■liii 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 ' 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