The Subjection of Isabel Carnaby 
 
 DSIV. OF CALIF. LIBRARY, MS AHGELKT
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 = OF 
 
 ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 By ELLEN THORNEYCROFT FOWLER 
 
 (MRS. ALFRED LAURENCE FELKIN) 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 CONCERNING ISABEL CARNABY," "A DOUBLE THREAD," 
 " CUPID'S GARDEN," ETC. 
 
 With Frond spiece in Color 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS v NEW YORK
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY 
 
 ELLEN THORNEYCROFT FELKIN 
 
 Published September, 1906
 
 2132459
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I ISABEL'S GARDEN 
 
 II FABIA VIPART . , : > > t . 
 
 III THE SCOURGE OF THE RED CORD 
 
 IV THE GAYTHORNES .. >j > : 
 
 V POLITICAL LIFE ... > : i. t . ; 
 
 VI ISABEL'S VIEWS . > : - : . : > ; . 
 
 ' J , J ;.. .1 
 
 VII GABRIEL CARR . > ../ ,./ 
 
 . i 
 
 VIII VERNACRE PARK . > t .. t 
 
 ; i . 
 
 IX GABRIEL THE PRIEST ... ,.,' r .: 
 
 X GABRIEL THE PASTOR .: w t 
 
 XI JANET FIELD . . ..i w 
 
 XII FABIA'S MARRIAGE . > > ! 
 
 XIII GABRIEL THE MAN > ( .j w t 
 
 XIV THE LIVING OF GAYTHORNE .. 
 XV THE LOST RECTOR ,-.j t .i > 
 
 XVI FORSAKEN . .. > : [.. w 
 XVII THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE t 
 
 XVIII DR. MUKHARJI . t.; r . >; 
 
 [vii]
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTBR PAGE 
 
 XIX WHAT HAPPENED IN PARIS . . . 259 
 
 XX ISABEL'S TEMPTATION .... 273 
 
 XXI CAPTAIN GAYTHORNE'S HORSEWHIP . 289 
 
 XXII THE EFFECT OF THE HORSEWHIP . . 303 
 
 XXIII A SECOND GABRIEL . . . ... .318 
 
 XXIV THJS FIVE Dors . ; . > ,. . 331 
 
 XXV C-ESAR COSTELLO . . . . . 341 
 
 EPILOGUE ... .. . ,. ,. M H 349
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 OF 
 
 ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ISABEL'S GARDEN 
 
 IN the drawing-room of a house on the north side of Prince's 
 Gardens a man and a woman were seated one winter's 
 evening after dinner. It was not a large room, and it was 
 by no means a unique one as far as its original structure 
 was concerned, for it was of the orthodox 'L' shape which ob- 
 tains so largely in London drawing-rooms, excepting in those 
 of extremely recent manufacture: but there was that inde- 
 finable air of comfort and elegance about it, which certain 
 women have the power to impart to their dwelling-places. 
 It was furnished entirely with green the most satisfactory 
 of all colours for that purpose, be the furniture that of an 
 ordinary dwelling-place, or of Nature's great house not 
 made with hands: light green paper of the same hue as 
 beech-trees in spring: dark green carpet and curtains, of the 
 same tint as mossy glades in summer : and chairs and couches 
 of as many and as varying shades of green as are woods 
 when the evergreens and the larches are struggling for a 
 
 [I]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 majority. Therefore although it was only the beginning 
 of February spring was already at home in this London 
 drawing-room, winter having been kept waiting outside ever 
 since the end of October. There were no outlying districts 
 in this room as there are in so many: the back drawing-room 
 had not been converted, as it usually is, into a sort of Court 
 of the Gentiles, where outsiders congregate on uncomforta- 
 ble chairs round an unused piano: but was in its own way 
 as much honoured and esteemed as the front drawing-room 
 and was considered quite as respectable a place of residence. 
 As for the occupants of this pleasant room, the man 
 somewhere about forty years of age was tall and dark, 
 thin and thoughtful-looking: the type of man who takes 
 life and himself seriously, and who finds his sole recreation 
 in hard work. The woman was cast altogether in a differ- 
 ent mould. She had the rounded plumpness which is in- 
 separable from a light-hearted and easy-going disposition: 
 and the years whereof she boasted one or two less than her 
 husband had dealt more tenderly with her than with him. 
 She was quick and active in all her movements: but it was 
 the activity of boundless energy rather than of feverish un- 
 rest. Her dark hair showed no trace of grey, save to her 
 own all-seeing vision : and her eyes were as bright and blue 
 as they had been when she was a girl. They saw further 
 now than they did then, perhaps: but their perceptions, 
 though more acute, were less critical than in the old days. 
 Although she lived in an age when domestic misery was the 
 fashion, and when happy marriages were as completely out- 
 of-date as crinolines or Paisley shawls, she nevertheless loved 
 and admired her husband with all her heart and mind and 
 soul and strength. Otherwise she was as up-to-date and as 
 modern as it is necessary for any woman to be. 
 
 [2]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " It seems to me," she suddenly remarked a propos of her 
 own meditations, " that single life is like a road, and married 
 life is like a garden." 
 
 "As how?" asked her husband, looking up from his 
 evening-paper, which, after the manner of men, he was de- 
 voutly studying. 
 
 " Well, in this way, single life is like a road, because it 
 is always leading on to something else. It isn't meant to 
 be a permanent place of residence: and people who make it 
 so are behaving like Children of Israel or gipsies. They 
 ought to ' fold up their tents' ; a la Longfellow's cares and the 
 Arabs, and ' silently steal away ' : it is against the rules not 
 to move on." 
 
 Paul Seaton (that was the name of the man in the green 
 drawing-room) smiled with that indulgent kind of smile 
 which husbands are wont to use when they think their 
 wives are talking nonsense and like them all the better for 
 it. " You seem to consider single life a somewhat chilly 
 and uncomfortable sort of business," he remarked. 
 
 "On the contrary: I think there is a lot to be said for 
 it in its own way. Of course it isn't as cosey and settled 
 and living-on-your-own-propertyish as marriage: you must 
 see that for yourself. But it is more exciting, because it is 
 always the way to somewhere else, and you are never quite 
 sure where the next turn of the road will take you. It is 
 not only a road ; it is a road where all the fingerposts are 
 pure guesswork." 
 
 " But the milestones are not." 
 
 Mrs. Seaton sighed. " No : worse luck ! The milestones 
 are dreadfully pronounced and staring before you are mar- 
 ried, and are always coming to meet you and then hitting 
 you in the face. After you are married they seem to get 
 
 [3]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 a bit moss-grown, and you don't notice them nearly so much. 
 Yes: the portentous ominousness of the milestones is one of 
 the greatest disadvantages of single life: but this has its 
 advantages all the same." 
 
 " What else, in addition to the mystery hidden round 
 the next corner? " 
 
 " Oh ! the delicious stranger-and-sojourner feeling that 
 things are more or less temporary, and so don't matter. You 
 can put up with lots of little inconveniences in a wayside 
 inn that you couldn't tolerate for a moment in your own 
 house. It is really the picnic instinct that imbues you as 
 long as you are single the same instinct that causes 
 water boiled out-of-doors on a fire of your own lighting, to 
 make so much nicer tea than water boiled in the kitchen 
 kettle." 
 
 " But I don't think it does." 
 
 Isabel shook her head reprovingly. " That is because you 
 are getting old, and have got married, and the domestic 
 instinct in your character has crowded out the picnic in- 
 stinct." 
 
 Seaton laughed but he listened. He was one of those 
 rare men (or is it rather the husbands of the rare women?) 
 who find the conversation of their wives more interesting 
 than the newspaper. 
 
 " You see," Mrs. Seaton continued, " I married late 
 enough to know what both single and married life are like, 
 so I can speak as an expert in both." 
 
 " Still, the fact that you knew nothing about either 
 wouldn't have prevented you from doing that," retorted 
 her husband drily. 
 
 " Oh, Paul, how rude you are and just when I am talk- 
 ing so nicely and intelligently to you, too ! " 
 
 [4]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " Intelligently I admit, but hardly nicely. You are now 
 cutting me to the heart with your insinuations that when 
 single life is bliss 'tis folly to be married. You cannot ex- 
 pect your loving husband exactly to relish these panegyrics 
 on single blessedness." 
 
 " They aren't panegyrics they are merely statistics just 
 to teach you the difference between being married and 
 single." 
 
 " Good heavens, I don't want teaching that ! I know it 
 only too well by experience ! " And Paul Seaton laughed 
 the contented laugh of the man who has attained his heart's 
 desire. " But I wish you'd say something now on the other 
 side something in favour of the holy estate, don't you 
 know? This present attitude of mind is really most depress- 
 ing to me! " 
 
 " I'm going to, only you are always in such a hurry to 
 express your own opinions that you never give me time to 
 get a word in edgeways." 
 
 " Excuse me, my love : I have never yet expressed my own 
 opinion upon matrimony. I should consider it impolite to 
 do so in present company." 
 
 The lady tried not to laugh, but failed. The affection 
 between Paul Seaton and his wife was so great and the 
 camaraderie so perfect, that they could afford to make fun 
 of each other now and then : but they took care never to do 
 so before a third person. It is a mistake for husbands and 
 wives to chaff each other in the presence of an audience. 
 Brothers and sisters can do so as much as they like: and, 
 as a rule, the more they do it the fonder of each other 
 they are: but with married people it is different. They 
 have the dignity of an office to maintain the sanctity 
 of a covenant to keep: and it does not do for them to 
 
 [5]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 treat such things lightly, when the eye of Europe is upon 
 them: it is only when they are en tete-a-tete that they may 
 safely unbend, and may confess to themselves and to each 
 other that there is a great deal that is very funny in 
 both of them. Which undoubtedly there is, whoever they 
 may be. 
 
 " After all," admitted Isabel, " although there is a cer- 
 tain amount of very nice excitement in living -on a road 
 which leads to nobody knows where, it is the sort of excite- 
 ment that palls after a time. People get tired of not know- 
 ing what is going to happen next. That is why hardly 
 anybody really enjoys a story that comes out m a serial: 
 ordinary human nature likes to be in a position to peep at 
 the end whenever it thinks fit. Hence the popularity of 
 palmists and fortune-tellers and crystal balls." 
 
 " I understand. And it is when the road becomes too 
 vague and unsettled that the garden comes in." 
 
 " Precisely. And the garden is all that the road is 
 not and never can be peaceful and guarded and final and 
 secure." 
 
 " And circumscribed," added Paul. 
 
 " Yes : but I don't know that it is any the worse for that 
 especially for women." 
 
 Seaton rose from his chair, came across the room to where 
 his wife was sitting, and began to stroke her hair. His face 
 was grave almost sad. He was wondering whether after 
 all Isabel was contented with her part of the bargain: 
 whether his love was sufficient to compensate her for the 
 gaiety and luxury and excitement she had given up when she 
 married him. Though they had enough to live upon even 
 when Paul was out of office, they were by no means rich 
 people: compared with the majority of their world 
 
 [6]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 necessarily led a quiet life. And Isabel Carnaby had been 
 denied no possible luxury or excitement in the days when 
 she lived with her uncle and aunt, Sir Benjamin and Lady 
 Farley. Her life then both out in India, when Sir Benja- 
 min held a Governorship, and afterwards in London and at 
 Elton Manor had been one long round of gaiety and 
 pleasure: and Paul was sometimes afraid that she might find 
 the contrast between the past and the present too great 
 that she was too modern a woman for marriage completely 
 to satisfy her, as it had satisfied her grandmothers. Wherein 
 he showed that, for all his love, he did not yet entirely 
 understand his wife. 
 
 " So the garden is duller than the road," he said : and his 
 voice had a pathetic ring in it. 
 
 " Perhaps: that is to say it has fewer possibilities and 
 less adventures." 
 
 " And it doesn't lead anywhere." 
 
 " Yes, it does," whispered Isabel, nestling up to him : " it 
 leads home." 
 
 " It is home," he answered as he stooped and kissed her: 
 " but all the same I am afraid you find it a little dull at 
 times, my darling." 
 
 " That's a man all over ! Men never understand how 
 much we say and how little we mean: they have no atmos- 
 phere in their minds. If you remark that you want a bit 
 of fancy work just to keep your fingers employed, they think 
 that you are miserable in your marriage and are striving to 
 deaden your anguish by ceaseless toil : and if you say you 
 feel as if you couldn't walk another thirty miles or so after 
 a hard day's exercise, they think you are dying of exhaustion 
 and ought to have an injection of strychnine." 
 
 "Well, I can't help being a man: I was born so: conse- 
 
 [7]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 quently, when you talk about marriage being a horrid sort 
 of walled-in kitchen-garden, I naturally fear that you are 
 finding it dull." 
 
 " Oh, Paul, you are silly you really are! I don't find it 
 an atom dull I adore it. But you must see for yourself 
 that a garden is is well, a garden is a garden." Isabel 
 had not intended to finish her sentence thus lamely: but 
 experience had taught her that when people are in a sensitive 
 mood the less one says to them the better. Explanations 
 rarely explain anything: therefore wise persons avoid them as 
 much as possible. She held her peace for fear of hurting 
 her husband's feelings: but she succeeded in doing so never- 
 theless. 
 
 "Just so," was all he said: but he said it in rather an 
 injured tone. 
 
 " Don't be foolish, darling," she begged, rubbing her 
 cheek against his hand. " Don't you see that when God made 
 man perfectly happy, He planted him in a garden: and 
 when He wanted to punish him He turned him out to a 
 thorny and thistly highway? So there's really nothing un- 
 kind to you in my comparing marriage to a garden in fact, 
 quite the reverse." 
 
 " I see," replied Paul drily. 
 
 1 No, you don't. Whenever you say ' I see ' in that par- 
 ticular tone of voice, it always means that you see something 
 which isn't there." 
 
 Paul smiled in spite of himself. " Well, what is all this 
 leading up to, I should like to know? " ' 
 
 " That's what I'm coming to. A garden, to be a really 
 nice dressy garden, must have things in it, don't you see 
 heaps and heaps of things? It wants a lot more furnishing 
 than a road does. As long as the road has good high hedges 
 
 [8]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 on either side to keep travellers from going where they 
 ought not to, it needn't have flowers or fountains or shrubs, 
 or rockeries, because people merely regard it as a means to 
 an end, and so don't mind if it is a bit sketchy. But when 
 you've got a garden of your own, and mean to spend the 
 rest of your life there, you naturally want to fill it with 
 all sorts of beautiful things." 
 
 Isabel paused to take breath, but Paul did not speak. 
 
 "How nice of you to keep quiet and listen!" she re- 
 marked approvingly. " That is where men are so much 
 more restful to live with than women : they let you say what 
 you want to say without eternally trying to poke their own 
 oars in. You see," she continued, " other women have chil- 
 dren and careers and parishes and school-boards and all 
 sorts of things to furnish their gardens and keep them from 
 seeming empty: but I haven't." Unconsciously her voice 
 quivered as she said the word ' children.' She did not notice 
 it herself: but Paul did. 
 
 " My poor darling! " he said: and again laid a caressing 
 hand upon the neat brown head. 
 
 Isabel thrilled at his touch, and in the same breath hoped 
 that he wasn't roughing her hair much: she prided herself 
 upon always being a very spick-and-span person. " I'm not 
 poor at all," she retorted : " I've got you." 
 
 "But I don't seem to be large enough for the place some- 
 how. That's where the tragedy comes in." 
 
 " Yes, you are : you are more than enough, if only I could 
 see enough of you: but I can't. If I could always be with 
 you I should never want anything or anybody else, even for 
 five minutes: you'd furnish any garden as completely as a 
 cedar-tree does. But you are so busy with Houses of Com- 
 mons and War Offices and tiresome old things of that sort.. 
 
 [9]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 that often you haven't time to attend to me. And it is 
 then that the garden seems a bit empty." 
 
 " My poor darling! " Paul repeated. 
 
 Isabel rattled on : "I can't for the life of me see what 
 any woman can want in addition to a husband, if the hus- 
 band is anything like you, and if he is always with her: but 
 if she is married to an alibi, absentee-landlord sort of a 
 person, who is always somewhere else than where she is at 
 the time, she wants something to fill up the intervals like 
 those funny little street scenes in Shakespeare's plays, while 
 the scenery is being changed." 
 
 " I am afraid I do leave you alone a good bit," replied 
 her husband with a sigh : " but I cannot help it. You know 
 that, don't you, my darling? " 
 
 " I think you could help it more than you do, if only you 
 hadn't such an elephant of a conscience and such a hippo- 
 potamus of a sense of duty. What on earth's the good of 
 a man's being always at his post, when the post happens to 
 be a Government Office? Posts can stand still by them- 
 selves, without wanting anybody to help them. It is what 
 they were made for: that and deafness: and when you say 
 ' as deaf as a post,' you mean as deaf as a post in the Govern- 
 ment, because they never listen to suggestions nor hear com- 
 plaints. But that's neither here nor there." And Isabel 
 pursed up her lips and nodded her head with the air of one 
 who could say a good deal more if she chose. 
 
 " Well, what is the particular new toy that you want 
 just now for the furnishing of your garden?" asked Paul. 
 " I am certain that you have one in your eye at the present 
 moment." He knew his Isabel. 
 
 "Right as usual! It's a girl an Anglo-Indian girl." 
 
 Seaton fairly jumped. Isabel rarely succeeded in sur- 
 
 [10]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 prising him or taking him unawares: he was pretty well 
 accustomed to her vagaries by now. But she did this time. 
 "A girl? Good gracious! What in the name of fortune 
 do you want with a girl ? " 
 
 " Lots of things. I want to instruct her and amuse her 
 and entertain her and finally marry her." 
 
 " Who on earth do you want to marry her to? " 
 
 " Several people." 
 
 " You'll find it rather difficult to manage that, the present 
 marriage laws being as narrow and antiquated as they are." 
 
 " Paul, don't be silly! What I mean is that I've several 
 people in my eye that I think would do for her: and I shall 
 let her choose which." 
 
 "That is very generous of you, my sweet! But won't 
 they have a say in the matter? " 
 
 " Oh ! that's their lookout. I can't bother about them." 
 
 "Who are they?" 
 
 " I'm not going to tell you." 
 
 " Please do. I'm dying to know." 
 
 But Isabel stood firm. " Nothing would induce me to 
 tell you." 
 
 " You'd better. It would make you feel much more 
 comfortable in your own mind." 
 
 "My mind is quite comfortable already, thank you: if 
 anything, too luxurious." 
 
 " And it would amuse me immensely." 
 
 Now it is always difficult for a woman to refrain from 
 telling her husband anything that she thinks will amuse 
 him: in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred it is impossible. 
 But this happened to be the hundredth. " I'm not going to 
 tell you," Isabel repeated sternly: " at least, not yet." 
 
 Paul's eye twinkled. He knew that time, which reveals 
 
 [II]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 all secrets, was particularly rapid in revealing Isabel's. But 
 all he said was : " Then, if I may not know the name of 
 the happy man, may I know that of the girl ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes! I don't mind telling you that. It is Fabia 
 Vipart." 
 
 " And who, in the name of all that's wonderful, is Fabia 
 Vipart?" 
 
 " Her father was a Major Vipart in the Indian Army : 
 and her mother was a Hindoo at least, her grandmother 
 was : and they are both dead." 
 
 " Both her grandmothers do you mean ? " 
 
 " Of course not : they must have been dead for ages : 
 grandmothers nearly always are, I mean her parents." 
 
 " How very sad for the girl at least, presumably so ! 
 But how did you get to know her, Isabel ? " 
 
 " I knew her father out in India when I was living there 
 with the Farleys. He wanted to marry me." 
 
 " An Oriental custom, I suppose. And did the Hindoo 
 lady object? " 
 
 "Oh, Paul, how silly you are! He was a widower, of 
 course." 
 
 " Why ' of course ' ? I wasn't aware there was anything 
 especially ephemeral about Hindoo ladies." 
 
 " I said ' of course,' because if he hadn't been a widower 
 he wouldn't have wanted to marry me." 
 
 " I fail to see the logic of that. / wasn't a widower and 
 I wanted to marry you. I never knew that you set up for 
 being an emporium of only second-hand goods." 
 
 " I daresay if you had been a widower, you'd have had 
 more wisdom or perhaps I should say experience than to 
 want to marry me," suggested Isabel slily. 
 
 " Not I, my own ! I should always have been a fool 
 
 [12]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 where you were concerned. But to return to Miss Fabia. 
 I gather that when you knew Major Vipart, the Hindoo 
 lady like Wordsworth's Lucy had ceased to be." 
 
 " She'd been dead for years. And, besides, as I've ex- 
 plained to you, she wasn't a Hindoo at all : her mother was." 
 
 " Then is Miss Fabia black? " 
 
 " Good gracious, no ! " exclaimed Isabel. " Her hair is 
 dark, of course, but not as black as " 
 
 " It is painted : probably not. Many women's aren't." 
 
 "When I was out in India she was quite a child; a 
 cream-coloured child with huge brown eyes. She always 
 reminded me of a dress I had of cream satin trimmed with 
 brown velvet. It was a very pretty dress! " And Isabel's 
 face grew soft with that tender expression which a woman's 
 face always wears when she is recalling bygone garments 
 that became her well. 
 
 " It must have been : and the prettiest bit was the lining, 
 as our old nurse Martha used to say. She never said it of 
 my clothes or of Joanna's, by the way : it was generally upon 
 Alice Martin's wardrobe that this criticism was passed, if 
 I remember rightly. Joanna and I were plain children: 
 and it was considered conducive to our eternal salvation to 
 make us believe that we were even plainer than we were. 
 Which really was an act of supererogation." 
 
 " You never were plain, Paul ! " exclaimed Isabel indig- 
 nantly. " I won't let anybody say such things of my hus- 
 band : not even you." 
 
 " Nevertheless it is true, sweetheart. I was an ugly little 
 beggar in those days, and a prig at that. But we are wander- 
 ing from Miss Fabia. Her father wanted to marry you, 
 you say. He was evidently a sensible man, whatever her 
 mother may have been." 
 
 [13]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " Her mother couldn't help being a Hindoo," retorted 
 Isabel rather huffily. It always annoyed her when English 
 people spoke disrespectfully of foreign races. 
 
 " But you have just said that she not only could help it, 
 but did." 
 
 " Oh, Paul, I wish you wouldn't quibble in that silly 
 way, when I am trying to talk to you seriously! It was the 
 grandmother that couldn't help being a Hindoo, and Fabia 
 could help it even less: and yet people were very horrid to 
 Fabia about it, and to her father too." 
 
 "All right: I understand. Miss Fabia's grandmother 
 could no more help being a Hindoo than her father could 
 help wanting to marry you. Poor beggar! I'm the last 
 man to blame him. But now where does the girl come in, 
 and what is her connexion with the allegory of the marriage- 
 market I mean the marriage-market-garden ? " 
 
 " Well, you see, I have heard through Aunt Farley, who 
 still corresponds with a host of people out in India, that 
 Fabia is extremely anxious to come to England for a time, 
 to see w r hat English society is like. So I thought it would 
 be rather nice if I had her here for a few months, and 
 trotted her about and showed her round." 
 
 " And then instructed and entertained and finally married 
 her to that nameless knight whom you have in your eye. 
 Now at last I begin to master the programme." 
 
 " You wouldn't mind having her here, would you, dar- 
 ling? " asked Isabel in a coaxing voice. 
 
 " I shouldn't mind anything that gave you pleasure, my 
 dearest not even a girl, though I own I am not very keen 
 upon them as a rule." 
 
 " Well, it would give me a good deal of pleasure to take 
 a young girl about, and watch her go through all the phases 
 
 [14]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 that I've been through myself. It would be such fun teach- 
 ing her all the things that I've learnt by experience." 
 
 " She wouldn't learn much that way, my sweet : nobody 
 does. But that needn't interfere with your pleasure in teach- 
 ing her." 
 
 " It wouldn't. She is quite young not much over twenty 
 I should think : so I shall be able to do whatever I like with 
 her. It isn't likely a girl of that age will have many plans 
 and interests of her own as yet." 
 
 " You must remember, Isabel, that she probably will not 
 look at life through your eyes, as you seem to expect: and 
 you must not be disappointed if she doesn't." 
 
 " She will look at life very much as I looked at it when 
 I was her age," replied Isabel, with a characteristic toss of 
 her head. " You may know more about politics than I do, 
 my dear Paul, but you can't possibly know as much about 
 girls." 
 
 " Thank heaven for that! But I know a good deal about 
 one woman, and I think you make a mistake in expecting 
 other people to be exactly like yourself: because unfor- 
 tunately they are not." 
 
 " Perhaps I am inclined to think too highly of my fellow- 
 creatures," replied Isabel demurely: " but it is a good fault." 
 
 " It is an absolutely charming fault, as all yours are, my 
 darling," said Seaton, kissing his wife. " But I must be off 
 to the House. Invite your little Indian girl by all means: 
 but don't be disappointed if she doesn't turn out to be as 
 absolutely adorable as you are yourself: because neither she 
 nor anybody else possibly could." 
 
 Thus it was settled that Fabia Vipart should come to 
 stay with the Paul Seatons for the following season: and 
 Isabel wrote out by the next mail to make all the necessary 
 
 [15]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 arrangements. Would she have written quite so glibly had 
 she known all the trouble that ^e coming of Fabia would 
 involve? Perhaps not. And yet if we were always pre- 
 vented from doing anything for fear of possible consequences 
 if we were always letting ' I dare not ' wait upon ' I 
 would,' like the cat i' the adage then not many a thing 
 would be done when 'twere done, and nothing would be 
 done quickly. 
 
 [16]
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 FABIA VIPART 
 
 A NATIVE gentleman, dressed in European costume, was 
 sitting alone in the drawing-room of an Indian bungalow. 
 He was a man in the prime of life, with the narrow figure 
 and small hands and feet of the true Oriental. His head 
 was likewise small, and his hair absolutely black. No beard 
 or moustache hid his firm yet delicately moulded mouth and 
 chin: and the upper part of his face showed considerable 
 fineness of form. A handsome man, undoubtedly; but with 
 the beauty of the East rather than of the West : a man like- 
 wise of considerable fascination : but whose charm had some- 
 thing weird and uncanny about it. He was one of those 
 who strive to lift the veil of the great temple of Nature 
 and to pry into her hidden places; and he had succeeded in 
 wresting from her certain of those secrets, which she, in her 
 wise and tender motherhood, keeps, as a rule, concealed from 
 the sons and daughters of men. This meddling with the 
 occult had left its mark upon him; had set him apart, as it 
 were, from the common herd, and had loosened those bonds 
 of sympathy which bind ordinary men and women to each 
 other in this workaday world: so that people felt awe for 
 him rather than affection, and found him fascinating rather 
 than lovable. 
 
 The house in which he was sitting was not his own, for 
 it was full of signs of feminine habitation : and Ram Chan- 
 dar Mukharji was a bachelor. It was the house of his dis- 
 
 [17]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 tant cousin, Fabia Vipart, whom he had called to see: and 
 for whose appearance he was now patiently waiting. And, 
 like all Orientals, he had mastered the art of patient wait- 
 ing. He did not fidget about the room, as an Englishman 
 in the same circumstances would have done, trying to find 
 some book or newspaper to while away the time lest one 
 minute of it should be lost that is to say, should be unoc- 
 cupied with outside interests: but he sat quite still, absorbed 
 in his own thoughts, with a stillness unknown to the chil- 
 dren of the Western races. 
 
 Presently the swish of silken skirts was heard approaching, 
 and Miss Vipart entered the room. Then for the first time 
 the face of the man showed signs of animation, being illu- 
 minated with the light of a great joy that was all the more 
 intense for being silent. 
 
 " Good morning, Fabia," he said, as he took her slim 
 brown hand in his own. His voice was as soft and silken 
 in its tone as was the rustle of his cousin's skirts: as sweet, 
 in fact, as a woman's. 
 
 " Good morning, Ram Chandar. I am glad you have 
 come, because I want particularly to see you. I have some- 
 thing to tell you." 
 
 " Of course I came: I am always coming: I only live in 
 order to come here, and I only go away in order to have 
 the pleasure of coming again." 
 
 Fabia smiled and sank down into a low chair, stretching 
 out her slender form luxuriously. It would have been ap- 
 parent to the most casual observer that those two belonged 
 not only to the same race, but also to the same family, there 
 was such a strong resemblance between them. But the in- 
 fusion of English blood in the girl's case placed the balance 
 of beauty on her side. She was some twenty years younger 
 
 [.8]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 than her cousin, which is always physically an advantage: 
 but in addition to this she had inherited something of her 
 father's fibre. Though equally slender, she was taller for 
 a woman than Mukharji was for a man: as they stood 
 together their eyes were almost on a level. While his hair 
 was a dead black, hers was a dusky brown, relieved by in- 
 numerable lights and shadows. Her nose and mouth were 
 as finely formed as his: but in place of his thin and colour- 
 less lips, hers were a ripe crimson. They had the same full 
 forehead and flashing eyes: but the expression of their faces 
 was totally different. There was no doubt that Ram Chan- 
 dar was a handsome man : but Fabia was an exceptionally 
 beautiful woman. Beautiful indeed as a dream: but with 
 something serpentine in the quality of her beauty some- 
 thing snakelike in the perfection of her grace. 
 
 " I have to tell you," she said, and her voice, too, was like 
 his in its softness of tone and slowness of movement: " that 
 I am going away: going away to England." 
 
 The man sat still and did not speak. But his silence was 
 heavy with the weight of suppressed passion. 
 
 Fabia did not trouble to look at him. These two knew 
 each other so well that words even looks were unneces- 
 sary between them. " I am weary of the life here," the 
 girl went on : " weary of the routine and the emptiness and 
 the frivolity; weary most of all of the contempt of the 
 Anglo-Indians, as they call themselves. So I am going to 
 England." 
 
 Then at last the man spoke. " You will hate it." 
 
 " I think not. I am partly English myself, you see, and 
 the English part of me is homesick for England. I can feel 
 my father in me crying out to return to his native land." 
 
 " You say the English out here despise you. If they do, 
 
 [19]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 what matters it? They are but pariahs and ctogs. But 
 still, if they do so here, will they not do so also in England ; 
 and shall you like it any better there than here ? " 
 
 " You are wrong, Ram Chandar : there is none of that 
 prejudice in England that there is here against people of 
 mixed races. I have talked to men and women fresh from 
 England, and I know. They will admire me all the more 
 for it for that and for my beauty. They are so common- 
 place themselves, those English, that they are ready to fall 
 down and worship whatever is out of the common: so that 
 pure whiteness here and mixed whiteness in England are 
 equally worthy of their adoration." 
 
 Mukharji did not speak: but he fixed his wonderful eyes 
 on the girl and willed her to tell him all that was in her 
 thoughts. 
 
 She moved her head restlessly under his gaze for half a 
 minute: then she answered him as if he had spoken. " I 
 do not wish to keep anything from you: I will tell you all 
 that is in my heart. There never have been any secrets be- 
 tween you and me." 
 
 " There never can be. I can read your soul, my child, 
 as I read an open book. And I tell you that you will hate 
 those English when you see them in their own land." 
 
 " I think not: I think not, Ram Chandar. If I do not 
 hate them now when they look down on me, why should I 
 hate them when they adore me? For I mean them to adore 
 me: I have made up my mind to that: and what I intend, 
 that I always accomplish." 
 
 Again the man fixed his eyes on the girl without speak- 
 ing: and again she moved restlessly, yet with infinite grace. 
 She was one of those rare women whose every movement 
 is in itself a thing of beauty. 
 
 [20]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " I despise them too utterly to hate them," she continued: 
 " but I want to show them my power to lord it over them 
 as they now try to lord it over me. And, although I despise 
 them, they have a certain interest and charm for me: I admire 
 their big bodies and their fair complexions, and it amuses 
 me to trifle with their shallow, little souls." 
 
 " You had far better stay here, Fabia among your own 
 people who understand you." 
 
 " Among my grandmother's people, you mean : you forget 
 that I am more than half English." 
 
 He did not forget: he never forgot that Fabia belonged 
 quite as much to the alien race as to his own: and he was 
 deeply and bitterly jealous of the foreigners in consequence. 
 
 For once the impenetrable veil of his reserve was lifted. 
 " Fabia, do not go," he entreated, and this time there was 
 passion in his voice as well as in his eyes. " Stay here and 
 be my wife. I love you Fabia: I have always loved you: 
 you are part of my very soul." 
 
 Then at last the girl turned lazily in her chair and looked 
 at him: and once more he forced the truth from her by the 
 strength of his will. " I cannot marry you, Ram Chandar : 
 I do not love you : you are too much like myself. If I marry, 
 I should like to marry a big strong Englishman with a fair 
 complexion, and a big heart. If I married you, you would 
 want to be my slave and I should not like that at all. 
 But the big strong Englishman would be my master, and 
 would do with me whatsoever he would. He would know 
 none of my thoughts, but I should know all of his ; and yet 
 he would be the master, because he would be strong and 
 stupid. In this world strength and stupidity are the great 
 ruling powers; nothing can stand against them. And I 
 should hate him for ruling over me, Ram Chandar oh! 
 
 [21]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 yes, I should hate him: but I should adore him for it all 
 the same." 
 
 She paused, but the man made no reply: then as if im- 
 pelled by some power stronger than herself she went on: 
 " And although I despise them, I resent their contempt for 
 me. I want to be one of themselves, and to share their 
 privileges, and to hurt them as they have hurt me and my 
 mother before me. Ram Chandar, I must go, even if only 
 for a short time." 
 
 " If you go, you will never come back." 
 
 " In that case you can come to me." 
 
 "Perhaps so: perhaps not. That is as Fate wills. But 
 what about all that I have taught you, Fabia? What about 
 all those hidden things to which no woman's mind save yours 
 has ever been opened ? Is all this to be wasted, because you 
 choose to live among English dogs who have no thoughts 
 beyond their own vile bodies, and to whom the world of 
 spirits is for ever closed ? " 
 
 " Not necessarily." 
 
 " It will be and necessarily. But I will waste no more 
 breath in argument. Your mind is made up and nothing 
 xvill turn you: you were not even half a Mukharji if it 
 would. I loved your mother, and she preferred an English- 
 man to me; I love her daughter, and she will prefer an 
 Englishman to me: it is as Fate wills, and nothing can alter 
 it. It is useless to fight against Fate. I submit." 
 
 " My plans are all made," said Fabia in her sweet voice : 
 " I had to make them by myself because you were away, and 
 Mrs. Seaton wanted an answer by the next mail." 
 
 " I wait to hear them." If the man who had been a father 
 to Fabia ever since her own father's death was wounded 
 by her cool independence of him, he made no sign that he 
 
 [22]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 was: he simply listened with an imperturbable face out of 
 which he had smoothed every trace of his recent emotion. 
 
 " I am going to stay for a few months with Mrs. Paul 
 Seaton, who lived here for four years with her uncle, Sir 
 Benjamin Farley. You remember him?" 
 
 " Well : and his wife also : a soulless woman with a culti- 
 vated mind cultivated, that is to say, for an English- 
 woman. They are generally such crude, such untrained 
 creatures." 
 
 "Then do you not remember their niece, Miss Carnaby? 
 She became Mrs. Paul Seaton some years ago. She must 
 be quite old by this time well over thirty: and I shall do 
 whatever I like with her. It isn't likely that a woman of 
 that age will still have many plans and interests of her own." 
 Fabia little recked that Isabel had made the same remark 
 almost word for word about her, merely substituting 
 ' young ' for * old.' Age is after all very much a question 
 of perspective. 
 
 "I remember her perfectly: a noisy, shallow, sparkling 
 brook of a woman the sort that the Englishmen want to 
 marry, and consider themselves very fortunate if they suc- 
 ceed." And Ram Chandar shuddered slightly. 
 
 " Papa did." 
 
 " Ah ! " A look of ineffable disgust suffused the dark 
 face. " He wanted that woman that empty babbling brook 
 to fill your mother's place? How English! " 
 
 " Poor Papa! He was often very foolish." 
 
 " And you hated her hated the chattering fool that was 
 asked to step into your mother's shoes? " 
 
 Fabia smiled languidly. " No, my dear Ram Chandar, 
 I did nothing of the kind. To tell the truth I rather liked 
 her, although I despised her: she was kind-hearted, though
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 too effusive for my taste ; and not nearly as offensively clever 
 as she supposed herself." 
 
 " A fool, doubtless, like most of her country-women ! " 
 
 " By no means a fool : a clever woman in a superficial 
 way. Clever enough to know there were abme things be- 
 yond her comprehension; but not clever enough to try to 
 comprehend them." 
 
 " And you can forgive that woman for being asked to 
 fill your mother's place? You are indeed your father's 
 daughter! " 
 
 " I can forgive any woman for being asked in marriage 
 by any man: it is her one possible diploma of merit. The 
 only woman I cannot forgive is the woman whom no man 
 has asked in marriage: she is a blot upon my sex." 
 
 " You are cold, Fabia cold as ice: and you are also cruel: 
 yet I love you." 
 
 The girl mocked him. " And I am also beautiful, and 
 yet you love me. And I am also clever, and yet you love 
 me. And I am also wealthy, and yet you love me. Truly, 
 the love of man is a wonderful and a selfless thing! " 
 
 Again the handsome face put on its mask of immobility. 
 " And whom did she finally marry this twenty-first love 
 of your father ? " 
 
 " A Member of Parliament what they call a Radical 
 by name Paul Seaton. He is Under-Secretary for the War 
 Office, whatever that may mean. He was poor, too, and 
 she married for what she called love : by which probably she 
 meant a due sense of the unfitness of things." 
 
 " And you can make yourself happy among such people ? " 
 
 " For a time, yes. I am bored to death here : I am tired 
 of you all, and have seen all that there is to see, and have 
 learnt by heart all there is to learn: and I want a change." 
 
 [2 4 ]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " And it never occurs to you to wonder what / want ? " 
 
 " Never." Wherein Fabia spoke the simplest truth. It 
 never did occur to her to consider what anybody except her- 
 self thought or felt about anything : at present she was com- 
 pletely and absolutely selfish. She had schooled herself not 
 to mind the social slights which, in Anglo-Indian society, 
 the fact that she was a half-caste entailed upon her; and she 
 had succeeded in meeting them with the utmost indifference, 
 not to say contempt : but they had had their effect upon her 
 character all the same. 
 
 There are few baneful influences more difficult to with- 
 stand than that of continual social slights. The iron of 
 them is prone to enter into the strongest and purest souls: 
 id the iron does not invariably act as a tonic. From sor- 
 row and misfortune men and women often rise ennobled and 
 purified: but it is doubtful if a continuance of petty slights 
 ever has a beneficial effect upon any human being ; it almost 
 invariably hardens and embitters, and changes the fairest 
 Elims into Marahs indeed. Perhaps the cruellest part of 
 losing a fortune is not its immediate effect upon ourselves, 
 but its effect upon our neighbours and their consequent 
 treatment of us. Surely, the King of Israel was wise in his 
 generation when he elected to fall into the Hand of the 
 Lord rather than into the hands of men ! 
 
 And what right have we, forsooth, in our mean and petty 
 arrogance, to distort and stultify the immortal souls of those 
 men and women who happen to be less wealthy or well- 
 born than ourselves ? What right have we, in our smug self- 
 complacency, to deface the Divine Image and Superscription 
 on the current coin of our Father's realm? Our only ex- 
 cuse is that we are ignorant of the harm we are doing, the 
 effect of a social snub being as a rule out of all proportion to 
 
 [25]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 the cause. Therefore, the next time we feel constrained, in 
 our fancied superiority, to teach (as we phrase it) some less 
 fortunate fellow-man his place, let us take care that our 
 innate snobbishness and our cultivated insolence are not en- 
 dangering the soul of a weaker brother. 
 
 Thus it was not altogether poor Fabia's fault that she 
 was cold and selfish and hard: it was rather the fault of 
 those fashionable friends of her father's who felt it incum- 
 bent upon them to indicate their own social superiority by 
 displaying a studied exclusiveness towards all those not of 
 their own race or order. But, though the fault might be 
 theirs, the onus of the result rested with her: and she, like 
 the rest of us, had to take the consequences of her own 
 failings to suffer the defects of her own qualities. 
 
 She had loved her mother more than she had ever loved 
 her father: but her admiration and respect were always put 
 down to the latter 's score. The fact that he belonged to 
 the dominant race had influenced her every thought of him: 
 and her very bitterness against the attitude of his people 
 towards her, was a proof that she invariably recognised their 
 superiority. 
 
 Her mother died when she was still a child: and her 
 father when she was just developing into womanhood. Since 
 his death her mother's kinsman, Ram Chandar Mukharji, 
 had taken charge of herself and her property, providing her 
 with a duenna in the shape of a cast-off, though eminently 
 worthy governess whom the family of an English Resident 
 had outgrown. 
 
 Underneath the almost Oriental langour of Fabia's man- 
 ner, her mind was feverishly active. She was never really 
 at rest never content. Consequently she was soon wearied 
 of poor Miss Jones's conscientious supervision, and plumed 
 
 [26]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 her radiant wings for wider flight. It was then that Isabel 
 heard of her and her desire to come to England, through 
 one of Lady Farley's Anglo-Indian friends ; and Mrs. Seaton 
 sent out her invitation just in the nick of time when Fabia 
 felt that she could endure India and Miss Jones no longer. 
 The girl had inherited a handsome fortune and large estates 
 from her mother: and she had the independence and the in- 
 tolerance of restraint, which are the invariable attributes 
 of moneyed immaturity. 
 
 Thus she was as pleased at the idea of coming to the 
 Seatons as Mrs. Seaton was at the idea of receiving her: 
 and she was just as set upon managing Isabel as Isabel was 
 set upon managing her. And the result of the contest be- 
 tween these two strong and self-willed women still lay in 
 the lap of the gods.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 FABIA came to England as had been arranged, and was 
 received by Mrs. Paul Seaton with open arms: but Miss 
 Vipart had not been long at Prince's Gardens before Isabel 
 realised that she had opened her arms a little too wide before 
 understanding all the bearings of the case. She at once con- 
 fided the discovery of this error, and her repentance of the 
 same, to Paul, who, like a good husband (and unlike a good 
 wife), carefully refrained from saying anything which, even 
 by the freest translation, could be construed into " I told 
 you so." He was for sending Fabia back to India by return 
 of post, so to speak, having (again like a good husband) no 
 sense of proportion where his wife and his wife's interests 
 were concerned. The man who is alive to the laws of 
 perspective with regard to the woman that he loves, had 
 better take at once a self-imposed vow of celibacy : for while 
 the world stands he will never make a passable husband. 
 But Isabel with that innate sense of justice in which it 
 pleases men to imagine that all women are fundamentally 
 lacking felt that such a course of conduct would be most 
 unfair to her guest: and put the temptation away from her 
 accordingly. 
 
 It was not really the fault of either woman that the two 
 did not, as the phrase runs, get on well together: they met 
 with the full intention of liking each other extremely, and 
 of being great friends as the fashionable world counts friend- 
 
 [28]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 ship: but the fact was that they were absolutely incapable 
 of understanding one another: and true friendship without 
 mutual comprehension is a contradiction in terms. 
 
 It was no fault of Isabel's that in spite of all the efforts 
 to understand Fabia's character, she signally failed; on the 
 contrary, this failure was rather to her credit than other- 
 wise. With all her faults of which she had her proper and 
 normal share there was not one grain of bitterness or acid- 
 ity in Isabel's character: she was constitutionally incapable 
 of feeling either the one or the other. True, in the old, 
 half-forgotten days, she had written a book which was noted 
 for its bitter cynicism: but that was but the expression of a 
 temporary phase which was altogether foreign to her natural 
 bent of mind. She had dipped her pen in gall as she wrote; 
 but the penwiper was ever at hand to remove the foreign 
 substance as soon as she had done with it: and it had never 
 even temporarily stained her white fingers. Of acidity she 
 was incapable even momentarily : that could never tinge even 
 a passing thought in her mind. She might have been some- 
 what hard and thoughtless and capricious in her young days: 
 her detractors said that she was: but none of them could 
 ever accuse her of being soured by the experience of life. 
 Perhaps there was more invigorating saltness than cloying 
 sweetness in her nature: but be it remembered, salt is further 
 removed from acidity than is even sugar. And, after all, 
 hardness and thoughtlessness are faults of youth, which de- 
 crease with advancing years: while bitterness and acidity 
 only eat deeper and deeper as time rolls on into the lives of 
 those who harbour them. 
 
