on the journey had died out of
her face. She stood resolved, and some cold dividing
force seemed to have rolled between them.
Delia Blanchflower 319
" I don't see what you can do, Mr. Wlnnington,"
said Gertrude, still smiling. " I have pointed that out
to you before. As a matter of fact Delia will not even
be living here on money provided by you at all. She
has other resources. You have no hold on her — no
power — that I can see. And she wishes to stay with
me. I think we must bid you good night. We are very
busy."
He stood a moment, looking keenly from one to the
other, at Gertrude's triumphant eyes blazing from her
emaciated face, at Delia's exalted, tragic air. Then,
with a bow, and in silence, he left the room, and the
house.
It was quite dark when he emerged on Milbank Street.
All the neighbourhood of the Houses of Parliament and
the Abbey seemed to be alive with business and traffic.
But Palace Yard was still empty save for a few passing
figures, and there was no light on the Clock Tower.
A placard on the railings of the Square caught his
notice — "Threatened Raid on the House of Commons.
Police precautions." At the same moment he was con-
scious that a policeman standing at the corner of the
House of Commons had touched his hat to him, grinning
broadly. Winnington recognised a ^Vlaumsey man,
whom he had befriended in various ways, who owed his
place indeed in the Metropolitan force to Winnington's
good word.
"Hullo, Hewson — how are vou.'' Flourishing?"
The man's face beamed again. He was thinking of
a cricket match the year before under Winnington's
captaincy. Like every member of the eleven, he
would have faced " death and damnation " for the cap-
tain.
320 Delia Blanchflower
They walked along the man's beat together. A
thought struck Winnington.
" You seem likely to have some disturbance here to-
morrow? " he said, as they neared Westminster Bridge.
" It's the ladies, Sir. They do give a lot of trouble ! "
Winnington laughed — paused — then looked straight
at the fine young man who was evidently so glad to see
him.
" Look here, Huson — I'll tell you something —
keep it to yourself ! There'll be a lady in that proces-
sion to-morrow whom I don't want knocked about. I
shall be here. Is there anything you can do to help
me.'^ I shall try and get her out of the crowd. Of
course I shall have a motor here."
Huson looked puzzled, but eager. He described
where he was likely to be stationed, and where Win-
nington would probably find him. If Mr. Winnington
would allow him, he would tip a wink to a couple of
mates, who could be trusted — and if he could do any-
thing to help, why, he would be " rare pleased " to do
it.
" But I'm afraid it'll be a bad row, Sir. There's a
lot of men coming — from Whitechapel — they say."
Winnington nodded and walked on. He went to his
club, and dined there, refusing a friend's invitation to
go and dine with him at home. And after dinner, as
the best means of solitude, he went out again into the
crowded streets, walking aimlessly. The thought of
Delia arrested — refused bail — in a police cell — or in
prison — tormented him. All the traditional, fastid-
ious instincts of his class and type were strong in him.
He loathed the notion of any hand laid upon her, of
any rough contact between her clean youth, and the
Delia Blanchflower 321
brutalities of a London crowd. His blood rushed at
the thought of it. The mere idea of any insult offered
her made him murderous.
He turned down Whitehall, and at a corner near
Dover House he presently perceived a small crowd
which was being addressd by a woman. She had brouglit
a stool with her, and was standing on it. A thin slip
of a girl, with a childish, open face and shrill voice.
He went up to listen to her, and stood amazed at the
ignorant passion, the reckless violence of wliat she was
saying. It seemed indeed to have but little effect upon
her hearers. Men joined the crowd for a few minutes,
listened with upturned impassive faces, and went their
way. A few lads attempted horse-play, but stopped as
a policeman approached ; and some women carrying
bundles propped them against a railing near, and waited,
lifting tired eyes, and occasionally making comments
to each other. Presently, it appeared to Winnington
that the speaker was no more affected by her own
statements — appalling as some of them were — than
her hearers. She appeared to be speaking from a book
— - to have just learnt a lesson. She was then a paid
speaker? And yet he thought not. Every now and
then phrases stood out — fiercely sincere — about the
low wages of women, their exclusion from the skilled
trades, the marriage laws, the exploiting and " selling '*"
of women, and the like. And always, in the background
of the girl's picture, the hungry and sensual appetites
of men, lying in wait for the economic and physical
weakness of the woman.
He waited until she had finished. Then he helped
her down from her perch, and made a way for her
through the crowd. She looked at him in astonishment.
322 Delia Blanchflower
" Thank you, Sir, — don't trouble ! Last night I was
pelted with filth. Are you one of us ? "
He shook his head, smiling.
" I didn't agree with you. I advise you to look up
some of those things you said. But you speak very
well. Good-night."
She looked at him angrily, gathered up her skirt with
a rattle, in a small hand, and disappeared.
Then in a side street leading to Buckingham Gate,
he came upon a well-known hall, in which a Suffrage
meeting was going on. A lady was speaking about
workhouses, workhouse nurseries, and workhouse infirm-
aries. Winnington, who was himself steeped in poor-
law knowledge and poor-law problems, listened to her
after a while, open-mouthed. Then he got irritated.
Englishmen of his type make accurate statement a
kind of religion. He was up in arms for the facts,
which he saw, so to speak, as living things, neglected
and brow-beaten. When the speech was over, he got
up, and asked to be allowed to make some corrections.
He was listened to at first in dead silence — then amid
a buzz of angry confusion. When he ceased, the meeting
went on triumphantly, as though an irrelevant and im-
pertinent interruption had been firmly put down.
He went out discouraged, and a little puzzled. These
experiences were all very new to him. His country-
man's life had lain, as we have seen, quite apart from the
Woman Suffrage movement. But for Delia's sake,
he was now thinking of it perpetually — looking at it up
and down.
In the narrow Westminster street, as he walked along
the side of a high factory building, suddenly there
emerged from a door-way a number of women
and girls, who had evidently been working over-time.
Delia Blanchflovver 323
Some of them broke at once into loud talk and laughter,
as though in reaction from the confinement and tension
of their work, some — quite silent — turned their tired
faces to him as they passed him ; and some looked
boldl}', provocatively at the handsome man, who on his
side was clearly observing them. They were of all
tj'pes, but the majority of the quite young girls were
pale and stunted, shewing the effects of long hours, and
poor food. The coarse or vicious faces were few ; many
indeed were marked by a modest or patient gentleness.
The thin line of hurrying fonns disappeared into dark-
ness and distance, some one way, some another ; and
Winnington was left to feel that in what he had seen
— this every-day incident of a London street — he had
been aptly reminded of what a man who has his occupa-
tion and dwelling amid rural scenes and occupations too
readily forgets — that toiling host of women, married
and unmarried, which modern industry is every day
using or devouring, or wasting. The stream of lives
rushes day by day through the industrial rapids ; some
of it passing on to quiet and fruitful channels beyond
the roar, and some lost and churned for ever in the main
tumult of the river.
This new claim upon women, on the part of society,
in addition to the old claims of home and motherhood
— this vast industrial claim — nmst it not change and
modify everything in time.'' — depress old values, create
new.'* "The vote! — give us the vote! and all will be
well. More wages, more food, more joy, more share in
this glorious world ! — that's what the vote means —
give us the vote ! " Such, in effect, had been the cry of
that half-mad speaker in Whitehall, herself marked and
injured by the economic struggle.
The appeal echoed in Winnington's heart. And
324 Delia Blanchfiower
Delia seemed to be at his side, raising her eager eyes to
his, pressing him for admission. Had he, indeed,
thought enough of these things? — taken enough to
heart this new and fierce struggle of women with life
and circumstance, that is really involved in the indus-
trial organisation of the modern world?
He passed on — up Buckingham Gate, towards the
Palace. Turning to the left, he was soon aware of two
contrasted things : — an evening party going on at a
well-known Embassy, cars driving up and putting down
figures in flashing dresses, and gold-encrusted uniforms,
emerging, and disappearing within its open doors — and
only twenty yards away, a group of women huddled
together in the cold, outside a closed fish-shop, waiting
to buy for a few pence the broken or spoiled fish of the
day. But a little further on he suddenly plunged into a
crowd coming down Grosvenor Place. He stopped* to
watch it, and saw that it accompanied a long procession
of men tramping back from Hyde Park. A banner held
by the leaders bore the words — " Unemployed and
starving! Give us work or bread." And Winnington
remembered there was a docker's strike going on in
Limehouse, passionately backed and defended by the
whole body of the local clergy.
His eyes examined the faces and forms in the proces-
sion. Young and old, sickly and robust, they passed
him by, all of them marked and branded by their tyrant.
Labour ; rolled like thf^ women amid the rocks and whirl-
pools of the industrial stream; marred and worn hke
them, only more deeply, more tragically. The hollow
eyes accused him as they passed — him, with his ease
of honoured life. " Wliat have you made of us, your
brethren ? — you who have had the lead and the start ! —
you who have had till now the fashioning of this world
Delia Blanchflower 325
in which we suffer! What is wrong with the world?
We know no more than you. But it is your husiness to
know! For Go<l's sake, you who have intclh'gence and
education, and time to use them, think for us ! — think
with us ! — find a way out ! More wages — more food
— more leisure — more joy! — By G — d! we'll have
them, or bring down your world and ours in one ruin
together ! "
And then far back, from tlie middle of the last cen-
tury, there came to Winnington's listening mind the
cry of the founders of English democracy. " The vote !
— give us the vote ! — and bring in the reign of plenty
and of peace." And the vote was given. Sixty years
— and still this gaunt procession ! — and all through
Industrial England, the same unrest, the same bitter-
ness !
The vote? What is it actually going to mean, in
struggle for life and happiness that lies before every
modern Community? How many other methods and
forces have already emerged, and must j'et emerge,
beside it ! The men know it. And meanwhile, the
women — a section of women — have seized with the old
faith, on the confident cries of sixty years ago? — with
the same disillusion waiting in the path?
He passed on, drawn again down Constitution Hill,
and the Mall, back to the Houses of Parliament and
the River. . . . The night was clear and frosty. He
paused on Westminster Bridge, and leant over the par-
apet, feasting his eyes on that incomparable scene which
age cannot wither nor custom stale for the heart of an
Englishman. Tiie long front of the Houses of Parlia-
ment rose darkly over the faintly moonlit river; the
wharves and houses beyond, a medley of strong or deli-
cate line, of black shadow and pale lights, ran far into a
326
Delia Blanchflower
vaporous distance powdered with lamps. On the other
side St. Thomas's Hospital, and an answering chain of
lamps, far-flung towards Battersea. Between, the river,
heaving under a full tide, with the dim barges and tugs
passing up and down. " The Mississippi, Sir, is dirty
water — the St. Lawrence is cold, dirty water — but the
Thames, Sir, is liquid 'istory ! " That famous mot of a
Labour ^Minister delighted ^Mark's dreaming sense. The
river indeed as it flowed by, between buildings new and
old, seemed to be bearing the nation on its breast, to
symbolise the ever-renewed life of a great people. What
tasks that life had seen ! — what vaster issues it had still
to see ! —
And in that dark building, hke a coiled and secret
spring ready to act when touched, the Idea which ruled
that life, as all life, in the end, is ruled. On the mor-
row, a few hundred men would flock to that building, as
the representatives and servants of the Idea — of that
England which lives " while we believe."
And the vote behind them ? — the political act which
chose and sent them there.'' Its social power, and all its
ordinary associations, noble or ignoble, seemed suddenly
to vanish, for Winnington, engulfed in something infi-
nitely greater, something vital and primitive, on which
all else depended.