 But because of this very saneness of character, which 
 might make her outwardly hard but never inwardly bitter, 
 Isabel found it impossible to enter into Fabia's feelings; 
 
 [ 29 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 and was consequently perhaps a little severe and unsympa^ 
 thetic with the girl. She had never experienced that social 
 ostracism which had entered as iron into Fabia's soul : there- 
 fore she was incapable of appreciating its effect upon the 
 girl's character. She pitied her for it, it is true: but pity 
 is often not akin to sympathy, whatever it may be to love. 
 We must all have the defects of our qualities: and Isabel 
 therefore could not escape the inherent limitations of the 
 healthy-minded, unaffected, humorous, successful woman. 
 
 Fabia, on the other hand, could not escape the defects of 
 the passionate, highly strung, reserved, thoughtful, intro- 
 spective girl. To her superfine sensibilities, Isabel appeared 
 a little harsh and rough: while to Isabel's common-sense and 
 unfailing humour, Fabia's supersensitiveness of mind and 
 body seemed decidedly unhealthy and morbid. 
 
 Although she never mentioned it to anybody, Fabia's 
 visit to England was a far greater disappointment to herself 
 than it was to her hostess. She had had an idea that when 
 once she was in England among her father's people, the 
 feeling of loneliness which had oppressed her all her life 
 would vanish: instead of which she felt more isolated here 
 than she had ever done at home. It is strange, that sense 
 of loneliness and isolation which appears to be the unalter- 
 able lot of certain souls! They are set apart from their 
 fellows, why they know not: and nothing that they say or 
 do can break down the wall of partition that stands between 
 themselves and other men. From her earliest infancy Fabia 
 had been a prey to this terrible feeling of solitariness. As a 
 child, if other children came to play with her at her own 
 house, they always played with each other and left her out 
 in the cold : and as a girl the same thing happened with 
 regard to other girls. Even her great beauty and undeniable 
 
 [30]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 intellectual powers did not help her: in fact, they seemed to 
 place her still further apart from other people. No one 
 but herself knew how fiercely she envied those commonplace 
 girls who had their full share of brothers and sisters, and 
 more than their full share of bosom friends: nor how pas- 
 sionately she resented those qualities in herself which pre- 
 vented her companions from being comfortably intimate 
 with her. And now that she had at last attained her heart's 
 desire and come to England, it was just the same. People 
 admired and feted her because of her beauty and accomplish- 
 ments, but they never treated her as one of themselves, as 
 they treated Isabel: and Fabia was too quick not to see 
 this. They were never rude to her, as they had been in 
 India never even impolite: but there was a subtle sug- 
 gestion in the atmosphere that she was a visitor rather than 
 a relation a stranger to be entertained rather than a friend 
 to be welcomed. Many women would not have been con- 
 scious of this: but Fabia's perceptions were abnormally 
 acute: and however much people might flatter her, she 
 knew in a moment when they did not like her : and agonised 
 accordingly. Isabel, on the other hand, possessed in a marked 
 degree the gift of friendliness and camaraderie: every one 
 who knew her felt that they had known her all her life, 
 she had such a wonderful knack of finding some common 
 ground whereon herself and the most unlikely person could 
 meet and fraternise. And this quality in her hostess made 
 poor Fabia realise the more poignantly her own loneliness 
 and desolation. 
 
 Humanity is divided into two sets of people: the people 
 who are inside the red cord and the people who are outside: 
 there is no other division that really matters. Those who 
 are inside are cheerful and comfortable and well-liking, at 
 
 [31]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 peace with gods and men and with everybody except out- 
 siders: while those outside are unhappy and desolate and op- 
 pressed, at war with themselves and each other and bitterly 
 vindictive against those happier beings within the sacred 
 inclosure : and it is all the fault of the red cord. 
 
 There are red cords in all worlds and in all phases of 
 life social, personal, religious: and one's happiness mainly 
 depends upon one's relative position towards these said red 
 cords. 
 
 It is a cruel thing, this red cord cruel fundamentally to 
 those on both sides of it. It fills those within with hardness 
 of heart, pride, vainglory and hypocrisy: and those without 
 with envy, hatred and malice and all uncharitableness. It 
 is old too, this red cord old as human nature. Ishmael 
 had felt the scourge of it when his hand was against every 
 man and every man's hand against his: and those daughters 
 of Heth, from whom Esau chose his wife, had learnt how 
 pitiless it could be. Although inimical to the true spirit 
 of Christianity, it nevertheless continued to exist after the 
 dawning of the dayspring from on high: even the great 
 Apostle, upon whom the Church was built, knew how to 
 wield it to the confounding of the Gentiles : and it was not 
 until the vision of the great vessel had been vouchsafed to 
 him three times, that he was content to lay it down. It was 
 responsible for the tortures of the Spanish Inquisition, for 
 the horrors of the French Revolution: it is still responsible 
 for most of the evils of social and political and religious 
 life. 
 
 Ever since she could remember, Fabia Vipart had writhed 
 under the scourge of the red cord: it had lashed her natu- 
 rally tender spirit into revolt and rebellion by its merciless 
 system of excjusiveness : and Isabel Seaton, who had been 
 
 [3*]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 born and bred within the select circle, and who had never 
 known the misery of those whom society chooses to consign 
 to outer darkness, was as ignorant as a babe of all that Fabia 
 suffered, and as intolerant as a child of the outward signs 
 of that suffering. 
 
 Moreover, the two women were somewhat far apart in 
 years, and so lacked the freemasonry of contemporaries. If 
 we are considerably older than anybody else, it does not 
 invariably follow that we are wiser: but it invariably fol- 
 lows that we think we are, and nothing will convince us 
 to the contrary. Therefore, Isabel was fully prepared to 
 advise and instruct her junior: and her junior obstinately 
 refused to be advised or instructed : wherein lay the raw 
 material for the manufacture of open warfare. 
 
 One afternoon, about a month after Fabia's arrival in 
 England, she and her hostess were sitting chatting in the 
 drawing-room in Prince's Gardens; and the conversation 
 turned upon Miss Vipart's general discontent with life. 
 
 "You should marry," remarked Isabel: "you find it the 
 most diverting arrangement. And you can't think how 
 much more cosey and cheerful it makes everything." 
 
 Fabia looked lazily at her hostess through half-closed 
 eyelids. " You didn't always think so, for you were in no 
 special hurry to get married yourself: you must have been 
 nearly thirty." 
 
 " Horrid little thing! " exclaimed Isabel to herself: " I'll 
 tell Paul that the very minute he comes home." The recital 
 to Paul of Fabia's daily iniquities was one of the chief 
 delights of Isabel's life just now, and a wonderful support 
 to her in her endurance of such an incubus. But all that 
 she said aloud was: " Twenty-nine." And she said it quite 
 good-humouredly. 
 
 [33]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Fabia smiled. " You have an admirable temper, Isabel." 
 
 Isabel had insisted upon Fabia's calling her by her Chris- 
 tian name the moment she arrived. Paul had said privately 
 to his wife that he considered this a mistake, but had been 
 overruled. Now Isabel was never tired of telling Paul 
 how much she wished Fabia would call her Mrs. Seaton, 
 as she couldn't bear people who didn't like her to call her 
 Isabel. 
 
 "I know: it's a regular beauty," she replied: "I'm not 
 sure that I ever met anybody with a better, taking it all 
 round. That is to say, except where Paul is concerned: I 
 used to be perfectly vile to him when we were engaged: 
 a regular little devil ! " 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 " I haven't a notion." 
 
 " You were in love with him, weren't you ? " 
 
 " Of course. That was the reason." 
 
 " That is absurd simply absurd ! If ever I were so 
 foolish as to be in love with a man or so wise I should 
 be an angel to him all the time." 
 
 " Naturally : because you aren't an angel to anybody 
 else. I was." 
 
 An expression of languid amusement spread itself over 
 Fabia's face. Although she was at war with Isabel in her 
 heart, she was usually entertained by the conversation of 
 the latter. The difference between the two women was this : 
 Fabia sometimes was conscious of Isabel's charm: Isabel 
 never was conscious of Fabia's. Fabia could have loved 
 Isabel had she allowed herself to do so: Isabel tried to love 
 Fabia and had failed. Yet Isabel was invariably kind to 
 Fabia, and Fabia was often very unkind to Isabel. Such 
 are the ironies of feminine friendship. 
 
 [34]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " I fail to see the sequence of thought," she said : " please 
 explain." 
 
 " Haven't you noticed that amiable women are generally 
 cross with the men they love, and cross women are generally 
 amiable with the men they love? I once asked a tremen- 
 dously wise and clever man the reason of this." 
 
 " And what did he say? " 
 
 " I forget what he said, but I remember what I said : and 
 that was that we offer the greatest rareties as the greatest 
 luxuries to our guests, on the same principle as we give 
 them strawberries in December and ice in June. So that 
 the good-tempered woman's bad temper and the bad-tempered 
 woman's good temper are special delicacies." 
 
 " All the same, I cannot imagine your being bad-tempered 
 and disagreeable. It would be altogether out of drawing." 
 Isabel's easy good-humour was a constant source of wonder 
 to Fabia: being made herself on such different lines, she 
 had no idea how easy it was. 
 
 Mrs. Seaton nodded sagely. "Can't you? You just ask 
 Paul." 
 
 " He wouldn't tell me, if I did. Don't you know him 
 better than that ? " 
 
 " Of course he wouldn't. That's where husbands are so 
 splendid. They always stick up for you, whether you're 
 right or whether you're wrong in fact, rather more when 
 you're wrong than when you're right. They consider that 
 is playing the game." 
 
 " So it is." 
 
 " I often wonder," continued Isabel in a meditative man- 
 ner, " what Paul really thinks of me. He can't possibly 
 think as highly of me as he seems to do, because nobody 
 could: in fact nobody else pretends to. And yet he knows 
 
 [35]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 me better than anybody else does. It's queer! You can't 
 help admitting that it's queer! " 
 
 Fabia laughed softly. " Very queer indeed ! " 
 
 " And there's lots of other queer things besides," con- 
 tinued Mrs. Seaton, waxing more communicative: " I used 
 to think, before I was married, that when husbands and 
 wives pretended they didn't see each other's faults it was all 
 humbug. But now I find that it wasn't. Of course it is 
 utterly absurd, I know: but all the same it's true." 
 
 " I do not believe it. If I had a husband I should see his 
 faults fast enough: I couldn't help it even if I tried." 
 
 " Yes, you could. You couldn't help not helping it." 
 
 " But I should feel such a fool." 
 
 " And you would be: that's the beauty of it." And Isabel 
 laughed a rippling little laugh of pure happiness. " That's 
 why married life is so good for one," she continued: "you 
 find yourself doing the very things that you've screamed with 
 laughter at other women for doing: and this teaches you, 
 better than a whole library of books or a complete course of 
 Oxford Extension lectures, that you are not one whit better 
 or wiser than everybody else." 
 
 " But that is a lesson that I should hate to learn," objected 
 Fabia, who was one of the women who derive a painful 
 pleasure from the notion that no one ever felt as they feel, 
 or suffered as they suffer. Although she hated her solitari- 
 ness, she was in a sense proud of it, human nature having 
 a strange knack of feeling pride in its own deficiencies as well 
 as in its own excellencies. Delicate people are as proud of 
 their delicacy as strong ones are of their strength : and small 
 men are as proud of their light weight as big ones are of their 
 bulk. Life is full of compensations : and our own good con- 
 ceit of ourselves is by no means the least of them. 
 
 [36]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " It is no use hating things if you've got to learn them," 
 replied Isabel with her usual sound sense: " it only makes 
 life more unpleasant than it need be, and does nobody any 
 good." 
 
 " But don't you hate to find that you are the same as 
 other people? " 
 
 " Not a bit of it: I enjoy the joke: and the fact that it is 
 at my own expense makes me enjoy it all the more, as I 
 can understand better than anybody else can how excessively 
 funny it is." Wherein Mrs. Sea ton spoke no less than the 
 truth : for she was one of the happy beings and their name 
 Is by no means Legion who derive unfeigned and solid 
 pleasure from a joke at their own expense. Such persons 
 are rare ; and they are almost always feminine. A man who 
 laughs heartily and naturally at his own absurdity, is a very 
 black swan indeed. Men smile, it is true, at these ill-timed 
 and inappropriate jests: but the smiles are generally of that 
 sickly and watery character which reminds one of a sunset 
 on a rainy day. Nine women out of ten do not even smile 
 at humour whereof they themselves are the unwilling butts: 
 they frown and glower and sulk: but the tenth woman not 
 only smiles but laughs with all her heart, holding her sides 
 in the exuberance of her mirth, as no man has ever held 
 his at fun poked at himself. And Isabel Seaton happened 
 to be the tenth. 
 
 " You didn't really know me before I was married," she 
 continued, with that irresistible candour which had ever been 
 one of her greatest charms : " so you've no idea how egre- 
 giously conceited I was, and how much cleverer I thought 
 myself than anybody else or in fact than anybody else 
 though me either: and therefore you can't understand what 
 a killing joke it is to me to see myself developing into the 
 
 [37]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 ordinary commonplace, domestic and devoted wife. It makes 
 me laugh every time I think of it. Doubtless it is very 
 romantic when the ugly duckling turns into the snow-white 
 swan : but the real joke comes in when the promising cygnet 
 developes into the humdrum barn-door fowl. And that is 
 my case to a T. I'm very humdrum and excessively barn- 
 door: but I've got the saving grace left to see that it's funny." 
 And Isabel laughed softly to herself. " As long as you're 
 funny and know that you are funny, you aren't well, you 
 are not quite so funny as you would otherwise have been." 
 
 " I do not understand" you at all. I couldn't go on doing 
 a thing that I knew was ridiculous. I might be ridiculous 
 without knowing it: I suppose everybody is sometimes: but 
 I would rather die than be ridiculous consciously. I hate 
 to be laughed at : it is absolute torture to me." 
 
 Isabel nestled into her easy chair with that snug cosiness 
 of hers which formed such a marked contrast to Fabia's lithe 
 grace. " Then you make a great mistake. Half the fun of 
 life consists in seeing how funny you are yourself, and in 
 watching other people find it out." 
 
 But Fabia still looked puzzled. As she said, it was torture 
 to her to be laughed at, for she was one of those super- 
 sensitive souls who are not shielded by a saving sense of 
 humour; therefore Isabel's attitude of mind was incompre- 
 hensible to her. Perhaps the fact that one woman had been 
 born inside the red cord and the other outside, accounted 
 for the phenomenon in both cases. 
 
 " I used to roar with laughter," continued Isabel, " at 
 women who couldn't see their husband's faults: it used to 
 seem too utterly idiotic for anything. And yet now for the 
 life of me though I see Paul's mistakes, I cannot discover 
 his faults! I know they must be there, like Mrs. Wilfer's 
 
 [38]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 petticoat, because everybody has them and nobody is an ex- 
 ception: but try as I will I can't find them out! " 
 
 " You are candid at all events," remarked Fabia, who was 
 as yet too young to decide whether to despise her friend for 
 being a fool, or to admire her for confessing it. According 
 to the poet Gray, the boys at Eton had learned the truth 
 that sometimes ' 'tis folly to be wise ' : but the soundness of 
 the inverse platitude that sometimes 'tis wisdom to be foolish, 
 is never grasped by those on the so-called sunny side 
 of thirty. 
 
 " I always try to be, for there's nothing I hate so much 
 as humbug and affectation. There's a lot of that going about 
 nowadays, my dear Fabia, especially on the subject of mar- 
 riage : and I want you to be on your guard against it, and not 
 to be choked off any really nice match just because of the 
 nonsense preached by silly women and modern novels : which 
 brings me to the point of the conversation from which I 
 started. I generally get round to my starting point, if you 
 only give me time." 
 
 " Like the oft-quoted boomerang," suggested Fabia, thus 
 setting her loquacious hostess upon a fresh track. 
 
 " Oh ! my dear, there's no greater delusion than the idea 
 that boomerangs invariably travel with a return-ticket. 
 We've got one in the corner of this very drawing-room, 
 which was once given me by someone who had been to 
 Australia (if that is where boomerangs grow) : I forget who 
 it was. I remember it was someone who was in love with 
 me at the time, but I can't for the life of me recall his name. 
 Anyway I thought it rather an interesting object to have 
 about the sort of thing that promotes conversation, don't 
 you know? so when we came to live here I stuck it up at 
 the back of the cosey-corner, supported by two Venetian 
 
 [39]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 glass vases that somebody else gave us for a wedding- 
 present." 
 
 " I have seen it. Happily Captain Gaythorne caught 
 sight of it one day when he was being even duller than 
 usual, and it started him on quite an intelligent description 
 of his travels in India that being the nearest to Australia 
 that he could manage." 
 
 " That is just what it was put there for! Every drawing- 
 room ornament should have in it the germ of a conversation : 
 it is its raison d'etre. I suppose that is why country-people 
 have upon their chimney-pieces bunches of the plant called 
 honesty. It gives them an opportunity of expatiating upon 
 that over-rated virtue, and of so drifting into the universal 
 pleasure of telling unpleasant truths to one's friends and 
 neighbours." 
 
 " I remember he discoursed exhaustively upon the time- 
 honoured subject of boomerangs, and told long tales of how 
 they invariably came back, like curses, to roost." 
 
 "Do they? That's all he knows! If you so much as 
 breathe when you are anywhere near to ours, it at once tum- 
 bles behind the cosey-corner, breaking any wedding-presents 
 that it comes across on its way. And then does it come back 
 to where it started from? Not a bit of it! It remains in 
 retreat, like a devotee, until somebody breaks their own bones 
 and more wedding-presents by creeping under the seat of the 
 cosey-corner to fetch it out. I know its little ways." And 
 Mrs. Seaton shook her head reflectively. 
 
 " If you have many friends like Captain Gaythorne I do 
 not wonder that you select drawing-room ornaments that 
 start conversation," said Fabia with that touch of sarcasm 
 which generally flavoured her remarks. Yet on the whole 
 she liked Captain Gaythorne liked him better than anyone 
 
 [40]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 she had as yet met since she came to England. She was by 
 no means the first woman who has abused men because she 
 liked them, and gone near spoiling her own life and theirs 
 accordingly: nor will she be the last. It is merely a symptom 
 of a certain sort of shyness: and not the worst sort of shy- 
 ness, either. 
 
 But Isabel was not the woman to appreciate or sympathise 
 with shyness of any kind. " Now I won't have you abusing 
 Charlie Gaythorne," she cried : " I won't allow it in my 
 drawing-room under the shadow of my own boomerang! 
 Charlie is my darling, as you have probably heard before, or 
 words to that effect : and besides he is one of the men I want 
 you to marry." 
 
 The girl winced. She hated Isabel's easy, half-insolent 
 way of disposing of her as if she were a parcel of foreign 
 imports : and yet there was a sort of attractiveness about the 
 insolence all the same, it was so good-humoured. She was 
 beginning to understand why her father had once wanted 
 to marry this woman. It was the same sort of reason which, 
 in a minor degree, had made him enjoy a sharp wind and a 
 cold bath: a reason which no pure Oriental could ever have 
 comprehended. But Fabia was no pure Oriental : there was 
 a strong strain of Western thought and feeling in her compo- 
 sition : and it was probably her Eastern sense of reserve and 
 mystery underlying her Western inclination towards all that 
 was essentially British and modern, that endowed the girl 
 with so strong a fascination: the fascination of incongruity 
 made congruous. That she possessed fascination there was 
 no doubt: but it was purely a personal magnetism, not an 
 intellectual one. Those who merely read her history will 
 probably find her without charm : but those who met her face 
 to face felt it in the very marrow of their bones. 
 
 [41]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " You are always wanting people to get married," she 
 said: " it seems to be your one idea of entertainment." 
 
 " I believe it is the only thing that permanently amuses 
 anybody," admitted Isabel. 
 
 " And it fails to do even that with some." 
 
 " Now, Fabia, as I said before, I won't allow you to get 
 absurd modern notions about matrimony. It is the fashion 
 nowadays to pretend that most marriages are unhappy: but 
 they're not not a bit of it." 
 
 " You think it is all pure affectation? " 
 
 " I think it is all pure rot," replied Mrs. Seaton with 
 more force than elegance. " We are told all sorts of non- 
 sense about marriages being increasingly difficult under mod- 
 ern conditions, etc., etc., and all sorts of silly ways are 
 suggested of untying the knot. As if modern conditions 
 cancelled Divine laws! Some things alter as times change, 
 and some things don't: and Sacraments and Commandments 
 are among the things that don't. We may need a new 
 Bradshaw every month : but we don't need a new Bible." 
 
 " Then do you mean to say that you don't believe that it 
 is far more difficult for us to find happiness in marriage 
 than it was for your grandmothers ? " persisted Fabia, who 
 had sufficiently saturated her mind with current literature 
 to have caught the taint of certain phases of modern thought. 
 
 " Not an atom ! " replied Isabel with fine scorn. " It is 
 merely the fashion nowadays for women to pretend that 
 they don't fear God or love their husbands: while, as a mat- 
 ter of fact, ninety-nine women out of every hundred do 
 both. They can't help doing it: it's what they were made 
 for. A woman who at the bottom of her heart doesn't fear 
 God and love her husband, is a freak; and the proper place 
 for freaks is Barnum's." 
 
 [42]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " Then do you fear God and love your husband ? " asked 
 Fabia. 
 
 "Yes: with all my heart. And, what is more, I'm not 
 ashamed of it, as so many women are. Ashamed of it, in- 
 deed ! Why, the sun might just as well be ashamed of shin- 
 ing or the moon of giving light, as a woman of doing the 
 two things for which she was created." 
 
 " If I had a husband," Fabia remarked, " I should never 
 let him know how much I loved him." 
 
 "Shouldn't you? I know better." And Isabel whistled 
 softly to herself, in a manner at once inelegant and ex- 
 pressive. 
 
 " No. I should just wear his heart upon my sleeve and 
 peck at it whenever I felt inclined," Fabia persisted : " but I 
 should never let him know what was in my mind." 
 
 " So I used to think in my single days : but when you're 
 married, you'll find the sleeve is on the other leg, so to 
 speak. He'll wear your heart upon his sleeve, and do what- 
 ever he likes with it: but he won't peck at it, because men 
 aren't pecking animals. And you'll love to have it so." 
 
 Fabia smiled. She was again reminded of her father and 
 his cold baths and windy rides. " And so you want me to 
 marry that stupid Captain Gaythorne? Surely he is too 
 stupid to want to marry me?" 
 
 " Not he! He adores you, and he'd be an excellent hus- 
 band." It was characteristic of Isabel that she did not say 
 or even think that he would also be an excellent match. 
 
 Fabia noticed this omission and put it down in her own 
 mind to Isabel's credit. There was a strain of fine unworldli- 
 ness about this finished woman of the world that highly 
 commended itself to a girl brought up as Fabia had been. 
 In the whole of Isabel's complex nature there was not one 
 
 [43]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 grain of snobbishness: somewhat rare praise to be given to 
 the sons and daughters of Western nations, and Fabia ac- 
 corded it ungrudgingly. " But he has got a face like a 
 cherub's," she objected. 
 
 " He has got a much better figure than a cherub," re- 
 torted Isabel. 
 
 " I don't know that a cherub has a bad figure what there 
 is of it." 
 
 " But there's plenty of Charlie's figure such as it is." 
 
 At that moment the butler flung open the door announcing 
 " Mrs. Gaythorne and Captain Gaythorne." 
 
 " Talk of the angels and the devil begins wagging his 
 tail," murmured Isabel under her breath, as she rose to re- 
 ceive her visitors. 
 
 [44 1
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE GAYTHORNES 
 
 FABIA was right when she said that Charlie Gaythorne had 
 the face of a cherub and Isabel was still more correct when 
 she asserted that he had not the figure of one. He was one 
 of those huge men, with the form and strength of an athlete 
 and the complexion and heart of a little child, who are 
 essentially a home-product, and flourish nowhere save in 
 British soil. Even more typically than Isabel herself, he 
 represented the denizens of that happy land which lies se- 
 curely within the precincts of the red cord. For over five 
 centuries the Gaythornes had dwelt at Gaythorne Manor in 
 the county of Mershire, and had done there whatsoever 
 seemed right in their own eyes. In fact in the eyes of all 
 Mershire whatsoever a Gaythorne did became right simply 
 because it was done by a Gaythorne: so that it would have 
 been difficult not to say impossible for a Gaythorne to 
 do wrong. 
 
 But the Gaythornes were no unworthy race, trailing their 
 honour in the dust and using their liberty as a cloak for 
 lower things. They appreciated the duties and the responsi- 
 bilities of their local infallibility as seriously as any Pope 
 could have done: and fulfilled and accepted them accord- 
 ingly. They were one of the families that make us realise 
 the advantages of the feudal system as it existed in the 
 Middle Ages: and that it had its advantages there is no 
 
 [45]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 doubt. The Gaythorne men had ever been strong-limbed, 
 light complexioned and clean-living, fearing God and hon- 
 ouring the King as all true Squires should: and the dames 
 of their choice had ever been fair women, not without discre- 
 tion withal, whose husbands and children had risen up and 
 called them blessed. 
 
 Of intellectual gifts to this worthy house Nature perhaps 
 had been sparing. No Gaythorne had ever written books 
 or painted pictures or intruded his ringers into the pies of 
 State. There was little originality or individuality in this 
 blameless family's records: each Squire Gaythorne had been 
 the Squire Gaythorne of his day neither more nor less: 
 each had been one of a set, rather than a unique specimen. 
 An excellent match to the rest of the set, it is true, but not 
 interesting as a personality. 
 
 Charlie's father had been a perfect instance of the accepted 
 Gaythorne type: too perfect for there to be anything else to 
 be said about him. He died just after an Indian frontier 
 war, in which Charlie had won distinction and nearly lost 
 an arm: whereupon Charlie left the service and entered 
 into his kingdom: and was now reigning at Gaythorne 
 Manor, with his mother as Grand Visier. 
 
 Charlie had a very high opinion of his mother. So had 
 she. There were few, if indeed any, matters small or great 
 upon which Mrs. Gaythorne did not feel herself competent 
 to give an opinion: and Mrs. Gaythorne's opinions were 
 of the same nature as Royal invitations; they were expected 
 to be received as commands. She had been and still was 
 a fine-looking woman, of the stately and statuesque order: 
 and it would be difficult to say whether she most resembled 
 a highly religious Juno or a somewhat worldly Madonna. 
 She was not exactly clever: but had a way of enunciating 
 
 [46]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 commonplace remarks with such force and authority that 
 few of her hearers recognised them as platitudes. She was a 
 very good woman according to her lights; and though these 
 lights might be lamps of a somewhat antiquated pattern, 
 they had proved themselves safe and sure lanterns to guide 
 more than one pair of wandering feet into the way of 
 peace. 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne invariably dressed in black, thereby show- 
 ing respect for her husband's memory and for S. Peter's 
 injunction as to female dress, at the same time. But her 
 broad and ample bosom was as gay as any flower garden with 
 various and many-coloured ribbons testifying to the various 
 virtues she adorned. She wore a blue ribbon to show she 
 was temperate, and a white ribbon to show she was chaste: 
 a yellow ribbon to show she was Conservative, and a green 
 ribbon to show she was kind : an orange ribbon to show she 
 was Protestant, and a purple ribbon to show she was truth- 
 ful: and so on through the whole prism of the primary and 
 secondary and even tertiary virtues. Not that there was any 
 need for the aid of these coloured illustrations to prove to 
 the most superficial observer that Mrs. Gaythorne was all 
 and even more than all that she should be: but she wore 
 them, as she herself explained, for the force of example. She 
 was a sort of religious decoy-duck, decking herself in those 
 moral feathers which are popularly supposed to produce 
 moral birds. If Mrs. Gaythorne wore a ribbon, all the 
 women in Gaythorne village were expected to wear it also: 
 and, moreover, to practise that inward and spiritual grace 
 whereof it was the outward and visible sign : a practice which 
 did not come quite so easy to some of them as it did to the 
 lady of the manor. 
 
 Now in Charlie Gaythorne's life up to the present time 
 
 [47]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 there had only happened three events of importance the war 
 on the Indian frontier, his father's death, and his meeting 
 with Fabia Vipart. It was these three things that had made 
 a man of him. With the first two this story has not 
 to deal: but without the last it could hardly have been 
 written. 
 
 The moment that Captain Gaythorne saw Fabia's face 
 he fell in love with it, and with her in her official position 
 as its owner. Of the subtlety of her intellect he knew noth- 
 ing at all, and cared less: it was enough for him, and more 
 than enough for his peace of mind, that she was beautiful : 
 and beautiful without doubt she was. 
 
 There is a theory abroad among w^omen that the love 
 which is founded upon intellectual gifts is more enduring 
 than the love which is founded upon personal attractions. 
 Probably it does \vear well, as all stiff and rather wiry 
 materials do: but softer and warmer stuffs wear well also. 
 The love that wears best of all in fact the only love that 
 is really worth having is not the love that loves my love 
 with a B. because she is beautiful, nor the love that loves 
 my C. because she is clever : but the love that loves my love 
 with an S. because She is She, and I am I, and we two are 
 ourselves and therefore each other for all time and eter- 
 nity. There is no better reason for love than this: which is 
 still the better for being no reason at all. 
 
 Captain Gaythorne had not only fallen in love with 
 Fabia : he had made up his mind to marry the woman whom 
 he loved if the woman whom he feared approved. And it 
 was with the hope of obtaining this approval that he had 
 brought Mrs. Gaythorne to call at Prince's Gardens this 
 very afternoon, to be introduced to the lady of his choice. 
 It was characteristic of Charlie and therefore of all the 
 
 [48]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Gaythornes that the woman upon whose probable consent 
 depended his proposal was not the woman to whom he wished 
 to propose, but his mother. It never even occurred to him 
 that Fabia might object to marrying him: but it occurred 
 to him with uncomfortable persistence that Mrs. Gaythorne 
 might object to his marrying Fabia. And he felt that he 
 could never make his offer of marriage if she did. 
 
 Yet Charlie had won a D.S.O. in India, and had been 
 accounted a brave and dangerous enemy by the natives! 
 Thus do our female relations make cowards of us all. 
 
 Isabel duly introduced Fabia to Mrs. Gaythorne, and then 
 rang the bell for tea. At least she set out with the inten- 
 tion of ringing the bell, but Charlie, with his accustomed 
 politeness, insisted on forestalling her: and, with unaccus- 
 tomed haste and nervousness, succeeded in upsetting the 
 boomerang, three vases, two photographs and a bunch of 
 pampas-grass in the attempt. He was eager to repair his 
 crime by picking them up again: but Isabel wisely begged 
 him to forbear, and to upset nothing more: as she said she 
 did not see the use of throwing good ornaments after bad 
 ones especially when the ornaments happened to belong to 
 her. 
 
 " I shall be glad of my tea," remarked Mrs. Gaythorne 
 when the commotion had subsided : " I am thirsty." She 
 spoke as impressively as if she were announcing some great 
 scientific truth. " I have just been taking the chair at the 
 annual meeting of the Society for the Propagation of the 
 Church Hymnal among the inhabitants of the Antarctic 
 Circle, and am now on my way to preside at the annual 
 meeting of the Anti-Tomato-League, for the suppression of 
 tomatoes as an article of diet: and consequently I require a 
 little refreshment." Mrs. Gaythorne was guilty of one 
 
 [49]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 human frailty, namely an inordinate affectation for presid- 
 ing over public meetings. On this matter she knew neither 
 temperance nor restraint. As some women take stimulants 
 and other sedatives, so Mrs. Gaythorne took chairs. 
 
 " I never partake of this delicious beverage," the good 
 lady remarked when at last her fleshly cravings had been 
 satisfied, " without thinking of the teeming millions in China 
 who still dwell in outer darkness: and without thanking the; 
 goodness and the grace which saw fit to plant me in so much 
 more favourable surroundings favourable alike to my natu- 
 ral and spiritual condition. Charles, the muffins." 
 
 Charlie hastened to lift a hot plate of these delicacies 
 from the fire-place, and offer them to his hungry parent. 
 This manoeuvre he carried out successfully, as he was gradu- 
 ally gaining strength and confidence, and was far less ner- 
 vous than when he entered the room. At present all had 
 gone smoothly between his mother and the young lady she 
 had been brought to inspect: as he phrased it to himself, 
 " they are getting on like a house on fire." True, the con- 
 versation had hitherto confined itself to such topics as might 
 have been selected on the occasion of a visit from a ther- 
 mometer to an aneroid : namely the present weather and 
 temperature, and the prospects of more weather and tempera- 
 ture in the future: but the interchange of such items of 
 atmospheric information as had been public property for 
 the last twenty-four hours, was carried on in so cordial a 
 spirit that Charlie's spirits rose considerably. His mother, 
 too, was evidently enjoying her tea, which was a good sign. 
 But, alas! her carnal needs having been supplied, she unfor- 
 tunately turned to higher subjects. 
 
 " Isabel, have you seen anything of Gabriel Carr lately? " 
 she suddenly inquired in her strident voice. 
 
 [50]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Gaythorne. He was having tea with me 
 last Sunday, and was as charming and delightful as ever." 
 
 " Having tea and on a Sunday, too? I should have 
 thought that a clergyman might have been better employed." 
 
 Isabel hastened to defend her friend. " He was better 
 employed, as it happened : he had been preaching in the after- 
 noon at S. Cuthbert's and was going to preach at S. Hilda's, 
 so he called and had tea here on his way, in order not to 
 waste his time by going back home." 
 
 " I cannot approve of Sunday visiting for clergymen : they 
 ought to be preparing their sermons in the intervals between 
 delivering them, and not to be wasting the time in eating 
 and drinking. Charles, another muffin : and you, Isabel, I 
 will trouble for a third cup of tea. I feel quite exhausted 
 after my speech upon Antarctic Hymnology: and I shall 
 never be able to do justice to the Anti-Tomato question 
 unless I am fully fortified." 
 
 The dutiful Charles hastened to fortify his mother, assisted 
 by Isabel ; and the excellent lady calmly continued : " I am 
 distressed deeply distressed to hear that Gabriel has intro- 
 duced flowers upon the Communion Table at his own church : 
 real flowers," she added, as if artificial ones would have been 
 less heinous in her eyes. 
 
 "Why on earth shouldn't he?" demanded Isabel, who 
 was nothing if not courageous. 
 
 " Because it is Popish and therefore wrong." 
 ' That doesn't follow. In the first place I don't agree 
 with you that it is even what you call Popish : but even if it 
 were, that wouldn't prove that it was wrong. The two 
 terms are not synonymous. You might just as well say that 
 because a thing was Protestant it was therefore right." 
 ' That is precisely what I should say, Isabella. More- 
 
 [51]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 over, the Romans are so narrow and bigoted, believing that 
 no man is right except themselves: and we all know that 
 narrowness and bigotry are most un-Christian." 
 
 " They certainly are, Mrs. Gaythorne. But, all the same, 
 I cannot agree with you in calling things Roman which are 
 merely Catholic." 
 
 Charlie moved in his chair uneasily. He did not want to 
 marry Isabel, so it did not much matter what her religious 
 opinions were: but, all the same, he wished she wouldn't 
 inflame his mother and just when things seemed going so 
 smoothly, too. 
 
 " Isabella," exclaimed Mrs. Gaythorne, " I am surprised 
 at you! You ought to know better! " 
 
 " I do know better: that's what I'm just saying," re- 
 torted the graceless one, with a laugh. 
 
 " Miss Vipart," said Mrs. Gaythorne, turning so sud- 
 denly upon Fabia that that young lady fairly jumped : " I 
 trust that you do not approve of Ritualism." 
 
 " Not at all," replied Fabia with some truth: and Charlie 
 breathed freely again. 
 
 " I am glad to hear that very glad : it is a terrible snare 
 to the young." By " the young " Mrs. Gaythorne was re- 
 ferring to Isabel: but naturally Fabia did not grasp this. 
 
 " Why to the young especially? " she innocently asked. 
 
 " Because the young are foolish and ignorant, being sadly 
 prone to run after any new fad that takes their fancy. 
 Charles, what is the time? I must on no account be late 
 for the Anti-Tomato meeting." 
 
 " Half-past five, mother. Shall I call you a cab? " 
 
 " Not for another ten minutes. My meeting does not 
 begin until six o'clock: and I consider it just as much a sin 
 against the true spirit of punctuality to be too early as to be 
 
 '
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 too late. Isabella, I repeat that I do not understand your 
 present attitude of mind." 
 
 " Probably not," replied Isabel. " Still, Mrs. Gaythorne, 
 I repeat that if, as you say, Gabriel Carr has flowers upon 
 the Altar, I think he is quite right." 
 
 " I did not say so, Isabella: how can you so misinterpret 
 me? I said upon the Communion Table." And Mrs. Gay- 
 thorne fairly glared. 
 
 But Isabel stuck to her guns. " If it is right for us to 
 beautify our own houses with flowers, why isn't it right for 
 us to beautify God's House? " 
 
 " I consider that even in our own dwellings things of that 
 kind are apt to harbour dust." And Mrs. Gaythorne glared 
 significantly at Isabel's overturned pampas-grass. 
 
 The latter could not help laughing. " Naturally, when 
 they are strewn upon the floor: but you will do me the justice 
 to admit that this was my misfortune and Charlie's fault. 
 Gabriel's flowers are not strewn upon the floor, you see: 
 and it is Gabriel's flowers that we are discussing." 
 
 "Are they not, Isabella? There you make a great mis- 
 take. I have heard and upon very good authority that 
 upon Palm Sunday Gabriel actually did have his church 
 strewn with willow-branches which he chose to call palms. 
 Willow-branches, mark you: actual willow-branches: and 
 that seems to me even worse than having flowers upon the 
 Communion Table. Miss Vipart " here Fabia jumped 
 again " you will agree with me, I am sure : I think you said 
 you were not a Ritualist." 
 
 "No: but still, Mrs. Gaythorne, you can hardly con- 
 sider me an authority on such questions, as I am not a 
 Christian." 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne fairly bounced in her chair. " Not a 
 
 [53]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Christian, Miss Vipart? Surely I cannot have heard you 
 aright." 
 
 Here poor Charlie interposed, wondering what evil spirit 
 had prompted Fabia's untimely confession, to lure both her- 
 self and him to their destruction. " Never mind, mother, what 
 she is: she's all right 'pon my soul, she is! And you'll be 
 awfully late for your meeting if you don't go at once." 
 
 His mother brushed him aside as if he had been an irri- 
 tating midge. " Silence, Charles: I have yet four minutes." 
 Then turning again to Fabia, " Do I understand you to say 
 that you are a heathen, Miss Vipart? " 
 
 " Practically so, I am afraid." 
 
 " Then how do you expect to be saved ? " 
 
 " I don't expect it. I don't expect anybody to be saved 
 not you nor I nor anybody else." 
 
 Here Charlie gasped, and even Isabel held her breath. 
 The mere idea of not expecting Mrs. Gaythorne to be saved 
 seemed almost stupendous in its blasphemy. Poor Charlie 
 felt that all was over between himself and Fabia: and Isabel 
 considered that whatever punishment the affronted lady 
 chose to inflict upon the culprit, would be well deserved. 
 So they both waited in helpless silence to see what form the 
 merited chastisement would take. 
 
 But they had reckoned w-ithout their host. 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne rose from her chair, and walked majes- 
 tically across the room to where Fabia was sitting, and laid 
 her beautiful hand upon the girl's shoulder. " My dear," 
 she said, and her voice was no longer strident, but reminded 
 Charlie of what it used to be when he was ill as a little 
 boy, " I should like to see more of you, and to help you. 
 If you will come to my house I will read to you and pray 
 with you and do all that I can under God to teach you 
 
 [54]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 to be His child." Then, before the other three could 
 recover from their astonishment, " Charles, my cab. It is 
 twenty minutes to six." 
 
 Charlie and Isabel were dumbfoundered. They thought 
 they knew Mrs. Gaythorne out and out: but they had never 
 calculated upon her behaving in this way. They were alto- 
 gether out of their reckoning. For they had forgotten that 
 there is a power stronger than prejudice or bigotry or in- 
 vincible ignorance a power which constrains men and 
 women today, as it constrained the Apostles of old the 
 power of the love of Christ. 
 
 [55]
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 POLITICAL LIFE 
 
 LORD WREXHAM \vas Prime Minister of England at the 
 time when this story opens. He was a bachelor for reasons 
 which have been told elsewhere: he was a Premier for rea- 
 sons which have not yet been mentioned: the principal one 
 of which was that nobody considered him specially suited 
 and therefore nobody else considered him specially unsuited 
 for the office. When half of a political party is crying 
 out to be governed by A., and another half is shrieking 
 equally loudly for the guidance of B., it happens not infre- 
 quently that the lot finally falls upon C., for the good reason 
 that he is neither the one nor the other. Nobody is particu- 
 larly delighted by his elevation to power consequently no- 
 body else is particularly annoyed by it and so everybody 
 is pleased all round: or, to speak more correctly, is not dis- 
 pleased, perfection of any kind never being more than 
 approximate in politics. 
 
 Of course many men owe their success in life to the fact 
 that they are themselves: but quite as many owe it to the 
 fact that they are not somebody else which is by no means 
 the same thing, though to the superficial it may appear so. 
 
 Lord Wrexham would never have become Prime Minis- 
 ter because he was what he was : he was raised to that dignity 
 and honour simply because he wasn't what he wasn't. Isabel 
 Carnaby once nearly married him because he was not Paul 
 Seaton: she also jilted him for the same sufficient reason: 
 
 [56]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 and ft was this negative characteristic of his this power, so 
 to speak, of not being other people that made it possible 
 for a friendship still to exist between himself and her, and 
 for Isabel and her husband to come and stay at Vernacre. 
 Had she become Lady Wrexham, there would have been no 
 friendship, and no possibility of one, between herself and 
 Paul Seaton. 
 
 One might write a treatise upon the men and their 
 name is Legion who are neither A. nor B., but simply C. 
 They form a large and influential class of the community. 
 They accomplish much in life: but by negative rather than 
 by positive means. They own more wisdom than charm 
 more solid sense than strong personality. Theirs is not 
 the magnetic force which sways men and subjugates 
 women which at first sight either irresistibly attracts or 
 unaccountably repulses : but the staying power which com- 
 mands respect rather than admiration the gentle reason- 
 ableness which convinces rather than compels. These men 
 of the C. Division of Society make uninteresting lovers but 
 unexceptionable husbands: they can carry out an accepted 
 policy better than they can lead a forlorn hope. But usually 
 they are honest men and good citizens : and almost invariably 
 they are gentlemen. 
 
 Such a man was Lord Wrexham, the Prime Minister. 
 
 At the time of this story the then sitting Parliament had 
 passed its zenith, and there was no doubt that its successor 
 would insist upon a thorough shuffling of the political cards. 
 The party as is not unusual with Liberal parties was 
 divided : otherwise Lord Wrexham would never have been 
 selected as its head. There was no doubt that if the Liberals 
 remained in power after the General Election, a place in 
 the Cabinet must be found for Paul Seaton, the Under- 
 
 [57]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Secretary of War and the leader of the more advanced 
 section of the party : and the inclusion of Seaton in a Cabinet 
 meant to a great extent the adoption by that Cabinet of the 
 policy which he advocated; as, in addition to being an able 
 man himself, he represented a section of the party too large 
 and influential to be set aside. 
 
 Now Mrs. Paul Seaton was an excellent wife, loving and 
 reverencing her husband with her whole heart as a good 
 wife should : but she did not agree with him in politics. She 
 had been brought up in the good old Whig school by her 
 uncle, Sir Benjamin Farley: and, being a clever woman, 
 she had not just accepted with unquestioning simplicity the 
 political tenets in which she had been trained she had 
 carefully weighed them for herself and had not found them 
 wanting. When mature judgment sets its seal of approval 
 upon the traditions of youth, those traditions become fixed 
 principles which it is difficult, if not impossible, to uproot, 
 as they crown with the sanction of later reason the sanctity 
 of earlier romance a combination of almost impregnable 
 strength. Therefore Seaton's wife could not see eye to eye 
 with him on these matters, much as she would have liked to 
 do so. Although in actual years she was slightly younger 
 than her husband, in her outlook upon life she was older 
 than he, women always maturing more quickly than men: 
 consequently her politics were those of an elderly man, while 
 his were those of a young one. He had still the hopefulness 
 and enthusiasm of the knight-errant, who is always setting 
 forth upon marvellous quests for the righting of the wrong, 
 or the succour of the helpless, or the seeing of wonderful 
 and unearthly visions: while she had already learnt that 
 the patching of old garments with new cloth often makes 
 the rent worse that by endeavouring to right a wrong, men 
 
 [58]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 sometimes increase it and that the time of visions is over- 
 past. Paul's certainty that he had discovered a panacea 
 for most political and social and commercial ills, and his 
 joyous belief in the ultimate success of the same, awoke no 
 answering chord in Isabel's breast. She was just as anxious 
 as he was that the country and the party should alike 
 flourish : she was considerably more anxious than he was that 
 Paul Seaton should eventually become Prime Minister: but 
 she differed from him as to the best means for procuring 
 these desirable ends. She had unbounded admiration for 
 her husband's powers unlimited faith in his abilities: but 
 she feared that his over-sanguine disposition would lead him 
 to strike before the iron was quite hot enough, and to 
 attempt to seize the prize before it was in his grasp. 
 
 Paul's chief end in view was the good of his country: 
 Isabel's chief end in view was the advancement of Paul: 
 and she was terrified lest in a moment of misdirected zeal 
 or misguided altruism he should commit himself to a course 
 of action which should eventually militate against his per- 
 sonal success. She hated to disappoint him by refusing to 
 share his enthusiasms : but she hated still more to see him, as 
 she thought, preparing disappointment for himself by build- 
 ing political air-castles as unsubstantial as the pageant of 
 Prospero. 
 
 From the bottom of her heart Isabel dreaded the con- 
 tinuance of the Liberals in power after the General Elec- 
 tion. She knew that there must be fundamental changes in 
 the Government if the country decided on enjoying six years 
 more of Liberal administration: Lord Wrexham's sitting- 
 still policy could not last through another Parliament. The 
 new men with the new measures would come to the front: 
 and she shrank from the consequence of what this coming 
 
 [59]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 to the front might mean. Perhaps she was right perhaps 
 she was wrong: that is not the business of a mere story- 
 teller to decide : but she was convinced in her own mind that 
 the changes which her husband and his friends were con- 
 templating, would, if carried out, result in disappointment 
 to themselves and their party, and disaster to the country at 
 large: and accordingly she longed to induce them to stay 
 their hands. Failing this, she hoped that the Liberals would 
 be beaten at the next Election, and so be provided with a 
 period of Opposition wherein to learn more about them- 
 selves and their country than they knew at present. 
 
 She had lived long enough in the political world to learn 
 that there even more than anywhere else it is a mistake 
 to do anything in a hurry. But she had likewise lived long 
 enough in the political world to learn that there more 
 than anywhere else men are in a hurry to do things: the 
 old men because they are old, and the young men because 
 they are young: the young men because there is so much to 
 be done, and the old men because there is so little time in 
 which to do it. 
 
 But the man who takes his politics from his wife may 
 be a good husband but he is not a great politician. Perhaps 
 he is not altogether the best sort of husband, either. Modern 
 novelists may know better, but the Apostle distinctly stated 
 that the husband is the head of the wife: daily newspapers 
 may take a wider view, but the Bible gives the wife no op- 
 tion save to be in subjection to her husband. The husband 
 has the right to rule by the most divine right of kingship: 
 and a king who is afraid to exercise his royal prerogative is 
 hardly the highest type of king. 
 
 Therefore Paul Seaton believed that in certain things 
 politics included he knew better than his wife: and he 
 
 [60]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 acted up to this belief in all uprightness and simplicity of 
 heart. 
 
 They did not quarrel over the question : they were far too 
 good comrades for that : but they held respectively their own 
 opinions as to the best way of governing the country and of 
 improving its outlook: and they talked it all out fully to- 
 gether. Although Paul was too much of a man to take his 
 views from his wife ready-made, there is no doubt that they 
 were considerably modified by Isabel's influence. And no 
 blame to him for that! For even the greatest of the Apos- 
 tles, who was himself a married man, permitted that hus- 
 bands should be won by the conversation of the wives, so 
 long as that conversation was coupled with fear. 
 
 One evening after dinner Paul and Isabel were sitting 
 alone, Lady Farley having taken Fabia to the Opera: and 
 were discussing the present political situation and the pros- 
 pects for the future. 
 
 " You are a faint-hearted fair lady," said Paul : " you 
 haven't the courage of your convictions." 
 
 " I haven't the courage of yours, you mean." 
 
 " It comes to the same thing." 
 
 Isabel shook her head. " Not quite." 
 
 "Well, just you wait and see! If we come in again at 
 the next Election of which there seems every possibility: 
 and if they give me a place in the Cabinet of which there 
 seems every probability: we shall bring about such a revolu- 
 tion in domestic policy that the country will flourish as it 
 has not flourished for years. It will be the dawning of a 
 golden age." 
 
 But again Isabel shook her head. " You are always so 
 sanguine. The golden age has never dawned yet : why should 
 it begin now? "
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " Dearest, you are growing very Conservative." 
 
 " Am I ? I don't mean to. But if only you are one thing 
 long enough, you suddenly find that you are another, the 
 difference between one thing and another being merely a 
 difference in time. If you go on being a Liberal long 
 enough, you suddenly find yourself a Conservative: if you 
 only go on being a High-Churchman long enough, you sud- 
 denly find yourself an Evangelical: if you go on being a 
 young woman long enough, you suddenly find yourself an 
 old one. It isn't yourself that alters: you stand still and 
 the world goes round : so that you inevitably get somewhere 
 else by persistently stopping where you are." 
 
 " Silly little child ! Just wait and see what the Liberals 
 are going to do, and then you won't be a Conservative any 
 longer. You must march with the times, my dearest." 
 
 " I can't. I'm getting too old for such violent exercise. 
 But, Paul, you always seem to think that any change is of 
 necessity an improvement that new lamps are invariably 
 better than old." 
 
 " Well, aren't they? New brooms always sweep clean." 
 
 " And new boots almost always pinch." 
 
 Paul laughed. He was so sure of himself so sure of his 
 convictions that his wife's warnings rolled off his back 
 like water off a duck's. Underneath his somewhat staid 
 and serious manner was hidden all the confidence of the 
 self-made man: while Isabel's cheerful and careless light- 
 heartedness concealed the half-cynical wisdom of the woman 
 of the world. 
 
 " Darling," he said with a smile; " your pessimism is very 
 funny." 
 
 " And so is your optimism, when you come to that," 
 retorted Isabel. 
 
 [62]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 And then they each laughed at the other like a pair of 
 happy children. 
 
 Suddenly Paul's face grew grave. " There is only one 
 thing that bothers me," he said. 
 
 " And what is that, darling ? " Isabel's love was up in 
 arms for his succour and defence. 
 
 " Well, the Governorship of Tasmania will be vacant 
 shortly and " 
 
 Isabel interrupted him. " How is that? The Grave- 
 sends' time is not nearly up. It seems only yesterday that 
 Lord Gravesend was made Governor of Tasmania to com- 
 fort him and Eleanor for losing the situation in New North 
 Wales, when New North Wales decided not to keep a pet 
 Governor of its own any longer." 
 
 " That is so : but Gravesend's health is breaking down, 
 and they are afraid he will have to resign and come home 
 before his time is up. And if the Liberals are still in office 
 when that happens, I am desperately afraid that Wrexham 
 will offer it to me." 
 
 For a minute Isabel's heart stood still. Here was a way 
 out of all her troubles, and a very pleasant way too. She 
 would love above all things to be an Excellency, as her 
 aunt had been before her: and then if Paul were busy 
 governing Tasmania, he would not be hurrying in those 
 measures for the improvement of England, for which she 
 did not think the times were yet ripe. She considered that 
 five years of Colonial Government would not only add to 
 her husband's practical experience and increase his adminis- 
 trative ability, but would also enable the English constitu- 
 encies to become accustomed to the new ideas which the 
 Liberal party either in office or in opposition intended 
 shortly to formulate. 
 
 [6 3 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 "Oh! I should adore it," she exclaimed. 
 
 Paul's face grew still longer. " I was afraid you would. 
 It was that which decided me that I couldn't refuse it if it 
 were offered. Moreover I don't think that a poor man 
 like myself would be justified in refusing such a good thing 
 from a pecuniary point of view, although I'm afraid it would 
 be the end of my political career." 
 
 " Not it ! You are still a young man : you can afford to 
 wait. At the end of five years you would be older and yet 
 not old." She was too wise to say " wiser," though the word 
 w r as on the tip of her tongue. 
 
 " Still Gravesend may be able to hang on at any rate 
 until the new Parliament," said Paul with his accustomed 
 hopefulness: "and that would decide the matter for itself. 
 Of course if I were certain that a Liberal majority would 
 again be returned at the General Election, I should be all 
 right in saying No: but if we are going out of office, and I 
 shall have to drop my official salary, I don't feel it is fair 
 to you to refuse this income and position." 
 
 Isabel came up to him, and put her arms round his neck. 
 
 " Darling, promise me that if it is offered to you, you 
 won't refuse." She was so certain that this would be the 
 wisest course for him as well as for her, that she did not 
 hesitate to make the request. 
 
 " Of course I promise, my own." When she asked him in 
 that tone, there was nothing on earth that he would not have 
 promised her. 
 
 [64]
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ISABEL'S VIEWS 
 
 THE Secretary of State for War, Lord Kesterton, was din- 
 ing with the Seatons one evening not very long after Fabia's 
 appearance in their midst. The party consisted of Mr. 
 Greenstreet (a rising author), Miss Vipart and himself: 
 and the conversation, as is usual in political circles, turned 
 upon politics. There are no such people for talking shop 
 as politicians: there is no shop more fascinating to talk: but 
 in every world be it the political world or the literary or 
 the artistic or the religious, or any other world that ever 
 was created there is nothing so well worth talking as shop, 
 and nothing that clever people are more ready, and stupid 
 people more reluctant, to discourse upon. 
 
 There is something very weird and strange in the ordinary 
 man's deeply ingrained horror of conversing upon the one 
 subject upon which he is competent to converse. He appears 
 to consider it a virtue on his part to avoid, as if it were the 
 plague, the one theme upon which he is at home, and to 
 descant at length upon those matters about which he knows 
 absolutely nothing. He is obsessed with a wild notion that 
 he will become a bore to his hearers if he endeavours to 
 interest them in those questions in which he himself is in- 
 terested: little recking, poor deluded soul! that he is in 
 far more imminent danger of becoming a bugbear if he 
 strives to instruct them in matters about which they know 
 far more than he. 
 
 [65]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 People are never really at their best except when they 
 are talking about what is commonly called shop: for it is 
 only then that they thoroughly forget themselves and lose 
 themselves in their subject. Even a plumber if he talked 
 pure plumb would be well worth listening to: he might 
 enlighten even the most enlightened among us as to why he 
 always leaves his inevitable white lead at home, and has to 
 go back again to fetch it before he can do anything ; and why 
 he usually begins his day's work half-an-hour before dinner- 
 time and might explain other mysterious matters connected 
 with his own peculiar profession which the lay mind has long 
 striven in vain to grasp. But take him off his own subject, 
 and then probably he will be very poor company indeed. 
 And what is true of him is more or less true of us all. 
 
 It must be admitted, however, that women are less blame- 
 worthy in this respect than men principally because, though 
 frequently less selfish, they are as a rule more egotistic. They 
 rarely shrink from talking pure and unadulterated shop 
 especially with each other. If the shop happens to be in 
 any sense of the word a work-shop, all well and good: the 
 talker is usually worth listening to: but if the emporium 
 resolves itself into nothing more than a cook-shop or a baby- 
 linen warehouse well, then Heaven help the listener! 
 
 All of which brings us back to the starting-point that 
 the Seatons and their guests were talking shop. 
 
 " How long do you think we shall be able to keep our- 
 selves in office, Lord Kesterton, with such a mighty atom 
 of a majority? " asked Isabel. " It makes life hard for the 
 women and children of the party when the majority is so 
 small that the men can hardly ever come home to dinner! " 
 
 " The men of the party ought to feel flattered, Mrs. 
 Seaton." 
 
 [66]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Isabel shook her head. " Not if they knew the truth : 
 men would very rarely feel flattered if they knew the truth. 
 That is why really good kind women try their best to keep 
 it from them." 
 
 " A noble effort, nobly sustained ! " exclaimed Green- 
 street. 
 
 "What is the unflattering truth in this case?" enquired 
 Lord Kesterton, with the smile which Isabel never failed 
 to evoke from him. 
 
 " The truth is that when the men don't come home to 
 dinner the women don't get enough to eat. Of course when 
 we're dining out it is all right: as we then not only get 
 enough to eat, but we can tell all our best stories as effec- 
 tively and untruthfully as we like, without having any tire- 
 some husband at hand to pick the embroidery off. But no 
 woman can order a proper dinner for herself alone: such a 
 course is in direct opposition to her finest and most feminine 
 instincts ! " 
 
 Paul looked quite serious. " Isabel, this is very wrong 
 of you," he said. " I thought dinner went on just the same 
 whether I was here or not." 
 
 "Ah! that is just what a man would think. To him 
 dinner is the sort of thing that always must happen like 
 the sunrise or the opening of Parliament or Christmas Day. 
 But a woman loves to evade it if she can: it is the nature 
 of her to do so something in her rnake. Somebody once 
 said that an ordinary woman's favourite dinner is an egg in 
 the drawing-room: and it is quite true. I couldn't enjoy a 
 Lord Mayor's banquet half as much as the dear little scratch 
 meals I have on a tray in my boudoir before I go to the 
 theatre when Paul isn't here." 
 
 " I have long noticed," remarked Mr. Greenstreet, " and 
 
 [6 7 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 marvelled at the universal passion of women of all classes 
 of society for what they call ' something on a tray.' To the 
 masculine mind, things on trays are unsatisfying and repel- 
 lant: but to the feminine body they are as the very manna 
 from Heaven. Miss Vipart," he continued turning to Fabia, 
 " confess that you too feel the fascination of something 
 on a tray." 
 
 " I do," replied Fabia : " I confess it unhesitatingly. I 
 enjoy quite as much as Mrs. Seaton does our little picnics 
 in the boudoir before we rush off to the play." 
 
 Greenstreet sighed. " I suspected as much. Bread eaten 
 in secret is the favourite food of the normal woman. It is 
 merely another proof of her innate distaste for everything 
 that is straightforward and above-board." 
 
 " Not a bit of it," retorted the host: " it is a proof of her 
 innate unselfishness. If only her menkind are properly cared 
 for, she doesn't care a rap what happens to herself." 
 
 "Hear, hear!" cried Isabel from the other end of the 
 table. " I have much pleasure in seconding the amendment 
 of the honourable member. It is our glorious unselfishness 
 that is at the root of the tray-system: no woman is capable 
 of the deliberate and cold-blooded selfishness of ordering a 
 full, true and particular dinner for her own consumption. 
 .Why, if you remember, even Eve couldn't properly enjoy 
 the celebrated apple until she'd got her husband to share it 
 with her: and we arg all like that, bless our dear little 
 hearts ! " 
 
 " You are, you are ! " echoed the devoted husband : " and 
 no one knows it better than my fortunate self." 
 
 " It is always elevating," sai'd Lord Kesterton, " to hear 
 the remarks upon matrimony by Benedick the married man." 
 
 " When his wife happens to be within earshot," added 
 
 [68]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Greenstreet. " At a large dinner-party it is interesting and 
 instructive to note the difference between the conversation 
 of the men whose wives can hear what they are saying, and 
 the conversation of the men whose wives can't." 
 
 " There isn't much they can't hear if they want to," said 
 Paul with a laugh. " The experienced husband doesn't 
 trust too much to any apparent disability on that score." 
 
 " For shame, for shame, Mr. Seaton, for letting out the 
 secrets of the prison-house in this way ! " exclaimed Fabia. 
 
 Greenstreet fairly groaned. " Secrets, good heavens! She 
 calls them secrets ! She thinks that the world cannot see the 
 manacles of the model husband, or else mistakes them for 
 garlands of roses! For an unrivalled power of sprinkling a 
 few grains of sand on the top of her bonnet, and thinking that 
 she thereby successfully hides herself and her foibles from the 
 trained eye of man, give me not the much-maligned ostrich 
 but woman, lovely woman ! " 
 
 " All the same, Mr. Greenstreet," Fabia persisted, " I 
 don't believe that men do see the faults and failings of their 
 wives." 
 
 " Don't you, Miss Vipart? " replied Greenstreet " Well, 
 then all I can say is that Seaton must be a very clever man. 
 You've been staying in this house for several weeks now, 
 haven't you? " 
 
 "Yes; five." 
 
 Greenstreet looked thoughtful. " A very clever man ! A 
 marvellously clever man! Seaton, I have always admired 
 your varied gifts, but until this moment I never did you full 
 justice." 
 
 Isabel laughed with delight. She had a great liking for 
 Mr. Greenstreet, because he always talked nonsense to her, 
 and Isabel was one of the women who revel in the talking 
 
 [69]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 of nonsense. Lord Wrexham had never talked nonsense to 
 her: if he had, she would probably by now have been the 
 wife of the Prime Minister, instead of only the wife of the 
 Under-Secretary for War. And even Paul did not talk as 
 much nonsense to her as she would have liked: he would 
 perhaps have been wiser in his dealings with her if he had 
 not always been quite so wise. 
 
 " Seaton," Greenstreet continued, " gifts such as yours 
 cannot languish in oblivion: a man with your marvellous 
 slow-sightedness and your unparalleled dulness of perception 
 cannot fail to end your days as either Emperor of China or 
 Prime Minister of England." 
 
 Here his hostess interrupted him. " Talking of Prime 
 Minister reminds me that you've never answered my ques- 
 tion, Lord Kesterton. How long is Wrexham going to keep 
 the party in office with such a small majority?" 
 
 " Considerably longer than anybody else could do in his 
 place," replied Lord Kesterton: " that is all I can tell you." 
 
 " Why will Lord Wrexham keep the party in office 
 longer than other people could ? " asked Fabia. 
 
 " Because, my dear young lady, he possesses all the quali- 
 ties requisite for an ideal Prime Minister." 
 
 " And pray what are they ? " continued Fabia pursuing 
 the subject, and pleased that she should if only for a mo- 
 ment have diverted the attention of the Secretary of State 
 for War from Isabel to herself. 
 
 " His first and finest gift," Lord Kesterton replied, " is 
 the solid absence of anything approaching brilliancy. The 
 great heart of the English people does not love brilliant 
 men." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because, my dear Miss Vipart, it does not understand 
 
 [70]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 and therefore cannot trust them. Human nature rarely trusts 
 what it cannot understand: and how can a nation whose 
 blood is beer and whose body is roast-beef place confidence 
 in persiflage or find security in epigram?" 
 
 " And what other fine quality has Lord Wrexham besides 
 the absence of brilliancy?" Fabia further inquired. 
 
 " He is very practical ; and he has an admirable temper." 
 
 " And is an admirable temper such an excellent thing in 
 statesmen?" asked Greenstreet. 
 
 "Most excellent," was Lord Kesterton's reply: "as in- 
 deed in everybody else. The statesman who loses his tem- 
 per loses his followers: the man who loses his temper loses 
 his friends." 
 
 "And what about the woman who loses her temper?" 
 asked Fabia. 
 
 Lord Kesterton bowed with mock gallantry. " There is 
 no such person, my dear young lady. A woman never loses 
 her temper." 
 
 " Some of them manage to do something singularly like it 
 at times," remarked Greenstreet. 
 
 " No," Lord Kesterton repeated, " a woman never loses 
 her temper: she merely now and again condescends to give 
 certain persons what she calls a piece of her mind." 
 
 " And what is the difference between doing that and los- 
 ing her temper? " 
 
 " The whole difference in the world, my dear Miss 
 Vipart: the difference between an involuntary loss and a 
 votive offering: between the payment of a water-rate and 
 a libation to the gods." 
 
 " Between having one's pocket picked and giving at a 
 collection," added Isabel : " and between compulsory taxa- 
 tion and the revenues of the S.P.C.K." 
 
 [71]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " Precisely," agreed Lord Kesterton. 
 
 " And what other qualities entitle Lord Wrexham to be 
 an ideal Prime Minister?" Fabia went on. 
 
 " He invariably says the obvious thing : and whenever it 
 is possible does nothing at all. The great art of popular 
 instruction is to teach people what they already know: just 
 as the great secret of successful leadership is to learn how 
 to stand absolutely still." 
 
 "And what else?" asked Paul, who was enjoying this 
 disquisition upon his leader. 
 
 " He is very prudent and he is very Protestant: and pru- 
 dence and Protestantism are the two great cornerstones of 
 English national life." 
 
 " And very good cornerstones too," added Paul. 
 
 " It seems to me," remarked Fabia, " that an ideal Prime 
 Minister must have all the virtues that begin with 
 P. He must be prudent and patient and practical and 
 Protestant." 
 
 Isabel gave a deep sigh. " I don't think you'll ever be an 
 ideal Prime Minister, Paul: because you're not very patient, 
 and you're not at all prudent, and you never say the obvious 
 thing unless it is the thing that is obviously too good to be 
 true." 
 
 Paul endeavoured to clear himself. " Well, anyway I'm 
 Protestant enough," he said in self -justification. 
 
 Isabel sighed again. " Yes, you are charmingly Protestant : 
 but I'm not sure that that is enough in itself, though of 
 course ft is a great deal." Then she put her head on one 
 side, and looked at her husband through her eye-lashes as 
 if he were some work of art that she was appraising. " I 
 love my love with a P. because he is Protestant : I hate him 
 because he is progressive: he lives in Prince's Gardens, lives 
 
 [7*]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 upon platitudes, his name is Paul, and I'll give him the 
 premiership for a keepsake." 
 
 Paul smiled, but he winced a little underneath the smile. 
 Isabel was sometimes so terribly accurate in hitting the nail 
 precisely in the middle of its head. " My wife is always 
 reproving me for being unpractical and idealistic," he said, 
 turning to Lord Kesterton. 
 
 " Is she indeed ! Then you will do well to listen to 
 her, Seaton. Men who are married never lack the op- 
 portunity of hearing the truth about themselves: and if 
 they are wise men they will sometimes avail themselves 
 of it." 
 
 " Hear, hear," applauded Isabel. 
 
 " But with all due deference to my wife and the other 
 Members of His Majesty's Government I cannot give up 
 my belief that it is enthusiasm that really makes the world 
 go round : I cannot forswear my creed that it is in what you 
 call idealism that the hope for the future of the race and 
 the nation lies. Surely it is by appealing to the highest in 
 human nature that we evoke the highest: it is by treating 
 men as reasonable beings that we make them reasonable 
 beings: it is by regarding them as heroes that we enable 
 them to attain to heroism." 
 
 Lord Kesterton nodded his head two or three times. 
 " Perhaps," was all he said. 
 
 Paul went on, " I think all you wise and prudent people 
 make one initial mistake : you confuse cause and effect. You 
 believe that men must be trained to bear responsibility before 
 they can be trusted with responsibility: that they must be- 
 come good citizens before they can act as good citizens: in 
 short, that they must never be allowed to wet their feet 
 until they have learned to swim." 
 
 [73]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 '' It would save a good many lives from drowning if that 
 rule were carried out," murmured Isabel sotto voce: but her 
 husband did not hear her. She did not intend that he 
 should. 
 
 " Now I maintain," he continued, his usually grave face 
 alight with enthusiasm, " that you are putting the cart 
 before the horse. I hold that it is only by being entrusted 
 with responsibility that men learn how to use responsibility: 
 that it is only by reading that a man learns how to read: 
 that it is only by walking that a child learns how to walk. I 
 do not believe that men perform heroic deeds because they 
 are heroes: I believe that they finally become heroes because 
 they have got into the habit of performing heroic deeds. 
 Our actions are not the outcome of our characters: it is our 
 characters that are the result of our actions. A king is not 
 a king because he knows how to rule: he knows how to 
 rule because he is a king." 
 
 " Then your idea is," said Kesterton, " not that we must 
 withhold power from any section of the people until we 
 believe they are fit to be entrusted with power: but we must 
 entrust them with it in order to make them fit ? " 
 
 " Exactly," replied Paul. " And I further believe that 
 the more power the people have, the more wisely they will 
 use it: that the more implicitly we trust them, the more fit 
 they will show themselves to be implicitly trusted." 
 
 " You believe in human nature more than Isabel does," 
 said Fabia. 
 
 " But he doesn't love it anything like as much," retorted the 
 maligned hostess. " He begins believing that every woman 
 is an angel and every man a hero: and then when the angel 
 begins to scold, and the hero flies in terror to his Club for 
 refuge, Paul is utterly disgusted and washes his hands of 
 
 [74]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 the pair for ever. Now I know that at heart every man is 
 a coward and every woman a shrew, and I like them all the 
 better for it: and it makes them seem more like relations 
 of ours, with a strong family likeness." 
 
 " It is rather a hard saying on your part to call every 
 man a coward," objected Lord Kesterton, much amused. 
 
 " No : it isn't : on the contrary it proves that I am able 
 fully to appreciate them when they do perform heroic deeds. 
 If a hero behaves like a hero, there is nothing in it: he can't 
 help behaving like a hero, any more than a sewing-machine 
 can help behaving like a sewing-machine, or an umbrella 
 can help behaving like an umbrella. But if a coward sud- 
 denly behave like a hero, it is something very splendid and 
 wonderful indeed : just as it would be if an umbrella in an 
 emergency ran up a seam, or if a sewing-machine spread shel- 
 tering wings to ward off the rain." 
 
 ' The soundness of your reasoning is only surpassed by 
 the striking nature of your metaphors," murmured Green- 
 street. 
 
 Isabel continued, " Naturally then I am much fonder of 
 my shrews and my cowards, who on special and great occa- 
 sions behave like angels and heroes, than Paul is of .his 
 heroes and angels who in everyday life behave like cowards 
 and shrews. I always pity and love, and am sometimes sur- 
 prised into acute admiration : he always exhorts and demands, 
 and is almost invariably disappointed and disgusted." 
 
 " Then," cried Fabia, " you believe that the coward who 
 sometimes behaves like a hero is a finer man than the hero 
 who often behaves like a coward ? " 
 
 " Of course he is : he is much more human, while his act 
 is much more divine. That is the whole point: it is when 
 people suddenly do things beyond themselves that the age 
 
 [75]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 of miracles begins, and that startling effects are produced. 
 Look at Balaam and his ass, and how awfully upset he was 
 when she did what he believed she was incapable of doing, 
 and reproved him. But do you suppose it would have had 
 any effect upon him if instead of his ass it had been his wife 
 who began scolding and objecting and begging him to stay 
 at home? Not a bit of it. It would have been just what 
 he was used to and what he expected, and would have had 
 no effect upon him at all." 
 
 Paul smiled fondly at his wife. " Even if you succeed 
 in convincing us that every man is a coward, nothing will 
 induce me to accept the dogma that every woman is a 
 shrew." 
 
 " Now for my part," remarked Greenstreet, " I considered 
 that by far the more plausible of the two tenets of Mrs. Sea- 
 ton's creed." 
 
 Isabel laughed gaily. " Therefore you must see that when 
 a woman behaves like an angel it is all the more credit to 
 her." 
 
 " Doubtless it would be: but personally I have never come 
 across an instance," replied the author. 
 
 " I have," said Paul quietly : " and such a striking one 
 that it has apparently led me into the not uncommon error 
 of generalising from a single instance ! " 
 
 Isabel blew him a kiss. " Thank you," she said. Then 
 she went on, " All of which is very nice and interesting, but 
 it hasn't answered my question as to how long Lord Wrex- 
 ham thinks that the Liberals will remain in office." 
 
 " Until the next Dissolution anyway. I feel sure that 
 if we were beaten upon a question in the House of Commons, 
 he would take the verdict of the country before he would 
 resign." 
 
 [76]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " And do you think we shall get a majority at the next 
 (. J,neral Election, Lord Kesterton?" 
 
 " That I cannot tell, Mrs. Seaton : it lies in the lap of 
 the gods. But one thing I can say: I would rather be beaten 
 altogether than continue in office with as small a majority 
 as we have at present. Too small a majority in the House 
 of Commons is a source of weakness to any Government. " 
 
 " I believe that we shall have a tremendous majority at 
 the next General Election," cried Paul: "a majority that 
 will enable us to do great things." 
 
 " You do not think your husband is right, Mrs. Seaton? " 
 said Lord Kesterton, as Isabel rose from the table, and he 
 moved his chair for her to pass. 
 
 " No," she replied slowly, as she looked with half-envious 
 admiration at the enthusiasm shining in Paul's eyes: " I 
 often don't think he is right : but I still oftener wish that I 
 could be as wrong as he is! " 
 
 [77]
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 GABRIEL CARR 
 
 IN a new and hideous Vicarage built in a new and hideous 
 suburb of London dwelt the Reverend Gabriel Carr. It 
 was not a slum: if it had been, he could have borne it better: 
 it was merely a highly respectable and unbeautiful spot 
 inhabited by a highly respectable and unbeautiful population. 
 For several years he had worked in the East End, and had 
 fought face to face with Apollyon in that Valley of the 
 Shadow. A hard fight, it is true a struggle to the very 
 death: but a battle not without a certain dramatic force and 
 reality which inspired the fighter with courage and strength. 
 Then the Bishop appointed Carr to the forming of a brand- 
 new parish in the centre of a brand-new suburb one of 
 those staring, yellow-brick suburbs which are increasingly 
 wont to disfigure the face of the earth in the immediate 
 neighbourhood of large cities. Here Gabriel worked as hard 
 as he had ever worked in the Valley of the Shadow, and was 
 as ready to fight: but he was forced to admit to his own 
 soul that the work was less interesting, the battle less excit- 
 ing. With a criminal class that publicly blasphemed and 
 privately defied the Deity, he knew how to deal : but not 
 with a lower middle-class that outwardly patronised and 
 inwardly ignored Him. Carr's new parishioners seemed far 
 too smug and self-satisfied to need salvation at all: and far 
 too respectable and independent to accept it as a free gift,
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 if at all. He felt that they would resent receiving even the 
 grace of God as a charity, but would expect it to be paid 
 for out of the rates : and, that being so, they had a right to it, 
 without the intervention of any priest or prophet whatso- 
 ever. 
 
 Nevertheless so great was Carr's power of success and 
 so strong his personality he succeeded in doing a good work 
 even in that unpromising locality. When first he was ap- 
 pointed vicar of S. Etheldreda's, he folded his flock in one of 
 those galvanised iron sanctuaries which are anything but 
 chapels-of-ease in nature whatever they may be in name : 
 and there he and his people for several years suffered tor- 
 tures from the frost of winter and the heat of summer by 
 turns. But, with his usual unfailing energy, he gradually 
 collected sufficient money to build a permanent church, and 
 sufficient worshippers to fill it. He believed that Ritualism 
 and Revivalism are the only two forms of religion which 
 have power to attract the masses: that it is through the 
 seeing eye and the hearing ear that the hearts of the unedu- 
 cated are reached: so that, while to the wise and learned 
 the visible sign is but the expression of the invisible reality, 
 to the unlearned and ignorant the invisible reality is the ex- 
 planation of the visible sign. Therefore Carr availed himself 
 of both these handmaids of religion in the services of S. 
 Etheldreda's. 
 
 But he also believed that though Revivalism may plant 
 and Ritualism may water, it is not in the power of either 
 of these to give the increase. Results he trusted to higher 
 hands: and like all men who do their best, and then leave 
 the issue entirely in those hands he was not disappointed. 
 He succeeded at last at S. Etheldreda's as he had succeeded 
 in the slums ; for even crass respectability is not permanently 
 
 [79]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 proof against the power of God. Thus Gabriel served the 
 Lord in his day and generation ; and to use the old Bible 
 phrase God was with him. 
 
 " I am going to have tea with Gabriel Carr this after- 
 noon," said Isabel to her guest the day after the little 
 dinner-party in Prince's Gardens : " will you come with 
 me?" 
 
 " Certainly. It will interest me to see Mr. Carr in his 
 own home and in the midst of his usual surroundings: it 
 will help me to understand the manner of man that he is. 
 I do not think we ever really know much about other 
 people until we have seen them in their accustomed environ- 
 ment." 
 
 Mrs. Seaton shook her head. " It won't help you much 
 in understanding Gabriel: as his surroundings are not an 
 atom like himself." 
 
 " I didn't say they were: or even think it." 
 
 " And if you expect him to resemble those insects who 
 look like twigs because they live among twigs, or those ani- 
 mals who have white coats from dwelling in Arctic regions, 
 you will be disappointed. He lives in a square house built 
 of dirty yellow bricks one of those dreary, unornamented 
 houses, that look as if they had no eyebrows or eyelashes, 
 and haven't the time to wash their faces; and yet his own 
 character is not built of yellow bricks at all, but has as many 
 foundations as the New Jerusalem, and is of as rare and 
 costly materials." 
 
 " Just so. Unlikeness may be as certain a result as like- 
 ness. That is my whole point." 
 
 " Oh! my dear, you are too subtle for me." 
 
 " Not at all. The whiteness of a diamond is as much 
 the result of its environment as that of a polar bear !; 
 
 [80]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 the result of his. Sometimes like produces like sometimes 
 like produces unlike: but both productions are equally 
 results." 
 
 " I suppose," suggested Isabel, " that the difference de- 
 pends upon the strength of the environment: two blacks 
 must be very black indeed before they can make a white." 
 
 " No: it depends upon the nature of the thing itself." 
 
 Fabia answered rather shortly. Isabel's habit of speaking 
 lightly and half-mockingly about everything always irritated 
 her. She took life and herself seriously, and was as yet too 
 young to have learnt how nearly akin are tears and laughter. 
 She did not know that smiles are oftener a surer symptom 
 than tears of a tender and understanding heart. 
 
 But Isabel pursued her way unabashed. " I see : no 
 amount of fervent heat would turn a piece of carbon into a 
 polar bear: while the most intense and microbe-destroying 
 frost wouldn't change a polar bear into a diamond tiara: the 
 raw material differing in the two cases. It's like the differ- 
 ence between exports and imports : one is one and the other is 
 the other, and it is a mortal sin against political economy to 
 confound the two: but what is really the difference between 
 them I've never been able to understand." 
 
 Fabia's lip curled slightly. Ignorance of any kind was 
 contemptible to her. " I should have thought that you, the 
 wife of a distinguished politician, would have known a thing 
 like that. I wonder your husband hasn't explained it to 
 you." 
 
 " He has often: that's why I don't understand it. You 
 will find, my dear Fabia, when you have lived as long as I 
 have, that all life's mysteries are comprehensible, but not 
 its explanations. I have great sympathy with the old woman 
 who said she ' understood the Pilgrim's Progress, and she 
 
 [81]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 hoped soon, with the help of the Lord, to be able to under- 
 stand the key.' I always understand everything until it is 
 explained to me: and then I never understand it again as 
 long as I live." 
 
 Fabia did not speak, but silently marvelled. How could 
 any woman thus positively glory in apparent ignorance and 
 stupidity and a woman, too, so naturally sharp and clever 
 as Isabel ? If she had found herself on any point wanting in 
 knowledge or intelligence, she would never have given herself 
 away by openly admitting it: but Isabel took the world at 
 large into her confidence with regard to her own deficiencies. 
 But this again though Fabia did not know it was merely 
 a consequence of the red cord. 
 
 " For instance," Isabel rattled on, " I used to understand 
 perfectly the difference between exports and imports. I said 
 to myself, ' The one goes out and the other comes in ': and 
 that seemed as plain as the nose on your face which, by 
 the way, on yours is a singularly pretty one. But then 
 Paul must take it into his head to expound to me that what 
 went in at one ear, so to speak, came out at the other, and 
 was changed from an import to an export in the process. 
 And from that moment I was lost. I never again under- 
 stood the difference between an export and an import, and 
 I never shall." 
 
 Fabia wondered whether Isabel knew she was a fool when 
 she talked like this. She did not grasp that it was because 
 Isabel knew she was no fool and knew that her world 
 knew it also that she amused herself and it by some- 
 times behaving as one. 
 
 " In the same way," the latter continued, " I used to 
 understand perfectly whether the twentieth century was to 
 begin with the year nineteen-hundred or the year nineteen- 
 
 [82]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 hundred-and-one, until the day Paul explained it to me by 
 taking a hundred apples out of one basket and putting them 
 into another: and from that day to this I've never known 
 when the twentieth century would begin or whether it 
 would ever begin at all." 
 
 " But we were talking about Mr. Carr," suggested Fabia. 
 
 "So we were. How clever of you to remember! To 
 know what one is talking about is one of the highest forms 
 of intelligence. Well, will you come and have tea with him 
 this afternoon, or will you not? It is purely optional: not 
 compulsory, as education is and as adult vaccination ought 
 to be." 
 
 " I have already told you that I will. I shall be im- 
 mensely interested to see Mr. Carr in that house of his own, 
 which you have assured me is so unfit a casket for the jewel 
 that it contains." 
 
 " Don't be sarcastic, my dear. Men hate a satirical 
 woman like poison: and a sharp tongue is to them as a ser- 
 pent's tooth." 
 
 Fabia did not answer, but she raged inwardly. She al- 
 ways resented Isabel's easy assumption of authority and supe- 
 rior knowledge; and when, as in the present case, Fabia 
 knew her hostess was in the right, she hated it still more. 
 And there was no doubt that Isabel frequently was in the 
 right. A woman who has lived for nearly forty years in 
 the heart of the world, and has kept her eyes open and 
 unblinded by temper or prejudice, has generally seen a good 
 deal. 
 
 After lunch the two ladies set out for S. Etheldreda's 
 Vicarage. They soon left what Isabel called the habitable 
 parts of the earth that is to say those portions of London 
 occupied by its more fashionable denizens behind them, 
 
 [83]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 and drove through long miles of mean streets until they 
 reached the dreary suburb where Gabriel Carr had his abode. 
 And specially dreary it appeared on this April afternoon 
 when the rest of the world was alive with the message of 
 spring. At last they found their way to the yellow brick 
 Vicarage, and were duly welcomed by its master. 
 
 There was no doubt that the Vicar of S. Etheldreda's was 
 a singularly handsome man: his beauty, which was the be- 
 quest of an Italian grandmother, being of that first-class 
 order which impresses the beholders more with a sense of 
 how fair is the soul that inhabits such a tenement than with 
 a consciousness of the beauty of the body which that soul 
 informs. The only flaw in the otherwise almost statuesque 
 perfection of his appearance was to be found in his hands, 
 which were more like those of an artisan than of a gentleman. 
 But these also in their own way bore testimony to the beauty 
 of his soul; for he had spoiled them by the manual labour 
 which he had done as a comrade and an example to the 
 youths in his parish. He had worked willingly with his 
 hands in order to teach them and help them to work will- 
 ingly with theirs: he had opened a carpenter's shop and had 
 instructed them himself on certain evenings every week in 
 all simple and useful forms of carpentry. For the rest, he 
 was dark and thin, of a light and graceful build, and with 
 a face expressive of intelligence and spirituality. So ascetic 
 was his type and so refined his style of countenance that he 
 looked more like a mediaeval monk than a modern parish- 
 priest. 
 
 He received his visitors with many expressions of delight, 
 and conducted them into his bare and bachelor drawing- 
 room one of those typical bachelor drawing-rooms which 
 are, so to speak, full of the absence of a woman. He might 
 
 [84]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 have flowers upon his altar, but he had not one upon his 
 mantelpiece: there were none of those pretty knick-knacks 
 about, whereby women create a home atmosphere, and at 
 the same time harbour dast: but everything looked as cold 
 and clean and unlived-in as a bedroom that is prepared for 
 the nursing of a fever-patient. The fire had evidently been 
 lighted just long enough to awaken into life all the damp 
 dormant in the room : and it crackled to itself in that spiteful 
 way which fires have when they think they ought not to have 
 been lighted at all. Gabriel had only three photographs 
 in his room namely the interior of his church, and the 
 exterior of his mother and his Bishop: and even these had 
 nothing in the shape of a frame to soften the severity and 
 squareness of their cardboard cabinet outlines. An unfur- 
 nished tea-tray was already upon the table: but as there 
 seemed little hope of its being occupied for some considerable 
 time, Gabriel suggested that they should go and inspect the 
 church to fill up the interval until such good time as the 
 kitchen kettle should see fit to boil. 
 
 So into S. Etheldreda's they went: and were struck as 
 were all who entered that church with the difference be- 
 tween its plain and unimposing outside and its rich and 
 ornate interior. Outwardly it was an ugly and unassuming 
 structure; but inwardly it was a perfect instance of how 
 beautiful Divine Service may be when conducted according 
 to the rites of that branch of the Holy Catholic Church 
 established in this kingdom. Gabriel was strictly Anglican: 
 he allowed nothing in his church that was not permitted 
 nay enjoined by the Ornaments Rubric. He would have 
 scorned to borrow from Rome any outward form which 
 signified no corresponding doctrine in the section of the 
 Church to which he owed his allegiance : he would not even 
 
 [8 5 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 permit the children in his Sunday-schools to observe any 
 act of ritual until they had first been taught the fundamental 
 truth which that act symbolised. He knew how helpful 
 it oftentimes is to us, who still see through a glass darkly, 
 to be reminded by outward symbolisms of the great truths 
 upon our acceptance of which depends the salvation of our 
 souls: and it always will be helpful to some of us, until the 
 day dawns when we see face to face, and know even as we 
 are known. But he knew also that while the ceremony 
 which serves to recall and expound a truth may be a help, 
 the meaningless form, which has no root in reality, must 
 always be a hindrance. Therefore Gabriel was no mere 
 Ritualist for Ritualism's sake; but he prided himself upon 
 showing what the services of the Church of England really 
 are when rightly and rigidly performed. Whatever of 
 symbol and form and ornament this branch of the Catholic 
 Church allows, of that he availed himself to the full : reject- 
 ing firmly, however, all mediaeval and modern accretions 
 and superstitions, and reverting as far as possible to the 
 usages of the early and undivided Church. 
 
 The beauty of everything within the walls of S. Ethel- 
 dreda's appealed very strongly to Isabel's artistic tempera- 
 ment. Hers was one of the natures which instinctively 
 recognise the indissoluble connexion between the Beautiful 
 and the True, and which understand that Beauty can never 
 be a rival of Truth, but is rather an exponent of it. Upon 
 Fabia, however, the effect was altogether different. Hers 
 was a more sensuous nature than Isabel's and she therefore 
 rated the intrinsic excellencies of anything in an inverse 
 proportion to its appeal to her senses. She believed that 
 in this she was more purely intellectual than her friend : but 
 here she was mistaken. It is no proof of intense spirituality 
 
 [86]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 when men and women regard as snares of the devil all the 
 beauties of nature and of art: but rather the reverse. He 
 may be a good man in whom the flesh lusteth against the 
 spirit and the spirit against the flesh : but he is a still better 
 man in whom the flesh is so subservient to the spirit that the 
 one expresses and typifies the other, turning into a very 
 sacrament every incident in daily life, so that God may be 
 all in all. 
 
 When Gabriel and his guests returned to the Vicarage 
 the tea was ready that strong, rampant tea, stiffened with 
 self-supporting London cream which many men and few 
 women enjoy. And the Vicar poured it out himself. 
 