He hung, absorbed, over the sliding water, giving the
rein to reverie. He seemed to see the English Spirit,
hovering, proudly watchful, above that high roof beside
the dark water-way, looking out to sea, and across the
world. What indomitable force, what ichor gleaming
fire, through the dark veins of that weary Titan, sus-
tained him there ? — amid the clash of alien an-
tagonisms, and the mysterious currents of things?
What but the lavished blood and brain of England's
Delia Blanchflower 327
sons? — that rude primal power that men alone can
brin^ to their country?
Let others solve their own problems ! But can women
share the male tasks that make and keep us a Nation,
amid a jarring and environing host of Nations? — an
Empire, with the guardianship of half the world on its
shoulders ? And if not, how can men rightly share with
women the act which controls those tasks, and chooses
the men to execute them ?
Mark pondered these things long, and the many issues
that depend on them. And, always, with the touching
sense of Delia beside him, Delia, with her faiths and her
enthusiasms, like wild birds nestling in her arms, — ask-
ing for his help, his heart, not only for her dear self,
but for them.
" Mr. Winnington ! "
He looked up. An elderly woman, plain-featured, ill-
dressed, stood beside him, her kind eyes blinking under
the lamp overhead. He recognised Miss Dempsey, and
grasped her by the hand.
" My dear lady, where have you sprung from ? "
She hesitated, and then said, supporting herself on
the parapet of the bridge, as though thankful for the
momentary rest.
" I had to go in search of someone."
He knew very well what she meant.
" You've found her ? "
" Yes."
" Can anyone help ? "
" No. The poor thing's safe — with good people Avho
understand."
He asked no more about her errand. He knew very
well that day after day, and week after week, her tired
328 Delia Blanchflower
feet carried her on the same endless quest — seeking
*' that which was lost." But the stress of thought in his
own mind found expression in a question which surprised
her.
" Would the vote help you ? Is that why you want
it.?"
She smiled.
*' Oh, no ! Oh, dear no ! " she said, with emphasis ;
after a moment, adding in a lower tone, scarcely ad-
dressed to her companion — " ' It cost more — to redeem
their souls! ' " And again — " Dear Mr. Mark, men are
^'hat their mothers make them ! — that is the bottom
iruth. And when women are what God intended them
to be, they will have killed the ape and the tiger in
men. But law can't do it. Only the Spirit." Her face
shone a little. Then, in her ordinary voice — " Oh, no —
I want the vote for quite other reasons. It is our right
— and it is monstrous we shouldn't have it ! " Her
checks flushed.
He turned his friendly smile upon her, without at-
tempting to argue. They walked back over the bridge
together.
The following day rose in wind and shower. But the
February rain cleared away towards noon, and the high
scudding clouds, with bright spaces between, suddenly
began to prophecy Spring. From Hyde Park, down the
Mall, and along Whitehall, the troops gathered and the
usual crowd sprang up in their rear, pressing towards
Parliament Square, or lining the route. Winnington
had sent a note early to Delia by messenger ; but he ex-
pected no reply, and got none. All he could do was to
hide a motor in Dean's Yard, to hold a conference or
two with the friendly bobby in Parliament Square, and
Delia Blanchflower 329
then to wander about tlie streets looking restlessly at the
show. It duly passed him by, the Cinderella-coach, with
tiie King ant! Queen of fairy-tale, the splendid Embassy
carriages, the Generals on their gleaming horses, the
Guards, in their red cloaks — and all the rest. The
Royalties disappeared up the carpeted stairs into the
House of Lords, and after half an hour, while the bells
of St. Margaret's filled all the air with tumult, came out
again; and again the ermined Queen, and the glistening
King passed bowing along the crowd. Winnington
caught hold of a Hampshire member in the crowd.
" When does the House meet.'* "
'* Everything adjourned till four. They'll move the
Address about five. But everyone expects a row."
Nothing for it but to wait and stroll, to spend half
an hour in the Abbey, and take a turn along the Em-
bankment. . . . And gradually, steadily the Square
filled up, no one knew how. The soldiers disappeared,
but policemen quietly took their places. All the en-
trances to the House of Commons were carefully
guarded, groups as they gathered were dispersed, and
the approaches to the House, in Old and New Palace
Yards, were rigorously kept free. But still the crowd
in Parliament Square grew and thickened. Girls, with
smiling excited faces, still moved to and fro in it,
selling the Tocsin. Everybody waited expectant.
Then the chimes of the Abbey struck four. And as
they died away, from a Westminster street, from Wliite-
hall, and from Milhank, there arose a simultaneous stir
and shouting. And presently, from each quarter ap-
peared processions of women, carrying black and orange
banners making their way slowly through the throng.
The crowd cheered and booed them as they passed, sway-
ing to this side and that. And as each procession ncared
330 Delia Blanchflower
the outer line of police, it was firmly but courteously
stopped, and the leaders of it must needs parly with the
mounted constables who sat ready to meet them.
Winnington, jumping on the motor which he had
placed opposite St. Margaret's, drew out some field-
glasses, and scanned the advancing lines of women. The
detachment coming from Whitehall seemed to be headed
by the chiefs of the whole organisation, to judge from
the glistening banner which floated above its foremost
group. Winnington examined it closely. Gertrude
Marvell was not there, nor Delia. Then he turned west-
wards. Ah, now he saw her ! That surely was she ! —
in the front ranks of the lines coming from Milbank.
For a moment, he saw the whole scene in orderly
and picturesque array, the cordons of police, the
mounted constables, the banners of the processions, the
swaying crowds, Westminster Hall, the clock tower, with
its light : — the next, everything was tossed in wild con-
fusion. Some savage impelling movement in the crov;d
behind had broken the lines of police. The women were
through ! He could see the scurrying forms njnning
across the open spaces, pursued, grappled with.
He threw himself into the crowd, which had rapidly
hemmed him in, buffeting it from side to side like a
swimmer into troubled waters. His height, his strength,
served him well, and by the time he had reached the
southern corner of St. Margaret's, a friendly hand
gripped him.
" Do you see her, Sir.'' "
" Near the front ! — coming from Milbank."
" All right ! Follow me. Sir. This way ! "
And with Huson, and apparently two other po-
lice, Winnington battled his way towards the tumult
in front of St. Stephen's entrance. The mounted
Delia Blanchflower 331
police were pressing the crowd back with tlicir
horses, and as Winnington emerged into clear ground,
he saw a melee of women and police, — some women
on the ground, some held between police on
either side, and one group still intact. In it lie
recognised Gertrude Marvell. He saw her deliberately
strike a constable in the face. Then he lost sight
of her. All he saw were the steps of St. Stephen's
entrance behind, crowded with Members of Parliament.
Suddenly another woman fell, a grey-haired woman,
and almost immediately a girl who was struggling with
two policemen, disengaged herself and ran to help. She
bent over the woman, and lifted her up. The police
at once made way for them, but another wild rush from
behind seemed to part them — sweep them from view —
" Now, Sir ! " said Huson, on tiptoe — " Hold on !
They've got the old lady safe. I think the young one's
hurt."
They pressed their way through. Winnington
caught sight of Delia again, deadly white, supported by
a policeman on one side, and a gentleman on the other.
Andrews ! — by George ! Winnington cursed his own
ill-luck in not having been the first to reach her ; but the
gallant Captain was an ally worth having, all the same.
Mark was at her side. She lifted a face, all pain and
bitter indignation. " Cowards — Cowards ! — to treat
an old woman so ! — Let me go — let me go back ! I
must find her ! "
" She's all safe. Miss — she's all safe — you go
home," said a friendly policeman. " These gentlemen
will look after you ! Stand back there ! " And he tried
to open a passage for them.
Winnington touched her ami. But an involuntary
moan startled him. " She's hurt her arm " — said An-
33^ Delia Blanchflower
drews in his ear — " twisted it somehow. Go to the
other side of her — put 3'our arm round her, and I'll
clear the way."
Delia struggled — " No — no ! — let me go ! "
But she was powerless. Winnington nearly carried
her through the crowd, while her faintness increased.
By the time they reached the motor, she was barely
conscious. The two men lifted her in. Andrews stood
looking at her a moment, as she sank back with Win-
nington beside her, his ruddy countenance expressing
perhaps the most acute emotion of which its possessor
had ever yet been capable.
" Good-night. You'll take her home," he said gruffly,
and lifted his hat. But the next moment he ran back to
say — " I'll go back and find out what's happened.
She'll want to know. Where are you taking her.'' "
" Smith's Hotel," said Winnington — " to my sister."
And he gave the order to the chauffeur.
They set out. Mark passed his arm round her again,
to support her, and she drooped unconsciously upon his
shoulder. A fierce joy — mingled with his wrath and
disgust. This must be — this should be the end! Was
such a form made for sordid violence and strife.'' Her
life just breathed against his — he could have borne
her so for ever.
But as soon as they had revived her, and she opened
her eyes in Mrs. Matheson's sitting-room at the hotel, she
burst into a cry of misery.
" Where's Gertrude ! — let me go to her ! Where
am I.?"
As they wrestled with and soothed her, a servant
knocked.
" A gentleman to see you, Sir, downstairs."
Delia Blanchfiower 333
Winnlngton descended, and found Andrews — breath-
less with news.
"Eighty women arrested — Miss Marvell among the
ringleaders, for all of whom bail has been refused?
While the riot had been going on in Parliament Square,
another detachment of women had passed along White-
hall, smashing windows as they went. And at the same
moment, a number of shop-windows had been broken in
Piccadilly. The Prime ^Minister had been questioned
in the Commons, and Sir Wilfrid Lang had denounced
the " Daughters' " organisation, and the mad campaign
of violence to which they were committed, in an indig-
nant speech much cheered by the House.
The days that followed were days of nightmare both
for Delia and those who watched over her.
Gertrude Marvell and ten others went to prison, with-
out the option of a fine. About forty of the rank and
file who refused to pa}' their fines, or give surety for good
behaviour, accompanied their leaders into duress. The
country rang with the scandal of what had happened,
and with angry debate as to how to stop the scandal in
the future. The Daughters issued defiant broadsheets,
and filled the Tocsin with brave words. And the Con-
stitutionalists who had pinned their hopes on the Suf-
frage Bill before the House, wrung their hands, and
wailed to heaven and earth to keep these mad women in
order.
Delia sat waiting — waiting — all these intolerable
liours. She scarcely spoke to Winnington, except to ask
him for news, or to thank him, when every evening,
owing to a personal knowledge of the Home Secretary',
he was abL to bring her the very latest news of what was
happening in prison. Gertrude had refused food;
334 Delia Blanchflower
forcible feeding would very soon have to be abandoned;
and her release, on the ground of danger to life, might
have to be granted. But in view of the hot indignation
of the public, the Government were not going to release
any of the prisoners before they absolutely must.
Delia herself was maimed and powerless. How the
wrenching of her arm had come about — whether in the
struggle with the two constables who had separated her
from Gertrude, or in the attempt to raise her companion
from the ground — she could not now remember. But
a muscle had been badly torn ; she wore a sling and suf-
fered constant and often severe pain. Neither Alice
Matheson, nor Lady Tonbridge — who had rushed up
to town — ever heard her complain, except involuntarily,
of this pain. Madeleine indeed believed that there was
some atoning satisfaction in it, for Delia's wounded
spirit. If she was not with Gertrude in prison, at least
she too was suffering — if only a fraction of what Ger-
trude was enduring.
The arm however was not the most serious matter.