 " I see you have chairs in your church instead of pews, 
 Mr. Carr," remarked Fabia : " and I want to know why 
 chairs are always considered more virtuous than pews." 
 
 " They aren't," he replied, " except in so far as economy 
 is a virtue. They are much cheaper: that is my sole reason 
 for having them." 
 
 " They are nothing like as comfortable as pews," said 
 Isabel : " because there's nowhere to put your legs let 
 alone your umbrella : and my umbrella ought to have a prize 
 for regular attendance at public worship." 
 
 " And do you feel you couldn't bring it to S. Etheldreda's, 
 Mrs. Seaton ? " 
 
 " There would be nowhere for it to sit on if I did. That's 
 why I hate chairs: they are so cramped. It may be the 
 right thing to be ' content to fill a little space ' as the hymn- 
 writer was: but I am not content to fill a little space, because 
 I fill it so completely that there are no outlying districts 
 where I can plant my gloves and my boa and my other 
 et ceteras: and that is so very uncomfortable both for me 
 and for them." 
 
 [8 7 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " Why don't you annex another chair ? " suggested 
 Fabia. 
 
 " Oh ! that would look so horribly greedy and selfish ! I 
 don't mind annexing a little bit of extra pew : in fact, I feel 
 that belongs to me by right, on the same principle as a ditch 
 always belongs to the owner of the other side of the hedge 
 a sort of perquisite. But coolly to annex a whole empty 
 chair, on which an immortal soul might and ought to 
 be sitting I couldn't do such a thing at any price! 
 I've always been led to believe that it was things like 
 that with a difference which brought about the French 
 Revolution." 
 
 "Then, Mr. Carr, don't you consider pews sinful?" 
 inquired Fabia. 
 
 " Not at all : merely expensive. Sin is always expensive, 
 but expense is not necessarily sinful : and pews are harmless, 
 if costly pleasures." 
 
 " And you don't object to people paying rents for them, 
 as so many churchmen do? " 
 
 "Oh! but I do object, Miss Vipart object with all my 
 heart. I consider it contrary to all the principles of Chris- 
 tianity for there to be any difference in the House of God. 
 There the rich and the poor meet together to worship the 
 Maker of them all: and they meet on equal footing of de- 
 pendence upon Him. Have pews by all means if you can 
 afford them: but let the pews be free.'* 
 
 " You've trodden upon one of Mr. Carr's most carefully 
 cultivated corns," said Isabel with a laugh. 
 
 " That is so," admitted Gabriel. " People especially 
 English people love to have something which sets them, 
 as they think, apart from their fellows something which 
 proves that they are not as other men, or even as this publi- 
 
 [88]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 can. The) are never so happy as when they stick up a red 
 cord somewhere, and go themselves on one side of it leaving 
 everybody else on the other. I feel sure that most British 
 subjects when they indulge in dreams of Heaven substi- 
 tute a red cord for those pearly gates which are never shut. 
 But the cord is fastened across pretty often, and is only let 
 down in favour of themselves and of such of their friends 
 as entirely agree with them." 
 
 Fabia w r as roused from her usual apathy: at last she had 
 found someone who understood. " I know what you mean 
 by your red cord," she said slowly: " it is very common 
 very cruel and very English." 
 
 "Cruel? I should just think it is cruel," exclaimed the 
 Vicar, " it is positively merciless ! " 
 
 " I think you exaggerate it altogether," said Isabel : " to 
 me it is more amusing than anything else. After all, if a 
 little bit of red cord at one-and-elevenpence-half penny a 
 yard constitutes human happiness, why on earth shouldn't 
 people have as much of it as they want enough to hang 
 themselves in fact?" 
 
 " For the good reason that they don't hang themselves : 
 they hang other people, Mrs. Seaton, to whom the operation 
 is less necessary and more painful." 
 
 "Well, for my part I like it," replied Isabel coolly: " it 
 may be wicked, but I do. I love to see a red cord fall down 
 before me, like the walls of Jericho, and rise up again the 
 moment I have passed through. Everybody feels like that: 
 it's human nature. And if you try to make out that the 
 Israelites didn't enjoy it when seas and rivers made way for 
 them and not for the Canaanites and Egyptians, I simply 
 sha'n't believe you: and the Israelites were considered very 
 good people in their way."
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Gabriel smiled. " Yes, in their way : but it wasn't the 
 Christian way, you see: and ours is. That makes all the 
 difference." 
 
 Isabel sighed. " I forgot that. Yes : I suppose one could 
 hardly call them Christians." 
 
 " Hardly, Mrs. Seaton." Gabriel was still smiling. He 
 knew Isabel: knew that she was far better than she made 
 herself out to be far better than she herself had any idea 
 of. He knew that her half-childish vanity delighted in pass- 
 ing through social barriers: but he also knew that more than 
 half her delight consisted in being able to take other people 
 with her. She might have enjoyed crossing the Red Sea 
 on dry land ; but she would never have consented to leave 
 Pharaoh's host behind. 
 
 She sighed again. " Oh, dear! Do you remember the 
 baby in Alice in Wonderland that made a very ugly baby 
 but a very handsome pig? Well, I seem to make a very 
 ugly Christian but a very handsome Jewess: I am referring 
 of course to moral beauty. I am sorry to be so wicked, but 
 I do like red cords, and it's no use pretending that I don't. 
 I believe the reason why I always enjoy the preaching at S. 
 Margaret's, Westminster, is because there is a red cord there, 
 licensed to hold only Members of Parliament and their 
 wives." 
 
 " I'll be bound you always want to take somebody else in 
 with you," said Carr. 
 
 " Yes, I do : partly from good nature and partly because 
 it is against the rules. Members of Parliament are only 
 allowed one wife even on Sundays, poor things! And it 
 does seem such short commons, especially when there is a 
 popular preacher turned on ! " 
 
 [90]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " A red cord is just the sort of thing you would like/* 
 said Fabia with suppressed scorn : " I should have expected 
 it of you." 
 
 " Then I am glad you are not disappointed," retorted 
 Isabel : " I rarely disappoint my friends." 
 
 Although Gabriel knew precisely how much Isabel's lik- 
 ing of this red cord amounted to, he wished she had not 
 openly praised it in Fabia's presence, as he felt sure that the 
 girl would misunderstand her: and he was right: parish- 
 priests learn a great deal about human nature in the course 
 of their ministrations. It is a rule and sometimes a very 
 unfortunate rule that we are apt, in our intercourse with 
 others, to take whatever role they may in their own minds 
 have allotted to us, even if that role is unlike, even opposed 
 to, our natural one. Instead of endeavouring to prove that 
 certain persons are wrong when they are so in thinking 
 us dull or sarcastic or flippant, we become, when in the 
 company of these persons, the very things which they errone- 
 ously suppose us to be. Sometimes unconsciously some- 
 times even against our will we are for the time being not 
 our real selves at all, but the creatures of our companions' 
 imaginations. This may be partly due to a sort of false 
 pride that will not allow us to justify ourselves when we 
 have been so misjudged : but probably more to the effect of 
 mind upon mind. By expecting us to have certain qualities, 
 these people temporarily endow us with those qualities: and 
 we actually are dull or sarcastic or flippant when in their 
 society. Therefore it behoves us all to think the best and 
 to expect the highest of each other, until the charity which 
 believeth all things and hopeth all things shall at last see 
 faith and hope lost in full fruition. 
 
 [90
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " Yes, you have never felt the lash of the red cord, Mrs. 
 Seaton," said Carr gently: "you have always been on the 
 right side of it." 
 
 Isabel laughed carelessly. The people who take things 
 for granted never know quite how hard life is to the people 
 who do not. " Well, at any rate you can't have much of the 
 questionable material in a place like this. That's one com- 
 fort for you." 
 
 " Can't I though ? That's all you know about it ! Why, 
 it is one of my greatest stumbling-blocks, and is always 
 getting in the way and tripping up my people in their road 
 to Heaven. Don't imagine for a moment that the sin of 
 exclusiveness is confined to the upper classes. In fact no 
 sin is. The devil may have his faults, but he is no snob, I 
 am sorry to say. I only wish he were ! It would make work 
 in the unfashionable parishes far easier than it is for the 
 clergy." 
 
 " But I should have thought that the people here were 
 all on the same dead level, like their houses," said Isabel. 
 
 " Not a bit of it. They appear so to us, I admit: but 
 doubtless we appear so to the angels. It is merely a question 
 of perspective. When I first came here, in the fulness and 
 innocence of my heart I invited a few of the leading parish- 
 ioners to tea : I thought it would bring them closer together : 
 and so it did too close. I discovered that there were deep 
 and impassable social gulfs yawning between apparently co- 
 equal retail tradesmen. They bitterly complained that not 
 only was it distasteful to sit at meat with social inferiors, 
 but that after thus sitting together they could hardly 
 ' give each other the pass-by ' in the street, but were com- 
 pelled to ' move ' to one another thenceforward. And to 
 ' move ' to anyone evidently entails serious social responsi- 
 
 [92]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 bilities which must not wantonly or inadvisedly be taken 
 in hand." 
 
 " Gabriel, ask Miss Vipart to sing to us," said Isabel, 
 rising from her chair and opening the piano Gabriel's one 
 and only luxury: " I'm sure she will, if you ask her prettily." 
 It was one of Mrs. Seaton's good points that she never lost 
 an opportunity of showing off another woman to the best 
 advantage. She did not know what jealousy or envy meant. 
 
 But Fabia resented even this, regarding it as a form of 
 patronage, and would probably have refused, had not Ga- 
 briel turned to her at that moment, with a beseeching 
 expression in his eyes, adding his entreaties to Isabel's. Per- 
 sonal attraction had a great effect upon Fabia: it was only 
 beauty in the abstract that failed to command her homage. 
 She would not be as conscious as was Isabel of the beauty 
 of a sermon; but she would be far more conscious of the 
 beauty of the preacher. The one woman admired Gabriel 
 because he was good ; the other, because he was good-looking. 
 Therefore, Carr being a handsome man, Fabia did as he 
 asked her; just as she would probably have obeyed Isabel, 
 had Isabel been a beautiful woman. It is an accepted theory 
 that a woman's personal beauty is the surest passport to the 
 love of man: but it is a far surer passport to the love of 
 other women. 
 
 So she sat down at the piano and began to sing: and as 
 she sang, the reason of her loneliness and isolation became 
 apparent: for she owned that strange gift which is called 
 genius, the possessors whereof are always set apart from 
 their fellow men. 
 
 As she sang, Gabriel felt as if the heavens had opened, 
 and earth with its sordid cares and petty interests had drifted 
 far away. On the wings of that song, his soul was uplifted 
 
 [93]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 until he hardly knew where he was or what he was doing. 
 He was only conscious of an indescribable joy and peace 
 which exceeded all description. 
 
 It is one of the peculiarities of genius, as distinguished 
 from mere talent, that genius can give what it has never 
 possessed, and can teach what it has never learned. The man 
 of talent can only distribute of his abundance can only 
 instruct others out of his own store of knowledge. But 
 the man with a spark of genius pours forth riches which 
 have never entered into his conception. And that because 
 genius is no mere ownership of intellectual gifts, but a chan- 
 nel for something which is outside mere humanity altogether 
 something which in its essence partakes of the Divine. A 
 man's talents are to a certain extent an integral part of him- 
 self: but not so his genius: this is but a pipe made maybe 
 of the commonest earthenware through which rushes the 
 sound of many waters when deep calleth unto deep. 
 
 Of course in the well-known cases of great genius, talent 
 and capacity are superadded. A man to do excellent and 
 lasting work must cultivate his Heaven-born gift with all 
 the aids of human knowledge and culture: and, further, he 
 must fit himself to be a vessel unto honour, sanctified and 
 meet for the use of that Master Who has entrusted him with 
 the rare and priceless gift of genius. For even a pipe 
 through which flows the dew of the mountain and the rain 
 from heaven, may so foul that stream, by its own unclean- 
 ness, that the water of life is thereby turned into the water 
 of death, and the rain of God into a veritable devil's sewer. 
 
 But these matters were as yet hid from Gabriel Carr. 
 Because Fabia sang like an angel, he believed that she was 
 in truth an angel because she lifted his soul to Heaven, he 
 believed that she herself was already there because she 
 
 [94]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 taught him by the beauty of her voice something of the 
 goodness of God, he believed that she had already tasted of 
 that goodness, and had proved how gracious it is. There- 
 fore as soon as he heard her voice he loved her: as Charles 
 Gaythorne had loved her as soon as he saw her face. And 
 each man had yet to learn to his cost that neither voice nor 
 face was the woman herself, nor in any way representative 
 of her. 
 
 [95]
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 VERNACRE PARK 
 
 LORD WREXHAM invited a small party of his special friends 
 to spend Whitsuntide with him at Vernacre Park, his coun- 
 try-seat, which party included Lord Kesterton, Mr. Reginald 
 Greenstreet, Captain Gaythorne and his mother, the Rever- 
 end Gabriel Carr, and the Paul Seatons and their guest, 
 Miss Vipart. 
 
 It was the Saturday afternoon, and they were having tea 
 in the stately drawing-room a room, for all its magnificence 
 as empty of abiding feminine occupation as was the drawing- 
 room at S. Etheldreda's Vicarage. Mrs. Seaton would have 
 preferred to have tea out-of-doors, but she was too wise a 
 woman to suggest it; having learnt that it is not in human 
 nature patiently to endure alien interference in domestic 
 arrangements. It may be very heroic to go forth combating 
 error and redressing wrong, in true knight-errantly fashion : 
 but it is far wiser to leave the error uncombated and the 
 wrong unredressed, if they happen to occur in other people's 
 houses. 
 
 " I am going down to the home farm after tea to inspect 
 some model cottages that have been erected during my 
 absence," said the host: "would anybody care to come 
 with me?" 
 
 " I should be immensely interested, if you'll take me," 
 answered Isabel quickly, before anybody else had time to 
 speak. She knew that he wanted her to go, and she wanted 
 
 [96]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 to indulge him. It was only since her marriage that she had 
 learnt to look at things from a man's point of view as well 
 as from a woman's, and had consequently realised how badly 
 she had treated Lord Wrexham in the old days when she 
 was Isabel Carnaby: and now, womanlike, she tried to make 
 up to him in the things that did not matter for having failed 
 him in things that did; because she had once denied him 
 bread, she now fairly pelted him with precious stones. To 
 tell the truth, there was nothing that bored her more than 
 farm buildings and model cottages: but she was willing 
 nay ready to endure any amount of boredom if she could 
 thereby relieve Wrexham 's loneliness and her own con- 
 science: about the latter part of which attempt there was not, 
 it must be admitted, much difficulty. People to whom the 
 world is ready to forgive much, rarely find it hard to forgive 
 themselves still more. 
 
 Lord Wrexham's face lighted up with pleasure. " I shall 
 be delighted to take you, Mrs. Seaton." 
 
 " I want to come too," said Fabia. 
 
 Isabel looked annoyed. She was fully aware of the fact 
 that the lovely Fabia had designs upon the Prime Minister 
 himself, and she resented it exceedingly. We none of us 
 really like the people who want to marry our former lovers ; 
 just as we never really like the people who live in the houses 
 that were once our homes. Isabel was beginning to feel much 
 as Frankenstein felt when his monster grew restive. 
 
 But Charlie Gaythorne unconsciously came to her rescue. 
 
 "Oh! I say, Miss Vipart: that's a bit too bad. You 
 promised to come for a stroll with me after tea, don't you 
 know?" 
 
 " So I did : I quite forgot it." 
 
 Charlie reddened. It is not pleasant to be forgotten by 
 
 [97]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 the woman you love; and it is still less so to be informed of 
 the fact before a roomful of your dearest friends. But 
 this was Fabia's mode of punishing him for presuming to 
 remember what it had suited her to forget. 
 
 " Perhaps Miss Vipart will let me show her my cottages 
 to-morrow instead," said the host, with his usual kindly tact. 
 
 Fabia, seeing that the bird in the hand had escaped from 
 out of her grasp, accepted the substitute from the bush with 
 the best grace she could muster. " Thank you, Lord Wrex- 
 ham : it would afford me the greatest pleasure to inspect your 
 model farm: and at the same time I may be able to borrow 
 from it some ideas which may be adopted, on my return 
 home, to the improvement of my Indian estates." 
 
 Lord Wrexham beamed. There are few men who do not 
 derive gratification from being requested to instruct a beauti- 
 ful woman and still fewer who can resist the subtle flattery 
 of being consulted upon the one matter which they do not 
 understand. In politics wherein he really was proficient 
 Lord Wrexham frequently doubted his own wisdom: but 
 with regard to farming wherein he was an amateur of the 
 first water he spoke with authority and without hesitation. 
 
 " I shall only be too pleased to give you any advice or 
 assistance in my power," he said. 
 
 But here Mrs. Gaythorne inserted her usual word in 
 season. She rarely heard of the formation of any plan, how- 
 ever simple, without making some attempt to improve it: 
 and this not from any unkindness of heart, but simply from 
 an insatiable passion for reform in the abstract. " I cannot 
 think that the Sabbath day is a suitable occasion for peram- 
 bulating farmyards and inspecting livestock." 
 
 " But why not, dear lady, why not? " asked Greenstreet. 
 " To my mind there is no more suitable amusement for a 
 
 [98]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Sunday afternoon no occupation more in keeping with the 
 reposeful atmosphere of the day than to scratch the back 
 of a pig with the end of one's walking-stick. I always em- 
 brace such an opportunity whenever it offers itself: it is 
 so soothing to the nerves that it almost sends one to sleep 
 on the spot." 
 
 " There is something better to be done on the Sabbath 
 than to be sent to sleep, Mr. Greenstreet," replied Mrs. 
 Gaythorne with some sternness. 
 
 "Indeed: then why listen to sermons?" 
 
 Charlie moved restlessly in his chair. He wished Green- 
 street wouldn't rouse his mother, just when she was taking 
 her tea so nicely and quietly, and all was peace. 
 
 Gabriel gallantly stepped into the breach. " Surely, Mrs. 
 Gaythorne, the contemplation of God's creatures can never 
 be a desecration of God's day. And besides we are specially 
 told that if an ox or an ass fall into a pit on the Sabbath 
 day we can pull it out: which surely means that nothing 
 done to alleviate the suffering of the creature can ever be 
 displeasing to the Creator." 
 
 " Mr. Greenstreet was not proposing to pull an ox or an 
 ass out of a pit: he was proposing to scratch a pig." Mrs. 
 Gaythorne was nothing if not literal. 
 
 " And in so doing I should be relieving the suffering of 
 another without any inconvenience to myself," added Green- 
 street : " the very essence of modern Christianity." 
 
 Again Charlie moved restlessly. It was all very well 
 to be brave he thought: but to wave scarlet bunting in 
 the faces of dangerous cattle is foolhardiness rather than 
 courage. 
 
 " Besides," continued Mrs. Gaythorne, as usual plodding 
 steadily along a side issue, " oxen and asses are treated with 
 
 [99]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 great respect all through the Scriptures: they were both 
 very useful and important animals in the Holy Land. But 
 no Jew would ever touch bacon or pork." She had a happy 
 knack of frequently getting the best of an argument by say- 
 ing something which had nothing whatever to do with the 
 subject under discussion, and yet sounded as if it had : and 
 thereby confounding her opponents. 
 
 Isabel was thoroughly enjoying herself. She wished that 
 Paul were here to share her unfailing delight in Mrs. Gay- 
 thorne's conversation; but he had gone for a long walk 
 with his chief, and had not yet returned. 
 
 Greenstreet was slightly staggered for a second by the 
 pork-and-bacon thrust; but he quickly recovered himself. 
 " I am always thankful I am not a Jew for that very reason," 
 he retorted : " what would life be without the taste of bacon ; 
 and what would your morning tub be without the smell of 
 bacon calling you to breakfast? " 
 
 "You are quite right," remarked Isabel: "bacon is one 
 of the things that do not taste at the time half so nice as 
 they smell beforehand : success is another and so is fame." 
 
 " And marriage, likewise." 
 
 " No, no, Mr. Greenstreet. Marriage turns out to be 
 even nicer than it promises to be." 
 
 " Ah ! I see ; more like cauliflowers than bacon. I think, 
 Mrs. Seaton, you will admit that other people's cauliflowers 
 repel rather than attract when the air is filled with the 
 promise of them : and as far as I am concerned other peo- 
 ple's marriages have the same effect." 
 
 " You are condemning yourself out of your own meta- 
 phor," retorted Isabel: "you compare marriage to a cauli- 
 flower, and you admit that cauliflower tastes much better 
 than it smells." 
 
 [ 100 ]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " I admit that it couldn't taste much worse." 
 
 " Then in the same way you'll find that marriage will 
 turn out much nicer than you expect." 
 
 " I shall not : for I shall never make the experiment." 
 
 Here Mrs. Gaythorne again pranced into the conversa- 
 tion. " I am sorry to hear that you are troubled with the 
 odour of cooking in your house, Isabella: but I am not sur- 
 prised. Most London houses are the same. It is all owing 
 to that ridiculous custom of building them in the shape of a 
 well with the kitchen at the bottom." 
 
 " Like truth," murmured Mr. Greenstreet. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mr. Greenstreet, I did not catch 
 your remark. My hearing is not what it once was, I regret 
 to say." 
 
 " No need for regret, madam, on that score, when I am 
 speaking: it is rather a subject for self-congratulation on 
 your part." 
 
 " Well, as I was saying, if you build your house like a 
 well with the kitchen at the bottom, how can you keep the 
 odour of cabbage-water out of the drawing-room?" 
 
 " Quite easily," replied Isabel. " I always succeed in 
 doing so : and if one can do a thing oneself, it is safe though 
 humiliating to conclude that nine-tenths of one's acquain- 
 tance can do it equally well." 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne looked sternly reproachful. " Isabella, 
 how can you say there is no odour of cabbage-water in your 
 drawing-room, when you have just been complaining to Mr. 
 Greenstreet that you cannot keep it out neither it nor 
 bacon? Dear, dear, dear! The young people of to-day are 
 not as truthful as we were when we were young. My dear 
 father never allowed one of us to be guilty of the slightest 
 inaccuracy in our conversation. I remember he once pun- 
 
 [101]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 ished my sister Maria severely for saying that Henry the 
 Eighth had a dozen or more wives, when she knew for a 
 fact that he had only six." 
 
 " But dear lady, she was right absolutely right from an 
 artistic point of view," exclaimed Greenstreet: "your sister 
 Maria pardon me for speaking in such familiar terms of 
 the lady, but I know her by no other name was a born 
 artist." 
 
 " She was not, Mr. Greenstreet. I was the artist of the 
 family, and copied flowers from nature in water colours 
 upon hand-screens for bazaars: Maria played the piano, and 
 frequently performed at village concerts with encores." 
 
 " But she was an artist all the same, from a conversational 
 point of view. Every good talker must be more or less of 
 an impressionist. For instance, if you say ' Henry the 
 Eighth had dozens of wives,' you give the correct impression 
 that he was a much married man : while if you say, ' Henry 
 the Eighth had barely six wives ' you give the impression 
 that he erred on the side of celibacy," persisted Greenstreet. 
 
 " I do not approve of celibacy," remarked Mrs. Gay- 
 thorne: "especially in the clergy." 
 
 Once again Greenstreet staggered under the unexpected 
 thrust ; and once again he recovered himself by clinging man- 
 fully to Henry the Eighth and Maria. " Therefore you 
 see, Mrs. Gaythorne, your sister conveyed the correct im- 
 pression by using the incorrect words. She expressed the 
 idea that King Henry married frequently; which was the 
 idea she intended to express. I am sure that Mrs. Sea ton 
 catches my point," he added, turning for support to Isabel. 
 
 " Perfectly," she replied. " On the same principle that 
 a touched-up photograph is really a much better likeness 
 than an unmodified negative which cannot lie." 
 
 [ 102]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne as usual ignored the highroad of the 
 conversation and stalked fearlessly along a by-way. But it 
 ceased to be anything so frivolous as a by-way the moment 
 that the good lady set foot upon it. Had she crossed Bypath 
 Meadow itself, it would immediately have been converted 
 into a solid highroad. " I do not at all disapprove of second 
 marriages myself," she said; " not at all." 
 
 She spoke indulgently, as if she expected everybody pres- 
 ent to run out and contract a second marriage at once, now 
 that she had sanctioned the innocent pastime. " And where 
 there are children," she added, " I consider it sometimes a 
 necessity." 
 
 " There were children in the case of Henry the Eighth, 
 if I remember rightly," said Isabel, with meekness in her 
 manner and mischief in her eye : " so the poor man could 
 plead extenuating circumstances." 
 
 "There were, Isabella: Bloody Mary was one of them. 
 Think of having Bloody Mary for a step-daughter! I 
 should very much have disliked it." 
 
 " I am sure you would," said Lord Wrexham. 
 
 " But she would have acted differently," continued Mrs. 
 Gaythorne, " if I had had the early training of her." 
 
 " You mean," said Greenstreet, " that in that case the fires 
 of Smithfield would have turned seven times hotter than 
 they did. I admit the theory is not untenable." 
 
 " I mean that in that case there would have been no Smith- 
 field," replied Mrs. Gaythorne majestically: " I should have 
 put my foot down upon it at once." 
 
 Here Isabel and Gabriel laughed outright, and Lord 
 Wrexham stroked his moustache to hide a smile; but Charlie 
 could not for the life of him see what there was to laugh 
 at. He knew that he dared not have burnt a single Protes- 
 
 [ 103 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 tant if his mother had, as she called it ' put her foot down ' 
 a favourite form of exercise with her; and he very much 
 doubted if anybody else, Queen Mary included, dared have 
 done so either. But other people did not know the weight 
 of his mother's foot. He did. 
 
 And all this time Fabia sat silent, not joining in the con- 
 versation at all. She was one of the women who cannot 
 talk except in a tete-a-tete; by no means an uncommon type. 
 General conversation invariably sealed her lips. But she 
 looked so beautiful that silence in her was pardonable, if 
 not commendable. Every woman ought either to talk well 
 or to look well, though she cannot reasonably be expected 
 to do both: but if she does neither, she has no place in the 
 scheme of social creation, and is only fit for domestic uses. 
 
 In Isabel Seaton the social instinct was very strong. Con- 
 versation was to her a game, whereof it behoved everyone 
 to know the rules. Had she lived a century or two earlier, 
 she could have held a salon with the best: as it was, she 
 was an ideal wife for a diplomatist or a politician. To ig- 
 nore your partner's lead in conversation w r as in her eyes as 
 bad as to ignore it in whist: to say the wrong thing, as 
 heinous as to play the wrong card : to sit silent, as unpardon- 
 able as to revoke. In conversation she was a veritable Sarah 
 Battle, insisting upon " the rigour of the game " : so now, 
 according to her instinct, she endeavoured to restore to ani- 
 mation the conversation which Mrs. Gaythorne had nearly 
 trampled to death. 
 
 " I am so interested," she said, " in what you say about 
 all good talkers being impressionists, Mr. Greenstreet. I 
 know exactly what you mean, and fully agree with you; 
 but unfortunately it never occurred to me to put it as 
 neatly as you have done." 
 
 [ 104]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Lord Wrexham looked at her in admiration. How ready 
 she always was to put people at their ease, and how success- 
 fully she oiled the wheels of life wherever she happened to 
 find herself. Seaton was indeed a lucky fellow! It was a 
 pity that a man with such a career before him as the posses- 
 sion of so brilliant a wife ensured, should throw it away 
 for the sake of those political will-o'-the-wisps which have 
 lured men and their party to destruction ever since politics 
 was first invented! So mused the Prime Minister. He 
 made it a point of honour never to breathe a word to any- 
 body against Isabel's husband : he made it a matter of prin- 
 ciple not to feel bitter against nor envious of this man who 
 had taken from him the one thing that he had really cared 
 for in life: but he found it a great comfort to say now and 
 then to his own soul that Paul Seaton was no statesman. 
 
 Greenstreet's thin face lighted up with pleasure. The 
 approval of Mrs. Paul Seaton was a compliment which few 
 men ignored. 
 
 " I think I am right," he replied. 
 
 "I am sure you are," put in Gabriel Carr; "and that 
 is why very accurate people are always so tiresome. My late 
 Rector was that sort : one of the best men that ever breathed : 
 but so accurate, and so anxious to make other people accurate, 
 that I verily believe he would have liked to correct S. John 
 himself for saying that even the world itself could not con- 
 tain the books that should be written." 
 
 At this point Mrs. Gaythorne was heard to murmur some- 
 thing about belief in the verbal inspiration of the Scriptures 
 being absolutely necessary to salvation: but fortunately she 
 was so much engaged with a large teacake judiciously 
 administered by Charlie that no one heard exactly what 
 she said; and she was unable, not from any lack of moral 
 
 [105]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 courage but for purely physical reasons more openly to 
 testify to her acceptance of this saving truth until the occa- 
 sion had passed by. 
 
 " My horror," said Isabel, " is a person who relates an 
 incident exactly as it happened: because then it isn't worth 
 relating at all." 
 
 Carr fully agreed with her. " I have an uncle of that 
 kind, who always uses inverted commas instead of the 
 oblique narration; and, you know how wearing to the flesh 
 that is ! Instead of saying, ' My wife's sister told me she 
 had a cold,' he would say ' My wife's sister said to me, 
 John; Yes, Jane, I answered; John, said my wife's sister, 
 I have a cold.' " 
 
 By this time the teacake had gone the way of all tea- 
 cakes, and Mrs. Gaythorne once more enjoyed freedom of 
 utterance. " And did he marry her? " she asked cheerfully. 
 
 Even the redoubtable Gabriel was nonplussed. " Marry 
 her ? Marry whom ? " he inquired. 
 
 " Why, his deceased wife's sister of course. Who else 
 were you talking about? " 
 
 " I never mentioned anybody's deceased wife's sister, Mrs. 
 Gaythorne." The Vicar knew better than to introduce so 
 debatable a lady into any conversation of his own free will : 
 he was a lover of peace. 
 
 But Mrs. Gaythorne was not easily brushed aside when 
 she had turned a by-way into a warpath and started upon 
 it. " Yes, Gabriel Carr, you did : you said she had a cold, 
 and that your uncle himself told you so; and what I want 
 to know is, whether he eventually married her. Not that 
 I should blame him if he did: far from it! For my part 
 I approve of marriage with a deceased wife's sister. \Vho, 
 I should like to know, is so fit a guardian of the children 
 
 [106]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 as their aunt? I always told Mr. Gaythorne that if any- 
 happened to me I should wish positively wish him 
 to marry my sister Maria. I should have had such perfect 
 confidence in her training of Charles. Maria always knew 
 when to put her foot down." 
 
 " And did the late Mr. Gaythorne share you opinions 
 upon this vexed question ? " asked Carr with a smile. 
 
 "No: he did not approve of marriage with a deceased 
 wife's sister at all." 
 
 " I can believe it," murmured Greenstreet : " men are so 
 prejudiced." 
 
 " And I cannot think why he of all men should have 
 objected to it," continued Mr. Gaythorne's widow reflec- 
 tively; "because Maria was the very image of me. It 
 would have been almost like having me back again." 
 
 " It was strange," assented Carr with a glance at Isabel's 
 preternaturally solemn face : " very strange indeed ! " 
 
 " But where I do blame your uncle," continued Mrs. 
 Gaythorne, once again turning and rending the unoffending 
 Gabriel, " is for talking about his deceased wife's sister's 
 cold and making such a fuss about it: and you can tell him 
 so from me if you like. It was enough to make the poor 
 woman nervous, and lead her to imagine herself worse than 
 she really was. There is no greater mistake than to talk 
 about one's ailments." 
 
 " Except to talk about other people's," Isabel added. 
 
 " Yes, Isabella, you are right. It certainly makes other 
 people nervous. But I never knew anything like young 
 people of the present day for talking about their diseases. 
 For my part, I think it positively improper." 
 
 " You consider there is indelicacy in the discussion of 
 delicacy, do you, Mrs. Gaythorne?" suggested Greenstreet. 
 
 [ 107]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " I do, Mr. Greenstreet. In my young days people were 
 not always turning themselves inside out for their friends' 
 inspection." 
 
 " It isn't only the young who are guilty of this folly," 
 argued Isabel : " I never meet an old gentleman nowadays 
 who does not, so to speak, wear his liver upon his sleeve for 
 daws to peck at." 
 
 " Modern complaints always end in itis" continued Mrs. 
 Gaythorne : " I disapprove of diseases that end in itis." 
 
 " Still you must admit they might end in something 
 worse," said Carr. 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne majestically ignored such ill-timed levity. 
 " When I was young, the complaints that people suffered 
 from did not end in itis, they ended in ache: and nobody 
 talked about them." 
 
 By this time she had slain the conversation even beyond 
 Isabel's revivifying powers: so tea being finished Lord 
 Wrexham suggested a move into the garden. 
 
 The company went their various ways: and Fabia soon 
 found herself alone with Captain Gaythorne in a secluded 
 part of the wood. Strange to say, his presence did not irri- 
 tate her just then. She had seen the expression upon Lord 
 Wrexham 's face when he looked at Isabel; and she knew 
 from that instant that her own hopes of ever annexing the 
 Prime Minister were vain. Therefore she was suffering 
 from the combined pangs of envy and disappointment. Also 
 she had felt herself left out in the cold ever since she came 
 to Vernacre a feeling to which she was accustomed, but 
 which hurt her more cruelly every time she experienced it: 
 and that added to her chagrin and misery. So when Captain 
 Gaythorne followed her across the lawn and into the wood, 
 she felt for the first time a sense of rest and security in the 
 
 [108]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 society of this big, silent, devoted man. It was a comfort 
 to find anybody who really adored her, in this easy, pleasant, 
 cruel English society. Love was the thing which her soul 
 most passionately craved; love given and received; and she 
 had never had her share of it. True, Ram Chandar Muk- 
 harji had offered it to her in extravagant excess: but she 
 did not care for the adoration of such as he. She was 
 enough of an Englishwoman to despise her mother's people 
 and enough of an Oriental for the English to despise her; and 
 love which she did not fully reciprocate could never satisfy 
 her. Poor Fabia! Life was too hard for her just then, as 
 indeed it had always been ever since she could remember. 
 Mukharji wrote constantly to her, and she enjoyed and 
 appreciated his letters. She knew that intellectually he was 
 immeasurably Charlie Gaythorne's superior; yet at the pres- 
 ent moment the admiration of the brainless young British 
 soldier was far more acceptable to Fabia's wounded spirit 
 than Ram Chandar's life-long devotion. 
 
 She waited for Charlie to speak, with considerably more 
 kindness and patience than she usually accorded to his con- 
 versational efforts : and made up her mind to be what women 
 call " nice to him," whatever he might choose to say. 
 
 For a time the two walked on without speaking. They 
 were both naturally silent people the woman because she 
 thought too much, and the man because he thought too lit- 
 tle so there was nothing unusual in this: and Fabia calmly 
 awaited Charlie's utterance with the pleasing certainty that 
 it would be more soothing to her vanity than stimulating 
 to her mind. Though he was never clever, he was invariably 
 complimentary. 
 
 At last he broke the silence. " I can't stand that ass 
 Greenstreet ! " he -said. 
 
 [ 109]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Fabia was surprised. It was not at all what she had 
 expected him to say: and she saw no reason for such violent 
 hostility either, as Mr. Greenstreet had never paid her the 
 slightest attention. But she knew from the sound of 
 Charlie's voice that he was very angry indeed. 
 
 "Why not?" she asked. 
 
 " He was making fun of my mother all through tea, the 
 confounded bounder! Didn't you hear him?" 
 
 Fabia felt as if a douche of cold water had suddenly been 
 flung in her face. So it was his mother's battle that he 
 was fighting, and not hers ! It was the old story over again. 
 They really cared for nothing in the world but themselves 
 and their order, these well-born English people. Even the 
 simple and adoring Charlie was an aristocrat at heart. 
 
 " Perhaps he was," she answered coldly. 
 
 " Of course he was, confound his impudence ! And I 
 won't stand it. If he tries it on again, I'll kick him into 
 the horsepond, Wrexham or no Wrexham! I'm not going 
 to allow anybody's guests to insult my mother; and I'll let 
 Wrexham know it pretty sharp ! " 
 
 Fabia hardly recognised the usually placid and amiable 
 Charlie in this infuriated young giant. 
 
 " And it isn't as if there was anything to make fun of in 
 my mother either," he went on ; " some fellows' mothers are 
 a rummy sort, I admit; but mine isn't. Of course some 
 women do things that you can't help smiling at ; though it's 
 shocking bad form to let their people see you're laughing 
 at them all the same. But my mother isn't that sort: she 
 doesn't do or say things that make a fellow even want to 
 laugh at her, don't you know?" 
 
 " I quite agree with you that it would be impossible to 
 caricature Mrs. Gaythorne." 
 
 [no]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " Of course it would," said Charlie, mollified at once by 
 what he took to be Fabia's assent to his statement : " that's 
 just my point. Now some old ladies are downright funny; 
 there's no denying that; though that's no excuse for a man 
 behaving like a thorough-paced cad." 
 
 " I think," remarked Fabia slowly, " that there is only 
 one thing more aggravating than a man when he behaves 
 like a thorough-paced cad ; and that is when he behaves like 
 an English gentleman." 
 
 But fortunately Charlie was too full of his own grievance 
 even to hear much less to understand this enigmatical 
 dictum. 
 
 " For instance," he went on, " I daresay, if we knew her, 
 we should find Seaton's mother rather a queer sort. His 
 people are nobody particular; so I shouldn't be surprised if 
 the old lady was a bit ignorant and old-fashioned and nar- 
 row, and all that sort of thing, don't you know? And no 
 blame to her, either! You can't expect anybody who isn't 
 anybody to know anything; can you? But my mother is 
 quite a different thing! " 
 
 "Who was Mrs. Gaythorne before she was married?" 
 asked Fabia in all innocence. 
 
 Charlie opened his eyes wide, in as unbounded amazement 
 as if she had asked who Queen Anne was before she was 
 married. Here was crass ignorance indeed! Then he re- 
 membered how Fabia had once said that she did not know 
 that his mother was saved, which was even worse. This 
 was bad enough, but not so bad as that. Not to know 
 whence Mrs. Gaythorne came, showed an indifference to 
 history which was highly culpable ; but not to know whither 
 Mrs. Gaythorne was going, proved an ignorance of the- 
 ology which was positively appalling. Charlie was too 
 [in]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 polite to testify openly to his astonishment at such a ques- 
 tion ; so he merely replied, " She was one of the Latimers 
 of Luske." 
 
 " And who are the Latimers of Luske? " 
 
 This was worse than ever! But Captain Gaythorne 
 pitied rather than blamed such astounding mental darkness; 
 just as he would have pitied rather than blamed her had 
 Fabia confessed that she did not know how to read or write. 
 " They are the the well, the Latimers, don't you know ? 
 the Latimers of Luske: the Latimers of Leatherby are 
 the younger branch of the family." 
 
 " I see : the Latimers of Luske are the Latimers of 
 Luske, and the Latimers of Leatherby are the Latimers of 
 Leatherby." 
 
 " Of course. And to think of a little middle-class beggar 
 like Greenstreet daring to make fun of one of the Latimers 
 of Luske. I never heard such confounded cheek! " 
 
 " Mr. Greenstreet undoubtedly belongs to the middle- 
 class," remarked Fabia: "he has brains." 
 
 " Oh ! I don't deny the brute's clever in his way ; but 
 I'm glad you agree with me that anybody can see at a 
 glance he is not one of us," replied Charlie, in all good 
 faith. 
 
 " Certainly; he has a sense of humour." 
 
 " That he has ; and it carries him a bit too far at times ; 
 a precious sight too far, when he begins to make fun of my 
 mother." And Charlie returned to his grievance like a 
 giant refreshed. 
 
 Fabia moved her shoulders impatiently. She had not 
 come into the woods in order to talk about Charlie Gay- 
 thorne's mother, but apparently he had : and as is usual 
 the slower mind had its own way, at the expense of the 
 
 [112]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 quicker one. Miss Vipart felt irritated; and justly so. It 
 is always trying to a woman's temper if a man talks about 
 his own relations, when she wants him to talk about his 
 relations with her. 
 
 Now if Charlie had been wise enough to propose to Fabia 
 on that particular afternoon, she would have accepted him 
 then and there, and so would have saved certain further 
 complications. But Charlie talked about his mother instead 
 of proposing, and expatiated upon that good lady's attributes 
 until the time and the audience were alike exhausted : thereby 
 paving the way for another to step in and to win the affec- 
 tion which he longed for. If he gives twice who gives 
 quickly, surely he who asks tardily often receives but half: 
 there are many Esaus who only obtain the second blessing 
 because they come and beg for it too late.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 GABRIEL THE PRIEST 
 
 WHIT-SUNDAY dawned fair and bright: and the Vernacre 
 party duly to church repaired at the appointed hour. Lord 
 Wrexham was a man who regularly attended Divine wor- 
 ship every Sunday morning : and there was a general impres- 
 sion abroad at Vernacre though he never expressed it in 
 words that he expected his guests to do likewise. 
 
 Vernacre Church was a rare and perfect specimen of 
 Norman architecture : and as Isabel Seaton sat in the beauti- 
 ful and ancient edifice, and watched the sunlight pouring 
 through the old stained windows upon the brows of the 
 stone Crusaders lying asleep upon their tombs, the atmos- 
 phere of the prayers of countless generations stole into her 
 soul and filled it with a great peace. For long centuries 
 the incense of prayer had risen up to Heaven from this 
 little western temple: and now she, too, was adding her 
 humble petitions to the unbroken chain of ceaseless supplica- 
 tion she, too, was saying her Amens to the age-long inter- 
 cessions of departed saints. For a time the overpowering 
 influence of an historic Church seized her and held her in 
 its grasp. The hymn of praise which she was now singing 
 had been begun in Jerusalem on this very day nearly nine- 
 teen centuries ago: and it would sound on down the ages 
 yet to come, until it was at last merged in that new song 
 thundering upon Mount Sion, which no man could learn 
 
 ["4]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 save those which were redeemed from the earth and had 
 the Father's Name written in their foreheads. There had 
 been no break in the continuity of that song; no pause in 
 the uplifting of those prayers ; no extinguishing of that sacred 
 fire which was first kindled by the eleven tongues when the 
 Apostles were all with one accord in one place. 
 
 Now, alas! the disciples of the Master are no longer in 
 one place with one accord: the primitive state of unity has 
 long gone by. There have been strifes and persecutions 
 where there should have been love and peace; yet the chain 
 of prayer and praise remains unbroken and intact: although 
 even devout men are apt to forget that though there is but 
 One Church, there are divers forms of utterance in that 
 Church ; and that it is still given to each of us to hear, every 
 man in his own tongue wherein he was born, the wonderful 
 works of God. When the sermon began, Isabel attuned 
 herself to listen, for she was ever athirst like the Athenians 
 of old to hear some new thing: but it turned out to be 
 one of those discourses which George Herbert had in his 
 mind's eye when he said, " God takes a text and preacheth 
 patience." So Isabel's thoughts were driven back upon her- 
 self: and her patient meditations took a personal turn. 
 
 She thought of herself and Paul, and of how their future 
 life was going to shape itself. She dwelt with regret half 
 tender and half-humorous upon her husband's wonderful 
 power of seeing only one side of a question, and that always 
 the brighter side. She did not as yet understand that it 
 is the men that see only one side of a question who have 
 most power in convincing other men that it is the enthu- 
 siast rather than the wiseacre w r ho removes mountains and 
 wins battles. The wise men have their place in the world 
 the world could not roll on comfortably without them: but 
 
 [115]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 we do not place them In the forefront of the battle, nor 
 entrust them with the leadership of forlorn hopes. It is the 
 old heads that watch and guard and counsel and advise: 
 but it is the young shoulders that push and jostle and make 
 their way through the crowd. 
 
 Isabel loved her husband with all her heart, and rever- 
 enced him with all her soul : but she had not yet passed the 
 final and most difficult test of wifely submission, namely 
 the conviction that he knew better than she did : a conviction 
 which if not always supported by facts must invariably 
 count for righteousness to the woman who is imbued with it. 
 
 To Isabel's easy, good-humoured cynicism, Paul's almost 
 boyish adherence to his ideals appeared visionary and un- 
 practical. It seemed like believing in fairies and witches 
 and gnomes. The difference between their two natures, 
 while it intensified their love, made it difficult for them to 
 understand each other: and yet each character had its com- 
 pensations. Paul believed in the ideal side of human nature 
 more than Isabel did: his world was more densely peopled 
 with heroes and saints than was hers : yet, on the other hand, 
 his very belief in humanity made him hard upon it when it 
 failed and fell short; whilst she cherished an abundant toler- 
 ance towards all the faults and weaknesses of her fellows. 
 The denizens of Isabel's world were not heroes nor saints, 
 but ordinary men and women: therefore she was neither 
 angry nor disappointed when they comported themselves 
 according to their kind. But Paul, it must be admitted, 
 was sometimes both. 
 
 After indulging in sundry half-humorous, half-pathetic 
 regrets over Paul's singleness of eye and blindness of heart 
 (as she considered them), Isabel's thoughts flew to the possi- 
 ble Governorship of Tasmania as the one safe refuge from the 
 
 [116]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 dangers and follies which assailed her husband. There he 
 would be safe for awhile, and would have time to learn 
 that wisdom which only time can teach. And it would not 
 only be a safe city of refuge: it would be a glorious palace 
 of delights. Isabel had been very happy out in India long 
 ago with Sir Benjamin and Lady Farley: and she had ever 
 since looked upon the life of a Colonial Governor as the 
 most perfect form of earthly existence possible, bar one: the 
 one thing more utterly delightful than the life of a Colonial 
 Governor being the life of a Colonial Governor's wife. 
 
 To feel that such a lot was practically within her grasp 
 made her almost dizzy with happiness: it would be the real- 
 isation of .her most cherished castles in the air the fulfil- 
 ment of her wildest dreams. She could imagine nothing 
 else on earth that she should enjoy so much as thus playing 
 at being a queen: it would suit her artistic nature and her 
 dramatic instincts down to the ground, she thought: and she 
 revelled in the contemplation of the mere possibility of it. 
 
 And Isabel was not the only one who saw visions in the 
 old village church on that summer Sunday morning: Fabia 
 also dreamed dreams. She was sitting near to the tomb of 
 one of the ancient lords of Vernacre, who wore upon his 
 helmet the head of a Saracen maid: and Fabia recalled the 
 story of this old crusader, which his descendant had related 
 to her on the preceding evening. Sir Godfrey de Rexham 
 had been taken prisoner by the Saracens, soon after he 
 joined the first Crusade: and the daughter of his captor 
 a Saracen maid of great beauty saw the English knight 
 and fell in love with him. Secretly she visited him in his 
 dungeon, and offered to effect his escape on condition that 
 he would take her with him back to England as his wife. 
 The temptation was great, but Sir Godfrey was a man of
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 honour: and he therefore confessed to the lady that he was 
 already betrothed to one of his own country-women, and 
 was bound should he ever return to England to marry 
 that lady: so that escape upon the terms now offered was 
 impossible. But the Moorish girl boasted that most precious 
 of all possessions, an absolutely unselfish love: and she still 
 effected the escape of the knight and sent him back to Eng- 
 land to marry his lady-love. Which he accordingly did, 
 and lived happy ever after: but he henceforth wore as his 
 crest the head of a Saracen maid, in token of his gratitude. 
 And as Fabia Vipart looked at the crest upon his helmet, a 
 great pity for the woman filled her heart. So this girl had 
 had to learn, as she herself had done, how cold were the 
 English and how wrapped up in themselves and in each 
 other. She wondered what happened to the Moorish maiden 
 after the knight had fled. Did she die of a broken heart 
 because she had loved in vain? Or did her father slay her, 
 because she had contrived the escape of his enemy, and had 
 allowed a Christian to gaze upon the beauty of her face? 
 Upon this point history was silent: it only busied itself with 
 the domestic affairs of the Englishman in chronicling the 
 ancestry of his highly respectable wife and the number of his 
 commonplace children. So handsome, however, was his 
 marble effigy that Fabia did not blame the maid for having 
 loved him: and beautiful indeed was the female head upon 
 his crest beautiful somewhat after Fabia's own fashion. 
 But there was no beauty in the face or figure of the woman 
 lying by his side, mentioned in the fading inscription on the 
 tomb as " Dame Philippa his wife." Hers was a stiff prim 
 kind of face, made still stiffer and primmer by the severe 
 and hideous dress of her time. And he had given up the 
 Moorish girl for a woman such as this ! How truly English 
 
 [118]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 of him, said Fabia to herself with a little scornful smile. 
 Fabia wondered who this lady had been before her mar- 
 riage: perhaps one of the Latimers of Luske, or one of the 
 bearers of some equally respectable old name which the Eng- 
 lish love to conjure with: for apparently to the typical 
 British mind the glory of a long line of noble Oriental 
 ancestry was as nothing compared with the overpower- 
 ing honour of being born a Latimer of Luske or its 
 equivalent. 
 
 Then a change came o'er the spirit of Fabia's dream, and 
 she began to envy this Eastern maiden instead of pitying 
 her: envying her because it had been given to her to love 
 another so much that her own happiness became as nothing. 
 After all, there was something in this love which trans- 
 figured life and glorified death as nothing else could do: 
 and Fabia had never tasted it never known for an instant 
 what it was to love another better than herself. She won- 
 dered if this had been her own fault, or the fault of her 
 circumstances. She was too clear-sighted not to blame her- 
 self when blame was due: but she was not sure in this case 
 whether she deserved it. She knew that she would gladly 
 have loved if she could thankfully have merged her own 
 life and happiness in the life and happiness of another: but 
 the power to do so seemed to have been denied her. She 
 could always look critically upon her friends, whoever they 
 might be always see clearly the faults of those about her: 
 yet while she plumed herself upon her own open vision, 
 and despised the blind credulity of other people, she could 
 not help envying simpler women their unshaken and un- 
 shakable conviction that their own particular husbands were 
 infallible and omniscient: and that the judgment of those 
 gifted beings on any and every subject under (or even 
 
 ["9]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 above) the sun was absolute and final. Such perfect confi- 
 dence in the other partner to the transaction would certainly 
 very much simplify the difficulties of married life: but 
 where was Fabia to find the man who could inspire her 
 with such confidence? 
 
 In vain she ran down the list of possible husbands. Cap- 
 tain Gaythorne was out of the question, he was such a con- 
 summate fool. Lord Wrexham had rank and dignity, but 
 he lacked the magnetism of personal charm, which to Fabia 
 was indispensable. Her cousin, Mukharji, dominated her 
 intellectually : but he was wanting in that social prestige, 
 which in her eyes counted for so much. Gabriel Carr 
 possessed physical beauty as well as mental power: but 
 although she admired him more than any man she had yet 
 seen she felt that there was an almost feminine quickness 
 of perception and subtlety of thought about him, which 
 would always prevent her from acknowledging him as the 
 superior power, and cause her to regard him as an equal. 
 
 In the depths of her heart she knew that she longed to 
 find her master she felt her very soul was crying out for 
 the touch of a conquering hand. And she knew, further, 
 that if ever she did find such a one a man who would rule 
 her absolutely with a rod of iron, and would prove himself 
 once and for all stronger than herself she could come to 
 his call, whoever and whatever he was, and would submis- 
 sively acknowledge in the face of all the world the divine 
 right of such a thing. 
 
 There are two types of women in this world : the woman 
 who is seeking for her master, and the woman who is seek- 
 ing for her mate. They are equally normal equally femi- 
 nine: there is no credit in being of the one sort no discredit 
 in belonging to the other. Yet it behoves every woman to 
 
 [ 120]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 find out to which classification she does belong, and to marry 
 accordingly, lest haply she should discover too late that she 
 has chosen a prince to take the part of a playfellow, or a 
 comrade to wear the crown of a king. 
 
 For the last few weeks the friendship between Fabia and 
 the vicar of S. Etheldreda's had been growing apace. Carr 
 had seized every available opportunity that he could snatch 
 from his busy life to see Miss Vipart: and Fabia had made 
 such opportunities as easy and as frequent as she could. But 
 the two regarded their friendship for each other from en- 
 tirely opposite points of view. To Fabia, Gabriel was 
 merely a man who attracted her, and whom, womanlike, she 
 meant to subjugate: to Gabriel, Fabia was the only woman 
 in the world. 
 
 His life had been so busy and his mind so absorbed in 
 his work, that he had hitherto given but little attention to 
 women and their ways. He had dealt with their souls to 
 the best of his ability, but had not concerned himself much 
 about their hearts: he was intent upon preparing them 
 wholesale for a home in Heaven, but it had never yet oc- 
 curred to him to offer one of them a home on earth. 
 
 But when Fabia Vipart came and sang to him, then sud- 
 denly the face of the whole world was changed. Nothing 
 was as it had been before. For him there were new 
 heavens and a new earth: fresh flowers bloomed around his 
 feet unknown stars disclosed themselves to his view. She 
 seemed to touch his whole life as with a fairy wand, and to 
 turn the dreariest pathways into streets of gold. 
 
 They had talked much to each other, and upon many 
 things: that is to say, Gabriel had talked and Fabia had 
 listened, putting in the necessary word here and there to 
 show that she understood. And in thus talking, Carr had 
 
 [121]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 revealed his inmost soul to Fabia, and at the same time to 
 himself for it is in talking to other people about ourselves, 
 that we, rather than they, learn what manner of men and 
 women we are. He believed that Fabia had shown him 
 what she really was: and he was accordingly grateful to 
 her: he did not know that he had shown himself what he 
 really was by endeavouring to show the same to her. " Know 
 thyself " is advice worthy of being followed : but we rarely 
 get to know ourselves except by making ourselves known 
 to others: which accounts for the fact that the most reserved 
 people are as a rule the people who are the least cognisant 
 of their own failings and excellencies. 
 
 And Carr had also learnt a great deal about Fabia as 
 well as about himself. He understood far better than she 
 did that her faults were the outcome of circumstances rather 
 than of character : he knew that she only wanted that master- 
 hand, for which at present she was vaguely groping, to 
 develop her into as fine a woman inwardly as she now was 
 outwardly to make her heart and soul as admirable as her 
 mind and body. He recognised the passionate, fiery, loving 
 nature at present hidden underneath the cold and bitter and 
 sarcastic exterior ; and he knew that it only needed the kiss of 
 the fairy-prince to awaken the real sleeping beauty to life 
 and love. 
 
 But there was one thing about her which he did not 
 understand : and that was the absence of any religious ele- 
 ment in her nature. The naturally un-religious woman is 
 very rare; but she nevertheless exists. In most women the 
 religious instinct is strongly developed: and it is a good 
 thing for the world in general that this should be so. But 
 there is a minority who are practically without this instinct 
 altogether: and this minority have to be reckoned with, and 
 
 [ 122]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 their deficiency supplied. The un-religipus woman need 
 not necessarily develop into an irreligious one: in fact she not 
 infrequently proves herself precisely the contrary: but reli- 
 gion must come to her through the channels of her other 
 attributes, as she has no natural aptitude for it: and these 
 channels are usually found in her love for some good man 
 or woman, who becomes to her a messenger of the gospel 
 of peace. 
 
 Milton's Eve was a woman of this kind, or he could 
 never have written the line, " He for God only, she for 
 God in him." The naturally religious woman loves her 
 husband because she loves God: the naturally un-religious 
 woman loves God because she loves her husband. The 
 modes may be different, but the final results are the same. 
 
 But it is difficult for any man to realise that there may 
 be a woman without this instinct altogether: and Gabriel 
 made this mistake in his estimate of Fabia's character. He 
 had discovered upon further acquaintance that she was not 
 as absolutely perfect as he had believed her to be when first 
 he heard her sing: and he had also discovered that she was 
 a far finer character than other people than even she her- 
 self gave her credit for being: but he failed to understand 
 the simple Paganism of her nature he had no idea how 
 utterly she was lacking in the religious element. 
 
 For some time he was torn asunder between his love for 
 her and his devotion to his work. Then gradually he came 
 to believe that the two passions were not, as he had at first 
 assumed, opposed to each other that a wife would help 
 rather than hinder him in following his sacred calling. How 
 Fabia's great gifts rightly dedicated, would aid in the great 
 work of saving men's souls and bringing them to God, he 
 thought: how the influence of her face and her voice would 
 
 [ 123 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 brighten the lives of many committed to his charge: and 
 how the comfort and happiness of her love and ".om- 
 panionship would refresh and strengthen him for the ful- 
 filment of the most strenuous and arduous duties that he 
 could ever be called upon to undertake! 
 
 As this idea took possession of him, Gabriel's heart was 
 filled with a great joy: and he made up his mind to ask 
 Fabia to be his wife as soon as he thought she had known 
 himself and his sphere of labour long enough to be able 
 to make a wise decision. He was fully aware that the lot 
 he was about to offer to her was no bed of roses: but he 
 was also aware that it was not in the vapid amusements of 
 a life of pleasure and gaiety to satisfy the cravings of such 
 a soul as hers. He had learnt that she was not as perfect 
 as he had at first believed her to be: but he had also learnt 
 that there were possibilities of perfection in her as indeed 
 there are in everybody, although some of us are quick to hide 
 them in ourselves, and slow to discover them in others. 
 Nevertheless in every man and every woman there is the 
 germ of perfection which some day though neither here 
 nor now shall develop into absolute fulfilment: for God 
 made man in His own image and if man could ever finally 
 destroy the image in which he was made, then would he 
 prove himself greater than his Maker. 
 
 It was an intense joy to Gabriel to find that Fabia and 
 he would spend Whitsuntide at Vernacre together. But 
 keen as the temptation was, he would not have accepted Lord 
 Wrexham's invitation to leave his church and parish at one 
 of the great festivals of the Christian year, had not his 
 doctor told him that he had been working too hard of late 
 and must make up his mind either to take a short holiday, 
 or to have a long perhaps a permanent one forced upon 
 
 [I2 4 ]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 him later on. So Carr chose the lesser evil, and went away 
 from London. 
 
 When first he left town he went for a week or two to 
 Gaythorne Manor; then he came for Whitsuntide to Verna- 
 cre; and after that he was going to stay with his mother 
 for a month or two to complete, as he hoped, his cure. But 
 the fact that he was overdone and out of health made him 
 turn to Fabia, and to all that she represented, with increased 
 eagerness. He had never before realised how much he 
 missed the feminine element in his life and lot. Until now 
 he had believed his work all-sufficing. In health Gabriel 
 the priest had ever been stronger than Gabriel the man : but 
 who shall blame him if in sickness the more human part of 
 his nature came to the front the longing for love and 
 tenderness and domestic bliss ? 
 
 On that Sunday afternoon he and Fabia were sitting 
 together in a secluded part of the garden; and he was very 
 happy. In his need for human care and sympathy, he gave 
 Fabia credit for qualities which she did not possess. In 
 the nature of most women pity is very closely akin to love; 
 the moment they begin to feel sorry for a man to realise 
 that it is in their power to help and comfort him it is all 
 up with them: their hearts have already passed out of their 
 own keeping. Perhaps they never love a man so much as 
 when he has taken some remedy which they have prescribed, 
 and is all the better for it. A husband who swallows his 
 wife's remedies, and recovers in consequence (or in spite) 
 of them, is the kind of husband who is most dearly 
 beloved. 
 
 But with the woman whose soul cries out for a master 
 rather than for a mate, this is not so. It is strength that 
 appeals most forcibly to her not weakness: and the less 
 
 [125]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 strong is a man, either physically or mentally, the less power- 
 ful is his appeal to her heart and sympathies. She would 
 be his devotee rather than his doctor his worshipper rather 
 than his nurse. 
 
 " Miss Vipart," Gabriel began, " I have something to 
 say to you: something which is of vital importance to me, 
 and which I have been wanting to say for a long time." 
 
 "Then why have you been a long time in saying it?" 
 The question certainly was pertinent. 
 
 " Because, though I wanted to say it, I was not at all 
 sure that you wanted to hear it." 
 
 " Ah ? " Fabia's expressed answer was monosyllabic, but 
 her understood one was quite the reverse: there was a com- 
 plete string of notes-of-interrogation in her beautiful eyes 
 at that moment. She possessed to perfection the charm of 
 looking interested when a man was talking to her: and per- 
 haps that is the greatest charm that any woman can have. 
 It is the women who can listen that are the attractive 
 women at any rate to the opposite sex. They can talk 
 as well, if they like just enough at any rate gracefully to 
 fill up the interstices in the conversation while the man is 
 preparing his next remark: but above all things they must 
 be adepts in the art of listening, if they wish to belong to 
 that fascinating sisterhood who are colloquially described 
 as " men's women." After all if we are to be perfectly 
 candid with ourselves which of us goes into society to listen 
 to what other people have to say, except in so far as it sug- 
 gests to us what to say next ? Who wants to hear about the 
 funny sayings of some other man's child, except as a prologue 
 to the recital of the far apter and wittier remarks uttered 
 by our own more interesting and intelligent offspring? We 
 go into society not to listen but to talk: though we are pre- 
 
 [126]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 pared to play the game and to listen or at any rate to 
 keep silence while the other person is having his turn; 
 provided always that his turn does not last too long. But 
 there are some people who allow it always to be our turn: 
 and how popular how deservedly popular such people are! 
 Of which deserving community was Miss Vipart. 
 
 Encouraged by the notes of interrogation in his compan- 
 ion's eyes, Gabriel continued : " During the last few weeks 
 a great change has come into my life. I have learnt for the 
 first time all that a woman can be to a man, both as a help 
 and an inspiration. I have learnt how she can strengthen 
 him when he is weak, and uphold him when he is strong: 
 how she can heal him when he is sick, and comfort him when 
 he is sorrowful. In short, how she can be to him all that 
 God meant her to be when He created her as an helpmeet 
 for man." 
 
 "And who has taught you all this, Mr. Carr?" Fabia 
 knew all the moves of the game. 
 
 " You ; no one but you ! When first I heard you sing, I 
 had a faint glimmering of all that you could be to me if 
 you cared; and every time that I have seen you since, this 
 truth has grown brighter and clearer. So now, my beloved, 
 I come to ask you the greatest of all favours that a man can 
 ask of a woman I ask you to be my wife." 
 
 Fabia hesitated. She did not love the man: she knew 
 that she did not: but he looked so handsome as he proffered 
 his impassioned appeal that his beauty was almost irresisti- 
 ble to her. And then she wanted to be married to an 
 Englishman; to have an assured position of her own. He 
 was poor, but what of that? She had money enough and 
 to spare for both. And although she did not love him, she 
 was nearer to loving him than she had ever been to loving 
 
 [
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 any man yet as near, in fact, as she believed it was in her 
 nature to be. And he was so very goodly to look upon ! 
 
 " Fabia, my darling, I am waiting for your answer." And 
 his voice, as he spoke to her, was as beautiful as his face. 
 " I believe that I could make you happy : and I know that 
 you could make me more absolutely blissful than it has ever 
 yet been any man's lot to be." 
 
 Still Fabia was silent: and no sound broke the stillness 
 save the hum of summer in the air. 
 
 " My beloved, won't you speak to me, and tell me that 
 at any rate I may hope ? " urged the man, after an inter- 
 minable pause. 
 
 Then Fabia spoke. " Yes, I will marry you," she said ; 
 " but only on one condition." And she had not the faintest 
 idea that her condition was in any way a hard one. In fact 
 she considered that it would be to Gabriel's advantage as 
 much as to hers. 
 
 " And what is that, my dearest ? Though whatever it is, 
 it is already granted." And he stretched out both arms to 
 her in passionate longing. 
 
 " I will marry you on condition that you will give up 
 being a clergyman, and come abroad with me. There is no 
 need for you to work, as I have plenty of money; and be- 
 sides you are not strong enough for it. We will say farewell 
 to England for a time and travel everywhere, and see the 
 world together, you and I." She really felt that she could 
 not endure the lot of a clergyman's wife in an East End 
 parish; and she did not see why she should. 
 
 The outstretched arms fell limply to his sides. He could 
 not believe that he had heard aright. "What? Give up 
 my Orders? I do not know what you mean." 
 
 But Fabia continued unabashed, thinking that she was 
 
 [128]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 asking but a very little thing. " I only mean that you must 
 give up your work, and live to enjoy yourself and to see the 
 world. There is so much to be seen, and so little time to 
 see it in; and most people have either not the time or 
 the money to see it at all. But you and I will have both the 
 time and the money; and there is nothing that we will not 
 see. We will wander about at our own sweet will, and will 
 pry into all the secret places of the earth : we will turn our 
 backs upon this provincial English ignorance, and will be as 
 gods knowing good and evil." 
 
 She spoke with unusual animation, for the picture she was 
 drawing of their future life together fascinated her; and the 
 more she thought of it the more certain she felt that this was 
 the lot which could make her happy: far happier than any- 
 thing which Charlie Gaythorne had to offer. There was a 
 nomadic strain in her blood a longing for the wild free- 
 dom of desert places and the mere thought of the home- 
 staying existence of the Gaythornes of Gaythorne fairly 
 suffocated her. 
 
 " Yes," she went on, " there is nothing that shall come 
 between us and the fulfilment of our desires. Whatever 
 we wish to do, that we will do. We will have no dreary 
 English estate, with its tenants and its responsibilities, always 
 dragging at our heels, but like Bacon we will take all 
 Nature for our province. Truly we will see the world. 
 And then, when we have seen all that there is to be seen 
 and are growing old and weary, we will settle down in some 
 southern place, as beautiful as a dream, and will drowse 
 away the remainder of our days in the sunshine." 
 
 Thus she spoke, carried away by the vision that her own 
 words conjured up, and intoxicated by the thought of her 
 coming happiness: and as he listened, Gabriel's love for her 
 
 [ 129 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 fell dead at his feet, slain by her own hand. The intrinsic 
 royalty of his priesthood rose up in his soul, and spurned the 
 base suggestion that had just been made to him: Gabriel 
 the man was merged in Gabriel the priest. His love for the 
 woman was extinguished in his scorn for the blasphemer who 
 had thus dared to lay profane hands upon the very Ark of 
 God. In his eyes they had ceased to be man and woman ; 
 she was but the sacrilegious person who had defiled the Holy 
 Place, and he was the judge and the avenger. She had 
 tampered with that which was dearer to him than life itself, 
 the sanctity of his priesthood: and in so doing had placed 
 herself for ever, as far as he was concerned, beyond the pale. 
 
 " Fabia," he cried, " do you know what you are saying? 
 You tempt me to commit the unpardonable sin as glibly 
 as you would ask me to walk across the lawn. You have 
 insulted me and defied the God Whom I serve; all is over 
 for ever between us. If you repent, I cannot deny you 
 absolution as a priest: but I will never more grant you 
 friendship as a man." And he turned on his heel and 
 left her. 
 
 Fabia sat still for a minute as one stunned. It was all 
 so strange, so unexpected. But, with her usual quickness 
 of perception, she at once realised what she had done. She 
 knew that she had offended Gabriel past any possibility of 
 reconciliation that all was over between them. And she 
 also knew that when the priest in him rose up and made 
 him more than man, he was for the first time stronger than 
 she and was her master; and that at that moment she had 
 learned to love him. 
 
 Just as she made this all-important and most disconcerting 
 discovery, who should come sauntering up but Charlie Gay- 
 thorne, with a cigar in his mouth and a proposal in his eye. 
 
 [ 130]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 No sooner did he espy the vacant place at Fabia's side than 
 he flung his cigar and his caution alike to the winds, and set 
 to work with all the dogged determination of an English- 
 man and a soldier. He succinctly and tersely conveyed to 
 Fabia's mind the importance of the compliment she was 
 going to receive and for which she had every reason to be 
 truly thankful. Charlie was not much of a talker as a rule : 
 but when he had anything to say, he said it and this hap- 
 pened to be one of those rare occasions. With regard to 
 their respective social positions he extenuated nothing nor 
 set down aught in malice: he was too much of a gentleman 
 either to brag about his own advantages or to underrate hers : 
 but he was also far too simple and transparent to hide from 
 Fabia what a magnificent opening he considered it for any 
 woman to be invited to succeed his august parent as mis- 
 tress of Gaythorne Manor. And, strange to say, it was this 
 very argument which at another time would only have 
 roused Fabia's wrath and scorn that on this particular 
 occasion won the day. She could see what a grand thing 
 Charlie thought it was to be Mrs. Gaythorne she knew 
 that Charlie's world looked at things very much from 
 Charlie's point of view and she wanted to do something 
 that would win for her the respect of other people and 
 restore to her her own. She was feeling hurt and lonely: 
 and there is no atmosphere so conducive to the acceptance 
 of offers of marriage as the atmosphere of pained desolation. 
 Gabriel's rebuff had left her sore and wounded to the death ; 
 and she felt that she could not go on living unless some- 
 thing were done to bring her wounded spirit ease. And this 
 seemed the very thing that was needed. As Charlie's wife 
 she would have an assured position and a devoted husband 
 the two finest supporters possible for a female coat of 
 
 [131]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 arms. True, she did not love him, and she did love Gabriel : 
 but she was clever enough to know when a thing was beyond 
 her reach (wherein she was superior to the majority of her 
 sex) : and too clever to waste her time in striving to attain 
 the unattainable. Gabriel would never marry her now: 
 Charlie would: so she decided to marry Charlie. 
 
 Charlie of course was in the seventh heaven of delight. 
 It never occurred to him that he had anything or anybody 
 but himself to thank for the success of his wooing. He had 
 not yet learnt that in many cases it is the hour rather than 
 the man that is responsible for a woman's Yes. If a 
 suitor will only time his opportunity correctly, he can gener- 
 ally ensure the advantage (or disadvantage) of being ac- 
 cepted. 
 
 Gabriel, meanwhile, was engaged in a sore struggle with 
 himself. True, his love for Fabia fell dead on the spot, 
 when she trampled upon his highest ideals and his most 
 sacred beliefs by asking him to renounce his Orders for her 
 sake: but love, even when dead, is not obliterated, but still 
 requires decent burial and a suitable period of mourning. 
 
 Carr's first impulse was to go right away from Vernacre 
 and never to look upon Fabia's face again: but reflection 
 showed him that such a course though the most comfortable 
 as far as he was concerned would be most uncomfortable for 
 everybody else and would therefore partake of the nature 
 of selfishness: and Gabriel had too much of the true woman 
 in his character ever to be guilty of selfishness in any form. 
 He knew that it would upset things generally and most 
 especially his host, who was a regular old bachelor with 
 regard to the inviolability of even the smallest plan if a 
 guest who had arranged to stay until Tuesday, fled inconti- 
 nently upon Sunday afternoon: and Gabriel always more 
 
 [ 132]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 ready to consider others than himself decided to spare 
 Lord Wrexham this avoidable agony. Moreover, he felt 
 that by making his speedy escape from the scene of his disap- 
 pointment and disillusion, he would put both himself and 
 Fabia in a false position: so he decided to bury his own 
 suffering out of sight, and to behave as far as in him lay 
 for the rest of his visit to Vernacre as if nothing had 
 happened, in order that other people should not be made 
 uncomfortable by his distress. Wherein he showed him- 
 self both a woman and a gentleman: a most admirable if 
 rare combination. 
 
 [ 133]
 
 GABRIEL THE PASTOR 
 
 ON the following day as soon as lunch was over, and the 
 company had variously distributed themselves as they thought 
 fit, Isabel Seaton and Gabriel Carr went for a walk to- 
 gether. They were great friends and had been so ever 
 since they first met, not long after Isabel's marriage and 
 each enjoyed a talk with the other after the fashion of iron 
 sharpening iron. They passed out of the garden and into 
 the park, and then began the ascent of a grassy hill which 
 culminated in the finest view in the county ; and as they went 
 they talked by the way. 
 
 It was a glorious afternoon; one of those perfect days 
 of early summer when the world is ablaze with colour. 
 Every tree of the field had a particular green of its own, 
 unlike the green of any of its fellows; and the banks were 
 carpeted with flowers. 
 
 " Has it ever struck you," asked Gabriel, " that summer 
 is the carnival of colour, as winter is the carnival of form? 
 If you love colour, you will prefer the summer woods; but 
 if form appeals to you, you will revel in the leafless trees." 
 
 " To tell the truth, it never did ; but now you mention 
 it, I feel as if the idea were my own. And this further 
 explains why I like summer so much better than winter; 
 for the same reason that I spend hours among the pictures 
 in the Academy and only minutes among the sculpture; I 
 
 [134]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY. 
 
 love colour and don't care for form. Everything has a 
 colour to me even sounds." 
 
 Gabriel's face was filled with interest: he loved new ideas; 
 and, failing them, he liked to find new garments for old 
 ones, as he had learnt the cramping effects of stereotyped 
 forms. " How do you mean ? " 
 
 " It is rather difficult to explain ; but I seem unconsciously 
 to translate sound into colour before I can understand it. 
 For instance, to me all the vowel sounds are represented 
 by different colours." 
 
 " How very interesting! What colour is A?" 
 
 " A is green, and E is blue, and I is white, and O is 
 orange, and U is purple." 
 
 " And what about W and Y? Haven't they got colours 
 also?" 
 
 "Oh! yes; of course they have. ,W is red and Y is 
 yellow." 
 
 " And why did you choose these particular colours for 
 the vowel sounds ? " asked Cam 
 
 " There is no why or wherefore, and I didn't choose them 
 at all. To me A is green and E is blue, just as the grass 
 is green and the sky is blue; there is no choice or reason 
 in the matter. It is simply how they appear to me." 
 
 " Have other sounds colour to you also?" 
 
 " Yes ; voices have. Soprano voices are pale blue or green 
 or yellow or white: contraltos are pink or red or violet; 
 and tenors are different shades of brown; and basses are 
 black or dark green or navy blue." 
 
 "Anything else? " 
 
 " Yes, nearly everything. The days of the week, for 
 instance, have different colours." 
 
 "And what are they?" 
 
 [135]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 ** Monday is green, and Tuesday pink, and Wednesday 
 blue, and Thursday brown, and Friday purple, and Satur- 
 day yellow, and Sunday white. Colour is everything to me, 
 and everything to me has colour." 
 
 Carr looked at her thoughtfully. " Yes ; you are the type 
 of woman who would be sure to love colour." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because what is vivid appeals to you more than what 
 is suggestive; because what is expressed touches you more 
 than what is understood." 
 
 Isabel tossed her head. " You don't mean that altogether 
 as a compliment." 
 
 " Perhaps not ; yet certainly not as the reverse. I was 
 merely stating a fact, and not drawing any deduction from 
 it either one way or the other." 
 
 " I see. You were giving me the heads without the appli- 
 cation. I think I like that sort of sermon best. Heads 
 or tails I mean heads or applications? I say heads, and 
 let the applications take care of themselves." 
 
 " It is the application that will do you the most good, 
 Mrs. Seaton." 
 
 " Very well, then. Here's for the application, and I'll 
 swallow it whole. ' To be well shaken before taken,' I 
 suppose. I'll shake the head and swallow the application, 
 and so all parties will be satisfied." 
 
 Gabriel smiled. " But I have just said that there is no 
 application. You can't swallow what doesn't exist." 
 
 "Can't I though? I've been swallowing the principles 
 of the extreme Radical party for years." 
 
 " I'm afraid you are rather disloyal to that section of the 
 Liberal party to which your husband belongs," remon- 
 strated Gabriel. 
 
 [136]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Isabel's face grew grave. " I'm not really; I was only 
 joking; only I see the mistakes into which it is rushing, and 
 I want to save it from them; and most especially do I want 
 to save Paul from making of mistakes and the disappoint- 
 ment which they bring." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 Isabel looked at her companion with surprise that he 
 should have wasted time and breath in the asking of so 
 unnecessary a question. " Because I love him, and there- 
 fore wish to spare him pain." 
 
 " Pardon me, there is no ' therefore ' in that sentence. 
 Pain may be good may be necessary for a person; and in 
 that case because you loved him, you would not wish to 
 spare him pain." 
 
 " But I do. I hate Paul to be vexed about anything." 
 
 "You mustn't spoil him. You are his wife; not his 
 mother. It doesn't do for a wife's affection for her husband 
 to be too maternal: it stunts his spiritual growth." 
 
 " But a woman must be maternal to somebody." And 
 there was that pathetic ring in Isabel's voice which always 
 went to Paul's heart. Gabriel heard it, and it touched him 
 also. 
 
 " I know," he answered very gently; " but not to her hus- 
 band, if she will make a man of him. Besides, it is all the 
 wrong way about. The husband is the head of the wife, and 
 this is in accordance with God's ordinance : but we don't pet 
 our rulers." 
 
 Isabel's face grew perplexed. " Then do you mean to 
 say that a woman ought to obey her husband even when she 
 knows better than he does?" 
 
 " Certainly : even when she thinks that she knows better 
 than he does." Gabriel amended the sentence. 
 
 [137]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Isabel was quick to notice the amendment and to resent 
 it. " But knowing better isn't merely a matter of opinion.'' 
 
 " Pardon me, I think not infrequently it is. People say, 
 ' If I were so-and-so I should do such-and-such a thing.' 
 So they would; but that doesn't prove it would be a better 
 or a wiser thing than what so-and-so is actually doing. It 
 would merely be a different thing; that is all. If I say 
 that I know better than you how to do something, it only 
 means that I know better how to do it in my particular way. 
 It doesn't follow that my way is any better than yours or 
 even as good." 
 
 Isabel was unconvinced: this was not palatable doctrine 
 to a woman who was as sure of herself as she was. But 
 the fact that that doctrine is unpalatable in no way detracts 
 from its salutariness frequently the reverse. 
 
 " Can't you understand," she persisted, " that if a woman 
 loves her husband, she naturally wants to prevent him from 
 making mistakes?" 
 
 " She can't do that : everybody must make mistakes. All 
 that she can do is to induce him to make her mistakes 
 instead of his own. She won't make him wise; she will 
 only substitute her particular brand of folly for his: and for 
 the life of me I cannot see any great advantage in that. A 
 man would far rather make his own mistakes than any- 
 body else's even than of his wife's. His own natural mis- 
 takes are in drawing with the rest of his character, and 
 assumed ones are not." 
 
 " Then you think it is a mistake for wives to interfere 
 too much in their husband's public life? " Although Isabel 
 might not like Gabriel's advice, she was sufficiently just to 
 weigh it and to give it full consideration. She was always 
 an eminently reasonable woman. At least nearly always.
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 "A very great mistake: often a fatal mistake." Carr 
 spoke strongly. He was sore after yesterday's interview 
 with Fabia, and filled with horror at the mere idea of how 
 she had she been his wife would have used her influence 
 to his soul's undoing. Our opinions are always tinged by our 
 experience : and the more recent the experience the deeper the 
 tinge. 
 
 " But you wouldn't object half so much to a husband 
 who tried to stop his wife from making mistakes," said 
 Isabel shrewdly. 
 
 " That is a totally different thing. I believe that a 
 woman's place is to look on and cheer and lighten and help 
 rather than to dictate or do the work herself. I always 
 think that line of Charles Kingsley's, ' Three wives sat up 
 in the lighthouse tower, trimming the lamps as the sun 
 went down,' conveys a very fair idea of woman's place and 
 duty. It is a wife's place to sit up aloft in the lighthouse 
 tower, above the sordid cares and struggles of the business- 
 world, and to trim the lights for her husband so that 
 he may be guided in the right way, even though his sun be 
 gone down: but it is not her place to embark on the high 
 seas of business or politics, and try to steer his boat for 
 him." 
 
 Mrs. Seaton tossed her head, as she always did when 
 annoyed or indignant. It was a favourite gesture of hers. 
 " Well, I don't see why it should be all right for a man to 
 dictate to his wife, and all wrong for a woman to dictate 
 to her husband. I don't see why a w r oman's advice to her 
 husband should be a treasonable document, and a husband's 
 advice to his wife a signed and sealed Act of Parliament." 
 
 " Because God ordained it so. There is no other reason." 
 
 Isabel was silent: partly because she did not know exactly 
 
 [ 139 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 what to say, and partly because she had not much breath 
 with which to say it, as they had reached the steepest part of 
 the hill just below the summit. The two walked or rather 
 climbed on for a few minutes without speaking, and then 
 they reached the top of the hill, and the whole glorious 
 stretch of country at their feet suddenly was revealed to 
 their view. It was one of those typical English landscapes 
 with green foregrounds and blue distances, with near wood- 
 lands and distant hills which can never be actually de- 
 scribed to anyone who has not seen them; and which need 
 no description to us who know and love them, for to us 
 they spell the magic word home. 
 
 "Isn't it magnificent?" exclaimed Isabel after they had 
 gazed for a few minutes in awestruck silence. " It fairly 
 takes away one's breath at least as much of it as the ascent 
 has left." 
 
 " It does: it is a wonderful view." 
 
 " And so thoroughly English, and therefore so satisfying," 
 Isabel continued. " Have you ever noticed that foreign 
 scenery, however beautiful and magnificent, leaves you with 
 a restless, hungry sort of feeling; but that a perfect 
 English landscape such as this, seems to soak into every 
 little crevice of your soul, and make you quite peaceful and 
 content? " 
 
 " I have: I know exactly what you mean. It is an older 
 sort of feeling than the other, but much more comfortable." 
 
 " Older sorts of feeling are generally the most comfort- 
 able," said Isabel sagely. " When you are young, you are so 
 anxious to see what is going to happen, that you skip the 
 book of daily life in order to get on with the story: but 
 as you get older, you think more of the style and the 
 characters and the dialogue than of the plot; and so you 
 
 [140]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 are better able to enjoy and appreciate the work as a 
 whole." 
 
 Again the two friends were silent, dwelling on the beauty 
 of the scene before them. Gabriel took off his hat, and 
 let the soft breeze cool his forehead; and as he did so, the 
 misery which Fabia had brought upon him faded away like 
 a mist, and once more he saw plain. But his companion's 
 eyes grew grave, and there was a pathetic droop at the 
 corner of her mouth. 
 
 " Isn't it funny," she suddenly remarked, " that there is 
 always something rather sad about the top of a hill ? As 
 long as you are climbing, you are full of joy and energy 
 and hope: but when you get to the top everything changes, 
 and you almost wish the hill had been a bit higher so that 
 you might still be on the climb. It is the same with every- 
 thing. We envy the people who have ' arrived,' and who 
 have attained the summit of their respective ambitions; yet 
 if we were wise in our envying and directed it judiciously, 
 we should rather envy those who are still swarming up 
 the slopes. Hill-tops on the whole are rather sorrowful 
 places." And Isabel sighed. 
 
 " A somewhat pessimistic doctrine, Mrs. Seaton, to be 
 enunciated by one of the most popular and successful women 
 in London ! " said Gabriel with a smile. 
 
 " Nevertheless a true one." 
 
 " I think not." 
 
 Isabel raised her eyebrows. She had a great theory that 
 it was the duty of the clergy to offer ample advice to the 
 laity on all questions moral and spiritual: that a clergyman 
 was a specialist in spiritual matters, just as a doctor was a 
 specialist in physical ones: nevertheless she was always 
 slightly ruffled when the ghostly counsel, which she so freely 
 
 [HI]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 sought, did not altogether tally with her own preconceived 
 notions on any subject. Wherein she was distinctly femi- 
 nine, both in her longing for priestly assistance and her 
 rejection of it when found. 
 
 " Well, anyhow S. Paul agreed with me," she retorted : 
 " he particularly mentions that he was always pressing for- 
 ward and had never attained." She felt that this was a 
 clinching argument and that an alliance between the Apos- 
 tle of the Gentiles and Mrs. Seaton formed an authority 
 which few theologians would dare to dispute. " And surely 
 you'll admit that S. Paul was a past master in the art of 
 contentment ? " 
 
 " Certainly," replied Gabriel. " And why was he con- 
 tent?" 
 
 " Because he hadn't reached the top of the hill." There 
 was triumph as well as finality in Mrs. Seaton's tone. 
 
 " Pardon me : he had reached the top of a good many 
 hills. But he had learnt what you apparently forget, Mrs. 
 Seaton; namely, that when we have gained the summit of 
 one hill, there are always plenty of higher ones still for us 
 to climb." 
 
 " Oh ! " Isabel had not a good answer ready, so wisely 
 confined herself to the monosyllable. 
 
 Carr continued : " I understand the feeling to which you 
 refer the sadness of the hill-tops: but, believe me, it is 
 an ignoble sadness. It either means that we are too easily 
 satisfied with our achievements and have neither the strength 
 nor the courage to persevere: or else, it means that the hill 
 we have just climbed was not worth the climbing: in which 
 case it was a pity that we ever wasted our time and trouble 
 on it at all." 
 
 " I see. It hadn't occurred to me to look at it in that 
 
 [142]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 light," Isabel spoke slowly. She was always ready to see 
 when she was in the wrong, although it must be admitted 
 that the sight was not altogether an agreeable one to her. 
 
 " S. Paul had not only mastered the art of content," 
 Carr went on, " but he had also mastered as well the art 
 of discontent. He knew how to be abased as well as how 
 to abound." 
 
 " I believe you are right: but somehow that hill-top sad- 
 ness seemed to me to be rather a beautiful and interesting 
 sort of thing. I quite piqued myself on it." 
 
 " You would do," replied Gabriel with a smile. " Sad- 
 ness is always beautiful and interesting to us as long as we 
 are young and have never met it face to face." 
 
 " It was rather young of me, I confess ! You must admit 
 \hat I was old enough to know better." 
 
 " Nevertheless you didn't know better, Mrs. Seaton." 
 
 Isabel as usual was quite ready to laugh at herself. 
 
 " I think you may take it as an axiom," continued Carr, 
 " that when you feel what you call the sadness of the hill- 
 top, the particular hill in question was not worth the climb- 
 ing. It is a pretty fair test. The hills that are worth 
 climbing always lead us on to other hills that are still more 
 worth climbing; and thus are formed the 'great world's 
 altar-stairs, which slope through darkness up to God.' 
 Therefore there is no time for sadness, and no place for it 
 either." 
 
 " Yes, yes : you are right and I was wrong. And after 
 all I'm rather glad that there is no occasion for that particu- 
 lar sort of sadness, though I must admit I've rather enjoyed 
 it at times. But all sadness is really horrid underneath, 
 however nice and interesting it may appear on the surface: 
 isn't it?" 
 
 [143]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Gabriel demurred. He was not going to commit himself 
 to so sweeping a statement. 
 
 " My husband never suffers from the hill-top sadness," 
 continued Isabel : " the moment he has topped one hill he 
 is bounding off to another, like a young hart. The fact 
 that his hills are not worth the climbing has no effect upon 
 him." 
 
 " Your husband is still very young." 
 
 " I know he is : much younger than I am, though he was 
 really born a year and a half earlier." 
 
 " That has nothing to do with it." 
 
 "Not it! Age is a matter of temperament rather than 
 of time. Everybody is a certain age by nature; and the 
 number of years we happen to have dwelt on this planet 
 is merely an incident which is nobody's business but our 
 own. Nothing will make my husband more than nineteen, 
 however long he lives: while I was thirty-three and a half 
 before I left my cradle. You are about five-and-twenty, 
 and always will be: and Wrexham has never gone below 
 eighty-four since he was born." 
 
 " And what is our dear Mrs. Gaythorne? " 
 
 " A good fifty-five, with exuberant prejudices keeping off 
 age on the one hand, and misplaced conviction staving off 
 youth on the other." 
 
 Gabriel could not fail to appreciate this description; he 
 knew Mrs. Gaythorne so well. 
 
 Isabel went on, " It is Paul's youngness that makes 
 him so ready to scale heights that are not worth the 
 scaling; and my oldness that makes me want to hold 
 him back." 
 
 Gabriel looked at her thoughtfully. This woman always 
 interested him, she was so full of contradictions so fresh
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 and so blase, so wise and so thoughtless, so gay and so 
 serious, all at the same time. But in spite of her fas- 
 cination for him, he felt it his duty to administer to her 
 ghostly counsel and reproof: and having seen his duty 
 he was not the man to postpone it to a more convenient 
 season. 
 