As France had long since perceived, she had been over-
strained in nursing Weston, and the events since she left
Maumsey had naturally increased the mischief. She
had become sleepless and neurasthenic. And Winning-
ton watched day by day the eclipse of her radiant youth,
with a dumb wrath almost as Pagan as that which a
similar impression had roused in Lathrop.
The nights were her worst time. She lived then, in
prison, with Gertrude, vividly recalling all that she had
ever heard from the Daughters who had endured it, of
the miseries and indignities of prison life. But she also
lived again through the events which had preceded and
followed the riot ; her quick intelligence pondered th-e
comments of the newspapers, the attitude of the public,
Delia Blanchflower 33^
the measured words and looks of these friends who sur-
rounded her. And tliere were many times when sitting
up in bed ah)ne, suffering and sleepless, she asked herself
bitterly — " were we just fools ! — just fools? "
But whatever the mind replied, the heart and its
loyalty stood firm. She was no more free now than
before — that was the horrible part of it ! It was this
which divided her from Winnington. The thought of
how he had carried her off from the ugly or ridiculous
scenes which the newspapers described — scenes of which
she had scarce!}' any personal memory, alternately
thrilled and shamed her. But the aching expectation of
Gertrude's return — the doubt in what temper of mind
and what plight of body she would return — dominated
everything else.
At last came the expected message. " In consequence
of a report from the prison doctors and his own medical
advisers, the Home Secretary has ordered the immediate
release of IMiss Gertrude Marvell." Winnington was
privately notified of the time of release, information
which was refused to what remained of the Daughters'
organisation, lest there should be further disturbance.
He took a motor to the prison gate, and put a terribly
enfeebled woman and her nurse into it. Gertinide did
not even recognise him, and he followed the motor to the
Westminster flat, distracted by the gloomiest forebod-
ings.
Delia was already at the flat to receive her friend,
having quietly — but passionately — insisted, against
all the entreaties of Mrs. Matheson and Lady Tonbridgc.
Winnington helped the nurse and the porter to carry
Gertrude Marvcll upstairs. They laid her on the bed,
and the doctor who had been summoned took her in
charge. As he was leaving the room, Winnington
336
Delia Blanchfiower
turned back — to look at his enemy. How far more
formidable to him in her weakness than in her strength !
The keen eyes were closed, the thin mouth relaxed and
bloodless shewing the teeth, the hands mere skin and
bone. She lay helpless and only half-conscious on her
pillows, with nurse and doctor hovering round her, and
Delia kneeling beside her. Yet, as he closed the door,
Winnington realised her power through every vein ! It
rested entirely with her whether or no she would destroy
Delia, as she must in the end destroy herself.
He waited in the drawing-room for Delia. She came
at last, with a cold and alien face. " Don't come again,
please ! Leave us to ourselves. I shall have doctors —
and nurses. We'll let you know."
He took her hands tenderly. But she drew them away
— shivering a little.
" You don't know — you can't know — what it means
to me — to us — to see what she has suffered. There
must be no one here but those — who sympathise — who
won't reproach " Her voice failed her.
There was nothing for it but to go.
Chapter XVIII
GREAT is the power of martyrdom! — of the false
no less than the true — and whether we like that
it should be so or not.
During the first week of Gertrude Marvell's re-
cover}' — or partial recovery — from her prison ordeal,
both Winnington and Delia realised the truth of this
commonplace to the full. Winnington was excluded
from the flat. Delia, imprisoned within it, was dragged,
day by day, througli deep waters of emotion and pity.
She envied the heroism of her friend and leader ; despised
herself for not having been able to share it ; and could
not do enough to soothe the nervous suffering which
Gertrude's struggle with law and order had left behind
it.
But with the beginning of the second week some
strange facts emerged. Gertrude was then sufficiently
convalescent to be moved into the drawing-room, to see a
few visitors, and to exchange experiences. All who came
belonged to the League, and had been concerned in the
Parliamentary raid. Most of them had been a few
days or a week in prison. Two had been hungcr-
strikers. And as they gathered round Gertrude in half-
articulate worship, Delia, passing from one revealing
moment to another, suddenly felt herself superfluous —
thrust away ! She could not join in their talk except
perfunctorily ; the violence of it often left her cold and
weary ; and she soon recognised half in laughter, half
337
33^ Delia Blanchflower
bitterly, that, as one who had been carried out of the
fray, like a naughty child, by her guardian, she stood
in the opinion of Gertrude's visitors, on a level alto-
gether inferior to that of persons who had " fought it
out."
This, however, would not have troubled her — she
was so entirely of the same opinion herself. But what
began to wound her to the quick was Gertrude's own
attitude towards her. She had been accustomed for
so long to be Gertrude's most intimate friend, to be
recognised and envied as such, that to be made to feel
day by day how small a hold — for some mysterious
reason — she now retained on that fierce spirit, was
galling indeed. Meanwhile she had placed all the
money realised by the sale of her jewels, — more than
three thousand pounds — in Gertrude's hands for
League purposes ; her house was practically Gertrude's,
and had Gertrude willed, her time and her thoughts
would have been Gertrude's also. She would not
let herself even think of Winnington. One glance
at the emaciated face and frame beside her was enough
to recall her from what had otherwise been a heavenly
wandering.
But she was naturally quick and shrewd, and she
soon made herself face the fact that she was sup-
planted. Supplanted by many — but especially by one.
Marion Andrews had not been in the raid — Delia often
uneasily pondered the why and wherefore. She came
up to town a week after it, and was then constantly in
Gertrude's room. Between Delia, and this iron-faced,
dark-browed woman, with her clumsy dress and brusque
ways, there was but little conversation. Delia never
forgot their last meeting at Maumsey ; she was often
filled with dire forebodings and suspicions ; and as the
Delia Blanchflower 339
relation between Gertrude and Miss Andrews became
closer, they grew and multiplied.
At last one morning Gertrude turned her back on
invalid ways. She got up at her usual time; she dis-
missed her nurse; and in the middle of the morning she
came in upon Delia, who, in the desultory temper bom
of physical strain, was alternately tr3ing to road Mar-
shall's " Economics of Industry," and writing to Lady
Tonbridgc about anything and everything, except the
topics that really occupied her mind.
Delia sprang up to get her a shawl, to settle her on
the sofa. But Gertrude said impatiently —
" Please don't fuss. I want to be treated now as
though I were well — I soon shall be. And anyway I
am tired of illness." And she took a plain chair, as
though to emphasize what she had said.
" I came to talk to you about plans. You're not
busy ! "
" Busy ! " The scornful tone was a trifle bitter also,
as Gertrude perceived. Delia put aside her book, and
her writing-board, and descended to her favourite place
on the hearth rug. The two friends surveyed each other.
" Gertrude, it's absurd to talk as though you were
well ! " cried Delia. " You look a perfect wreck ! "
But there was more in what she saw — in what she
felt — than physical wreck. There was a moral and
spiritual change, subtler than any physical Injury, and
probably more permanent. Gertrude Marvell had never
possessed any " charm," in the sense in which other
leaders of the militant movement possessed it. A clear
and narrowly logical brain, the diamond sharpness of
an astonishing will, and certain passions of hate, rather
than passions of love, had made the strength of her
personality, and given her an increasing ascendancy.
340 Delia Blanchflower
But these qualities had been mated with a slender
physique — trim, balanced, composed — suggesting a
fastidious taste, and nerves perfectly under control ; a
physique which had given special accent and emphasis
to her rare outbreaks of spoken violence. Refinement,
seemliness, " ladylikeness," — even Sir Robert Blanch-
flower in his sorest moments would scarcely have denied
her these.
In a measure they were there still, but coupled with
pathetic signs of some disintegrating and poisonous in-
fluence. The face which once, in its pallid austerity,
had not been without beauty, had now coarsened, even
in emaciation. The features stood out disproportion-
ately ; the hair had receded from the temples ; some-
thing ugly and feverish had been, as it were, laid bare.
And composure had been long undermined. The nurse
who had just left had been glad to go.
Gertrude received Delia's remark with impatience.
" Do "please let my looks alone ! As if you could
boast ! " The speaker's smile softened as she looked at
the girl's still bandaged arm, and pale cheeks. " That
in fact is what I wanted to say, Delia. You ought to
be going home. You want the country and the gar-
den. And I, it seems — so this tiresome Doctor says —
ought to have a fortnight's sea."
" Oh — " said Delia, with a sudden flush. " So you
think we ought to give up the flat.'' Why can't I come
with you to the sea.'' "
" I thought you had begun to do various things —
cripples — and cottages — and schools — for Mr. Win-
nington," said Gertrude, drily.
" I wanted to — but Weston's illness stopped it —
and then I came here."
" Well, you * wanted to.' And why shouldn't you.'' "
Delia Blanchflower 341
There was a silence. Then Delia looked up — rerj
pale now — her head thrown back.
" So you mean you wish to get rid of me, Gertrude ! "
" Nothing of the sort. I want you to do — what
you clearly wish to do."
" When have I ever shown you that I wished to de-
sert you — or — the League.'' "
" Perhaps I read you better than you do yourself,"
said Gertrude, slightly reddening too. " Of course you
have been goodness — generosity — itself. But — this
cause wants more than gifts — more than money — it
wants a woman's self! "
"Well.?" Delia waited.
Gertrude moved impatiently.
" Why should we play the hypocrite with each other ! "
she said at last. " You won't deny that what Mr.
Winnington thinks — what Mr. W^innington feels — is
infinitely more important to you now than what any-
body else in the world thinks or feels ? "
" Which I shewed by coming up here against his ex-
press wishes? — and joining in the raid, after he had
said all that a man could say against it, both to you
and to me.'' "
" Oh, I admit you did your best — you did your
best," said Gertrude sombrely. " But I know you,
Delia ! — I know you ! Your heart's not in it — any
more."
Delia rose, and began slowly to pace the room.
There was a wonderful virginal dignity — a suppressed
passion — in her attitude, as though she wrestled with
an inward wound. But she said nothing, except to
ask — as she paused in front of Gertrude —
" Where are you going — and who is going with
you ? "
342 Delia Blanchflower
" I shall go to the sea, somewhere — perhaps to the
Isle of Wight. I daresay Marion Andrews will come
with me. She wants to escape her mother for a time."
" Marion Andrews ? " repeated Delia thoughtfully.
Then, after a moment — " So you're not coming down
to Maumsey any more ? "
" Ask yourself what there is for me to do there, my
dear child ! Frankly, I should find the society of Mr.
Winnington and Lady Tonbridge rather difficult ! And
as for their feelings about me ! "
" Do you remember — you promised to live with me
for a year? "
" Under mental reservation," said Gertrude, quietly.
" You know very well, I didn't accept it as an ordinary
post."
" And now there's nothing more to be got out of me ?
Oh, I didn't mean anything cruel ! " added the girl
hastily. " I know you must put the cause first."
" And you see where the cause is," said Gertrude
grimly. " In ten days from now Sir Wilfrid Lang will
have crushed the bill."
*' And everybody seems to be clamouring that we've
given them the excuse ! "
Fierce colour overspread Gertrude's thin temples and
cheeks.
" They'll take it, anyway ; and we've got to do all
we can — meetings, processions, way-laying Ministers —
the usual things — and any new torment we can devise."
" But I thought you were going to Southsea ! "
" Afterwards — afterwards ! " said Gertrude, with
visible temper. " I shall run down to Brighton to-
morrow, and come back fresh on Monday."
"To this flat?"
" Oh no — I've found a lodging."