 " I think you are wrong in trying to hold him back," 
 he said quietly. 
 
 Isabel started. She was not accustomed to being reproved 
 or found fault with, and she did not like it. But she liked 
 it better than not being talked about at all; so she 
 continued the discussion with apparent, if not sincere, hu- 
 mility. "Why am I wrong? He'd make most awful 
 blunders if I didn't." 
 
 " So you have remarked before, and so I still presume to 
 doubt. But even if that is so, you have no right to hamper 
 and hinder him." 
 
 "Why not, I should like to know?" 
 
 " In the first place because you are his wife, and so are 
 in subjection to him, and are bound to obey and serve him 
 by your own vow: and, in the second place, because his 
 readiness to attempt the ascent of what you consider un- 
 scalable mountains, shows that he has more faith than you 
 have, and so is farther advanced in the spiritual life." 
 
 Isabel fairly gasped. She had decided to reverence her 
 husband, and was fully convinced that she did, according to 
 the dictates of Holy Scripture: but her idea of reverence 
 was a combination of indulgent tolerance with restrained 
 superiority. It is an idea which obtains among many other- 
 wise excellent wives. " I shouldn't call it exactly faith," 
 she objected. 
 
 "Why not? That is its name," said Gabriel. 
 
 [145]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " I see: and so you call it by it, just as you call a spade 
 a spade, and Branson's Extract of Coffee perfection. But I 
 should not call it faith as long as it was only applied to 
 political things: I should call it faith if it was applied to 
 religious things." 
 
 "Oh, dear, oh, dear! You are every bit as bad as a 
 suburban tradesman. I am always trying in vain to convince 
 my very respectable and superior parishioners that there are 
 no such things as religious things. All things are religious, 
 or else nothing is : there is no middle course. Religion either 
 permeates every thought and act and object of a man's 
 life, or else it never really touches anything in it at all. I 
 hate the cant which sets a boundary between what is reli- 
 gious and what is secular, so-called: for unless a man's 
 religion touches everything about him and around him and 
 within him, that man's religion is vain." 
 
 It was a hard saying : but Gabriel could be hard at times. 
 He was no rose-water sentimentalist. 
 
 " The world has no idea," he went on rapidly, " of the 
 stupendous power of faith. Men say that the age of miracles 
 is past, but that is not so it is the age of faith \vhich makes 
 miracles possible that is past." 
 
 " Then do you think that if a man had only faith enough 
 he could scale every mountain ? " 
 
 " Scale it ? Why he could say to it, Be thou removed and 
 cast into the midst of the sea: and it would be done. I 
 believe there is nothing that a man could not do if only he 
 had enough faith no miracle that he could not perform. 
 The present age is not an age of faith: it is an age of 
 charity. We build infirmaries and we endow hospitals: but 
 we no longer lay hands on the sick that they may recover. 
 Silver and gold we have, and we use it on the whole bene- 
 
 [146]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 facially: but we no longer bid a man take up his bed and 
 walk. Yet this ought we to do, and not to leave the other 
 undone." 
 
 " Do you think that this lack of faith is felt in all the 
 Churches?" asked Isabel. 
 
 " I do. I think that in the present day religion is to the 
 Roman a passion, to the Anglican a principle, and to the 
 Nonconformist an emotion: but I think that to many of 
 them it is not the power of God to salvation both of body 
 and soul that it might be, if there were more faith on the 
 earth. Otherwise we should still have the miracles of the 
 early Church and of the Middle-ages and of the Evangelical 
 Revival." 
 
 " You are quite right : the want of faith of the present 
 day is something dreadful. It always sickens me to hear 
 people talk as they do of ' remarkable answers to prayer ' : 
 yet these people would see nothing remarkable at all in an 
 answer to a telegram! It seems a queer sort of belief that 
 strains at the faithfulness of God, and then swallows without 
 an effort the infallibility of a telegraph-boy!" 
 
 " It does indeed : yet it is essentially the belief of the 
 present day and generation." 
 
 The two were walking down the hill again by this 
 time, and Carr's face was aglow with the enthusiasms that 
 were stirring within him. It was in matters spiritual that 
 he was always most at home: the secular emotions such 
 as love, ambition and the like though not exactly foreign 
 to his nature, were not quite in perfect harmony with it. 
 But his companion's face was grave. She was made of 
 slighter elements than he; and it was the more human and 
 personal side of life that touched her most closely. Gabriel 
 would have made a splendid monk; but Isabel could never 
 
 [147]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 have been anything but fifth-rate as a nun. Therefore she 
 suddenly harked back to that point in the conversation 
 where Carr had turned away from earth and began to 
 soar heavenward. 
 
 " You said, firstly, because I am his wife and therefore 
 am in subjection to him," she began : " what did you mean 
 by that?" 
 
 With the quick sympathy and ready adaptability of the 
 man who has been trained for the priesthood, Gabriel fell 
 in with her mood at once. 
 
 " I mean exactly what S. Peter meant when he first said 
 it," he replied : " neither more nor less. ' Likewise ye wives, 
 be in subjection to your own husbands ! ' It seems quite 
 plain speaking." 
 
 It is the fashion nowadays, in this very enlightened age, to 
 talk much and not always kindly of the faults and failings 
 of the clergy of those peculiarities which distinguish them 
 as a body from their lay brethren. But what about the 
 special virtues which are theirs by right of their clerical 
 training, and in which the laity are conspicuously lacking: 
 the intuition, the sympathy, the self-repression, the self- 
 control, which we take as a matter of course in our spiritual 
 pastors, but which we frequently seek in vain in the successful 
 tradesman or the man of affairs? When the enemy has 
 found occasion to blaspheme and is availing himself of the 
 same, it is a favourite gibe of his to discover points of 
 resemblance between clergymen and women. And he is 
 right. As a rule a clergyman more than any other man 
 has the power of discovering other people's joys and sorrows 
 and throwing himself into them, in a way that is popularly 
 supposed to be the prerogative of the weaker sex. His 
 very calling trains him to suppress his own wants and wishes 
 
 [148]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 in attending to the wants and wishes of his flock: just as a 
 woman is trained to suppress her own wants and wishes in 
 attending to the wants and wishes of her family. The 
 ordinary male is not so trained: as a rule other people do 
 not bother him with their troubles, nor does he bother them 
 with his; he neither offers sympathy nor demands it. He 
 is more like a child than a woman, possessing childlike sim- 
 plicity and straightforwardness rather than feminine subtlety 
 and intuition. 
 
 Thanks to Gabriel's clerical training, he understood pretty 
 well what was passing in his companion's mind, as she walked 
 beside him in silence for a few moments. He knew that 
 her sound common-sense was at war with her husband's 
 idealism, and that her womanly wilfulness was at variance 
 with her wifely submission. But he meant to tell her the 
 truth when she gave him an opportunity; and if she did not 
 give him an opportunity, he meant to make one. 
 
 But she did. 
 
 " Supposing a wife really knows better than her husband," 
 she argued, " and that the grey mare is a twenty-four horse- 
 power motor-car; do you think even then she ought to obey 
 and reverence him ? " 
 
 " Not a doubt of it, my dear Mrs. Seaton. Of course 
 she should influence him to the utmost of her ability, and 
 give him as good advice as she can, when he is taking any; 
 but she must never forget that by right of his office the 
 husband is the head of the wife." 
 
 " Even if he is an inferior article? " 
 
 " Certainly. As a churchwoman you believe that the un- 
 worthiness of the priest in no way interferes with the efficacy 
 of the sacraments: as a British citizen you admit that the 
 personal character of a judge in no way affects the validity
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 of his sentences: and as a wife you must therefore accept 
 the fact that the faults and failings of a man in no way 
 obviate his prerogative as a husband." 
 
 Isabel shrugged her shoulders. " You hold the doctrine 
 that the king can do no wrong." 
 
 "I do : and I consider it a very sound doctrine, too. Of 
 course as a man he can do wrong, but as a king he cannot: 
 because the king and the priest and the judge and the hus- 
 band are all in their own way and for the time being 
 the ambassadors and representatives of God: and in rever- 
 encing them we reverence the Divine authority which is 
 for the moment vested in them and submit ourselves to every 
 ordinance of man for the Lord's sake." 
 
 Isabel looked up with a glance of warm approbation. 
 " How nicely you put things! You have such a richly deco- 
 rative mind that you make quite common things seem posi- 
 tively gorgeous." 
 
 " Do ' quite common things ' refer to kings or to hus- 
 bands ? " asked Carr with a smile. 
 
 " Neither the one nor the other in particular, and roughly 
 speaking both. But you have a knack of sticking haloes on 
 to everything and everybody, and somehow transfiguring 
 them. I never knew anyone like you at the halo-business, 
 except a few occasional sunsets and certain hymns. There 
 are some hymn-tunes that have precisely the same effect on 
 me that you have; make me feel good and glorified and 
 treading on air." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it." 
 
 " Just now I feel as if I couldn't wait another minute 
 without flying to Paul and implicitly obeying him in some- 
 thing that I know to be utterly absurd. At the present 
 moment I could die for a lost cause or start a Woman's 
 
 [150]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Liberal Federation without turning a hair. I could indeed. 
 And all because Paul is my husband and you've stuck a halo 
 on to him." 
 
 " But I didn't make him your husband ! you will admit 
 that. I may have arranged the halo; but it was you who 
 agreed to the wearing of the wedding-ring. There was a 
 certain amount of free-will in the business after all, Mrs. 
 Seaton. Your king may reign by divine right : I believe 
 he does; but remember you elected him yourself in the first 
 instance." 
 
 " So I did ; and I'm very glad I did ; and if there was 
 another election to-morrow he'd still be at the top of the 
 poll. Which reminds me that we are at the bottom of the 
 hill ; and I'll run and find him and obey him this very 
 minute; and tell him how kind you have been in fastening 
 a bit of string to his halo for fear it should get blown off 
 when things are slightly breezy. I must say there is a 
 danger of husbands' haloes blowing off, if they are not prop- 
 erly fastened on. But now Paul's is secured, thanks to you, 
 with an elastic band under his chin, like a little boy's hat: 
 and, unless he deliberately takes it off, nothing can re- 
 move it." 
 
 " I have known husbands deliberately take them off," 
 said Gabriel. 
 
 " So have I : to some passing lady of their acquaintance : 
 and then the wives can't always put them on again. But 
 thank Heaven! Paul isn't that sort. If ever his halo does 
 tumble off, you can be sure that it is I who have knocked 
 it off: it wouldn't be his fault, poor darling! " 
 
 " Certainly it would not. So be careful that you never 
 do such a thing, Mrs. Seaton." 
 
 Isabel laughed good-humouredly. " Not I. It is all 
 
 [151]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 very well for the Sergeant-at-Arms to call ' Hats off ' ! but 
 if he begins calling ' Haloes off ' ! I shall protest. It would 
 never do for my husband to be without his halo: it would 
 be so cold for him and so dark for me, and so generally 
 horrid all round ! " 
 
 t'5]
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 JANET FIELD 
 
 WHEN the Whitsuntide party at Vernacre broke up, Gabriel 
 went to complete his enforced holiday and regain his en- 
 feebled strength at his mother's home, in a small Midland 
 village about four miles from Merchester. It was an ideal 
 house for a widow-lady of limited means. Not more than 
 a cottage in size and design, but stamped all over with the 
 indelible and indescribable signs of refinement and ladyhood. 
 The way in which it draped itself with creepers was modesty 
 personified, and suggested all the sensitiveness and refinement 
 which are associated with flowing veils and lace shawls. Its 
 windows were so shaded with soft greenery, that they could 
 not properly lift their eyelids and face the sunshine; and its 
 chimneys were so clothed with the same, that only the smoke, 
 which now and again emerged from their half-shut mouths, 
 proclaimed them to be anything so common-place and obvious 
 as chimneys at all. Which things were symbolical of the 
 character of the owner of the cottage, who had never called 
 a spade a spade nor looked a bare fact in the face since the 
 day she was born. 
 
 Eveline Carr was one of those people who are known in 
 their youth as ' lovely young creatures,' and in their later 
 life as ' sweet women.' She was tall and slight, with fair 
 hair and blue eyes, and a complexion that retained its apple- 
 blossom tint even until the late autumn of life. She was 
 elegant rather than stylish, lovable rather than fascinating. 
 
 [153]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 She was amiability incarnate, and unselfish to the verge of 
 insipidity: and in fact possessed all the virtues, excepting 
 strength, courage and a sense of humour. It really would 
 have been difficult, even had her friends and acquaintances 
 been so uncharitably inclined, to find any actual fault in 
 Mrs. Carr's character: the absence of certain excellencies 
 was the worst of which anyone could accuse her. That she 
 had left undone sundry things which she ought to have done, 
 was sufficiently within the range of probability to entitle 
 her to take her part in the General Confession: but that 
 she had ever done anything that she ought not to have done, 
 was hardly credible to anyone who enjoyed the pleasure of 
 Mrs. Carr's acquaintance. Her mind was cultured and 
 refined; but it was always enveloped in a soft haze, too 
 indistinct to be called a mist and too intangible to be de- 
 scribed as a fog. Her distinguishing characteristic (if such 
 a term could be applied to a character where everything was 
 indistinguishable) was vagueness vagueness in thought, in 
 belief and in conversation. 
 
 In strong contrast to Mrs. Carr was her adopted daughter, 
 Janet Field. Janet was no blood relation of Mrs. Carr's: 
 if she had been, her claim would have been too obvious to 
 appeal to that excellent lady. She was the only child of 
 a fellow-officer of Eveline's husband: her father was killed 
 in action a few months after her birth, and her mother did 
 not long survive him; and the very fact that the infant had 
 no claim whatsoever upon Mrs. Carr's charity, was the 
 strongest claim that the child could possibly have had. The 
 only thing needed to clinch this appeal, and to make it final 
 and irresistible, was the fact that the child should be utterly 
 destitute and unable to repay Mrs. Carr for any of 
 the care and expense which that good woman was prepared 
 
 [154]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 freely to lavish upon her: and this recommendation the poor 
 baby possessed to the full. Therefore Mrs. Carr being her- 
 self the widow of a young officer in very straitened circum- 
 stances, with a boy of her own to bring up and educate saw 
 no reason why she should not at once apply for the vacant 
 post of little Janet Field's mother; and the child's relations 
 being ordinary selfish human beings were only too glad 
 to take advantage of the pretty young widow's inexperience 
 and impracticability, and to shift the expense and care of the 
 child from their shoulders on to hers. Which they promptly 
 did; and then washed their hands of all further responsi- 
 bility: thereby resigning for ever in favour of Eveline Carr 
 their vested interest in all the blessings pertaining to the 
 great " Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of these." 
 
 So it came to pass that Gabriel Carr and Janet Field 
 were brought up as brother and sister, she being a few years 
 younger than he. 
 
 Janet proved to be a most admirable and healthy element 
 in the Carr household. Whilst Gabriel was idealistic and 
 theoretic, and his mother absolutely indistinct, Janet was the 
 embodiment of definite clearness. There was no vagueness 
 about her no atmosphere even: the lights and shadows in 
 her mind were as clearly defined as the lights and shadows in 
 an Egyptian photograph. Even the "grey matter" in her 
 brain could hardly have been so indefinite a colour as grey, 
 as it is in the case of the rest of us: it must really have been 
 actual black and white, or else it never could have formed a 
 part of Janet. 
 
 Janet not only knew exactly what she herself thought 
 upon every subject under the sun: she also knew that hers 
 was the only point of view compatible with wisdom and 
 honesty : a most comfortable form of knowledge ! She treated 
 
 [155]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Mrs. Carr with unwearying indulgence and maternal solici- 
 tude: the latter believed that she had adopted Janet, but 
 in reality Janet had adopted her : and she worshipped Gabriel 
 with that absolute devotion which combines the love of sister 
 and of wife; and which is never felt save by those who fall 
 in love as women with the men whom they played with as 
 children. 
 
 In appearance Janet was by no means as handsome as the 
 Carrs: but she was very pleasant-looking, and not without 
 a charm of her own. She was under rather than over the 
 medium height: and inclined to be plump rather than slight. 
 Her hair was brown, and her eyes hazel, and she had a 
 bright pink colour in her rounded cheeks. 
 
 It never occurred to Gabriel to fall in love with her, 
 as she had long ago fallen in love with him. Men keep the 
 conjugal and fraternal affections much farther apart than 
 women do. When a man promises to be a brother to a 
 woman, he means to be a brother to her neither more nor 
 less with all a brother's reserves and limitations : but when 
 a woman promises to be a sister to a man well, if she does 
 not mean him to make love to her, she means something sin- 
 gularly like it. 
 
 It was to this little household that Gabriel came straight 
 from Vernacre: and highly delighted were both these loving 
 women to welcome him. They showed this delight in their 
 "respective ways: his mother by putting vases of flowers on 
 his dressing-table, which upset themselves and baptised him 
 with unclean water every time that he attempted to brush 
 his hair; and Janet by seeing that his bed was aired, and his 
 wardrobe emptied of those overflow garments which are so 
 apt to gather themselves together in the spare-room of every 
 small house. 
 
 [156]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " I don't think Gabriel is looking at all well," Janet 
 remarked to Mrs. Carr, the first time after his arrival that 
 he left them together. 
 
 Gabriel's mother looked up from her knitting with a 
 dreamy smile. "Don't you, love? It hadn't occurred to 
 me, as he never has much colour, his dear father having been 
 pale with such chiselled features, which are the prerogative 
 of the Carr family and came over with William the Con- 
 queror and settled there. A very old family, and always 
 such beautifully-shaped hands. My boy is wonderfully like 
 his dear father, only a clergyman, the clerical dress making 
 a certain amount of difference from uniform, and black 
 of course always causing anyone to look paler than in 
 scarlet." 
 
 " I know that Gabriel is never rosy : but I am sure that 
 now he looks paler and more tired than usual," Janet 
 persisted. 
 
 " No : my boy was never ruddy, though of a fair counte- 
 nance, like David and Goliath which I always feel is Sin, 
 and his sermons are like the stones which he put in his sling, 
 and so fought against the enemy and prevailed, though I 
 cannot help thinking that a country-parish would be better 
 for him especially in the hot weather. It is so difficult 
 sometimes to reconcile one's duty with what is best for 
 one's health, like the pay in the Indian army being so much 
 bigger than at home, and yet so hard to choose between 
 leaving one's husband alone in India or one's children alone 
 in England. And I never think that female relations how- 
 ever kind are quite the same as one's own mother ; though 
 I am sure, dearest, I have always tried to do my duty by 
 you." 
 
 To live with Mrs. Carr and to listen to all she said would 
 
 [157]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 have made life impossible. Janet never attempted or pre- 
 tended to do it. 
 
 " I am sure he is working much too hard, Aunt Eveline." 
 Mrs. Carr was the type of woman who always insists on 
 being called Aunt by all young persons not related to her 
 by the ties of kinship. 
 
 " Do you think so, dearest? Still, after all, youth is the 
 time for work, before the night cometh when no man can 
 work, or even take a Canonry or a rural parish. I am always 
 hoping that in fhe future my Gabriel will be given a Can- 
 onry by some of his influential friends, and a sweet home in 
 some secluded close, if not a rural parish with a good stipend 
 and a substantial Easter offering, and one sermon a week 
 with the curate preaching the other, and that not always 
 a new one." 
 
 " It worried me his taking that suburban place," con- 
 tinued the imperturbable Janet ; " it meant so much strug- 
 gling and working it up, and he was completely worn out 
 already by his work in the slums. I was always against 
 S. Etheldreda's, as you know." 
 
 " Still, darling, when a distinct call conies it seems hardly 
 right to disregard it, since as our day is so shall our strength 
 be, even in a town parish without a curate and no en- 
 dowment to speak of. We must have faith according to our 
 needs." 
 
 " And rich people must have charity according to their 
 means," retorted Janet, " or else how can the work of the 
 Church be carried on? I always think that the clergy of 
 the Church of England are horribly underpaid. Noncon- 
 formists would scorn to be as stingy with their ministers as 
 we are with ours." 
 
 " Yes, dearest, I have heard that said by quite clever 
 
 [158]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 people as a proof of disestablishment or disendowment or 
 something of that kind. But to my mind there is a solidity 
 about a State Church which the world cannot give nor take 
 away, even though the stipend be inadequate and often such 
 large families. An established Church seems to me like 
 family prayers in a private household : beginning the day with 
 an open acknowledgement that God is the Head of every- 
 thing, and regarded as such even by the most worldly and 
 ambitious." 
 
 " All the same, Aunt Eveline, I think that the living of 
 S. Etheldreda's is too hard work and too little pay for 
 Gabriel." 
 
 " Well, love, since you think it, I'll send in to Merchester 
 by the carrier to-morrow, and get him a bottle of that tonic 
 which did me so much good just after dear Gabriel was born. 
 I frequently take it when I am at all run down, and find 
 it of the greatest benefit. A mixture of quinine and iron 
 for exhaustion and lassitude in water exactly half-an-hour 
 after food." 
 
 Mrs. Carr was the type of woman who usually relies 
 upon home-made remedies for ordinary infirmities of the 
 flesh; but who, in more urgent cases, will now and again 
 meet the emergency by a bottle of medicine from the chem- 
 ist's. To such women the advent of the doctor is on a 
 par with the Commendatory prayers. 
 
 But the w r ise Janet shook her head. " Prevention is bet- 
 ter than cure," she said : " and it is w^iser to avoid being ill 
 at all, than to cure yourself by taking medicine." 
 
 " Of course, dear love, I admit that a stitch in time 
 saves many a bottle of doctor's stuff and is less upsetting 
 to the digestion, many people not being able to assimilate 
 iron without headache and quinine in a liquid form. But 
 
 [159]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 for such people there are always pills, and so much more 
 convenient if you are lunching or dining out." 
 
 " All the same, I am wretched about Gabriel. I am 
 sure he isn't well and he isn't happy. I saw it the moment 
 he entered the house." It was not easy to turn Miss Field 
 from any matter on which her attention had alighted. 
 
 " He may not be well, my darling, but I am sure he is 
 happy, since happiness consists in the fulfilment of duty 
 unhampered by domestic trials; and I know no man who so 
 thoroughly fulfils his duty as my Gabriel does, excepting his 
 dear father who, if he had lived, would by now have 
 obtained his colonelcy, given the ordinary flow of promotion 
 which is always quicker in time of war. He is very like 
 him: I see it more and more: being now so much the same 
 age, though slightly thinner: and of course the difference 
 in dress between a soldier and a clergyman, as I've said 
 before." 
 
 At that moment the subject of the ladies' conversation 
 entered the room, and the discussion as to his physical condi- 
 tion had perforce to be dropped. 
 
 Gabriel stayed on at his mother's, living out-of-doors as 
 much as possible in the bracing Midland air: but he did 
 not gain strength as quickly as he had hoped and expected. 
 Mrs. Carr naturally did not notice this; but no symptom 
 of his weakness and weariness was lost upon Janet. Her 
 eagle eye penetrated the depression that he fain would hide: 
 and she was not far from guessing the cause of that depres- 
 sion, although she had no idea of the name of the woman 
 who had caused it. 
 
 " I cannot think what has come to me," said Gabriel to 
 her one day as they were walking in the fields together. 
 
 " I can," was the prompt reply : " you have been doing 
 
 [160]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 too much for years: and now the bill has come in, and you 
 have nothing to pay it with." 
 
 " But I have been doing God's work, not my own," 
 pleaded Gabriel. 
 
 " That has nothing to do with it. If you spend more 
 strength than you have got, the fact that you have spent 
 it on God's work won't keep you from breaking down; 
 just as if you spend more money than you have got, the 
 fact that you have spent it on charity won't prevent you 
 from becoming bankrupt." 
 
 Gabriel sighed. Janet was as hard upon him as he had 
 been upon Mrs. Paul Seaton: only in Janet's case he called 
 it harsh dealing, and in his own, plain speaking. The 
 pronoun which we place before a verb makes all the differ- 
 ence to the verb we use. For instance, " / speak the truth," 
 " You are unwarrantably severe," and " He makes himself 
 detestably disagreeable," are really in essence the same verb 
 adapted to fit the various pronouns. 
 
 " You've got to use common-sense even in religion," Janet 
 went on, as if she were stating a paradox. 
 "Well, haven't I used common-sense?" 
 "Never: you've never had an atom of it to use." 
 Gabriel could not help laughing. It was an old joke 
 between them that Janet had made " a corner " in the com- 
 mon-sense of the little household. " But I have sometimes 
 borrowed yours," he argued, " and used that." 
 
 " Well, it doesn't seem to have done much for you." 
 " Perhaps there wasn't enough of it. As you have just 
 so wisely remarked, my dear Janet, I could not spend more 
 of an article than I had got to spend: and in the same way 
 I could not borrow from you mere of an article than you 
 had got to lend." 
 
 [161]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Then Janet laughed too, for she possessed that most excel- 
 lent of all gifts in woman, a perfect temper. Nothing ever 
 put her out or even ruffled her: and so she was eminently 
 fitted for that vocation for which it is commonly and 
 erroneously supposed that all women are equally fitted by 
 nature the vocation of matrimony. The power to become 
 a good wife is as much a gift as the power to become a good 
 painter or a good writer or a good musician ; and no woman 
 has it who is not endowed either by nature or by grace 
 with a good temper. There is no quality which so mars 
 and spoils and destroys the happiness of married life as 
 bad temper. True, it interferes with the peace of all domes- 
 tic relations, and is not a comfort in any department of life : 
 but it is worse in a married woman than in a single one, 
 because a wife has far more power to make another person 
 miserable than has a spinster and there is no more success- 
 ful way of doing this than by a frequent display of temper. 
 Therefore let the woman who has a bad temper, which she 
 cannot or will not control, make up her mind to select the 
 cloister rather than the hearth as her sphere of usefulness 
 giving the word " cloister " the broadest and most modern 
 interpretation possible, inclusive of the college, the club, the 
 art-school, the hospital, the parish and the political platform : 
 for she is no more fit to be a wife than she is fit to be a 
 steam-engine; and she might as well attempt to draw a rail- 
 way train as to make a man happy. It is not in her to do 
 either. 
 
 - Janet Field's amiability was established beyond doubt or 
 demur; so much so that every man who did not marry her 
 given the possibility of doing so made more or less of a 
 mistake. She had also (another most valuable asset in mar- 
 ried life) a sense of humour, though as is the case with all 
 
 [162] 
 I
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 of us not as strong a sense as she herself believed it to be. 
 There are two things which every man or woman that 
 ever was born believes, about himself or herself: namely 
 that he or she has a strong sense of humour, and is a small 
 eater! Most people are convinced that they are poor 
 sleepers as well: but this is not quite so universal an article 
 of belief as the other two. 
 
 " I can't see the sense," Janet persisted, " of doing twice 
 as much as you can to-day in order that you won't be able 
 to do a quarter as much as you can to-morrow. It seems 
 to me poor economy." 
 
 " I believe in putting one's whole strength into everything 
 that one does, and doing it with all one's might," replied 
 Gabriel. 
 
 " That is just what you would believe in : it is exactly 
 what I should have expected of you." And Janet shook her 
 head as if she were reproving him for a fault. 
 
 Gabriel was amused, but not penitent. " Then what do 
 you believe in, may I be permitted to ask?" 
 
 " In regulating one's expenditure by one's income and 
 not by one's enthusiasms; and in not putting more strength 
 into a thing than a thing actually needs." 
 
 "O wise young judge, how I do honour thee!" mur- 
 mured Gabriel in mock admiration. 
 
 But in spite of his gibes Janet calmly had her say. She 
 was by no means a great talker; but if she meant to say a 
 thing she said it, and it was generally to the point. " Have 
 you ever tried to open a door which you thought was hard 
 to open and which was really easy; and nearly tumbled 
 backwards in consequence?" 
 
 " Often and often." 
 
 " That is just what you do with everything, Gabriel. You
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 put your whole heart and strength into the doing of some- 
 thing that anybody else would do with very little effort at 
 all: and then you fall backwards and hurt yourself; and 
 some day you'll fall backwards so hard and hurt yourself 
 so badly that you'll never get up again." 
 
 ''' Then what do you want me to do to prevent this catas- 
 trophe?" Gabriel still spoke mockingly, but his mockery 
 was kind. 
 
 " Take things more easily, and consider yourself a bit. 
 Oh! Gabriel," and here the hazel eyes were raised plead- 
 ingly, "do take care of yourself: you see, you matter so 
 dreadfully, and it would be so terrible if you got ill or 
 anything." 
 
 The expression in the hazel eyes was enough to touch 
 any man even a man who had never regarded them as 
 anything but sisterly eyes: and it touched Gabriel a good 
 deal. 
 
 " You see, dear," he said, " I have my flock to consider 
 as well as myself: you mustn't forget them." 
 
 "But I do forget them: I forget them utterly: I don't 
 care what becomes of them compared with you." Though 
 Janet's diction might be involved, her meaning was clear. 
 " I would sacrifice the whole of S. Etheldreda's parish to 
 save you a pain in your little ringer, Gabriel! I would 
 indeed. What do the souls of a thousand costermongers 
 matter in comparison with your health ? Nothing at all ! " 
 
 "Oh, hush, Janet, hush! You mustn't talk like that. 
 In the sight of God the soul of a costermonger is worth as 
 much as mine. Besides," he added whimsically, " they are 
 not costermongers: they are petty tradesmen of arrogant 
 respectability; and so their souls are worth more than a 
 costermonger's because they are so much rarer." 
 
 [164]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 But Janet was too much in earnest to smile. " I'm not 
 looking at it from God's point of view: I'm looking at it 
 from mine and Aunt Eveline's ; and it breaks both our hearts 
 to see you sacrificing your splendid, clever, handsome self 
 for a lot of horrid, dirty, good-for-nothing shopkeepers." 
 
 Gabriel shook his head. " Janet, Janet, haven't I told 
 you that they are not dirty?" 
 
 " I don't care: no amount of washing will ever make 
 a million of them equal to one of you, and nothing could 
 ever convince me that it will." 
 
 [165]
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 FABIA'S MARRIAGE 
 
 WHILE Gabriel Carr was endeavouring for the sake of his 
 health to let the grass grow under his feet in Mershire, 
 Mrs. Paul Seaton was doing nothing of the kind in Lon- 
 don. She had made up her mind to give Fabia Vipart in 
 marriage to Charles Gaythorne; and she allowed herself 
 no rest until this mission was safely accomplished. Over 
 the trousseau she was simply indefatigable. She loved clothes, 
 other women's as well as her own : even in Isabel's small- 
 nesses there was nothing really small: and she and Fabia 
 were drawn nearer to each other over this said trousseau 
 than they had ever been before. There is a wonderful 
 freemasonry among all the women who love clothes, which 
 the uninitiated cannot in the least understand or enter into. 
 
 Fabia had grown much more amiable since her engage- 
 ment : success had a beneficial effect upon her, as it has upon 
 so many people: and now that she was about to make what 
 the world calls an excellent match, she received unstintingly 
 that praise of men which is only accorded to those who do 
 well unto themselves. 
 
 True, her relations with Charlie Gaythorne were by no 
 means ideal in their nature. She regarded him with mingled 
 feelings of contempt and gratitude gratitude for what he 
 had, and contempt for what he was; and there was no modi- 
 
 [166]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 cum of love in the composition. As for him, he was more 
 infatuated with her than ever; and the blindness of his 
 adoration and the slavishness of his worship were just the 
 things most calculated to strengthen Fabia's present attitude 
 towards him. Had he shown himself in his dealings with 
 her the man that he really was, it would have been better 
 for her and better for him: but he did not: and so like 
 the rest of us he had to bear the consequences of his own 
 want of wisdom. There is nothing so severely punished 
 ifi this world as a blunder. A crime is oftentimes forgiven 
 still oftener undiscovered: but a blunder has to meet its 
 liabilities even to the uttermost farthing: and this is usually 
 done in the full light of day before an audience that neither 
 spares nor pities. 
 
 Naturally Fabia had not forgotten her encounter with 
 the Vicar of S. Etheldreda's ; but her feelings for him also 
 were mixed. She was to a certain extent angry with him 
 for his treatment of her: but she was nothing like as angry 
 as Isabel would have been in similar circumstances. With 
 all her faults and doubtless she had many Fabia was no 
 egotist: she was able to regard a thing or a person apart 
 from that thing or that person's relation to herself: and 
 she could not therefore fail to admire Gabriel's uprightness 
 and singleness of heart, even though these had combined to 
 her own undoing. Moreover she had loved him from the 
 moment that she discovered that he was stronger than she. 
 His very sternness, which would have repelled a typically 
 western woman, was irresistibly attractive to the Oriental 
 strain in Fabia's nature. She was born of a race of women 
 who were accustomed to obey; and the more masterful a 
 man was, the readier was she to fall down and worship him : 
 and therefore nothing could have been more inimical to their 
 
 [167]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 future happiness than the humble and deferential attitude 
 which Captain Gaythorne adopted towards his bride-elect. 
 
 "What is going to happen to Mrs. Gaythorne?" Paul 
 asked of his wife in one of the few moments which she 
 spared to him out of the whirl of nuptial preparations. 
 
 " Happen to her? What on earth do you mean? Noth- 
 ing is going to happen to her that I know of. She isn't going 
 to be married ! " 
 
 "Heaven forbid! But isn't she going to turn out to 
 make room for Fabia? " 
 
 "Mrs. Gaythorne turn out to make room for anybody? 
 Oh, Paul, what an idea! You'll be asking next whether 
 the sun isn't going to turn out to make room for some 
 acetylene gas-company or other: or whether London isn't 
 going to turn out to make room for the garden-city." 
 
 Paul smiled, but he held his ground. " I thought mothers- 
 in-law always turned out when their sons married: went 
 to a Dower-House or something of that kind, don't you 
 know?" 
 
 But Isabel met him with open scorn. " Dower-House 
 indeed! Think of Mrs. Gaythorne in a Dower-House! I 
 don't believe the Dower-House is built that would contain 
 Mrs. Gaythorne." 
 
 "Mrs. Gaythorne is an excellent woman," began Paul; 
 but " 
 
 His wife interrupted him. " I know what you are going 
 to say that her only failing is infallibility, and I agree 
 with you. But it is a common fault ; Wrexham has it badly, 
 and so have others. I often wonder what people like 
 Wrexham and Mrs. Gaythorne do to pass the time while 
 the rest of the congregation are repeating the General Con- 
 fession. You are a bit inclined that way yourself." 
 
 [:68]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " Oh, Isabel ! " Paul looked really hurt. 
 
 His wife patted his shoulder encouragingly. " It is only 
 a tendency in your case not a really vicious virtue at 
 present. But if you don't take care to make not less than 
 one trifling mistake a week, and to be wrong on some unim- 
 portant matter at least every other day, you'll most assuredly 
 be infallible by the time you are fifty. But you can't locate 
 Infallibility in a Dower-House at any price. Its natural 
 habitations are Vaticans and places of that kind." 
 
 " Well, all I can say is, then, that I pity poor Fabia." 
 
 Mrs. Seaton shook her head. " I don't. She won't mind. 
 She likes Mrs. Gaythorne better than she likes me." 
 
 " Oh, I say, that's impossible! You are talking nonsense, 
 my darling. Nobody could like Mrs. Gaythorne better than 
 they like you not even old Gaythorne himself, if he were 
 alive!" 
 
 " Possibly not. Mr. Gaythorne was a man. But heaps 
 of women would Fabia included." 
 
 " Well with one notable exception I haven't a very 
 high opinion of female intellect, as you know: but I must 
 say I don't think so badly of the sex as all that." And Paul 
 touched the tip of his wife's ear caressingly. He wanted to 
 stroke her hair: but experience had taught him that when 
 a woman's hair is what she calls " done " he is a brave 
 man who, even in the way of kindness, lays his hand 
 upon it. 
 
 " You never do Mrs. Gaythorne justice, Paul." 
 
 " By Jove, I do, though ! I think she is the most over- 
 bearing and dominating woman that Providence ever made 
 bar none." 
 
 Isabel sighed reproachfully. " That comes of being a 
 Radical! You Radicals don't really appreciate our old 
 
 [I6 9 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 national institutions, such as the Divine Right of kings, and 
 the Established Church, and the Penny Postage, and Mrs. 
 Gaythorne. These things are part of the Empire." 
 
 " Are they? " Paul laughed, and kissed his wife. " Then 
 do respectable old Whigs such as yourself appreciate them? " 
 
 " We do. For my part I feel towards Mrs. Gaythorne 
 exactly as I feel towards the British Constitution, and the 
 Union Jack, and the House of Hanover. They rouse noble 
 and patriotic feelings in me they make me proud of my 
 country they induce me to ' thank the goodness and the 
 grace ' and heaps of things like that. Roast beef on Sun- 
 day has exactly the same effect; and so have Handel's music 
 and some of Macaulay's Essays." 
 
 Isabel was quite right. Mrs. Gaythorne had not the 
 slightest intention of turning out to make room for any- 
 body; nor would Charlie ever have imagined such a thing 
 possible in his wildest dreams. And, to tell the truth, Fabia 
 did not altogether object to the present arrangement. She 
 did not care enough for her future husband for the prospect 
 of a solitude a deux to offer any attractions to her: and she 
 entertained a very strong and real regard for Mrs. Gay- 
 thorne. The very masterfulness of the elder woman fascin- 
 ated her and held her captive, since strength of any kind 
 appealed to Fabia. As has been remarked before, Miss 
 Vipart doubtless had her faults : but she was of a stuff which 
 is not bad raw material for the fashioning of daugJbters-in- 
 law: good daughters-in-law not being in any way synony- 
 mous with good daughters or good wives. 
 
 Much is written and said about mothers-in-law: little or 
 nothing about daughters-in-law: yet the one class is as 
 important as the other, and has equally its distinguishing 
 characteristics. Roughly speaking, the better a woman is as
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 a daughter or a wife, the less satisfactory she will prove as 
 a daughter-in-law: and this in the very nature of things. 
 For the more devoted she is to her husband, the more will 
 she resent and be jealous of any influence which in any way 
 whatever comes between her and him : and the more devoted 
 she is to her own people, the less will she be in sympathy 
 with the customs and traditions of another family. It is all 
 a part of the great law of compensation: no woman can be 
 a success in every relation of life no woman can be a fail- 
 ure in all. Therefore, when all her little world condemns 
 tiresome old Mrs. Jones because she does not properly appre- 
 ciate that charming young Mrs. Jones, who was so excellent 
 a daughter in the days when she was Miss Smith, let it 
 remember that the very characteristics which make Mrs. 
 Jones Junior a helpmeet for young Jones and a polished cor- 
 ner in the temple of the house of Smith, are the very charac- 
 teristics which are most aggravating and irritating to 
 young Jones's mother: and that probably in this matter the 
 disagreeable old lady has far more to try her than the 
 amiable young one, and should be judged accordingly: since 
 we can none of us escape the defects of our qualities. 
 
 So it came to pass that when the season was drawing to a 
 close when women recklessly put on their best clothes and 
 their finest conversation for dinner-parties, and did not take 
 the trouble to go to non-R. S. V. P. parties at all when 
 Bills which would have travelled through Parliament at the 
 rate of the South Eastern earlier in the session, now rushed 
 through it with the speed of falling stars when the streets 
 smelled of wood-pavement and cabbage-stalks, and there was 
 neither excitement nor oxygen in the air then did Charles 
 Gaythorne take to wife Fabia Vipart, with much show and 
 ceremony, and ringing of bells: and gave her the right, for
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNAB^ 
 
 the first time in her life, to meet her equals with equality, 
 and to be of, as well as in, the fashionable world: in short, 
 he admitted her within the precincts and endowed her with 
 the freedom of the red cord. For the which she was accord- 
 ingly thankful. 
 
 [ 17* ]'
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 GABRIEL THE MAN 
 
 THE weeks passed on, and still Gabriel did not gain strength. 
 There was nothing definite the matter with him: perhaps it 
 would have been better for him if there had been, since a 
 definite evil demands a definite cure : but he had simply done 
 too much had overdrawn his account at the bank of vital- 
 ity and Nature, that most merciless of creditors, was set 
 upon summonsing him before her county court, and station- 
 ing her bailiffs, Weakness and Weariness and Depression, 
 in his house, until he should have paid her back to the utter- 
 most farthing. 
 
 At the end of two months spent with his mother in the 
 country, Gabriel returned to town to consult the great 
 doctor who had taken his case in hand; and there he was 
 met with the crushing blow that he must if he ever wished 
 to regain his shattered health and strength resign the living 
 of S. Etheldreda's, and take a country parish for a term of 
 several years. That was the only course open to him, the 
 doctor said, unless he were bent upon suicide. 
 
 He came back to his mother's well-nigh broken-hearted : 
 it seemed as if Fortune had indeed been outrageous in pelting 
 him with her slings and arrows. First the disappointment 
 about Fabia: and then this still severer blow about S. Ethel- 
 dreda's: love and life-work taken away from him at one fell 
 swoop, just when he thought he was nearing the summit of 
 
 [ 173]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 success in both: and for a time the burden seemed greater 
 than he could bear. He had meant to do such wonderful 
 things with his work before him and Fabia by his side: he 
 had intended to remove mountains and to overthrow princi- 
 palities and powers to stand in the forefront of the great 
 battle between good and evil, and to go forth conquering and 
 to conquer. And suddenly he was met by the stern decree, 
 " Thus far shalt thou go and no farther " ; he was bidden 
 to stand no longer with the Ark in the middle of Jordan, 
 but to court ease and obscurity in the backwater of a coun- 
 try parish. Truly the Hand of God was heavy upon him 
 just then ! 
 
 And the very fact that he was out of health made it all 
 the harder for him patiently to endure and cheerfully to 
 submit ; for a man's faith is often very much affected by his 
 physical condition. Satan understood human nature when 
 he suggested that even the patient Job might curse God to 
 His Face when once his flesh and his bone were touched. 
 As a matter of fact, Satan always does understand human 
 nature! It is Divine Nature that passes his comprehension: 
 so that when as frequently happens even in this present 
 world this mortal puts on immortality, Satan's reckonings 
 are upset and his premises falsified: as indeed happened in 
 the very case quoted above. 
 
 So poor Gabriel went a day's journey into the wilderness 
 of blighted hope and bitter disappointment, and sat him 
 down under the juniper tree of doubt and despair, with the 
 old cry, " It is enough ; now take away my life ! " And as 
 he lay ifi the dark shadow of the juniper tree, behold, as 
 aforetime, an angel touched him; and the angel came in the 
 form of Janet Field. 
 
 Now, had uninspired humanity been writing the history of 
 
 [174]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Elijah, it would have dealt with this scene in the story very 
 differently. It was a striking moment; a moment when 
 spirits are finely tuned to fine issues. Think of it: a scene 
 with only two dramatis personae: and they very choicest of 
 their kind. First, the prophet who had just played the 
 principal part in the most splendid drama ever written 
 who had stood upon the summit of Carmel and called down 
 fire from Heaven to confound his enemies ; and who had then 
 made the very clouds his chariots and refreshed the parched 
 earth with abundance of rain. Did ever conqueror return 
 from a more magnificent victory than this? Did ever mere 
 man before or since constrain clouds and fire and stormy; 
 winds to the fulfilling of his word? This was the first 
 person in the drama. The second was no less wonderful, 
 being one of those mysterious beings who excel in strength 
 one of those sons of God who shouted for joy when the 
 foundations of the earth were laid, chanting their Amen to 
 the Venlte of the morning stars. 
 
 And what did this angelic messenger say to the mighty 
 conqueror who was for the moment overthrown? Did he 
 strengthen him with the recital of past triumphs, or encour- 
 age him with a battle-song of still greater things to be? 
 
 Listen! "And behold an angel touched him and said 
 unto him, Arise and eat." 
 
 No war-songs or battle-cries or heroics. Nothing but 
 such ordinary, everyday, homely comfort as would be given 
 to a weeping child. 
 