Delia Blanchflower 343
Delia turned away — her breath fluttering.
" So we part to-morrow ! " Then suddenly she faced
round on Gertrude. " But I don't go, Gertrude — till
I have your promise ! "
"What promise?"
" To let — Monk Lawrence alone! " said the girl with
sudden intensity, and laying her uninjured hand on a
table near, she stooped and looked Gertrude in the eyes.
Gertrude broke into a laugh,
" You little goose! Do jou think I look the kind of
person for nocturnal adventures ? — a cripple — on a
stick.'* Yes, I know you have been talking to Marion
Andrews. She told me."
*' I warned you," said Delia, with determination —
" which was more to the point. Everything Mr. La-
throp told me, I handed on to you."
There was an instant's silence. Then Gertrude laid
a skeleton hand upon the girl's hand — gripping it pain-
fully.
" And do you suppose — that anything Mr. Lathrop
could say, or you could say, could prevent my carrying
out plans that seemed to me necessary — in this war ! "
Delia gasped.
" Gertrude ! — you mean to do it ! "
Gertrude released her — almost threw her hand awaj*.
" I have told you why you are a fool to think so.
But if you do think so, go and tell Mr. Winnington !
Tell him everything ! — make him enquire. I shall be
in town — ready for the warrant."
The two faced each other.
" And now," said Gertrude — " though I am convales-
cent — we have had enough of this." She rose totter-
ing — and felt for her stick. Delia gave it her.
" Gertrude ! " It was a bitter cry of crushed affcc-
344 Delia Blanchflower
tion and wounded trust. It arrested Gertrude for a
moment on her way to the door. She turned in inde-
cision — then shook her head — muttered something
inarticulate, and went.
That afternoon Delia sent a telegram to Lady Ton-
bridge who had returned to Maumsey — " Can you and
Nora come and stay with me for three months. I shall
be quite alone." She also despatched a note to Winning-
ton's club, simply to say that she was going home to-
morrow. She had no recent news of Winnington's
whereabouts, but something told her that he was still in
town — still near her.
Then she turned with energy to practical affairs —
arrangements for giving up the flat, dismissing some
servants, despatching others to Maumsey. She had
something of a gift for housekeeping, and on this even-
ing of all others she blessed its tasks. When they met
at dinner, Gertrude was perfect^ placid and amiable.
She went to bed early, and Delia spent the hours after
dinner in packing, with her maid. In the middle of it
came a line from Winnington — " Good news indeed !
I go down to Maumsey early, to see that the Abbey is
ready for you. Don't bother about the flat. I have
spoken to the Agents. They will do everything. Au
revoir! "
The commonplace words somehow broke down her self-
control. She sent away her maid, put out the glaring
electric light, and sat crouched over the fire, in the dark-
ness, thinking her heart out. Once she sprang up sud-
denly, her hands at her breast — " Oh Mark, Mark —
I'm coming back to you, Mark, — I'm coming back — I'm
free! " — in an ecstasy.
But only to feel herself the next moment, quenched —
Delia Blanchflower 345
coerced — her happiness dashed from her. If she gave
herself to Mark, her knowledge, her suspicions, her
practical certainty must go with the gift. She could
not keep from him her growing belief that Monk Law-
rence was vitally threatened, and that Gertrude, in spite
of audacious denials, was still madly bent upon the plot.
And to tell him would mean instant action on his part:
arrest — prison — perhaps death — for this woman she
had adored, whom she still loved with a sore, disillu-
sioned tenderness. She could not tell him ! — and there-
fore she could not engage herself to him. Had Ger-
tnide realised that? — counted upon it?
No. She must work in other ways — through Mr.
Lathrop — through various members of the " Daugh-
ters " Executive who were personally known to her.
Gertrude must be restrained — somehow — by those
who still had influence with her.
The loneliness of that hour sank deep into Delia's
soul. Never had she felt herself so motherless, so for-
lorn. Her passion for this elder woman during three
years of fast-developing youth had divided her from
all her natural friends. As for her relations, her
father's sister, Elizabeth BlanchfloM'er, a selfish, eccen-
tric old maid, had just acknowledged her existence in
two chilly notes since she returned to England ; while
Lord Frederick, Winnington's co-executor, had in the
same period written her one letter of half-scolding, half-
patronising advice, and sent a present of game to Maum-
sey. Since then she understood he had been pursuing
his enemy the gout from " cure " to " cure," and " Mr.
Mark " certainly had done all the executor's work that
had not been mere formality.
She had no friends, no one who cared for her ! — ex-
cept Winnington — her chilled heart glowed to the
346 Delia Blanchflower
name ! — Ladj Tonbrldge, and poor Weston. Among
the Daughters she had acquaintances, but no intimates.
Gertrude had absorbed her ; she had lived for Gertrude
and Gertrude's ideas.
And now she was despised — cast out. She tried to
revive in herself the old crusading flame — the hot un-
questioning belief in Women's Rights and Women's
Wrongs — the angry contempt for men as a race of
coarse and hypocritical oppressors, which Gertrude had
taught her. In vain. She sat there, with these al-
truistic loves and hates — premature, artificial
things ! — drooping away ; conscious only, nakedly con-
scious, of the -thirst for individual happiness, personal
joy — ashamed of it too, in her bewildered youth! —
not knowing that she was thereby best serving her sex
and her race in the fore-ordained ways of destiny. And
the wickedness of men? But to have watched a good
man, day by day, had changed all the values of the hu-
man scene. Her time would come again — with fuller
knowledge — for bitter loathing of the tyrannies of
sex and lust. But this, in the natural order, was her
hour for hope — for faith. As the night grew deeper,
the tides of both rose and rose within her — washing her
at last from the shores of Desolation. She was going
home. Winnington would be there — her friend.
Somehow, she would save Gertrude. Somehow —
surely — she would find herself in Mark's arms again.
She went to sleep with a face aU tears, but whether
for joy or sorrow, she could hardly have told.
Next morning Marion arrived early, and carried
Gertrude off to Victoria, en route for Brighton. Ger-
trude and Delia kissed each other, and said Good-bye,
without visible emotion.
Delia Blanchflower 347
" Of course I shall come down to plague you In the
summer," said Gertrude, and Delia lauglicd assent —
with Miss Andrews standing by. The girl went through
a spasm of solitary weeping when Gcrtiiide was finally
gone ; but she soon mastered it, and an hour later she
lierself was in the train.
Oh, the freshness of the February day — of the
spring breathing everywhere ! — of the pairing birds
and the springing wheat — and the bright patches of
crocuses and snowdrop in the gardens along the line.
A rush of pleasure in the mere return to the country
and her home, in the mere welling back of health, the
escape from dail}- friction, and ugly, violent thoughts,
overflowed all her young senses. She was a child on a
holiday. The nightmare of the Raid — of those groups
of fighting, dishevelled women, ignominiously overpow-
ered, of the grinning crowd, the agonising pain of her
arm, and the policeman's rough grip upon it — began
to vanish " in black from the skies."
Until — the train ran into the long cutting half way
between Latchford and Maumsey, above which climbed
the steep woods of Monk Lawrence. Delia knew it
well. And she had no sooner recognised it than her
gaiety fell — headlong — like a shot bird. She waited
in a kind of terror for the moment when the train should
leave the cutting, and the house come into view, on its
broad terrace carved out of the hill. Yes, there it was,
far away, the incomparable front, with its beautiful ir-
regularities, and its equally beautiful symmetries, with
its oriel windows flashing in the sun, the golden grey of
its stone work, the delicate tracery on its tall twisted
chimneys, and the dim purples of its spreading roofs.
It lay so gently in the bosom of the woods which clasped
it round — as though they said — " See how we have
348 Delia Blanchflower
guarded and kept it through the centuries for jou, the
children of to-day."
The train sped on, and looking back Deha could
just make out a whitish patch on the lower edge of the
woods. That was Mr. Lathrop's cottage. It seemed
to her vaguely that she had seen his face in the front
rank of the crowd in Parliament Square ; but she had
heard nothing of him, or fi^om him since their last
talk. She had indeed written him a short veiled note
as she had promised to do, after Gertrude's first de-
nials, repeating them — though she herself disbelieved
them — and there had been no reply. Was he at home .''
Had he perhaps discovered anything more?
When she alighted at Maumsey, with her hand in
Winnington's, the fresh colour in her cheeks had dis-
appeared again, and he was dismayed anew at her
appearance, though he kept it to himself. But when
she was once more in the familiar drawing-room, sitting
in her grandmother's chair, obliged to rest while Lady
Tonbridge poured out tea — Nora was improving her
French in Paris — and Winnington, with his hands in
his pockets, talked gossip and gardening, without a word
of anything that had happened since they three had last
met in that room ; when Weston, ghostly but convales-
cent, came in to show herself; when Delia's black spitz
careered all over his recovered mistress, and even the
cats came to inib themselves against her skirts, it was
impossible not to feel for the moment, tremulously
happy, and strangely delivered — in this house whence
Gertrude Marvell had departed.
How vivid was the impression of this latter fact on
the other two may be imagined. When Delia had gone
upstairs to chat with Weston, Lady Tonbridge looked
at Winnington —
Delia Blanchflower 349
" To what do we owe this crowning mercy? Who dis-
lodged her?" Winnington's ghmce was thoughtful.
" I guess it has been lier own doing entirely. But I
know nothing."
" Hm. — Well, if I may advise, dear Mr. Mark, ask
no questions. And " — his old friend put a hand on
his arm- — "May I go on?" A smile, not very gay,
permitted her.
" Let her be ! " she said softly, with a world of sym-
pathy in her clear brown eyes. " She's suffered —
and she's on edge." He laid his hand on hers, but said
nothing.
A week passed by. Winnington did as he had been
told ; and Madeleine Tonbridgo seemed to see that Delia
was dumbly grateful to him. Meanwhile in the eyes of
her two friends she made little or no advance towards
recapturing her former health and strength. The
truth, of course, was that she was consumed by devour-
ing and helpless anxiety. She wrote to Lathrop, post-
ing the letter at a distant village ; and received no an-
swer. Then she ascertained that he was not at the cot-
tage, and a casual line in the Tocsin informed her that
he had been in town taking part in the foundation of
an " outspoken " newspaper — outspoken on " the fun-
damental questions of sex, liberty, and morals involved
in the suffrage movement." But time was hurrying
on, and only four days remained before the long ex-
pected debate on the Suffrage Bill took place in the
House of Commons. An immense turnover of votes, it
was said, had taken place in the House, and the defeat
of the Bill was confidently expected by the Opposition.
Sir Wilfrid Lang was leading the forces hostile to the
Suffrage, and making speech after speech in the couu-
350 Delia Blanchflower
try to cheering audiences, denouncing the Bill, and the
mad women who had tried to promote it by a campaign
of outrage as " silly as it was criminal." He was to
move the rejection of it on the second reading, and was
reported to be triumphantly confident of the result.
Delia counted the hours. It seemed to her that Ger-
trude's blow, if it fell at all, would follow swift on the
provocation offered in Parliament. It would come as
long-planned vengeance for a foreseen outrage.
But surely the very possibility would be constantly
in the minds of the guardians of Monk Lawrence?
From the moment of the division in the House it would
be, it must be doubly protected. If Gertrude attempted
it, she would merely fall an easy prey to the police.
Meanwhile Delia had written imploringly to various
members of the organisation in London, pointing out
the effect on public opinion that would be produced all
through Southern England by any attack on Monk
Lawrence. She received two cold and cautious replies.
It seemed to her that the writers of them were even
more in the dark than she.
On the Sunday night before the date fixed for the
Suffrage debate, a slender woman, in a veil and a water-
proof, opened the gate of a small house in the Brixton
Road. It was about nine o'clock in the evening. The
pavements were wet with rain, and a gusty wind was
shrieking through the smutty almond and alder trees
along the road which had ventured to put out their
poor blossoms and leaves in the teeth of this February
gale.
The woman stood and looked at the house after shut-
ting the gate, as though uncertain whether she had
found what she was looking for. But the number 453,
Delia Blanchflower 351
on the dingy door, could bo still made out by the light
of the street opposite, and she mounted the steps.
A slatternly maid opened the door, and on being
asked whether Mrs. Marvell was at home, pointed curtly
to a dimly lighted staircase, and disappeared.
Gertrude Marvell groped her way upstairs. The
house smelt repulsively of stale food, and gas mingled,
and the wailing wind from outside seemed to pursue
the visitor with its voice as she mounted. On the
second floor landing, she knocked at the door of the
front room.
After an interval, some shuffling steps came to the
door, and it was cautiously opened.
" What's your business, please.? "
"It's me — Gertrude. Are you alone?"
A sound of astonishment. The door was opened,
and a woman appeared. Her untidy, brown hair,
touched with grey, fell back from a handsome peevish
face of an aquiline type. A delicate mouth, relaxed
and bloodless, seemed to make a fretful appeal to the
spectator, and the dark circles under the eyes shewed
violet on a smooth and pallid skin. She was dressed
in a faded tea-gown much bet rimmed, covered up with
a dingy white shawl.
" Well, Gertrude — so you've come — at last ! " —
she said, after a moment, in a tone of resentment.
" If you can put me up for the night — I can stay.
I've brought no luggage."
" That doesn't matter. There's a stretcher bed.
Come in." Gertrude Marvell entered, and her mother
closed the door.
" Well, mother — how arc you ? "
The daughter offered her cheek, which the elder
woman kissed. Then Mrs. Marvell said bitterly —
35- Delia Blanchflower
" Well, I don't suppose, Gertrude, it much matters
to 30U how I am."
Gertrude took off her wet waterproof, and hat, and
sitting down by the fire, looked round her mother's bed-
sittingroom. There was a tray on the table with the
remains of a meal. There were also a large number of
women's hats, some trimmed, some untrimmed, some in
process of trimming, lying about the room, on the dif-
ferent articles of furniture. There was a tiny dog in a
basket, which barked shrilly and feebly as Gertrude ap-
proached the fire, and there were various cheap illus-
trated papers and a couple of sixpenny novels to be
seen emerging from the litter here and there. For the
rest, the furniture was of a squalid lodging-house type.
On the chimney-piece however was a bunch of daffodils,
the only fresh and pleasing object in the room.
To Gertrude it was as though she had seen it all be-
fore. Behind the room, there stretched a succession of
its ghostly fellows — the rooms of her childhood. In
those rooms she could remember her mother as a young
and comely woman, but always with the same slovenly
dress, and the same untidy — though then abundant
and beautiful — hair. And as she half shut her eyes
she seemed also to see her younger sister coming in and
out — malicious, secretive — with her small turn-up
nose, pouting lips, and under-hung chin.
She made no reply to her mother's complaining re-
mark. But while she held her cold hands to the blaze
that Mrs. Marvell stirred up, her eyes took careful note
of her mother's aspect. " Much as usual," was her in-
ward comment. " Whatever happens, she'll outlive me."
"You've been going on with the millinery?" She
pointed to the hats. " I hope you've been making it
pay."
Delia Blanchflower 353
" It provides me with a few shillings now and then,"
said Mrs. Marv'ell, sitting heavily down on the other
side of the fire — " which Winnie generally gets out of
me ! " she said sharply. " I am a miserable pauper
now, as I always have been."
Gertrude's look was unmoved. Her mother had, she
knew, all that her father had left behind him — no great
sum, but enough for a solitary woman to live on.
" Well, anyway, you must be glad of it as an occu-
pation. I wish I could help you. But I haven't really
a farthing of my own, beyond the interest on my £1000.
I handle a great deal of money, but it all goes to the
League, and I never let them pay me more than my bare
expenses. Now then, tell me all about everybody ! "
And she lay back in the dilapidated basket-chair that
had been offered her, and prepared herself to listen.
The family chronicle was done. It was as depress-
ing as usual, and Gertrude made but little comment
upon it. When it was finished, Mrs. Marvell rose, and
put the kettle on the fire, and got out a couple of fresh
cups and saucers from a cupboard. As she did so, she
looked round at her visitor.
" And you're as deep in that militant business as
ever."
Gertrude made a negligent sign of assent.
" Well, you'll never get any good of it." The
mother's pale cheek flushed. It excited her to have
this chance of speaking her mind to her clever and
notorious daughter, whom in many ways she secretly
envied, while heartily disapproving her acts and
opinions.
Gertrude shrugged her shoulders.
" Wliat's the good of arguing.'' "
354 Delia Blanchflower
a
Well, It's true " — said the mother, persisting.
*' Every new thing you do, turns more people against
you. Winnie's a Suffragist — but she says you've
spoilt all your chances 1 "
Gertrude's eyes shone ; she despised her mother's
opinion, and her sister's still more, and yet once again
in their neighbourliood, once again In the old environ-
ment, she could not help treating them In the old defiant
brow-beating way.
" And you think, I suppose, that Winnie knows a
good deal about It? "
" Well, she knows what everybody's saying — In the
trams — and the trains everywhere. Hundreds of
them that used to be for you have turned over.
" Let them ! "
The contemptuous tone Irritated Mrs. Marvell. But
at the same time she could not help admiring her eldest
daughter, as she sat there In the fire-light, her quiet
well-cut dress, her delicate hands and feet. It was true
indeed, she was a scare-crow for thinness, and looked
years older — " somehow gone to pieces " — thought the
mother, vaguely, and with a queer, sudden pang.
" And you're going on with it ? "
" What ? Militancy ? Of course we are — more
than ever ! "
" Why, the men laugh at you, Gertrude ! "
" They won't laugh — by the time we've done," said
Gertrude, with apparent indifference. Her mother had
not sufficient subtlety of perception to see that the
indifference was now assumed, to hide the quiver of
nerves, Irreparably injured by excitement and over-
strain.
" Well, all I know Is, it's against nature to suppose
that women can fight men." Mrs. Marvell's remarks
Delia Blanchflower 355
were rather like the emergence of scattered spars from
a choppy sea.
*' We shall fight them," said Gertrude, sourly —
" And what's more, we shall beat them."
" All the same we've got to live with them ! " cried
her mother, suddenly flushing, as old memories swept
across her.
" Yes, — on our terms — not theirs ! "
" I do believe, Gertrude, you hate the very sight of
a man ! " Gertrude smiled again ; then suddenly shiv-
ered, as though the cold wind outside had swept through
the room.
" And so would you — if you knew what I do ! "
" Well I do know a good bit ! " protested Mrs. Mar-
vel!. " And I'm a married woman, — worse luck ! and
you're not. But you'll never see it any other way
than your own, Gertie. You got a kink in you when
you were quite a girl. Last week I was talking about
you to a woman I know — and I said — * It's the girls
ruined by the bad men that make Gertrude so mad ' —
and she said — * She don't ever think of the boys that
are ruined by the bad women ! — Has she ever had a son
— not she ! ' And she just cried and cried. I suppose
she was thinking of something."
Gertrude rose.
" Look here, mother. Can I go to bed? I'm aw-
fully tired."
''Wait a bit. I'll make the bed."
Gertrude sat down by the fire again. Her exhaustion
was evident, and she made no attempt to help her
mother. INIrs. ^larvell let down the chair-bed, drew
it near the fire, and found some bed-clothes. Then she
produced night-things of her own, and helped Gertrude
undress. When her daughter was in bed, she made some
35^ Delia Blanchflower
tea, and dry toast, and Gertrude let them be forced on
her. When she had finished, the mother suddenly
stooped and kissed her.
"Where are you going to now, Gertrude? Are you
staying on with that lady in Hamptonshire.? "
" Can't tell you my plans just yet," said Gertrude
sleepily — " but you'll know next week."
The lights were put out. Both women tried to sleep,
and Gertrude was soon heavily asleep.
But as soon as it was light, Mrs. Marvell heard her
moving, the splash of water, and the lighting of the fire.
Presently Gertrude came to her side fully dressed —
" There, mother, I've made you a cup of tea ! And
now in a few minutes I shall be off."
Mrs. Marvell sat up and drank the tea.
" I didn't think you'd go in such a hurry," she said,
fretfully.
" I must. My day's so full. Well, now look here.
Mother, I want you to know if anything were to happen
to me, my thousand pounds would come to you first, and
then to Winnie and her children. And it's my wish,
that neither my brother nor Henry shall touch a far-
thing of it. I've made a will, and that's the address of
my solicitors, who're keeping it." She handed her
mother an envelope.
Mrs. Marvell put down her tea, and put her hand-
kerchief to her eyes.
" I believe you're up to something dreadful, Ger-
trude, — which you won't tell me."
" Nonsense, " said Gertrude, not however unkindl3\
" But we mayn't see each other for a good while.
There ! — I'll open the windows — that'll make you feel
more cheerful." And she drew up the blinds to the dull
February day, and opened a window.
Delia Blanchflovver 357
" I'll telephone to Winnie as I ^o past the Post
Office to come and spend tiie day with you — and I'll
send up the servant to do your room. Now don't fret."
"I'm a lonely old woman, Gertrude: — and I wish
I was dead."
Gertrude frowned.
" You should try and read something, Mother —
better than these trashy novels. When I've time, I'll
send you a parcel of books — I've got a good many.
And don't you let your work go — it's good for you.
Now good-bye."
The two women kissed — Mrs. Marvell embracing her
daughter with a sudden fierceness of emotion to which
Gertrude submitted, almost for the first time in her
life. Then her mother pushed her away.
" Good-bye Gertrude — you'd better go ! "
Gertrude went out noiselessly, closing the door be-
hind her with a lingering movement, unlike her. In
the tiny hall below, she found the " general " at work,
and sent her up to Mrs. Marvell. Then she went out
into the grey February morning, and the little girl of
the landlady standing on the steps saw her enter one
of the eastward-bound trams.
Monday afternoon came. The Second Reading de-
bate on the Suffrage Bill was fixed for Wednesday.
Winnington had been called away to Wanchester by
urgent County business. Lady Tonbridge was at the
little Georgian house, shutting it up for six months.
Delia was left alone in the Abbey, consumed with a
restless excitement she had done her best to hide from
her companions. She suddenly made up her mind that
she would go and see for herself what was being done
to guard the house on the hill, and telling Weston that
358
Delia Blanchflower
she was going out in the car, and would walk back
for exercise, she ordered the motor about five o'clock
and bade it take her to Monk Lawrence.
She dismissed it however at the entrance of the wood-
walk where she had once met Lathrop, and went on
foot through the wood. Half way through, she came
on two persons whom she at once recognised as the
science-mistress. Miss Jackson, and Miss Toogood.
They were walking slowly, and, as it seemed to Delia,
sadly; the little dressmaker limping painfully, with her
head thrown back and a face of fixed and tragic dis-
tress.
When they saw Delia, they stopped in agitation.
"Oh, Miss Blanchflower! "
Delia who knew that Miss Jackson had been in town
hoping for work at the Central Office of the League of
Revolt, divined at once that she had been disappointed.