 And there was more than mere comfort: there was tender 
 sympathy: for " the Angel came again the second time and 
 touched him and said, Arise and eat; because the journey is 
 too great for thee." 
 
 Dear, human commonplace, comfortable words; such 
 
 [175]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 words as we should all like to hear in our dejected moments, 
 when the road is too stony for us and we fall by the way like 
 tired children: such words as are spoken to one whom his 
 mother comforteth! 
 
 Thus Gabriel found consolation in the loving sympathy 
 and cheerful companionship of Janet. She talked no heroics 
 to him: she did not attempt to prove by argument that all 
 things are for the best in this best of all possible worlds ; she 
 first looked after his bodily comforts, and then shared with 
 him the sorrow of his heart. Her whole walk and conversa- 
 tion was but an amplification of the words, " Arise and eat ; 
 because the journey is too great for thee." Truly, as far 
 as Gabriel was concerned, she was a veritable angel of the 
 Lord. 
 
 There are many women in this world who would fain give 
 consolation in sorrow to the men whom they love: but they 
 do not know the way. They argue and encourage and cheer 
 and exhort, and yet it is all in vain. Such women would do 
 well to learn a lesson from the angel of Elijah. 
 
 Gradually Janet became more than an angel to Gabriel 
 more than one of those heavenly visitants who neither marry 
 nor are given in marriage: she began to occupy the niche in 
 his heart which the defalcation of Fabia had left vacant. It 
 is a true saying that the affections of many men are caught 
 on the rebound ; and these as a rule are what are commonly 
 known as " marrying men." The man who is described by 
 his friends as " not a marrying man " is rarely, if ever, 
 enslaved in this way; his affections, when once wounded 
 and repulsed, are even more impregnable than they were 
 before. 
 
 There are two kinds of bachelors in this world: the men 
 in the walls and structures of whose hearts are empty niches 
 
 [I 7 6]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 all ready for the image of the unknown goddess; just as in 
 some houses there are book-shelves built into the original 
 fabric ; and the men who have no place prepared when Diana 
 of the Ephesians falls straight down from Jupiter; and conse- 
 quently walls have to be knocked down and other furniture 
 removed to make room for her. 
 
 Carr belonged to the former class: from his boyhood he 
 had worshipped the Ideal Woman. Feminine sympathy and 
 companionship and approbation were essential to him: he 
 could not live without them. Therefore when as he imag- 
 ined Fabia had once embodied the Ideal, he could not 
 again even though Fabia had failed disembody her. If 
 he had not first fallen in love with Fabia, he would probably 
 never have fallen in love with Janet: but the door of his 
 heart having once been thrown open by Fabia, it would not 
 close again ; so Janet found at last an easy entry. She would 
 never have succeeded in opening that door herself: she lacked 
 the special power to do so: but, after another hand had 
 forced the lock, there was no one so well fitted as she to 
 enter in and sweep and garnish. 
 
 Janet was one of the rare women who are proficient per- 
 formers on that useful instrument popularly known as the 
 " second fiddle." It is a great gift. The women who are 
 content to play second fiddle, and to make the best of it, 
 give much sweet music to the world: there are no more 
 essential performers in the orchestra of life than they. Do 
 we not all know them and the soothing harmonies which 
 they make patient spinsters, kindly stepmothers, comfort- 
 able second wives; humbly and cheerfully taking the part 
 allotted to them by the Great Conductor, and never strug- 
 gling nor straining after the first place? Are not all our 
 lives the richer for their music? And can we doubt that 
 
 [ 177]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 these blessed musicians shall take one day a leading part in 
 that chorus which shall stand on the shores of the sea of 
 glass, striking the harps of God? 
 
 Janet was aware that she was not Gabriel's first love: 
 during the sunny afternoons of that long summer holiday 
 he had confided in her the whole story of his infatuation for 
 Fabia, and the disappointment that it had brought him : and 
 she was content that it should be so. He was so utterly first 
 with her that she never even asked what place she took 
 with regard to him. It was enough for her to love : she did 
 not trouble about any return. 
 
 There is always something rather small about the jealous 
 woman the woman who refuses to marry a widower, or 
 who begs her husband to promise her that he will never 
 marry again should anything happen to her. Something is 
 lacking in the quality of her love : at the bottom of her heart 
 she loves herself more than she loves him. Were her love 
 perfect, she would want him to be happy even at the cost 
 of his memory of her: she would be content to be forgotten 
 if only he could be comforted. The maternal element in her 
 love would help her to this : and the wife who has no mater- 
 nal element in her love for her husband falls considerably 
 short of the mark of her high calling. 
 
 But Fate was not without its irony for poor Gabriel, even 
 in the compensations of his present lot. It was hard that he 
 should at last have fallen in love with Janet just when the 
 fiat had gone forth that he had no home to offer to her. Had 
 he only learnt her true value any time during the past half- 
 dozen years, he could have married her at once; and in all 
 human probability his health in that case would never have 
 broken down at all, for Janet was just the sort of wife to 
 look after a man well, and to see that he was cherished and
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 comforted as well as honoured and obeyed. But, like many 
 another good man, Gabriel did the right thing at the wrong 
 time; and was sorely punished, as are all such innocent 
 offenders, for the unpunctuality of his well-doing. So while 
 Janet soothed him in his dual disappointment over his 
 slighted love and his arrested life-work, she unconsciously 
 drove him out of the fire of transitory infatuation for Fabia 
 into the frying-pan of unswerving devotion to herself; and 
 thus rendered the second state of poor Gabriel worse than 
 the first. 
 
 He could not tell her in so many words of his new-born 
 love for her; honour forbade it now that he had neither 
 home nor income to offer; but Janet though not a clever 
 woman in the accepted sense of the word was quite clever 
 enough to see what had come to pass, and to be thankful 
 accordingly. It was characteristic of her that she did not 
 waste her time nor her strength in regretting that Gabriel 
 had not learnt to love her sooner: she returned thanks that 
 he had not postponed this awakening until even later; and 
 the mere knowledge of it made melody in her heart. 
 
 " I expect I must give up S. Etheldreda's, and give it up 
 at once," said Gabriel, one summer's evening, as he and his 
 mother and Janet were sitting in the garden of the little 
 Midland cottage; "I cannot extend my holiday further: 
 and it is time that my successor was appointed and given his 
 work to do. But I shall miss it oh, I shall miss it ! " His 
 voice broke as he concluded the sentence. Gabriel had one 
 of those impressionable natures which rise to great heights 
 and sink to great depths : he was always either upon Mount 
 Carmel or lying down under the juniper tree. 
 
 " As you say, dearest," replied Mrs. Carr; " it seems time 
 that something definite should be done, as no locum tenens 
 
 [179]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 can stay permanently anywhere because of his own work at 
 home, and being a stranger and a sojourner, as it were, and 
 therefore the course of teaching more disjointed than in the 
 case of the real incumbent, besides his not having the threads 
 of all the parishioners in his hands, and so less able to admin- 
 ister advice and counsel." 
 
 " It is hard to give it all up," Gabriel groaned ; " and just 
 when I was getting some hold upon the hearts of the 
 people ! " 
 
 "Never mind," said Janet, in soothing tones; "it will 
 all come right." 
 
 "But I must mind: I cannot help minding: it is my 
 business to mind." 
 
 Janet shook her head. " No, it isn't ; it is your business 
 to get strong and well as quickly as you can, and God's 
 business to look after S. Etheldreda's." 
 
 " Oh, yes, love, yes ; of course it is ; how clearly dear 
 Janet always puts things! You must have faith, my 
 Gabriel, more faith. Think of the grain of mustard-seed 
 that the woman hid in three measures of meal till it leav- 
 ened the whole lump. It is faith of that kind that you 
 need, dear child, and in fact all of us." Mrs. Carr was apt 
 to confuse her parables: but she held fast to the truths 
 which they set forth. 
 
 " It is so easy to have faith for other people : and so hard 
 to have it for oneself," sighed Gabriel. 
 
 " But the fact that a duty is difficult does not make it any 
 the less imperative." 
 
 " That is so, dearest Janet," assented Mrs. Carr; " if we 
 have to do things, we have to do them, however impossible 
 they may be, and not even in good health or up to our usual 
 spirits, which always makes everything more of a burden 
 
 [180]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 than otherwise and increases the necessity for a strong tonic 
 and complete rest of mind and body." 
 
 " And even if as Janet so wisely counsels I leave my 
 work in God's hands, what is to become of me, deprived 
 suddenly of home and income? " 
 
 Janet smiled. " You think that God is equal to the task 
 of looking after S. Etheldreda's, but not quite to be trusted 
 with the responsibility of looking after you as well? Oh, 
 Gabriel, I'm ashamed of you! " 
 
 Here his mother flew to Gabriel's rescue. " Really, 
 Janet, love, I cannot allow you to speak of my own ewe lamb 
 in that way: you seem to insinuate that Gabriel is guilty of 
 irreverence towards his Maker, which anything further 
 from his thoughts I cannot imagine. But one cannot help 
 feeling that the charge of a parish is more worthy to be left 
 in the Hands of the Creator than attending to a man's 
 private income, which is really a layman's duty, or even a 
 mere man of business." 
 
 Depressed as Gabriel was, he could not forbear a smile 
 at this, especially when he saw Janet's hazel eyes twinkle 
 in sympathy: it was so thoroughly indicative of Mrs. Carr's 
 attitude towards her Maker, Whom she regarded as a sort 
 of deified Archbishop, not to be troubled with affairs uncon- 
 nected with the Church. " If you think that, mother, you 
 ought never to say grace before meat. Surely it is what 
 you would call a mere layman's duty to preside over a meal 
 and to bless common food to our use." 
 
 " My dear Gabriel, I have always said grace before meat 
 and always shall: it is no use your trying to dissuade me 
 from it. It was my custom in my cradle, as it will be my 
 custom upon my death-bed, taught me by my dear mother: 
 and a meal upon which no blessing is asked always terrifies 
 
 [181]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 me, for fear of undigested food or fish-bone in the throat, 
 if not ptomaine poisoning and typhoid in the milk. I never 
 should expect to recover from a meal upon which no bless- 
 ing had been asked, not even if the fish were boned and 
 there was only semolina pudding. And by what right, I 
 should like to know? Except the Lord build the house, 
 men sow and reap in vain." 
 
 Gabriel suppressed a laugh, as he wondered what his 
 mother would do if she were asked to parse one of her own 
 sentences. "It's all right, mother; you misunderstood me. 
 I am the last person to object to your asking grace before 
 meat." 
 
 But Mrs. Carr was a past mistress in the art of misunder- 
 standing people. Nothing was too plain or too simple for 
 her to misunderstand. She even amazed her own son some- 
 times by her powers of misapprehension. " Then why did 
 you say so, my dear love, and cause me so much pain ? Both 
 you and Janet are so fond of saying things and then saying 
 that you didn't say them, which makes it so confusing for 
 the other person, with the best intentions in the world. 
 If you don't object to my saying grace, why did you 
 say you did? And if dear Janet doesn't think you irrever- 
 ent, why does she say you are? everybody being judged 
 by their words, or else how could you know them at 
 all?" 
 
 " What I want to know is, what will become of me after 
 I have resigned the living of S. Etheldreda's ? " Gabriel's 
 passing amusement was over, and he was down in the 
 depths again. 
 
 " Something is sure to turn up," the cheerful Janet 
 hastened to assure him. " I feel certain that God will look 
 after you, even though it be but secular work to do so." 
 
 [182]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Janet could not resist making fun of Mrs. Carr sometimes, 
 though to do her justice she struggled manfully against the 
 temptation. 
 
 " What you need, my dear boy, is more faith and hope 
 and a country parish, though not too scattered in case of 
 bad weather, and the Squire at your back should the funds 
 run short and no private means." 
 
 " But how am I to get a country parish, mother? It is 
 none so easy. And especially as I need one with an income 
 sufficient to keep me from starvation, having as you point 
 out no private means." 
 
 " True, love, they do not grow on every bush like sand 
 on the seashore, as you say: but there must be plenty some- 
 where, or else why aren't all the clergy in the workhouse? 
 Though, as Janet is always saying, it is no credit to the 
 Church of England that they are not, being so miserably 
 underpaid and the labourer always worthy of his hire. 
 Certainly the Nonconformists set us a good example there, 
 though sometimes not Catholic in doctrine: and of course 
 you would find it a little dull, after the constant toil and 
 turmoil of a London parish, which would make it so much 
 more soothing and restful. I often wish that my small 
 means were sufficient to do more than just keep Janet and 
 myself: but it is often difficult for us as it is to make both 
 ends meet, even pinching ourselves at every turn, and only 
 one joint of meat a week." 
 
 " It is supper-time," said Janet, rising and folding up 
 her work: " and I propose that we go in and enjoy it, and 
 don't take thought for the morrow any more to-night. 
 There's steak-and-kidney pie and a junket, both of which 
 I made myself, because I knew that they were two of 
 Gabriel's favourite dishes: and it is no good making them 
 
 [183]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 disagree with us all before we eat them, through worrying 
 over what can't be helped." 
 
 " Thank you, Janet." Gabriel was touched. He was 
 one of the men and their name is Legion who love to 
 be petted. 
 
 " And for my part," added Janet, as they strolled towards 
 the house, " I have perfect confidence that God will find a 
 way for us out of this difficulty, and prove Himself a very 
 present help in the present trouble. Why, you always 
 preach so beautifully about faith, Gabriel ! " 
 
 " I know I do : but it is so much easier to preach than to 
 practise." 
 
 " It isn't easy to do either on an empty stomach," said 
 the practical Janet : " so let us have supper at once ! " 
 
 [184]
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE LIVING OF GAYTHORNE 
 
 THERE was woe and lamentation in the parish of Gay- 
 thorne over the death of the Rector, who had held the 
 incumbency for the last five-and-thirty years. As he had 
 been a man somewhat lax with regard to Catholic doctrine, 
 and wholly inartistic in respect to canonical form, Mrs. 
 Gaythorne had no anxiety as to his condition in the future 
 state: but she missed a friendship which had lasted through 
 the whole of her life as matron and widow, and she shrank 
 from the idea of a new incumbent who would not obey her 
 as implicitly as Mr. Cattley had done. True, the latter 
 had suffered from occasional lapses in obedience. There 
 was one never-to-be-forgotten occasion when he introduced 
 the custom of carrying out the Psalmist's original intention 
 and singing the songs of degrees, instead of reading them 
 aloud alternately with the congregation : which daring inno- 
 vation so upset Mrs. Gaythorne that for some time she 
 absented herself from her parish church and attended a 
 Wesleyan chapel in the neighbourhood. But even here 
 the poor lady could not long find rest for her soul: for 
 when the season for it came round, the Wesleyans thought 
 it meet and right to offer a public thanksgiving to God for 
 the joy of harvest, and they decorated their chapel for this 
 occasion with corn and flowers. This was too much for 
 
 [185]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne. She scented Ritualism in every dahlia, 
 Popery in every ear of corn: and when she espied upon the 
 front of the pulpit the Sign of her Salvation wrought in 
 white chrysanthemums, to bring before the faithful the 
 Symbol of their faith, she shook the dust of the place off 
 her feet for ever, and left the chapel to re-enter it no more. 
 But she did not go so far as to withdraw her subscription 
 to the Wesleyan Missionary Society in consequence: in 
 which, perhaps, she was somewhat inconsistent: since the 
 object of all missionary societies is to take their part in 
 fulfilling the Divine Command, to preach to every creature 
 that Cross which was to the Jew a stumbling-block and to 
 the Greek foolishness, and to Mrs. Gaythorne the sign- 
 manual of Rome. But her practices were ever superior to 
 her precepts: and she always atoned, by the kindliness of her 
 conduct, for the cruelty of her creed. 
 
 So she returned into the fold of her own parish, and 
 gradually forgave Mr. Cattley for his unseemly attempt to 
 carry out the intentions of the original authors in his pre- 
 sentment of the Psalms: but she continued to read these 
 same spiritual songs in a loud voice while the rest of the 
 congregation were singing them. 
 
 Once again was Mr. Cattley convicted of backsliding by 
 the introduction of the singing of those responses which 
 fall to the people and not to the priest. Mrs. Gaythorne 
 did not leave the church again for that, her recent experience 
 at the Wesleyan chapel having made her feel somewhat 
 like Noah's dove before the abatement of the waters: but 
 she entered her protest by still repeating the responses in 
 as conversational a tone as she could command, and begin- 
 ning them a good two seconds before anybody else. 
 
 The living of Gaythorne was a very good one, as livings 
 
 [186]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 go nowadays; five hundred a year and an excellent rectory: 
 and the income was regular and secure, not being dependent 
 upon either glebe or tithes: so there was much speculation 
 as to who would be Mr. Cattley's successor. 
 
 "Who has the presentation to this living?" asked Fabia 
 of her husband, a few days after the old rector's death. 
 
 "It belongs to me," replied Charlie: by which he meant 
 to his mother. 
 
 "I thought so: and I want you to give it to Gabriel 
 Carr." 
 
 " Oh, Fabia! " And poor Charlie's distress was poignant. 
 He adored his wife, and would do anything in reason that 
 she asked him ; but he did wish she would not ask him such 
 unreasonable things. 
 
 Mrs. Charles Gaythorne shrugged her shoulders impa- 
 tiently. " It is no use saying ' Oh, Fabia! ' in that timorous 
 and ineffective tone. I have told you what my wishes are, 
 and I expect you to carry them out." 
 
 "But, Fabia 
 
 " But me no buts, if you please. Surely you can make 
 anybody rector here that you like, seeing that even if you 
 cannot call your soul your own, you can so call the living 
 of Gaythorne." 
 
 Charlie winced: his wife's jibes never failed to touch him 
 on the raw. " But, Fabia darling, you must see that 
 mother would never consent to a high churchman being 
 appointed rector here." 
 
 " I thought you said the living was in your gift." 
 
 " I did, but " 
 
 " Then I fail to see where your mother comes in." 
 
 Poor Charlie fairly groaned. "Oh! Fabia, I really 
 couldn't go against my mother in a thing like this. She
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 minds so awfully about churches and services and things 
 of that kind, that I should feel a regular brute if I didn't 
 pan it all out to suit her." ^ 
 
 Fabia's lips curled : her husband's fear of his mother never 
 failed to arouse her contempt. " Then you do not mind 
 going against your wife's wishes? " 
 
 " Yes, I do, darling ; I mind most awfully. But can't 
 you understand that religion is the mater's particular hobby, 
 while it isn't yours? I mean you don't really care about 
 high church or low church and all that sort of business, 
 while it is just meat and drink to mother. I believe it 
 would kill her to have a regular high churchman planted 
 down under her very nose: she couldn't stand it at her 
 age." 
 
 " That is simply absurd. She would soon get used to it." 
 
 " Not she ! I know my mother. You can't remember 
 what an awful shindy she made when old Cattley took to 
 bawling out the Psalms all together, instead of making 
 them into a sort of ride-and-tie business, turn and turn 
 about, as they used to be. But I can: and I shall never 
 forget it. By Jove, it regularly knocked her to pieces ! " 
 
 Fabia still occupied the seat of the scornful. " I thought 
 the Psalms were meant to be sung: songs usually are." 
 
 " Not a bit of it ! Why, nobody ever thought of singing 
 them at Gaythorne Church till old Cattley got a ridiculous 
 idea into his head that it would be an improvement, or some 
 idiotic notion of that kind. And it upset the mater most 
 dreadfully. She forgave the old fool after a bit, because 
 she is so awfully Christian and charitable and all that, don't 
 you know? But the church has never been the same to 
 her since. I was quite a little boy at the time, but I remem- 
 ber the fuss." 
 
 [188]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " And what did your father say? " 
 
 " Oh ! father did his best to smooth her down ; said that 
 a psalm was a psalm, don't you know? and comforting 
 things of that sort. But it drove her to the Wesleyan 
 Chapel for all that, for weeks and weeks. She used to take 
 me with her, while father stuck to the parish church, and 
 I used to enjoy it ; it was a bit of a change for a little chap 
 whose nose was generally glued to the prayer-book in his 
 family pew." 
 
 Fabia smiled. Her husband's ideas and traditions never 
 failed to rouse her mirth. " Then did Mr. Cattley ever 
 go so far as to sing the hymns, or were they also performed 
 on what you call the ride-and-tie principle in those primaeval 
 days ? " she asked. 
 
 Charlie looked at her in innocent amazement. " Of 
 course they sang the hymns. What are hymns for but to 
 be sung? " 
 
 " The same argument applies then to singing the psalms, 
 since psalms are hymns." 
 
 " They can't be, because they are in the Prayer-book ; and 
 the Prayer-book and the Hymn-book are quite different 
 books, don't you know? You might as well say that the 
 Army List and the Racing Calendar are the same as say 
 that the Prayer-book and the Hymn-book are." 
 
 " Well, then, you Anglicans hold that the Bible and the 
 Prayer-book are very much the same thing, don't you?" 
 retorted Fabia, who could never resist the temptation to 
 wave the red rag when she saw one lying about. 
 
 Her husband looked really shocked. " Good gracious, no : 
 what an idea! I'm glad the mater didn't hear you say 
 that, it would upset her awfully. Why, nothing would 
 induce her to read what she calls her daily-portion out of 
 
 [I8 9 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 the Prayer-book psalms: she wouldn't do it for anything. 
 She always reads them out of the regular Bible." 
 
 " I see." 
 
 " Why," continued Charles, waxing eloquent, " when I 
 was a little chap at school she found out that the master 
 who took the Scripture-form made us learn some of the 
 Prayer-book psalms by heart; and she kicked up an awful 
 row about it: wrote to the Head, don't you know? and 
 insisted on her son learning the Psalms as they really were 
 in the Bible, or not at all." 
 
 " That is enough about the Psalms," said Fabia, in a 
 bored tone of voice. " What I want to know is, are you 
 going to oblige me about the living of Gaythorne, or are 
 you not? In short, are you going to offend me or your 
 mother?" 
 
 Charlie looked as indeed he felt absolutely wretched. 
 He hated to deny his wife anything that she desired : but the 
 alternative was by no means an alluring one. He could have 
 faced a charge of cavalry without turning a hair: but when 
 it came to facing his mother it was a different thing, and 
 the flesh was weak. So he feebly temporised. " I don't 
 believe mother would ever stand Carr's goings-on his 
 flowers and vestments and early services, and things of that 
 kind." 
 
 " But she is very fond of him," said Fabia, stooping to 
 argue with her trembling lord and master. 
 
 " Oh ! that's quite a different thing. She can't help 
 liking him as a man; nobody could: he is such a pleasant 
 chap, that nobody would ever take him for a clergyman," 
 replied Charlie, with unconscious humour : " but it's as a 
 parson that he roughs her up." 
 
 " Of course you are master in your own house, and so 
 
 [ 190]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 must do as you think fit," said Fabia, with a satirical smile. 
 " I have told you my wishes, and there is no more to be 
 said. But I should have imagined that you might have 
 done it for Mr. Carr's sake, if not for mine: you must see 
 how hard it is for him to have to give up one living with no 
 prospect of another." 
 
 "Oh! I'm sorry enough for Carr; there's no doubt on 
 that score," Charlie ruefully replied : " he's a rattling good 
 fellow, and it's deuced hard on him to have to chuck every- 
 thing like this deuced hard! But all the same I can't 
 have my mother's peace of mind sacrificed to him, and 
 there's an end of it." 
 
 Fabia rose from her seat and left the room, her clinging 
 robes trailing gracefully behind her. She did not deign to 
 vouchsafe another word to her recalcitrant husband, whose 
 misery was very real indeed. Poor Charlie! He was 
 highly inexperienced in hL management of Fabia. If he 
 had put his foot down and said that he would not give the 
 living to Carr because he did not choose to do so, she would 
 have submitted to his decision with a good grace, and 
 would have respected him for knowing his own mind, even 
 if it did not coincide with hers; but when he refused to do 
 so on the ground that his mother did not wish it, he threw 
 over his prestige as a husband and lowered himself in his 
 wife's eyes. A wise man never backs up his marital author- 
 ity by quotations from any woman not even from his own 
 mother: for wives despise a constitutional government, and 
 at heart love the despot who rules them by divine right; 
 provided, of course, that he is not too despotic, and does not 
 take undue advantage of his kingship. And they invariably 
 support the Salic law, and will have no woman not even 
 a mother-in-law to reign over them.
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Now, if the truth must be told, Fabia understood Mrs. 
 Gaythorne a great deal better than Charlie did. She knew 
 that underneath the ferocity of that lady's creed was con- 
 cealed the tenderest of hearts, and that the worthy woman's 
 doings were as overflowing with charity as her doctrines 
 were the reverse: so she retailed to Mrs. Gaythorne the 
 exhaustive account of Gabriel's afflictions which she had 
 received by letter from Isabel Seaton; and left the seed thus 
 sown to bear fruit accordingly. 
 
 Charlie's mother, though an excellent woman and a con- 
 sistent Christian, was most delightfully human; and conse- 
 quently she was so much pleased with Gabriel for having 
 ruined his health (as she believed) by his high-church 
 practices, thereby proving that she was righteous in her 
 judgments and justified in her sayings, that she completely 
 forgave the sinner in contemplating the satisfactory results 
 of the sin. So, after hearing several times the full account 
 of poor Gabriel's overthrow, as written by Isabel and illus- 
 trated by Fabia, she went to spend a day with her old 
 friend, Eveline Carr, in order to see for herself how the 
 land lay. 
 
 Mrs. Carr and Mrs. Gaythorne were friends of long 
 standing and were warmly attached to each other all the 
 more warmly because they did not understand one another 
 in the very least. Many sincere and constant friendships 
 are thus founded upon a basis of profound and mutual 
 misunderstanding. We are all of us prone to esteem certain 
 people for qualities which they do not and never have 
 pretended to possess: but we, in the vain imagination of 
 our hearts, have endowed them with these qualities, and 
 feel affection for them accordingly. Mrs. Gaythorne loved 
 Mrs. Carr for being a mystic of deep and clear spiritual 
 
 [ 192]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 perceptions, with an intuitive conception of the mysteries 
 of evangelical dogma; while Mrs. Carr reverenced Mrs. 
 Gaythorne as a broad-minded and experienced woman of the 
 world, equally conversant with the wisdom of God and the 
 foolishness of man. 
 
 " This is an unfortunate business, Gabriel, that I heard 
 from Isabel Seaton about your health," began Mrs. Gay- 
 thorne, when the preliminary greetings were over and the 
 party had seated themselves at what was Mrs. Gaythorne's 
 lunch and the Carrs' dinner. " A very unfortunate busi- 
 ness ! " Some people would have left the discussion of 
 unpleasant subjects until the meal was over; but that was 
 not Mrs. Gaythorne's way. What she had to say, she 
 said, regardless of any other consideration whatsoever. She 
 was a woman distinguished by singleness of purpose and 
 freedom of utterance. 
 
 Gabriel sighed. " It is a great trouble and a bitter disap- 
 pointment to me to have to give up S. Etheldreda's : I can 
 assure you of that, Mrs. Gaythorne." 
 
 "Then why talk about it?" interrupted Janet. "I 
 never see the use of talking about disagreeable things, espe- 
 cially at meal-times." 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne turned upon her a look of reproach. " I 
 have come here for the sole purpose of talking about it, Janet 
 Field, so it must be talked about, meal-time or no meal-time. 
 I cannot consider the meat that perisheth when I have 
 Gabriel's soul under my consideration." 
 
 But Janet had her reply ready. " It was Gabriel's body 
 that I was thinking about, Mrs. Gaythorne; and as his soul 
 just now is in a far better condition than his body, I think 
 it is the latter that should claim our attention." 
 
 " Still, dearest Janet," said Mrs. Carr, feeling electricity 
 
 [ 193]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 in the air and being intent on peace ; " a body without a soul 
 is not of much avail even in a country parish with no daily 
 service and the Litany on Wednesdays and Fridays, which 
 is what I crave for my boy just now, complete rest and 
 absence from all worry being the thing prescribed: though 
 I admit that when one scents the sound of danger one 
 should profit by the warning, and husband the lost strength 
 until it has regained its accustomed tone and vigour." 
 
 " I am rfot surprised," replied Mrs. Gaythorne, saying 
 what she had come to say: "What could any man expect 
 from daily services and all the other performances at S. 
 Etheldreda's but a complete breakdown in his health? I 
 knew it would come to this from the very beginning, and 
 it has." The good lady conveyed the impression that if it 
 had not, she would have been as much disappointed as the 
 prophet Jonah at the sparing of Nineveh. 
 
 Gabriel w r as distinctly amused: Mrs. Gaythorne never 
 made him angry. " I did the little I could, and am thank- 
 ful that my health allowed me to do as much as I did: but I 
 grieve sorely that it prevents me from doing more." 
 
 "There is nothing to grieve over in that, Gabriel Carr: 
 be thankful you are prevented from doing any more mis- 
 chief in that benighted parish, instead of fretting that you 
 are prevented from doing any more good." 
 
 " I will gladly raise that Te Deum, Mrs. Gaythorne," 
 replied the persecuted Vicar, stifling a laugh: " but, all the 
 same, I did my best." 
 
 "According to your lights," added Mrs. Gaythorne, 
 amending his sentence. 
 
 " Certainly : I accept the emendation. But no one can 
 act save according to his lights: you cannot yourself, Mrs. 
 Gaythorne." 
 
 [ 194]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " But I take care to see that my lights are the right 
 lights: that makes all the difference." 
 
 "How do you know that they are the right lights?" 
 asked Janet. 
 
 The lady looked at her more in sorrow than in anger. 
 " What an absurd question, Janet Field ! How do I know 
 that the sun is shining above our heads? " 
 
 " You don't," retorted Janet : " because, as a matter of 
 fact, it isn't. There is no above or below in space." 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne shook her head reproachfully. " Janet 
 Field, I perceive you are becoming a freethinker, if not an 
 atheist: and that is quite as bad, if not worse, than being 
 high church. I do not approve of young people filling their 
 heads with all these modern speculations." 
 
 But Janet held her ground. " It is not modern at all : 
 it is a notion that dates from the days of De Quincey, not 
 to say from the foundation of the world. Don't you remem- 
 ber that magnificent passage of his where he says that 
 among the constellations ' above was below, below was 
 above: depth was swallowed up in height insurmountable, 
 height was swallowed up in depth unfathomable ' ? It ia 
 one of the finest paragraphs ever written." 
 
 "I do not approve of De Quincey: he took too much of 
 something. I forget what it was, but I know he would 
 have been a great deal better without it." 
 
 " Still," argued Janet, " he proved that there are really 
 no such things as height and depth in space." 
 
 " Nothing of the kind," replied the Indomitable. " He 
 proved that he did not know the difference between above 
 and below himself: but there was nothing remarkable in 
 that: persons who take too much of anything frequently 
 confuse the two." 
 
 [195]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 "Hear, hear!" cried Gabriel, in applause; "in this 
 respect the meeting is entirely with you." 
 
 " Besides," Mrs. Gaythorne continued, triumphantly, " if 
 there is not an above or below, there cannot be a Heaven 
 or Hell: and if that is so, what is to become of us all, I 
 should like to know ? " 
 
 Gabriel laughed outright. Mrs. Gaythorne's theology 
 never failed to afford him the keenest pleasure. 
 
 Here the hostess thought it time to interfere, as she was 
 afraid that the young people were not showing proper 
 respect to their guest. " Of course, dear Mrs. Gaythorne, 
 as you say, we couldn't possibly do without Heaven and 
 Hell, both as a punishment and an inducement, modern 
 theology being so lax in matters of doctrine, although very 
 charitable in all good works; and though we are expressly 
 told that the spirit matters quite as much as the letter, yet 
 we must pay attention to the articles of our faith, or else 
 where should we be? " 
 
 " I would rather not express an opinion," answered Mrs. 
 Gaythorne : " all I can say is, that I feel sure De Quincey 
 knows the difference well enough by now, and wishes that 
 he had not taken quite so much of that stuff that made him 
 confuse the two." 
 
 Gabriel and Janet were rocking themselves to and fro 
 in a silent ecstasy of mirth : but their levity fortunately was 
 hid from Mrs. Gaythorne, who calmly continued: "And 
 now that my prognostications have been fulfilled and you 
 have ruined your health by your empty forms and cere- 
 monies, I want to know what you are going to do for a 
 living, Gabriel Carr?" 
 
 " That is just what I want to know myself, Mrs. Gay- 
 thorne. I have no private means at all, and my mother has 
 
 [I 9 6]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 only just enough to keep herself and Janet: so that now I 
 have been compelled to resign the living of S. Etheldreda's 
 there seems nothing before me but the workhouse." 
 
 " I never approved of the name of that church," said 
 Mrs. Gaythorne. " I never approve of any saints that do 
 not come out of the Bible: they seem to me popish." 
 
 " Gabriel didn't christen the church," suggested Janet, 
 in extenuation. 
 
 " I have nothing to do with that. All I say is that I do 
 not approve of fancy saints." 
 
 " Yet the lives of some of them were very beautiful," 
 said Mrs. Carr; " think of S. Francis of Assisi preaching to 
 the birds as he sat on a gridiron heated seven times hotter, 
 if it wasn't S. Laurence, which I almost think it was ; and 
 then S. Catherine, whirling round on fireworks till she was 
 burned up: and S. Sebastian pierced all over with arrows, 
 which had poisoned heads and barbed points. Surely all 
 these set us a beautiful example, though of course to be 
 adapted to modern needs, manners and customs being so 
 different now to what they were then, and arrows and 
 gridirons being used for such different purposes or not 
 at all." 
 
 " I should like a few words alone with Gabriel," said 
 Mrs. Gaythorne, when lunch was over. It was not her 
 custom to beat about the bush and intrigue for tete-a-tetes, 
 as it is the custom of some women. So Mrs. Carr and 
 Janet retired, and left the two others together. 
 
 " Now, Gabriel," the lady began, " you have brought this 
 illness upon yourself by your own foolishness: there is no 
 doubt on that score: but what is done is done, and it is no 
 good harping on it any further. The thing we have to 
 consider, is what is to be done now." 
 
 [ 197]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " Precisely, Mrs. Gaythorne : that is what I have been 
 considering for several weeks, and I am as far away from 
 any conclusion as I was when I began." 
 
 " Then I am not. I have decided to tell my son Charles 
 to confer upon you the living of Gaythorne." 
 
 Gabriel was dumbfoundered. He understood perhaps bet- 
 ter than anyone what it must have cost Mrs. Gaythorne to 
 make this decision; and he felt almost overpowered by the 
 magnitude of her sacrifice. 
 
 " But, dear Mrs. Gaythorne, consider what you are 
 doing." 
 
 " I have considered. I am not one to act without due 
 consideration." 
 
 " I am not of your way of thinking upon many subjects." 
 
 " No one knows that better than I do." 
 
 " And though I would do anything in my power to please 
 you, dear Mrs. Gaythorne, I could not put aside my own 
 convictions for you or for anybody. I mean that if I were 
 appointed to the living of Gaythorne, I should feel it my 
 duty to conduct the worship of God as I believe He has 
 ordained, and not as I think my parishioners desire. In 
 some things a minister of religion is the servant of all, but 
 in others he owes no allegiance to any but to the Master 
 Himself, and to Him alone he is responsible; and I believe 
 that the form in which he worships the Master is one 
 of these latter things. I want you fully to understand 
 this before you allow your son to appoint me Rector of 
 Gaythorne." 
 
 " I do fully understand it. I know you well enough to 
 be aware that you are as obstinate as possible where your 
 conscience is concerned: as obstinate as I am myself: and I 
 respect you for it." 
 
 [198]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Gabriel could hardly forbear smiling. " And yet you 
 wish me to become Rector of Gaythorne ? " 
 
 " I do, although I know that you will do many things 
 of which I heartily disapprove, and that you will count 
 them to yourself for righteousness. But as I grow older I 
 am beginning to see that the spirit is of vastly more import- 
 ance than the letter; and that it is possible to serve God in 
 various ways, though I never shall believe that one way is 
 quite as acceptable to Him as another. But I have learnt 
 to say from my heart ' Grace be to all them that love our 
 Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity,' even though they show their 
 love in ways that personally I have no sympathy with; and 
 I do believe that you love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity, 
 although I admit that you are prone to display your devotion 
 in an extremely undesirable fashion. Therefore I shall com- 
 mand my son to offer you the living of Gaythorne, since I 
 believe it will be better for the parish to be ruled by a mis- 
 guided man who truly loves God, than by one of my own 
 way of thinking who does not." 
 
 Gabriel's eyes rilled with tears of gratitude as he took his 
 old friend's hand and kissed it. " I can never express in 
 words what I feel about this matter, Mrs. Gaythorne. I 
 am not only profoundly grateful to you for thus coming to 
 my help in a time of sore need, but I am even more grateful 
 for the testimony you bear to my efforts in the past to do 
 what is right, by offering me the charge of your own parish 
 to a man who does not see by any means eye to eye with 
 you on many religious questions. And I swear to you that 
 I will do all in my power to prevent you from ever regretting 
 the choice into which you have been led by the kindness of 
 your warm and loving heart; so help me God." 
 
 Thus Gabriel went on his way, and the angels of God met 
 
 [199]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 him in the forms of Janet Field and Mrs. Gaythorne; and 
 the Lord sent him bread and meat, as well as the spiritual 
 comfort of the still small voice. So he went forward rejoic- 
 ing, little dreaming of the darkness of desolation which 
 awaited him. 
 
 [ 20O ]
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE LOST RECTOR 
 
 GABRIEL had not long been appointed Rector of Gaythorne 
 before he became engaged to Janet Field; and he had not 
 long been engaged to Janet Field before he married her. It 
 was a quiet wedding in the little village in the Midlands 
 where his mother lived: and as it was now November, the 
 newly-married pair went south for their honeymoon, in order 
 to catch the last flutter of autumn's skirts before she faded 
 into winter altogether. 
 
 Janet was in the seventh heaven of delight. To be 
 Gabriel's wife was to her the summit of earthly bliss the 
 one supreme happiness which she had dreamed of ever since 
 her girlhood as too absolutely ideal ever to be realised. 
 Gabriel also was content, in that peaceful fashion which 
 to a highly-strung temperament is far more satisfying than 
 any fiercer emotion. 
 
 Fabia was greatly annoyed at the marriage of the new 
 Rector. Had she known he would bring a helpmeet with 
 him to the Rectory, she would not have moved heaven and 
 earth to compass his appointment. She still loved him 
 loved him all the more for his rejection of herself: but she 
 hated his wife with the intense hatred of the woman scorned 
 for her successful rival. It is a noteworthy fact that a 
 woman can forgive a rival who is better-looking than her- 
 self far sooner than one who is not so well-favoured. Beauty 
 
 [ 201 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 is the one thing in which women acknowledge each other's 
 superiority: .the woman who is more attractive and yet not 
 so handsome as another is beyond the pale of pardon. There- 
 fore the beautiful and distinguished Fabia could not forgive 
 the ordinary-looking girl \vho had won the love of Gabriel 
 Carr after she herself had forfeited it. 
 
 Moreover, Fabia had found her own husband utterly 
 incapable of supplying her intellectual needs: and she had 
 imagined that Gabriel, as a spiritual adviser, might help to 
 fill the vacuum thus created. But to the woman who regards 
 the confessional as a luxury rather than as a discipline, a 
 married confessor is not nearly so satisfactory as a single 
 one; a strong argument in favour of (or, perhaps, against) 
 the celibacy of the clergy. Finding her hopes of Gabriel's 
 supporting friendship fruitless, Fabia took to writing long 
 letters to her cousin, Ram Chandar, confiding to him her 
 unsatisfied longings for suitable intellectual companionship, 
 and begging him to come to England to console and help her. 
 At first he refused, being offended by her marriage, but it 
 was not long before she thought she saw unmistakable signs 
 of his relenting. 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne was delighted about Gabriel's marriage. 
 She was one of the women who heartily approve of matri- 
 mony, and highly disapprove of the reverse: an old maid 
 was always visited with her severest censure: and she meted 
 out as unqualified a condemnation to the woman who did 
 not marry as to the woman who ate and drank anything 
 between meals. 
 
 Gabriel and Janet went for their honeymoon to a little 
 inn on the borders of Dartmoor; and revelled in the exqui- 
 site and yet awe-inspiring scenery of that part of England's 
 most beautiful county to their hearts' content: discussing at 
 
 [ 2O2 ]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 the same time every subject under the sun and above it, in 
 the delightful intimacy and comradeship of married life. 
 It is only when the twain are one mind as well as one flesh 
 that the true happiness of marriage is realised : and this was 
 the case with Gabriel and his wife. 
 
 " The only thing that I don't like about Dartmoor is the 
 prison," remarked Janet, one day, as they were sitting 
 together in the twilight, which now seemed to come almost 
 in the middle of the afternoon. " I hate to think of all 
 those wicked people being so near us." 
 
 "Poor souls! I'm sorry for them, whoever they may 
 be," said the sympathetic Gabriel, " and whatever they may 
 have done." 
 
 But Janet was not made of such slight elements. " I'm 
 not : and I daresay you wouldn't be if you knew more about 
 them." 
 
 " Yes, I should, my love : I should be all the sorrier." 
 
 Janet shook her small brown head slowly. " I'm never 
 very sorry for people who bring things on themselves. If 
 they do wrong, they ought to be punished." 
 
 " And they generally are, my child. God may forgive, 
 but Nature and the world never do." 
 
 " And quite right, too ! " Janet could be very hard upon 
 occasion. 
 
 " You can never judge any man's sins until you know 
 what his temptations have been, Janet: and as only God 
 knows that, only God can judge. The newspapers can tell 
 us what some poor wretch has done, who is now being pun- 
 ished for his sins in that gloomy prison ; but only God could 
 tell us how sorely he has been tempted, and how often he 
 resisted temptation before he finally fell. And God will 
 remember it to his credit when the day of reckoning comes." 
 
 [203]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " But some of the prisoners have been very wicked 
 people." 
 
 " So they may have been : but we do not know that we 
 should have turned out any better had we their temptations 
 and been put in their place." 
 
 Janet looked horrified at the bare suggestion. " I don't 
 think that it is likely that we should take to flat bur- 
 glary." 
 
 " No: that would not be any temptation to people brought 
 up as we have been, my dearest. But we may be beset by 
 other temptations which will prove too strong for us. I 
 think there is no text which is more necessary to be con- 
 stantly borne in mind by (so-called) good people than, ' Let 
 him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall ' : for 
 it is when we are most certain of our firm footing on the 
 narrow way that the danger of falling is at its zenith." 
 
 " Well, anyhow I'm sure that no temptation would ever 
 be strong enough to make you do anything wrong, Gabriel." 
 
 " My darling, my darling, how little you know me ! Do 
 you remember the story of holy John Bradford, who, on 
 seeing a murderer being led to the gallows, exclaimed, 
 'There, but for the grace of God, goes John Bradford'? 
 When I was in the East End I never saw any poor wretch 
 being taken up by the police without saying to myself, 
 ' There, but for the grace of God, goes Gabriel Carr ' ! " 
 
 " Dearest, I hate to hear you say such things." 
 
 " I cannot help that, Janet. You must know me as what 
 I am, and not as what you think I ought to be." 
 
 " I know that you are one of the best men that ever 
 lived." 
 
 Gabriel smiled and stroked the brown head that was 
 leaning against his knee: for Janet unlike Isabel Seaton 
 
 [204]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 had hair that was never the worse for any amount of strok- 
 ing. But even though a man may smile at the extrava- 
 gance of his wife's admiration for himself, it has an 
 extremely soothing effect upon him: the doctrine of infalli- 
 bility of the husband is a very comfortable one both to wor- 
 shipper and worshipped so much so that it is a pity it has 
 gone, to a great extent, out of fashion. 
 
 " I am far from being one of the best men that ever lived, 
 my dear," he said : " but all the same it is rather nice to 
 know that you think I am." 
 
 " I shall always think so." 
 
 " I believe you will, my Janet: and, as far as I am con- 
 cerned, it is a most comforting heresy. But all the same, 
 you must learn not to judge other people so harshly. I 
 think it is very difficult for a really good woman not to be 
 rather hard : nevertheless she ought not to be." 
 