" They couldn't find you anything? "
The teacher shook her head.
" And the Governors have given me a month's salary
here in lieu of notice. I've left the school. Miss Blanch-
flower ! I was in the Square you know, that day —
and at the Police Court aftenvards. That was what
did it. And I have my old mother to keep."
A pair of haggard eyes met Delia's.
" Oh, but I'll help ! " cried Delia.—" You must let me
help ! — won't you ? "
" Thank you — but I've got a few savings," said the
teacher quietly. " It isn't that so much. It's — well,
Miss Toogood feels it too. She was in town — she saw
everything. And she knows what I mean. We're dis-
heartened — that's what it is ! "
" With the movement ? " said Delia, after a moment.
" It seemed so splendid when we talked of it down
Delia Blanchflower 359
licre — and — it was — so horrible ! " Her voice
dropped.
" So horrible ! " echoed Miss Toogood drearily. " It
wasn't what we meant, somehow. And yet we'd read
about it. But to see those young women beating men's
faces — well, it did for me ! "
" The police were rough too ! " cried Miss Jackson.
" But you couldn't wonder at it. Miss Blanchflower,
could you? "
Delia looked into the speaker's frank, troubled face.
" You and I felt the same," she said in a choked
voice. " It was ugly — and it was absurd."
She walked back with them a little way, comforting
them, as best she could. And her sympath}-, her sweet-
ness did — strangely — comfort them. When she left
them, they walked on, talking tenderly of her, counting
on her good fortune, if there was none for them.
At the end of the walk, towards Monk Lawrence, an-
other figure emerged from the distance. Delia started,
then gathered all her wits ; for it was Lathrop.
He hurried towards her, breathless, cutting all pre-
liminaries —
" I was coming to find you. I arrived this morning.
There is something wrong! I have just been to the
house, and there is no one there."
"What do you mean?"
" No one. I went to Daunt's rooms. Everything
locked. The house absolutely dark — everywhere.
And I know that he has had the strictest orders ! "
Without a word, she began to run, and he beside
her. When she slackened, he told her that while in
London he had made the most skilful enquiries he
could devise as to the plot he believed to be on foot.
360 Delia Blanchflower
But — like Delia's own — they had been quite fruit-
less. Those persons who had shared suspicion with
him in December were now convinced that the thing was
dropped. All that he had ascertained was that Miss
Marvell was in town, apparently recovered, and Miss
Andrews with her.
"Well — and were you pleased with your raid?"
he asked her, half mockingly, as he opened the gate of
Monk Lawrence for her.
She resented the question, and the tone of it, re-
membering his first grandiloquent letter to her.
" You ought to be," she said, drily. " It was the
kind of thing you recommended."
" In that letter I wrote you ! I ought to have
apologised to you for that letter long ago. I am afraid
it was an exercise. Oh, I felt it, I suppose, when I
wrote it."
There was a touch of something Insolent in his voice.
She made no reply. If it had not been for the ne-
cessity which yoked them, she would not have spent an-
other minute in his company, so repellent to her had he
become — both in the inner and the outer man. She
tried only to think of him as an ally in a desperate cam-
paign.
They hastened up the Monk Lawrence drive. The
house stood still and peaceful in the February afternoon.
The rooks from the rookery behind were swirling about
and over the roofs, filling the air with monotonous sound
which only emphasized the silence below. A sheet of
snowdrops lay white in the courtyard, where a child's
go-cart upset, held the very middle of the stately ap-
proach to the house.
Delia went to the front door, and rang the bell —
Delia Blanchflower 361
repeatedly. Not a sound, except the dim echoes of the
bell itself from some region far inside.
" No good ! " said Lathrop. " Now come to the
back." They went round to the low addition at the
back of the house, where Daunt and his family had now
lived for many months. Here also there was nobody.
The door was locked. The blinds were drawn down.
Impossible to see into the rooms, and neither calling
nor knocking produced any response.
Lathrop stood thinking.
*' Absolutely against orders ! I know — for Daunt
himself told me — that he had promised Lang never to
leave the house without putting some deputy he could
trust in charge. He has gone and left no deputy —
or the deputy he did leave has deserted."
"What's the nearest house — or cottage.''"
" The Gardeners' cottages, beyond the kitchen gar-
den. Only one of them occupied now, I believe. Daunt
used to live there before he moved into the house. Let's
go there ! "
They ran on. The walled kitclicn garden was locked,
but they found a way round it to where three creeper-
grown cottages stood in a pleasant lonely space girdled
by beech-woods. One only was inhabited, but from that
the smoke was going up, and a babble of children's
voices emerged.
Lathrop knocked. There was a sudden sound, and
then a silence within. In a minute however the door
was opened, and a strapping black-eyed young woman
stood on the threshold looking both sulky and aston-
ished.
" Are you Daunt's niece? " said Lathrop.
" I am, Sir. What do you want with him? "
362 Delia Blanchflower
"Why isn't he at Monk Lawrence? " asked Lathrop
roughl3\ " He told me himself he was not to leave the
house unguarded."
" Well, Sir, I don't know I'm sure what business it
is of yours ! " said the woman, flushing with anger.
" He got bad news of his son, whose ship arrived at
Portsmouth yesterday, and the young man said to be
dying, on board. So he went off this afternoon. I've
only left it for ten minutes and I'm going back directly.
Mrs. Cresson here had asked the children to tea, and
I brought them over. And I'll thank you, Sir, not to
go spying on honest people ! "
And she would have slammed the door in his face,
but that Delia came forward.
" We had no intention of spying upon you. Miss
Daunt — indeed we hadn't. But I am Miss Blanch-
flower, who came here before Christmas, with Mr. Win-
nington, and I should have been glad to see Mr. Daunt
and the children. Lily ! — don't you remember
me ? " — and she smiled at the crippled child — a deli-
cate blue-eyed creature — whom she saw in the back-
ground.
But the child, who seemed to have been crying vio-
lently, did not come forward. And the other two, who
had their fingers in their mouths, were equally silent
and shrinking. In the distance an old woman sat
motionless in her chair by the fire, taking no notice
apparently of what was going on.
The young woman appeared for a moment confused
or excited.
" Well, I'm sorry, Miss, but my Uncle won't be back
till after dark. And I wouldn't advise you to come
in, Miss," — she hurriedly drew the door close behind
her — " the doctor thinks two of the children have got
Delia Blanchflower 363
whooping-cough — and I didn't send tlicni to school
to-day."
" Well, just understand Miss Daunt, if that's your
name," said Lathrop, with emphasis — " that till you
return to the house, we shall stay there. We shall walk
up and down there, till you come back. You know well
enough there are people about, who would gladly do an
injury to the house, and that it's not safe to leave it.
Monk Lawrence is not Sir Wilfrid Lang's property
only. It belongs to the whole nation, and there are
plenty of people that'll know the reason why, if any
harm comes to it."
" Oh, very well. Have it your own way. Sir ! I'll
come — I'll come — fast enough," and the speaker,
with a curious half-mocking look at Lathrop, flounced
back into the cottage, and shut the door. They waited.
There were sounds of lowered voices, and crying chil-
dren. Then Miss Daunt emerged defiantly, and they
all three walked back to ]Monk Lawrence.
The keeper's niece unlocked the door leading to
Daunt's rooms. But she stood sulkily in the entry.
" Now I hope you're satisfied. Sir. I don't know,
I'm sure why you should come meddling in other peo-
ple's affairs. And I daresay you'll say something
against me to my uncle ! "
*' Well, anyway, you keep watch ! " was the stern
reply. " I take my rounds often this way, as your
Uncle knows. I daresay I shall be by here again to-
night. Can the children find their way home alone?"
" Well, they're not idiots. Sir ! Good night to you.
I've got to get supper." And brusquely shutting the
door in their faces, she went inside. They perceived
immediately afterwards that she had lit a light in the
kitchen.
364 Delia Blanchflower
" Well, so far, all right," said Lathrop, as he and
Delia withdrew. " But the whole thing's rather —
queer. You know that old woman, ^Irs. Cresson, is not
all there, and quite helpless ? "
He pondered it as thej walked back through the
wood, his eyes on the ground. Delia shared his unde-
fined anxiety. She suggested that he should go back
to the house in an hour or so, to see if Daunt had re-
turned, and complain of his niece's breach of rules.
Lathrop agreed.
" How do we know who or what that girl is? " — he
said slowly — " that she mayn't have been got hold of? "
The same terror grew in Delia. She walked on be-
side him absorbed in speculation and discussion, till,
without noticing, she had reached the farther gate of
the wood-walk. Outside the gate, ran the Wanchester
road, climbing the down, amid the woods. To reach
the field path leading to the Abbey, Delia must cross
it.
She and Lathrop emerged from the wood still talk-
ing in low voices, and stood beside the gate. A small
car, with one man driving it, was descending the long
hill. But Delia had her back to it.
It came nearer. She turned, and saw Winnington
approaching her — saw the look on his face. For a
moment she wavered. Then with a bow and a hasty
" Good Evening," she left Lathrop, and stepped into
the road, holding up her hand to stop the car.
"How lucky!" she said, clearly, and gaily, — "just
as it's going to rain ! Will you take me home? "
Winnington, without a word, made room for her be-
side him. The two men exchanged a slight greeting —
and the car passed.
Delia Blanchflower 365
Latlirop walked qiiickl}- back in the direction of Monk
Lawrence. Ilis vanity was hugely pleased.
" By George ! — that was one to me ! It's quite evi-
dent she hasn't taken him into her confidence — doesn't
want magistrates interfering — no doubt. And mean-
while she appeals to me — she depends on me. What-
ever happens — she'll have to be grateful to me. That
fellow with his wry face can't stop it. What a vision
she made just now under the wood — 'belle dame sans
merci ! ' — hating my company — and yet compelled to
it. It would make a sonnet I think — I'll try it to-
night."
Meanwhile in the dark corridors of Monk Lawrence a
woman groping, met another woman. The two dim
figures exchanged some whispered words. Then one
of them returned to the back regions.
Lathrop, passing by, noticed smoke rising from the
Daunts' chimney, and was reassured. But in an hour
or so he would return to look for Daunt himself.
He had no sooner descended the hill to his own cot-
tage, in the fast gathering dusk, than Eliza Daunt
emerged. She left the light burning in the keeper's
kitchen, and some cold supper on the table. Then with
a laugh which was half a sob of excitement she ran down
the path leading to the garden cottages.
She was met by a clamour of rebellious children, as
she opened Mrs. Crcsson's door. " Where's Daddy,
Liza ? — whcre's Daddy ! Why can't we go home ! We
want our Daddy ! "
" Hold your noise ! " said Eliza roughly — " or it'll
be the worse for you — Daddj' won't be home for a cou-
ple of hours yet, and I promised Fred Cresson, I'd get
366 Delia Blanchflower
Mrs. Crcsson's tea for her. Lily, stop crying — and
get the tray ! "
The crippled child, red-eyed, unwillingly obeyed.
Neither she nor her sisters could understand why they
had been brought over to tea with Mrs. Cresson of
whose queer half-imbecile ways they were all terrified.
Their father had gone off in a great hurry — because of
the telegram which had come. And Fred had bicycled
down to Latchford to see somebody about a gardener's
place. And now there was no one left but Liza and
Mrs. Cresson — of whom, for different reasons, the three
little girls were equally afraid. And Lily's heart espe-
cially was sore for her father. She knew very well they
were all doing what was forbidden. But she dared not
complain. They had found Cousin 'Liza a hard woman.
Chapter XIX
'TinAKE me home! — take me home quick! I want
A to talk to you. Not now — not here ! "
The car flew along, Mark barely looked at her.
His face was set and pale. As for her, while they ran
through the village and along the country road between
it and Maunisey, her mind had time to adjust itself to
that flashing resolution which had broken down a hun-
dred scruples and swept away a hundred fears, in that
moment on the hill when she had met his eyes, and the
look in them. What must he think of her? An as-
signation with that man, on the very first afternoon when
his tender watchfulness left her for an hour! No, it
could not be borne that he should read her so! She
must clear herself! And thought, leaping beacon-like
from point to point told her, at last, that for Gertrude
too, she had chosen wrongly. Thank Heaven, there was
still time ! What could a girl do, all alone — groping
in such a darkness.-^ Better after all lay the case be-
fore Mark's judgment, Mark's tenderness, and trust
him with it all. Trust her own power too — see what
a girl could do with the man who loved her!
The car stopped at the Abbey door, and Winnington,
still absolutely silent, helped her to alight. She led
the way, past the drawing-room where Lady Tonbridgo
sat rather anxiously expecting her, to that bare room on
the ground floor, the little gun-room, which Gertrude
IMarvell had made her office, and where many signs of
her occupation still remained — a calendar on the wall
367
368 Delia Blanchflower
marking the " glorious " dates of the League — a flash-
liglit photograph of the first raid on Parliament some
years before — a faded badge, and scattered piles of
newspapers. A couple of deal tables and two chairs
were all the furniture the room contained, in addition to
the cupboards, painted in stone-colour, which covered
the walls.
Delia closed the door, and threw off her furs. Then,
with a gesture of complete abandonment, she went up
to Winnington, holding out her hands —
" Oh, Mark, Mark, I want you to help me ! "
He took her hands,, but without pressing them. His
face, frowning and flushed, with a little quivering of the
nostrils, began to terrify her —
" Oh, Mark, — dear Mr. Mark — I went to see Mr.
Lathrop — because — because I was in great trouble —
and I thought he could help me."
He dropped the hands.
"You went to hkn — instead of to me? How long
have you been with him? Did you write to him to ar-
range it ? "
" No, no — we met by accident. Mark, it's not my-
self — it's a fear I have — a dreadful, dreadful fear ! "
She came close to him, piteously, just murmuring —
" It's Monk Lawrence ! — and Gertrude ! "
He started, and looked at her keenly —
"You know something I don't know?"
" Oh yes, I do, I do ! " she said, wringing her hands.
" I ought to have told you long ago. But I've been
afraid of what you might do — I've been afraid for
Gertrude. Can't you see, Mark? I've been trying to
make Mr. Lathrop keep watch — enquire — so that
they wouldn't dare. I've told Gertrude that I know —
I've written to people — I've done all I could. And
Delia Blanchflower 369
this afternoon I felt I must go there and see for my-
self, what precautions had been taken — and I met
Mr. Lathrop "
She gave a rapid account of their visit to the house, —
of its complete desertion — of the strange behaviour
of the niece — and of the growing alarm in her own
mind.
"There's something — there's some plot. Perhaps
that woman's in it. Perhaps Gertrude's got hold of
her — or Miss Andrews. Anyway, if that house can
be left quite alone — ever — they'll get at it — that
I'm sure of. Why did she take the children away?
Wasn't that strange ? "
Then she put her hands on the heart that fluttered
so — and tried to smile —
" But of course till the Bill's thrown out, there can
be no danger, can there ? There can't be any ! " she
repeated, as though appealing to him to reassure
her.
" I don't understand yet," he said gravely. " Why
do you suspect Miss Marvell, or a plot at all? There
was no such idea in your mind when we went over the
house together?"
" No, none ! — or at least not seriousl}' — there was
nothing, really, to go on " — she assured him eagerly.
"But just after — you remember Mr. Lathrop's com-
ing — that day — ? — when a^ou scolded me?"
He could not help smiling a little — rather bitterly.
" I remember you said you couldn't explain. Of
course I thought it was something connected with Miss
^Marvel], or j'our Society — but "
" I'm going to explain " — she said, trying hard for
composure. " I'm going to tell it all in order."
And sitting down, her head resting on her hand, with
370 Delia Blanchflower
Winnington standing before her, she told the whole
story of the preceding weeks — the alternations of
fear and relief — Lathrop's suspicions — Gertrude's de-
nials — the last interview between them.
As for the man looking down upon her beautiful bowed
head, his heart melted within him as he listened. The
sting remained that she should have asked anyone else
than he to help her — above all that she should have
humbled herself to ask it of such a man as Lathrop.
Anxiety remained, for Monk Lawrence itself, and still
more for what might be said of her complicity. But all
that was further implied in her confession, her droop-
ing sweetness, her passionate appeal to him — the
beauty of her true character, its innocence, its faith,
its loyalty — began to flood him with a feeling that
presently burst its bounds.
She wound up with most touching entreaties to him,
to save and shield her friend — to go himself to Ger-
trude and warn her — to go to the police — Avithout
disclosing names, of course — and insist that the house
should be constantly patrolled.
He scarcely heard a word of this. When she
paused — there was silence a moment. Then she heard
her name — very low —
" Delia ! "
She looked up, and with a long breath she rose, as
though drawn invisibly. He held out his arms, and she
threw hers round his neck, hiding her face against the
life that beat for her.
" Oh, forgive me ! " — she murmured, after a little,
childishly pressing her lips to his — " forgive me — for
everything ! "
The tears were in his eyes.
" You've gone through all this ! — alone ! " he said
Delia Blanchflower 371
to her, as he bent over her. " But never again, DcHa —
never again ! "
She was the first to release herself — putting tears
away.
" Now then — what can we do ? "
He resumed at once his ordinary manner and voice.
" We can do a great deal. I have the car here. I
shall go straight back to Monk Lawrence, and see
Daunt to-night. That woman's behaviour must be re-
ported — and explained. An hour — an hour and a
half? — since you were there.'*" — he took out his
watch — " He's probably home by now — it's quite
dark — he'd scarcely risk being away after dark.
Dearest, go and rest ! — I shall come back later — after
dinner. Put it out of your mind."
She went towards the hall with him hand in hand.
Suddenly there was a confused sound of shouting out-
side. Lady Tonbridge opened the drawing-room door
with a scared face —
"What is It-f* There are people running up the
drive. They're shouting somctliing!"
Winnlngton rushed to the front door, Delia with him.
With his first glance at the hlll-slde, he understood the
meaning of the cries — of the crowd approaching.
"My God! — f 00 late!"
For high on that wooded slope, a blaze was spreading
to the skies — a blaze that grew with every second —
illuminating wltli its flare the woods around it, the chim-
neys of the old house, the quiet stretches of the hill.
" Monk Lawrence is afire, ]Mustcr Winnington ! "
panted one of Winnlngton's own labourers who had
outstripped the rest. " They're asking for you to
come ! They've telephoned to Latchford for the
engines, and to Brownmouth and Wanchester too.
372 Delia Blanchflower
They say it's burning like tow — there must be pe-
trol in it, or summat. It's the women they say ! — spite
of Mr. Daunt and the perlicc ! "
Then he noticed Delia standing beside Winnington on
the steps, and held his tongue, scowling.
Winnington's car was still standing at the steps.
He set it going in a moment.
" My cloak ! " said Delia, looking round her — *' And
tell them to bring the car ! "
" Delia, you're not going? " cried Madeleine, throw-
ing a restraining arm about her.
" But of course I am ! " said the girl amazed. " Not
with him — because I should be in his way."
Various persons ran to do her bidding. Winnington
already in his place, with a labourer beside him, and
two more in the seat behind him, beckoned to her.
" Why should you come, dearest ! It will only break
your heart. We'll do all that can be done, and I'll
send back messages."
She shook her head.
*' I shall come ! But don't think of me. I won't run
any risks."
There was no time to argue with her. The little car
sped away, and with it the miscellaneous crowd who had
rushed to find Winnington, as the natural head of the
Maumsey community, and the only magistrate within
reach.
Delia and Madeleine were left standing on the steps,
amid a group of frightened and chattering servants —
gazing in despairing rage at the ever-spreading horror
on the slope of the down, at the sudden leaps of flame,
the vast showers of sparks drifting over the woods, the
red glare on the low hanging clouds. The garnered
beauty of four centuries, one of England's noblest heir-
Delia Blanchflower 37^
looms, was going down in ruin, at the bidding of a hand-
ful of women, hurhng themselves in disappointed fury
on a community that would not give them their way.
Sharp-toothed remorse had hold on Delia. If she
had only gone to Winnington earlier! "My fault! —
my fault ! "
When the car came quickly round, she and Lady
Tonbridge got into it. As they rushed through the
roads, lit on their way by that blaze in the heart of the
hills, of which the roaring began to reach their ears,
Delia sat speechless, and death-like, reconstructing the
past days and hours. Not yet two hours since she had
left the house — left it untouched. At that very mo-
ment, Gertrude or Gertrude's agents must have been
within it. The whole thing had been a plot — the chil-
dren taken away — the house left deserted. Very
likely Daunt's summons to his dying son had been also
part of it. And as to the niece — what more probable
than that Gertrude had laid hands on her months be-
fore, guided perhaps by the local knowledge of Marion
Andrews, — and had placed her as spy and agent in the
doomed house till the time should be ripe? The blind
and fanatical devotions which Gertrude was able to ex-
cite when she set herself to it, was only too well known
to Delia.
Where was Gertrude herself? For Delia was certain
that she had not merely done this act by deputy.
In the village, every person who had not gone rush-
ing up the hill was standing at the doors, pale and ter-
ror-stricken, watching the glare overhead. The blinds
of Miss Toogood's little house were drawn close. And
as Delia passed, angry looks and mutterings pursued
her.
The car mounted the hill. Suddenly a huge noise
374 Delia Blanchflower
and hooting behind them. They drew into the hedge,
to let the Latchford fire-engine thunder past, a fine new
motor engine, just purchased and equipped.
" There'll be three or four more directly, Miss " —
shouted one of her own garden lads, mounting on the
step of the car. " But they say there's no hope. It
was fired in three places, and there was petrol used."
At the gate, the police — looking askance especially
at Miss Blanchflower — would have turned them back.
But Delia asked for Winnington, and they were at last
admitted Into the circle outside the courtyard, where
beyond reach of the sparks, and falling fragments, the
crowd of spectators was gathered. People made way
for her, but Lady Tonbrldge noticed that nobody spoke
to her, though as soon as she appeared all the angry or
excited attention that the crowd could spare from the
fire was given to her. Delia was not aware of it. She
stood a little in front of the crowd, with her veil
thrown back, her hands clasped in front of her, an image
of rapt despair. Her face, like all the faces in the
crowd, was made lurid — fantastic — by the glare of
the flames ; and every now and thenj as though uncon-
sciously, she brushed away the mist of tears from her
eyes.
" Aye she's sorry now ! " — said a stout farmer, bit-
terly, to his neighbour — " now that she's led them as is
even younger than herself into trouble. My girl's in
prison all along of her — and that woman as they do
say is at the bottom of this business."
The speaker was Kitty Foster's father. Kitty had
just been sentenced to six months' imprisonment for the
burning of a cricket pavilion in the Midlands, and her
relations were sitting in shame and grief for her.
" Whoever 'tis as did it 'ull have a job to get
Delia Blanchflower 375
away " — said the man he addressed. " They've got a
lot o' police out. Where's 'Liza Daunt, I say?
They're searching for her everywhere. Daunt's just
come upon the engine from Latchford — saw the fire
from the train. He says he's been tricked — a put-up
job he sa^'s. There wasn't nothing wrong with his son,
he says, when he got to Portsmouth. If they do catch
'em, the police will have to guard 'em safe. It won't
do to let the crowd get at 'cm. They're fair mad.
Oh, Lord ! — it's caught another roof ! "
And a groan rose from the fast-thickening multitude,
as another wall fell amid a shower of sparks and ashes,
and the flames, licking up and up, caught the high-
pitched roof of the great hall, and ran along the stone
letters of the parapet, which spelt out the motto — ^
" Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain
that build it." The fantastic letters themselves, whicli
liad been lifted to their places before the death of
Shakespeare, seemed to dance in the flame like living
and tormented things.
Meanwhile in the courtyard, and on the side lawns,
scores of persons were busy removing furniture, pictures
and tapestries. Winnington was leading and organis-
ing the rescue parties, now inside, now outside the house.
And near him, under his orders, worked Paul Lathrop,
in his shirt sleeves, superhumanly active, and superhu-
manly strong — grinding his teeth with rage some-
times, as the fire defeated one eff^ort after another to
check it. Daunt, also was there, pouring out incoher-
ent confidences to the police, and distracted by the
growing certainty that his niece had been one of the
chief authors of the plot. His children naturally had
been his first thought. But the police reported them
safe in Mrs. Cresson's cottage.
37^ Delia Blanchflower
" No chance ! " said Lathrop, bitterly, pausing for a
moment beside Winnington, while they both took
breath — the sweat pouring from their smoke-blackened
faces.
" If one could get to the top of that window with the
big hose — one could reach the roof better " — panted
Winnington, pointing to the still intact double oriel
which ran up through two stories of the building, to
the east of the doorway.
" I see ! " Lathrop dashed away. And in a few sec-
onds he and a fireman could be seen climbing from a
ladder upon a ledge, a car\'ed string-course, which con-
nected the eastern and western oriels above the main
doorway. They crawled along the ledge like flies, cling-
ing to every projection, every stem of ivy, the fireman
dragging the hose.
The crowd watched, all eyes. Winnington, after a
rapid look or two, turned away with the thought —
" That fellow's done some rock-climbing in his day ! "
But against such a doom as had now gripped Monk
Lawrence, nothing availed. Lathrop and his companion
had barely scaled tlie parapet of the window when a
huge central crash sent its resounding din circling
round the leafless woods, and the two climbing figures
disappeared from view amid a fresh rush of smoke and
flame.
The great western chimney-stack had fallen. When
the cloud of smoke drifted awaj^, a gaping cavity of
fire was seen just behind the two men; it could only be
a matter of minutes before the wall and roof immediately
behind them came down upon them. The firemen
shouted to them from below. A long ladder was brought
and run up to within twenty feet of them. Lathrop
climbed down to it over the scorched face of the oriel,
Delia Blanchflower 377
his life in jeopardy at every step. Then steadying him-
self on the ladder, — and grasping a projection in the
wall, he called to the man above, to drop upon his shoul-
ders. It was done, by a miracle — and both holding
on, the man above by the projections of the wall and La-
throp by tlie ladder, descended, till the two were within
reach of safciy.
A thin roar of cheers rose from the environing throng,
scarcely audible amid the greater roar of the flames.
Lathrop, wearied, depressed, with bleeding hands, came
back to Winnington's side. Winnington looked round.
For the first time Lathrop saw through Mark's grey
eyes the generous heart within — unveiled.
"Splendid! Are you hurt?"
" Only scorched and scratched. Give me another
job!"
" Come along then."
And thenceforward the two worked side by side, like
brothers, in the desperate attempt to save at least the
Great Hall, and the beautiful rooms adjoining; the
Porch Room, with its Chatham memorials ; the library
too, with its stores of seventeenth-century books, its
busts, and its portraits. But the flames rushed on and
on, with a fiendish and astounding rapidity. Frag-
ments of news ran back to the onlookers. The main
staircase had been steeped in petrol — and sacks full
of shavings had been stored in the panelled spaces un-
derneath it. Fire-lighters heaped together had been
found in the Red Parlour — to be dragged out by the
firemen — but again too late ! — for the fire was al-
ready gnawing at the room, like a wild prowling beast.
A back staircase too had been kindled witli paraflin —
the smell of it was everywhere. And thus urged, a very
demon of fire seemed to have seized on the beautiful
37^ Delia Blanchflower
place. There was a will and a passion of destruction
in the flames that nothing could withstand. As the
diamond-paned windows fell into nothing-ness, the rooms
behind shewed for a brief space ; carved roofs, stately
fireplaces, gleaming for a last moment, before Time knew
them no more, and all that remained of them was the last
vision of their antique beauty, stamped on the aching
memories of those who watched.
" Why did you let her come ! " said France vehe-
mently in Lad}' Tonbridge's ear, with his eyes on Delia.
" It's enough to kill her. She must know who's done it ! "
Lady Tonbridge shook her head despairingly, and
both gazed, without daring to speak to her, on the girl
beside them. Madeleine had taken one cold hand.
France was torn with pity for her — but what comfort
was there to give! Her tears had dried. But there
was something now in her uncontrollable restlessness
as she moved ghost-like along the front of the spectators,
pressing as near to the house as the police would per-
mit, scanning every patch of light or shadow, which
suggested to those who followed her, possession by some
torturing fear — some terror of worse still to come.
Meanwhile the police were thinking not only of the
house, but still more of its destroyers. They had a
large number of men on the spot, and a quick-witted in-
spector in charge. It was evident from many traces
that the incendiaries had only left the place a very short
time before the outbreak of the fire; they could not be
far away. Scouts were flung out on all the roads ;
search parties were in all the woods ; every railway sta-
tion had been warned.
At the eastern side, a kind of loggia, built by an
Italianate owner of the house, in the first half of the
Delia Blanchflower 379
sixteenth century — a scries of open arches, with
twisted marble pillars — ran along the house from
front to rear. It was approached on the south by a
beautiful staircase, of which the terra-cotta balustrad-
ing had been copied from a famous villa on Como, and a
similar staircase gave access to it from the garden to the
north. The fight for the Great Hall which the Loggia
adjoined, was being followed with agonised anxiety by
the crowds. The Red Parlour, with all its carvings
and mouldings had gone, the porch room was a furnace
of fire, with black spars and beams hanging in ragged
ruin across it. The Great Hall seemed already totter-
ing, and in its fall, the Loggia too must go.
Then, as every eye hung upon the work of the fire-
men and the play of the water, into the still empty
space of the loggia, and illumined by the glare of the
flames, there emerged with quiet step, the figure of a
woman. She came forward : she stood with crossed
arms looking at the crowd. And at the same moment,
behind her, there appeared the form of a child, a little
fair-haired girl, hobbling on a crutch, in desperate
haste, and wailing — " Father ! "
Delia saw them, and with one wild movement she was
through the cordon of police, and running for the house.
Winnington, at the head of his salvage corps, per-
ceived her, and ran too.
" Delia ! — go back ! — go back ! "
" Gertrude ! " she said, gasping — and pointed to
the loggia. And he had hardly looked where all the
world was looking, when a part of the roof of the Hall
at the back, fell suddenly outwards and northwards, in
a blaze of flame. Charred rafters stood out, hanging in
mid air, and the flames leapt on triumphant. At the
same moment, evidently startled by some sound behind
380 Delia Blanchflower
her, the woman turned, and saw what the crowd saw —
the child, limping on its crutch, coming towards her,
calHng incoherently.
Her own cry rang out, as she ran towards the crip-
ple, waving her back. And as she did so, came another
thundering fall, another upward rush of flame, as a
fresh portion of the roof fell eastwards, covering the
loggia and blotting out the figures of both woman and
child.
With difficulty the police kept back the mad rush of
the crowd. The firemen swarmed to the spot.
But the child was buried deep under flaming ruin,
where her father, Daunt, who had rushed to save her,
was only restrained by main force from plunging after
her, to his death. The woman they brought out —
alive. France, Delia and Winnington were beside her.
" Stand back ! " shouted the mild old Rector — trans-
formed into a prophet-figure, his white hair stream-
ing — as the multitude swayed against the cordon of
police. *' Stand back ! all of you — and pray — for
this woman ! "
In a dead silence, men, shivering, took off their hats,
and women sobbed.
" Gertrude ! " Delia called, in her anguish, as she
knelt beside the charred frame, over which France who
was kneeling on the other side had thrown his coat.
The dark eyes opened in the blackened face, the
scorched lips unlocked. A shudder ran through the
dying frame.
" " The child ! — the child ! "
And with that cry to heaven, — that protesting cry
of an amazed and conquered soul — Gertrude Marvell
passed away.
Delia Blanchflower 381
Thus ended tlic First Act of Delia's life. When
three weeks later, after a marriage at which no one
was present except the persons to be married, Lady
Tonbridge, and Dr. France, Winnington took his wife
far from these scenes to lands of summer and of rest,
he carried with him a Delia incffaceably marked by this
tragedy of her youth. Children, as they come, will
sometime re-kindle the natural jo}' in a face so lovely.
And till that time arrives Winnington's tenderness will
be the master-light of all her day. But there are sounds
once heard that live for ever in the mind. And in
Delia's there will reverberate till death that wail of a
fierce and childless woman — that last cry of nature in
one who had defied nature — of womanhood in one who
had renounced the ways of womanhood : the child — the
child! "
Not long after the destruction of Monk Lawrence
and the marriage of Delia, Paul Lathrop left the Maum-
sey neighbourhood. His debts had been paid by some
unknown friend or friends, and he fell back into Lon-
don literary life, where he maintained a precarious
but — to himself — not unpleasant existence.
Miss Jackson, the science-mistress, went to Van-
couver, married the owner of a lumber camp, and so
tamed her soul. Miss Toogood lived on, rarely em-
ployed, and seldom going outside the tiny back parlour,
with its pictures of Winchester and Mr. Keble. But
Lady Tonbridge and Delia do their best to lighten the
mild melancholy which grows upon her with age; nr.d
a little red-haired niece who came to live with her, keeps
her old aunt's nerves alive and alert b}' various hanii-
less vices — among them an incorrigible interest in the
IMaunisey and Lntchford youth. Marion Andrews and
Eliza Daunt disappeared together. They were not cap-
382 Delia Blanchflower
turcd on that terrible night when Gertrude Marvell,
convinced that she could not escape, and perhaps not
much caring to escape, came back to look on the ruin
she had so long and carefully prepared, and perished in
the heart of it — not alone.
But such desperate happenings as the destruction of
Monk Lawrence, to whatever particular calamities they
may lead, are but a backward ripple on the vast and
ceaseless tide of human efforts towards a new and nobler
order. Delia must still wrestle all her life with the
meaning of that imperious call to women which this cen-
tury has sounded ; and of those further stages, upwards
and onwards, to which the human spirit, in Man or
Woman, Is perennially urged by the revealing forces
that breathe through human destiny. Two days after
the death of Gertrude Alarvell, the immediate cause on
which she and her fellows had wrought such havoc, went
down in Parliament to long and bitter eclipse. But
the end is not yet. And for that riddle of the Sphinx
to which Gertrude and her fellows gave the answer of a
futile violence, generations more patient and more wise,
will yet find the fitting key.
THE END
DATE DUE
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