 " Do you think I am hard, Gabriel ? " 
 
 " Just a little, my dearest : because you are so good." And 
 he bent down and kissed the little round face raised in such 
 profound adoration to his. " You see," he continued, " it 
 is never safe to feel oneself safe from any particular tempta- 
 tion. The question, ' Is thy servant a dog, that he should 
 do this thing?' is frequently answered by the servant doing 
 the very thing that he condemned as dog-like. I have seen 
 this happen over and over again in my experience as a parish- 
 priest. Whenever I heard a man say, * Oh ! such and such 
 a thing may be dangerous for certain persons, but I can do 
 it with impunity,' I know that the devil has made every- 
 thing ready for the overthrow of that particular man." 
 
 " But surely, Gabriel, no man is tempted above that which 
 he is able to bear. We are expressly told that a way of 
 escape is always provided." 
 
 [205]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " So it is ; but it does not follow that we shall always be 
 willing to avail ourselves of that way. Therefore I hold 
 that it is necessary for the best of men, as for the worst, to 
 raise to Heaven the daily petition, ' Lead us not into tempta- 
 tion ' : for we have to be in the thick of temptation before 
 we realise how irresistible it is." 
 
 Thus Gabriel and Janet passed the long evening in hold- 
 ing sweet converse about all the deeper interests of life : they 
 " reasoned high of providence, foreknowledge, will, and 
 fate," and everything else that concerned their truest welfare. 
 
 The next day was wet and inclined to be misty. There 
 was not much good or much pleasure to be derived from 
 going out in such raw, damp weather; but the holiday was 
 so near its conclusion that the newly-wedded pair felt they 
 could not squander any of the few remaining hours of their 
 honeymoon by spending them in the house : so they were out 
 on the moor all morning in spite of driving rain and mist. 
 But it requires more than feminine fortitude to be wet 
 through twice in one day: so after lunch Janet decided that 
 she really could not brave the inclement elements again, 
 especially as there was no special object to be gained by so 
 doing. Gabriel therefore went out for a good spin across 
 the moor by himself, leaving Janet to amuse herself with an 
 interesting book until his return, and faithfully promising 
 to be back in time for tea. He loved to be in solitude upon 
 that wild stretch of country: there was something in the 
 atmosphere of the moor which appealed to one side of his 
 nature the side which Janet could not understand. 
 
 Different phases of natural scenery call forth various 
 emotions of the human heart. When we wander upon the 
 seashore, we feel a restless sadness and an unsatisfied long- 
 ing quivering within us: when we tread the leafy glades of 
 
 [206]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 a forest, thoughts of romance and heroism stir our blood: 
 dreams of simple joys and domestic happiness delight us, as 
 we look down upon a rural landscape of cornfields and 
 meadows and red-roofed homesteads: whilst we seem to 
 come within reach of the great secrets of eternity, when we 
 stand under the shadow of the everlasting hills. And in 
 the same way wild stretches of moorland call up an answer- 
 ing spirit within us: but it is not a spirit which makes for 
 righteousness and peace. The spirit of the moorland is a 
 fierce, untutored spirit, with the restlessness of the sea with- 
 out its sanctifying sadness, and with the mystery of the 
 mountains without their soul-restoring peace. Demons that 
 would shrivel into nothingness before the awful mysterious- 
 ness of sea or mountain, fly shrieking over the moorland to 
 their evil hearts' content: witches that would be powerless 
 to withstand the spell of homestead or forest, ride recklessly 
 upon the swirling blasts that sweep across the heath. True, 
 the moorlands have their fascination for those who under- 
 stand them; but it is the fascination of evil rather than of 
 good : for evil is strong in those desert places, and the powers 
 of darkness hold high carnival there. One can imagine the 
 scapegoat, with his necklet of scarlet, dashing to and fro 
 across the dreary scene; or the child, whose hand was 
 doomed to be against every man, wandering with his out- 
 cast mother across the barren waste. And surely He, Who 
 knew what was in man, knew this also knew that the 
 spirit of the waste places of the earth was at war with the 
 Spirit of God, and that evil had more power in the desert 
 than on the shores of Gennesaret and in the groves of Olivet 
 when He went apart into the wilderness, there to 
 be tempted of the devil. 
 
 After Gabriel had gone out, Janet was so much absorbed 
 
 [207]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 in her book that for an hour or so she never even looked out 
 of the window; but when at last she did so, she was some- 
 what disturbed to see that the mist had turned into a thick 
 fog. This did not, however, unduly distress her, partly 
 because she was not a woman with a genius for worry, and 
 partly because her husband knew the moor so well that she 
 believed he would have been able to find his way across it 
 blindfold. But when tea-time came, and no Gabriel, she 
 began to feel anxious: and when dinner-time came, and 
 still no Gabriel, she felt more anxious still: and when at 
 last bed-time came, and he had not returned, her distress of 
 mind was very great indeed. The innkeeper and his wife 
 were deeply concerned and extremely sympathetic; but they 
 pointed out to Janet that it would be useless, and worse 
 than useless, to send men out to seek for her lost husband 
 in such a fog as this, as it was now so thick that even a lan- 
 tern could not be seen for more than a yard in front. They 
 assured the half-distraught little bride that her husband 
 finding it hopeless to make his way back through the fog 
 had doubtless taken refuge in some shepherd's hut or shel- 
 tered spot, and would remain there until the fog lifted : and 
 with this poor Janet had to be content, although no sleep 
 visited her eyes that night. The poor girl never even 
 attempted to go to bed ; but sat up all night long alternately 
 crying and praying for Gabriel. 
 
 Next morning the fog had cleared; and search parties 
 were immediately organized to go in quest of the lost bride- 
 groom. All day long they scoured the moor, but alas! with 
 no result: not a trace of the missing man could they find. 
 The assistance of the police was soon called in, but was 
 likewise of no avail: Gabriel Carr seemed to have been 
 swept off the face of the earth. 
 
 [208]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Janet's agony was almost more than she could bear. It 
 seemed too cruel to have attained, after years of hope 
 deferred, her heart's desire, only to have the cup dashed 
 from her lips at the very moment of fruition. Of course 
 she telegraphed to her husband's friends: and Captain Gay- 
 thorne and his mother came to her at once. Poor Mrs. 
 Carr was so prostrated by the news of her son's disappear- 
 ance that she was confined to her bed and unable to travel : 
 but Mrs. Gaythorne was a rock in times of trouble, and 
 Janet was more thankful to her than she could express. 
 
 Yet even Mrs. Gaythorne was unable to find the missing 
 Rector. 
 
 All the searchers comforted Janet with the assurance that 
 if as she feared her husband had lost his life upon the 
 moor, some trace of his body must have been found. There 
 are no glaciers upon Dartmoor, as there are in Switzerland, 
 down which a man may fall headlong, leaving no trace 
 behind : and as no one could have walked fast in such a fog, 
 he really would not have had time to go so very far afield 
 before the fog lifted and he could see his way about again. 
 But if he were still alive, what had become of him ? What 
 was he doing whilst his newly-made wife was eating her 
 very heart out for want of him? That was the question 
 which no one could answer: at least no one who was igno- 
 rant of what powers of darkness had been let loose that night 
 upon Dartmoor to work their wicked will: no one who 
 knew not how Good and Evil had met and fought together 
 in that wilderness, and how Evil had won the day and 
 had prevailed. 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne was as loving as any mother to poor 
 Janet: nothing could exceed her care of and tenderness for 
 the unhappy little bride, who seemed to be neither wife nor 
 
 [209]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 widow. It was at times such as this that Charlie's mother 
 showed her best and therefore her real self. 
 
 As for Janet, she was well-nigh broken-hearted. Could 
 anyone imagine a more tragic ending to a honeymoon than 
 this? She wandered out all day and every day upon the 
 moor, in the vain hope of finding her lost husband, with 
 Mrs. Gaythorne in close attendance, that good woman 
 knowing neither hunger nor fatigue where the fulfilment of 
 what she considered her duty was concerned. Like many 
 of her particular school of thought a school of thought 
 which is nowadays well-nigh obsolete Mrs. Gaythorne 
 made up for the sternness of her principles by the wisdom 
 and tenderness of her practices. Her written epistle might 
 be a hard saying: but as a living epistle, known and read of 
 all men, she set forth in unmistakable terms the gospel of 
 love. 
 
 One evening Captain Gaythorne came into the inn-par- 
 lour where his mother happened to be sitting alone, Janet 
 having retired to her own desolate chamber to weep and 
 weep undisturbed. 
 
 " It's all up," he said, hopelessly, as he sank into a chair: 
 " we had better pack up and go home to-morrow." 
 
 " Charles, do you mean to tell me that poor young man's 
 corpse has been found at last?" 
 
 Charlie groaned : " Worse than that, mother." 
 
 " There is nothing worse than death," replied Mrs. Gay- 
 thorne. " I mean, of course, for the survivors," she added, 
 hastily. 
 
 "Yes, mother, there is: disgrace is worse than death." 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne drew herself up. " Charles, never let 
 me hear you use such a word as disgrace in connexion with 
 that man of God, Gabriel Carr." 
 
 [210]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " It sticks in my throat, I can tell you, mother ; but 
 I'm afraid you'll use it yourself when you hear what I've 
 heard." 
 
 "And what is that, Charles? Where did they find the 
 corpse of that excellent young man? " 
 
 " They haven't found it at all. Don't you see, mother, 
 there's no corpse in the question? That's the whole point 
 of the thing." 
 
 " Charles, explain yourself." 
 
 Captain Gaythorne endeavoured as he had always en- 
 deavoured from his youth up to obey his mother, but 
 lucidity of expression had never been one of his most dis- 
 tinguishing characteristics. " Well, you see, the police 
 have at last traced Carr to Newton Abbot." 
 
 " Newton Abbot ? What on earth did he want at New- 
 ton Abbot and on his honeymoon, too?" 
 
 " That's just the whole point." 
 
 " Then I don't believe he ever went there. Gabriel was 
 the last man to do anything foolish, especially in a thick 
 fog except of course in matters of ritual, with regard to 
 which he always seemed to have a bee in his bonnet, to say 
 the least of it. But he was not a fool all through : and it is 
 one thing to have early services and flowers upon the com- 
 munion-table, and quite another to go to Newton Abbot 
 in a dense fog on your honeymoon with no object." 
 
 " All the same, he went there, mother. An old fossil 
 of a farmer has turned up who gave him a lift in his cart 
 as far as Newton Abbot." 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne still bristled all over with doubts. " And 
 what did he do when he got to Newton Abbot, I should 
 like to know? " 
 
 " He went straight to the station, and off to London by 
 
 [211]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 the next train. The railway fellows can tell us all about 
 that, as they sold him his ticket and saw him get into the 
 train." 
 
 " I do not believe a word of it. It is a faked-up story, 
 invented to injure Gabriel and to annoy me." 
 
 " But, mother, you must believe it. A countryman drove 
 a parson in a grey Norfolk suit, and exactly answering to 
 the description of Carr, into Newton Abbot on the morning 
 after the fog." 
 
 " That is not proof. There may have been hundreds of 
 clergymen in grey Norfolk suits wandering upon Dartmoor 
 in the fog, for all I know. Besides, I never believe the 
 word of agricultural labourers without some proof." 
 
 " Well, mother, if you doubt the evidence of the farmer 
 and the railway people and the whole of Scotland Yard put 
 together, you can't doubt the evidence of your own senses. 
 Look here: Carr left this behind in the cart when he got 
 out at Newton Abbot." And Charlie spread out before his 
 mother's eyes one of Gabriel's pocket-handkerchiefs, neatly 
 and clearly marked with his name by the careful and effi- 
 cient Janet. 
 
 Then at last Mrs. Gaythorne was convinced. For some 
 minutes she sat quite still, great tears rolling down her 
 weather-beaten cheeks. " Oh ! Charles, what does it mean ? " 
 she said, after a time: " What does it mean? " And it was 
 pitiful to hear the quiver in the usually steady voice. 
 
 " I'm afraid it means that Carr has behaved like a black- 
 guard, mother." 
 
 " But he was such a good man," Mrs. Gaythorne pleaded : 
 " such a sincere and God-fearing man, though in some mat- 
 ters so misguided." 
 
 " I know that, mother: but even the best of men come a 
 
 [212]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 cropper sometimes, don't you know? Look at King David 
 and Lord Nelson." 
 
 " Charles, never let me hear you couple again the name 
 of the Sweet Singer of Israel with that of the lover of Lady 
 Hamilton." 
 
 Charlie was contrite at once. " I beg your pardon, 
 mother: I didn't mean to rough you up. All I meant was 
 that it's sometimes too difficult even for the best of men to 
 keep straight: women haven't the ghost of an idea how 
 deuced difficult it is! " 
 
 " But women have a very good idea indeed of how dis- 
 tressing it is when they do not," replied Mrs. Gaythorne, 
 with some truth. 
 
 " My idea is," said Charlie, who had inherited a goodly 
 portion of his mother's sound sense, " that Carr made a 
 mistake in marrying a quiet, dowdy girl like Janet Field: 
 she wasn't the sort to hold a brilliant, good-looking fellow 
 like him, don't you know? Showy men want showy wives 
 to hold them: or else there's soon the devil to pay." 
 
 " There are other attractions than those of the flesh, 
 Charles. I was never a particularly handsome woman, but 
 I had no difficulty in holding your father. He always did 
 exactly as I told him from the day of our marriage till the 
 hour of his death." 
 
 Charlie fully believed this. " Of course, of course, 
 mother: and you are very good-looking, all the same. But 
 I mean I never much believe in those boy-and-girl sort of 
 attachments. You see, Janet was always like a sister to 
 Carr, and she had no more influence over him than a sister 
 would have. A man wants something stronger than a milk- 
 and-water, brother-and-sister feeling to satisfy him in mar- 
 ried life. Why, it even says in the Prayer-book that a man 
 
 [213]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 may not marry his sister any more than his grandmother, and 
 that's the same principle, don't you know?" 
 
 " Charles, I admit there is something in what you say. 
 But that does not seem to me to excuse a man from running 
 away from his wife on his honeymoon." 
 
 " Of course not : but in a way it explains it. I believe 
 that poor Carr married Janet out of a sense of duty or 
 honour, or something of that kind, because she'd been in 
 love with him from a kid: and then when he'd done it he 
 found it was more than he could stand: so he just cut and 
 run. You see, clever people find it awfully slow to be 
 married to people who aren't clever," Charlie added, rue- 
 fully, remembering how obviously he himself always bored 
 his wife. 
 
 " We must keep this from Janet at all costs," said Mrs. 
 Gaythorne, after a short pause. " It is better for her to 
 think her husband dead than false." 
 
 " We can't keep it from her, mother. The papers to-mor- 
 row will be full of it, and you know how she reads every 
 word." 
 
 " Then we cannot keep it from her, Charles : she must 
 know the worst. And perhaps it is better that she should. 
 We cannot spare people more than God intends to spare 
 them, and it is no use our trying to do so: and surely the 
 Lord knows best."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 FORSAKEN 
 
 ON her return from her ill-starred honeymoon, Janet insisted 
 upon taking up her abode at Gaythorne Rectory, as if 
 nothing had happened. She had read in the papers the 
 account of Gabriel's departure to London from Newton 
 Abbot, and had been wonderfully comforted by this proof 
 that her husband was still alive. But she absolutely refused 
 to believe any ill of him. She persisted that he must have had 
 some good reason for rushing off to London in that strange 
 fashion, or else he would never have done so; and she was 
 convinced that before long he would return to Gaythorne 
 and take up his duties there, with a full and satisfactory 
 explanation of his apparently unjustifiable conduct. Her 
 absolute faith in him remained unshaken. 
 
 But this attitude of mind on Janet's part made things 
 very awkward for other people. The parish of Gaythorne 
 was practically without a rector: and as Carr had not 
 resigned the living, and there was no proof of his death, but 
 . rather the contrary, he still held the incumbency; and 
 therefore a new rector could not as yet be instituted in his 
 place. So it was arranged between the Bishop and Mrs. 
 Gaythorne, who were great friends, that for the present 
 at any rate Janet and her mother-in-law should draw the 
 stipend and stay on at the rectory: while a curate should
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 be paid by Mrs. Gaythorne to take charge of the parish, 
 which was a very small one, and to do duty in the church. 
 
 Weeks rolled on, and nothing further was heard of the 
 missing Gabriel. It seemed as if the Devonshire farmer 
 had indeed seen the last of him; and as if when he left the 
 station of Newton Abbot he had disappeared for ever. But 
 his wife's faith in him remained untouched. She still clung 
 as closely as ever to her conviction that one day he would 
 come back and explain everything, and stand justified in the 
 eyes of the world : though how he would do it she had not 
 the ghost of an idea. 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne, however, had her own explanation of 
 his apparently inexplicable conduct. She was bound to 
 arrive at a conclusion of some sort, as it was agony to her 
 to feel that there was anything in heaven or earth undreamed 
 of in her own peculiar philosophy. 
 
 " I have made up my mind what has become of Gabriel 
 Carr," she announced one morning at breakfast, a couple of 
 months after the Rector's disappearance. Her son and 
 daughter-in-law were sitting with her at the table, as well 
 as Isabel Seaton, who was spending a few days at Gaythorne 
 Manor while Paul delivered a course of political speeches 
 in the north of England. Isabel had been very much 
 attached to Gabriel and very much surprised and disturbed 
 at first by his disappearance. But she had soon got over it. 
 It is astonishing how little power events outside the circle 
 of her own household and family have in destroying the 
 peace of the happily-married woman. Things which would 
 have agonised her in her single days hardly disturb her at all. 
 Mrs. Paul Seaton had much in common with the old woman 
 who said that " as long as her husband's dinner didn't dis- 
 agree with him, she didn't mind how soon there was a 
 
 [216]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 European war." It is by no means an uncommon type: for 
 matrimony, when reverently, discreetly and advisedly taken 
 in hand, becomes an absorbing profession. 
 
 " How clever of you, Mrs. Gaythorne! " exclaimed 
 Isabel. " Do let us hear what it is." 
 
 " I believe that Ritualism and nothing else but Ritual- 
 ism is responsible for all the trouble," replied Mrs. Gay- 
 thorne, as ever true to her colours. 
 
 " But there is nothing in the Ornaments' Rubric in 
 favour of deserting your wife on her honeymoon," argued 
 the irrepressible Isabel. 
 
 "But there's something in the Bible about people with 
 wives being as though they hadn't any," hastily added 
 Charlie, wishing to agree with his mother and believing 
 that he was doing so. 
 
 But Mrs. Gaythorne was not so easily agreed with. " No, 
 Charles: I think you have misinterpreted that particular 
 text: but you shall look it up in the Commentary as soon 
 as you have finished your breakfast, and see exactly what it 
 means. My impression, however, is that it was not intended 
 to inculcate the regular practice of such behaviour as 
 Gabriel's." 
 
 Charlie at once submitted. He felt that, with the best 
 of intentions, he had somehow made a mistake. 
 
 Here Fabia broke into the conversation : " He who weds 
 and runs away, May live to wed another day, and another 
 young woman." 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne pursed up her lips in stern disapproval. 
 " No, my dear ; Gabriel Carr was never one of that sort. 
 I have known him from a child, and his mother before him, 
 and that is the last thing that either of them would ever 
 think of doing." 
 
 [217]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " Still I must say there is something in Fabia's idea," 
 said Charlie. He was always ready, whenever it was possi- 
 ble, to show up his wife to his mother in a favourable light. 
 This was one of the poor fellow's many conjugal mistakes. 
 There is nothing that a wife resents more than being 
 screened by her husband from her husband's relations: just 
 as there is nothing that makes a husband more indignant 
 than being translated, with emendations by his wife, in 
 order to earn the approval of his wife's people. Yet the 
 intention on both sides arises from the best of motives, 
 although it generally brings about the very result that it 
 was originated to avoid. Unsanctified human nature cannot 
 endure to be revised and Bowdlerised for the benefit of its 
 in-laws. 
 
 " We don't want to hear what you say ; we want to 
 hear what Mrs. Gaythorne thinks," was Fabia's unwifely 
 retort. 
 
 Poor Charlie again subsided. 
 
 " What is your idea about Gabriel Carr, Mrs. Gay- 
 thorne ? " Fabia continued. 
 
 " It is not an idea, Fabia ; it is a conviction. It has been 
 borne in upon me that Gabriel had so saturated his mind 
 with Popish notions about monks and nuns and celibates 
 and all sorts of profane nonsense of that kind, that they 
 turned his brain never very strong at the best of times, or 
 else he would not have gone in for the mummeries he did. 
 By the way, what do they call a nunnery for monks? " Mrs. 
 Gaythorne always shammed ignorance upon subjects such 
 as this, in the same way as His Majesty's Judges frequently 
 feign an ignorance, to which they really have no claim, with 
 regard to matters unconnected with their high profession. 
 Just as a judge would feel it incumbent upon him in his 
 
 [218]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 official capacity to assume innocence regarding race-meetings 
 and the like, so Mrs. Gaythorne felt it incumbent upon her 
 high calling as a militant Protestant to know nothing what- 
 soever about the ceremonies and institutions sanctioned by 
 Catholicism in any form. 
 
 " I suppose you mean a monastery?" replied Fabia. 
 
 " Monastery, indeed ! I should rather call it a monkey- 
 house," retorted Mrs. Gaythorne, with grim humour. 
 " Well, I am convinced that Gabriel was suddenly seized 
 with a ridiculous and papistical notion that all clergymen 
 ought to be bachelors : and so he fled away from Janet into a 
 monastery. What are those horrible places called where 
 no women are admitted and nobody is allowed to speak, 
 Fabia?" 
 
 " Trappist monasteries, do you mean ? " 
 
 " Yes, that is the name, and a very suitable name, too, for 
 they are indeed traps set by the devil to catch the souls of 
 men ! Not long ago I read a novel about a man who, after 
 he was married, remembered that he was a Trappist monk; 
 so he at once gave up being married and returned to his 
 monastery. I thought it a most improper proceeding on his 
 part : but I feel convinced in my own mind that poor Gabriel 
 has gone and done likewise." 
 
 " But Carr wasn't a Trappist before his marriage," ob- 
 jected Captain Gaythorne. 
 
 His mother shook her head ominously. " You never can 
 tell what those high-church parsons may be in disguise. I 
 dare say he was a Trappist and a Jesuit as well, if we only 
 knew. Lots of them are, and believe that they are thereby 
 doing God service." 
 
 "But Carr would never have justified a married man 
 going into a monastery unless there'd have been some rat- 
 
 [219]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 tling good reason for it," persisted Charlie: "you can bet 
 j'our boots upon that." 
 
 " Anybody who will justify a man, under any circum- 
 stances, in hiding himself in one of those dreadful, horrible 
 nunneries, will justify anything," replied Mrs. Gaythorne, 
 unwittingly speaking the truth, as a man in a nunnery would 
 indeed be as dreadful a thing as a lion among ladies. " And, 
 Charles, never again let me hear you use such an objection- 
 able word as ' bet,' for betting is one of the things that I 
 have never allowed either you or your father to indulge in, 
 and never shall." 
 
 " I don't agree with Mrs. Gaythorne, that Gabriel has 
 followed Hamlet's advice and got him to a nunnery," said 
 Isabel; "but I shouldn't be surprised if she were correct 
 in the spirit if not in the letter; and that some impractical 
 and quixotic notion were accountable for his disappearance. 
 I feel certain that he thought he was doing right, or he 
 wouldn't have done it." 
 
 Charlie looked doubtful. " It's all very well to be roman- 
 tic and quixotic, and all that sort of thing: but deserting 
 your wife on your honeymoon is rather a large order." 
 
 " I agree with Charlie's notion," said Fabia; " that Janet 
 bored him so intensely that he literally could not stand 
 another day of her." 
 
 Charlie beamed with pleasure at the great compliment 
 Fabia paid him in endorsing his opinion on any matter. 
 " He is a clever sort of chap, and he wanted a clever sort of 
 wife to keep him company, don't you know?" 
 
 " I daresay Mrs. Gabriel Carr isn't a dazzling genius," 
 remarked Isabel, " but I shouldn't have called her by any 
 means a fool. She seemed to me the pleasant, easy-going 
 sort of girl that one asks in at the last moment to make the 
 
 [ 220 ]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 fourteenth at table, and things of that kind. I saw her 
 once or twice before her marriage, and that is how she 
 struck me: not too clever to get married, and yet too stupid 
 to remain single the sort of woman that makes a man 
 really happy." Isabel was always ready, and more than 
 ready, to do justice to another woman. 
 
 " But she's so short." Captain Gaythorne, like Lord 
 Byron, hated a dumpy woman. 
 
 " Still he knew that when he proposed to her," retorted 
 Mrs. Seaton. " It is absurd to marry a woman of five foot 
 three, and then to run away because she doesn't grow to 
 five foot six before the end of the honeymoon! If you 
 want ' outside ladies' size ' you must order it in the first 
 instance." 
 
 " I did," replied Charlie, looking at his tall wife with 
 adoration in his honest eyes. 
 
 " We are all as God made us," said Mrs. Gaythorne, her 
 voice heavy with reproof. 
 
 " But you can't deny that you are glad that there was no 
 skimping in your case, Mrs. Gaythorne, and that you were 
 cut out a good five- foot-seven, with ample material for 
 bodice." 
 
 " Isabella Carnaby, do not be flippant." It was a habit 
 of Mrs. Gaythorne's frequently to address married ladies 
 by their maiden names. It was also her habit never to use 
 a diminutive: diminutives being among the numerous things 
 of which she disapproved. 
 
 " I'll try not : but it is difficult to change the habits of a 
 lifetime at my age," replied Mrs. Seaton, meekly. 
 
 " Nevertheless," added Mrs. Gaythorne, who was noth- 
 ing if not accurate, " I confess that it is a cause of thankful- 
 ness on my part that it was ordained by Providence that I 
 
 [221 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 should not be a small or insignificant person. Presence is a 
 thing which I have always considered most important, my 
 dear Isabella." Isabella was not Isabel's name: but Mrs. 
 Gaythorne thought it ought to have been, and so invariably 
 addressed her by it. She regarded the name Isabel in the 
 light of a diminutive, and disapproved of it accordingly. 
 
 " It's always a mistake for a fellow to marry a dowdy 
 little woman," said Charles, sententiously : "frumps have 
 no staying power." 
 
 " And it is an equally grave mistake for a girl to marry 
 a fool," replied Fabia. 
 
 Charlie winced, but Isabel came to his rescue. " Lots 
 have to, or they'd never get married at all. Nobody but a 
 fool would propose to them." 
 
 Thus Gabriel Carr's friends discussed his mysterious dis- 
 appearance, and none of them could come to any satisfactory 
 conclusion, since none of them knew of the tragedy which 
 had occurred upon Dartmoor on the night of the fog. That 
 was known to only two living people: and of these the 
 instinct of self-preservation forbade the one to tell, and 
 nobody would accept the testimony of the other. So the 
 secret was in safe keeping. 
 
 Janet was very brave, but her sorrow told upon her: her 
 face grew older and her figure less plump, and the merry 
 look died out of her hazel eyes. But she carried a bold 
 front before the world, and she abundantly fulfilled her 
 duty to her husband's parish. She was an ideal wife for any 
 clergyman ; and even the overwhelming blow which had 
 well-nigh crushed her in no wise interfered with her ade- 
 quacy in adorning the lot to which she had been called. The 
 parish of Gaythorne was but a small parish, it is true; but 
 it was better looked after than any other parish in the 
 
 [ 222 ]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 county, every cottage being constantly visited and every 
 sick person carefully ministered to by Janet herself. Thus 
 her desolate days were filled with deeds of charity and acts 
 of mercy, and so were kept from being quite as desolate as 
 they would otherwise have been: for work and especially 
 work for others is the best panacea for the pain of the 
 human heart. 
 
 Another source of comfort to Janet was the possession of 
 a gift which is usually reserved for the stronger sex, and is 
 rarely bestowed upon w r omen, namely, the gift of not seeing 
 anything that she did not wish to see. Women as a rule 
 are too keen-sighted and too quick in their perceptions to be 
 able to close their eyes at will, for a stone wall is generally 
 to them as plate-glass: but men happy creatures! have a 
 marvellous power of not seeing the unpleasant truth at all, 
 unless they desire to do so. Even though you may illuminate 
 it with Chinese lanterns and dangle it under their very 
 noses, they will remain as blind as if it were an undiscovered 
 planet. They do not choose to see it: therefore for them it 
 does not exist. Most men are mute inglorious Nelsons, 
 putting the telescope to their blind eyes when they think 
 the signals will be against their wishes. It is a most com- 
 fortable and convenient custom, and shows the superior 
 wisdom of the sex which is proficient in it. Janet Carr, 
 however, had less subtlety than the majority of women and 
 less quickness of perception: as a matter of fact she was 
 almost as easily deceived (when she wished to be) as a 
 man. She had none of that marvellous power of intuition 
 \vhich distinguishes some and not always the cleverest 
 women: and she had intensely strong and deeply-rooted 
 prejudices things which are always useful as blinkers. 
 Therefore the stream of gossip about Gabriel flowed by her 
 
 [223 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 unheeded: she was as little affected by it as a man would 
 have been. 
 
 But Janet's chief stronghold lay in the fact that she never 
 for a moment doubted her husband, or questioned the purity 
 of his motives and the soundness of his wisdom in leaving 
 her. What wise reason had prompted his apparently unac- 
 countable action she of course could not tell: but that there 
 was a reason and an all-sufficient one she had not the 
 faintest shadow of a doubt. Thus she not only fulfilled her 
 duty to her husband's parish, but she also fulfilled her duty 
 to her husband, the parish-priest. She regarded the husband 
 as the head of the wife; and therefore held that it was not 
 in the wife's province to criticise his actions nor to question 
 his motives. She was accountable to him ; but he was not 
 accountable to her. It was a counsel of perfection, perhaps : 
 but perfection does not spell impossibility: otherwise "Be 
 ye perfect " would never have been a command issued to the 
 sons of men. Janet Carr implicitly obeyed the apostolic 
 injunction, that wives must be in subjection to their own 
 husbands: she had no new-fangled, modern notions as to 
 the equality of the sexes and the independence of the wife. 
 She was content to accept the holy estate of matrimony as 
 what God and Church ordained it to be: and she did not 
 trouble her mind with problems as to the permanence of 
 home life or the sanctity of marriage. To her, marriage 
 was a sacrament, and was therefore not open to observation : 
 and she held as most unseemly the modern habit of setting 
 aside, by means of problem-novels and scientific treatises and 
 open discussion in the daily papers, the very oracles of God. 
 She would as soon have thought of wondering whether the 
 grass were red or the sky green, as of wondering whether the 
 bond of holy wedlock were dissoluble. 
 
 [224]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 She believed in her husband's integrity with all her heart: 
 believed that what he had done had been done with the best 
 of motives and would end in the most satisfactory of results. 
 But if she had not believed this, it would have made no 
 difference at all in her attitude towards him. If she could 
 have been convinced that he had purposely forsaken her and 
 had been wholly unfaithful, she \vould not have regarded 
 herself as one whit the less his wife, or considered her duty 
 to him as in any way cancelled. 
 
 Such was the simple faith of Janet Carr: an out-worn 
 creed, according to modern notions, and one which con- 
 tained in its vocabulary no such words as " incompatibility 
 of temper," " temperamental differences," and the like. But 
 it satisfied her, and was founded upon the truth, according 
 to her judgment: and I think also that she, like S. Paul, 
 had the Spirit of God. 
 
 [225 ]
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE 
 
 As TIME went on, the relations between Captain Gaythorne 
 and his beautiful wife grew more and more strained : her 
 contempt for him was more openly showed, and his unhap- 
 piness at her indifference more fully displayed, every day 
 they spent together. Of course no wife is justified in behav- 
 ing to her husband as Fabia was behaving then: but still it 
 cannot be denied that poor Charlie managed her very badly. 
 Fabia was the type of woman who wanted to find her mas- 
 ter: and Charlie persisted in fawning at her feet, as if he 
 were her slave or her spaniel. And yet he was a manly 
 enough man where his own sex was concerned : his men had 
 always obeyed him and his fellow-officers respected him from 
 the time that he first entered the service. But as a boy he 
 had been trained to be afraid of his mother, and conse- 
 quently as a man he was afraid of his wife. He would do 
 anything compatible with reason and honour to avoid the 
 storms of feminine temper; and yet or, perhaps, therefore 
 the lightnings of female wrath were forever hurtling 
 round his devoted head. It never answers to kow-tow to a 
 subject race: it always renders that race exacting and over- 
 bearing. It is Man's place to rule: and the minute that he 
 lays down his sceptre, Woman snatches it up and hits him 
 over the head with it as he richly deserves. Women 
 
 [226]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 invariably bully the men who are afraid of them, be they 
 husbands or brothers or sons: and the more a man cringes 
 before them, the less consideration they show him. The 
 true man will always regard his wife as a queen, and treat 
 her with all homage and reverence as such ; but he will know 
 in his heart that she is really only a queen-consort, though 
 on that score entitled to all the more chivalry and consider- 
 ation. In the smaller things of life he will render to her 
 every courtesy it will be his to fetch and carry, hers to 
 order and command. Because he rules in the greater things, 
 he will always submit to her wishes in the lesser: because 
 the crown is really his, he will always allow her the full 
 prerogative of the coronet. The man who domineers over 
 his wife in trifles is as unworthy of his kingship as is the 
 man who trembles before her with regard to the weightier 
 matters of the law: for the very fact that he is by right her 
 lord and master should make him all the more eager never 
 publicly to display himself as such, or to lower his royal 
 dignity by dragging it in the dust of petty domestic affairs. 
 A crown is not the fitting headgear for the daily walk 
 abroad or the peaceful evening at home: a sceptre is not the 
 suitable implement for the stirring of tea-cups or the making 
 of puddings. 
 
 There is nothing which so cheapens and vulgarises an 
 article as over-advertisement: there are some things so deli- 
 cately made that to talk about them destroys them. There 
 is truth as well as beauty in the legend of the bride who 
 lost her fairy-lover as soon as she asked him his name: as 
 he told it to her he vanished. The man who tells us that 
 he is great, thereby proves his own littleness: the woman 
 who announces that she is a lady, thereby forfeits her right 
 to the title. Have we not all in our time come across some 
 [227 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 of these members of the great army of snobs who show their 
 lack of social position by their constant insistence on the 
 same: and who preve the ordinary and commonplace tint 
 of their blood by their incessant testimony as to its azure 
 hue? In the same way the man who tyrannises over his 
 wife in trifles and is always eager to prove himself the mas- 
 ter of the house, shows that in reality he is nothing but a 
 pretender, and is no ruler by divine right. For such 
 divinity doth hedge a king, who is in any sense a real king, 
 that he cannot stoop to haggle and squabble and nag. His 
 patent of royalty is too obvious to need any announcement: 
 his rank too inherent to require any herald to proclaim his 
 style. And this rule obtains in every other department of 
 life. Good wine of any kind needs no bush. The really 
 well-bred person does not boast of his good breeding: the 
 really beautiful woman does not trouble to explain her 
 charms. The moment that a thing requires bolstering up 
 by advertisement and explanation, that thing begins to be a 
 sham and a humbug, and had better be thrown overboard 
 altogether: for in its very nature it is doomed to perish. 
 
 It was a great pity, for her sake as well as his own, that 
 Captain Gaythorne did not better understand how to man- 
 age his young wife: for her present attitude towards her 
 husband was the worst thing possible for a woman of 
 Fabia's temperament. She was bound sooner or later to 
 get into mischief of some sort or another: since matrimony, 
 if not an absorbing profession, is a very unsatisfactory pas- 
 time. Fabia was a woman who needed occupation and 
 interest in her life; and if she could not get 'them from one 
 source she would get them from another. After Gabriel 
 so signally failed her all along the line, she fell back upon 
 her old friend, Ram Chandar Mukharji. And Ram Chan- 
 
 [228]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 dar was a clever man, who knew how to make the most of 
 his opportunities. He answered her letters in full, giving 
 her in unstinted measure all the intellectual stimulus and 
 sympathy in which her husband w r as so conspicuously lack- 
 ing: and he scrupulously refrained from writing a word 
 which could by the freest translation be construed into any- 
 thing approaching love-making. He kipew that Fabia was 
 as yet unprepared for the actual existence of a lover, 
 although she was quite ready to amuse herself with the 
 shadow and spirit of the thing: and he also knew that when 
 once a married woman begins thus to amuse herself, the 
 appearance upon the scene of the actual lover is but a 
 matter of time. Some Commandments are broken suddenly 
 or not at all: but others demand a more gradual process of 
 disintegration, lest the breaker should be so shocked at the 
 idea of the catastrophe that the Commandment would never 
 get broken at all. Whatever defects the devil may have 
 otherwise, he always shows himself an adept in his own 
 particular line of business, and he is unrivalled in his powers 
 of manipulating that effective instrument known as the 
 thin edge of the wedge. 
 
 It unfortunately happened that Fabia was left very much 
 to herself and her husband just then. Christmas was over, 
 and Mrs. Gaythorne was plunged in a vortex of godly dis- 
 sipation and holy mirth; and was submerged in a whirlpool 
 of public meetings, which would gain in force and number 
 all through the spring, until they reached their very mael- 
 strom at Exeter Hall in May. Therefore she spent a con- 
 siderable portion of her time in London ; and when at home 
 was far too much occupied by the stress of rampant philan- 
 thropy to have any leisure or attention to bestow upon her 
 son's conjugal difficulties. 
 
 [229]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Isabel Seaton, however, saw pretty clearly how things 
 were going; but she was one of the rare women who have 
 mastered the fine art of minding their own business; and, 
 having possessed herself of so valuable and uncommon an 
 accomplishment, she was naturally prone to practise the 
 same. Nine times out of ten nay, rather ninety-nine times 
 out of a hundred harm instead of good is wrought by the 
 intermeddling of well-intentioned persons in affairs not their 
 own. Probably far less evil is brought about in the world 
 by really bad and unprincipled people than by conscientious 
 and well-meaning ones who interfere with matters that do 
 not concern them. And women, far more than men, are 
 offenders in this respect. When a really good woman is 
 seized with a strong outpouring of the missionary spirit, the 
 amount of mischief that she will effect in a short time is al- 
 most incredible. She will come between sister and brother, 
 parent and child, husband and wife; she will estrange 
 devoted lovers, and separate very friends: and all the time 
 she will purr contentedly to herself with satisfaction over 
 her successful efforts, and will thank God on her knees 
 every night for what she will euphoniously term " oppor- 
 tunities of usefulness." She will never have the ghost of 
 an idea that she is one of Satan's most approved emissaries 
 for introducing discord and stirring up strife. Let the 
 first of us who has never suffered from the well-meant 
 interference of a conscientious woman say a word in her 
 defence ! I trow her advocates will be few and far between. 
 
 Therefore it was to be counted to Isabel for righteousness 
 that she never attempted to set matters straight between 
 Charlie and Fabia. She was a married woman herself, so 
 she knew the danger of meddling between husband and 
 wife. She was perhaps overbold as a matchmaker; but she 
 
 [230]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 shrank from the awful responsibility of putting asunder 
 by word or hint or innuendo those whom God had joined 
 together. A single woman would doubtless have rushed in 
 where Mrs. Paul Seaton feared to tread. But she had 
 learnt wisdom in the only school where it is properly taught 
 the school of experience: so she held her peace. 
 
 There is a delightful story told (and a true one, too) of 
 a lady with a very naughty little boy, who consulted a 
 friend one with seven children of her own as to how she 
 was to train this rebellious olive-branch. " I'll tell you 
 what to do," replied the mother of seven ; " go straight to 
 the first old maid you meet; she will teach you exactly how 
 to deal successfully with the matter. But it's no good 
 coming to me, because I know no more about it than 
 you do." 
 
 Now, childless women are not more omniscient in the 
 training of the young than are old maids in the management 
 of husbands. And by the term " old maids " I mean the 
 regular " old maid " not the broad-minded, large-hearted 
 spinster whose singleness is her own fault and every 
 man's misfortune; but the petty, provincial, narrow-minded 
 woman, sneering at her more fortunate sister and poking 
 her crooked fingers into everybody's pies, who would be just 
 as much an old maid had she been married and had a large 
 family who would in truth have been just as much an old 
 maid had she been a man. In fact, many old maids have 
 been men, and it has not made them any the less oldmaidish : 
 indeed rather more so. And it is this typical, old-maid 
 nature which is generally most strongly imbued with the 
 missionary spirit. 
 
 Perhaps there is no type of woman more utterly fascinat- 
 ing and delightful than the really charming single woman 
 
 [231 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 the woman who retains the fascination and freshness of 
 girlhood after she has attained to the culture and wisdom 
 of maturer life. The dew of the morning is still in her 
 eyes, even though she has watched the lengthening of the 
 shadows: the scent of the spring is still in her hair, even 
 though it be crowned with the garlands of autumn. She 
 has never been awakened, by the cares and realities of mar- 
 riage, from the dreams of her girlhood: her place is in the 
 glades of the forest rather than in the market-place in the 
 garden of spices rather than in the store-closet. Conse- 
 quently she has more sympathy with and understanding of 
 the young than has the busy matron: for she still stands 
 upon the mountain-top, and sees the promised land through 
 the magic haze of distance, as the young are standing and 
 seeing! This type of woman will never be obsessed by the 
 missionary spirit: for she will be too shy to rebuke, too 
 sensitive to interfere. She will do good and not evil all 
 the days of her life, by the tenderness of her heart and by 
 the purity of her soul: and the children of countless of her 
 contemporaries will rise up and called her blessed. Because 
 she does not belong exclusively to one man, she will have 
 leisure to sympathise with many: because no child calls her 
 mother, she will have a wealth of universal mother-love to 
 lavish upon all. 
 
 But unfortunately the interfering style of old maid is by 
 far the more common species: and Isabel Seaton had known 
 so much harm done in this fashion by persons not really 
 evil-minded, that she herself was perhaps inclined to err 
 upon the other side and to keep silence even from good 
 words, when such words would have been helpful and 
 salutary. There is a distinct difference between unjustifia- 
 ble interference and the necessary word of warning: but it 
 
 [232]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 requires a very astute mathematician to know exactly where 
 to draw the line between the two! Anyhow it came about 
 that Isabel Seaton refrained from saying a word to Charlie 
 as to the danger of his wife's obvious indifference to him, 
 and of her determination if he failed to afford her suffi- 
 cient amusement to seek the same elsewhere: and she 
 likewise refrained for the present from saying anything to 
 Fabia upon the subject either, as she did not wish to be 
 the confidante of Mrs. Charles Gaythorne's feelings towards 
 her husband. 
 
 Isabel was a woman of the world; and she knew that 
 there are no people so much disliked as the people who are 
 made even though it be against their own wishes the 
 recipients of confidences to which they are not entitled. We 
 hate forever afterwards the persons to whom, according to 
 common parlance, we have "given ourselves away"; even 
 though the libation may have been purely voluntary at the 
 time, and quite undesired upon their part. Therefore wise 
 men and women do not receive confidence the giving of 
 which they know will afterwards be regretted by the donors. 
 
 Of course Isabel might have spoken to Charlie's mother 
 upon the subject: but she shrank from doing this: partly 
 because such a course savoured of the most unjustifiable kind 
 of interference; and partly because she loved popularity, 
 and there is nothing that renders anyone so unpopular as 
 the imparting of disagreeable information. 
 
 The Lady Constance hit upon a great truth when she 
 exclaimed to the bearer of evil tidings " This news hath 
 made thee a most ugly man ! " Hideous indeed in the eyes 
 of us all are the faces of those who come to us a^ prophets 
 of evil: and likewise lovely are the messengers who bring 
 us the gospel of peace ! Yet there are men and women who 
 
 [ 233 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 wish to be attractive and desire to gain the affection of their 
 fellow-men, who nevertheless do not hesitate indeed rather 
 hasten to carry the ill news and the evil report to those 
 whose good opinions they most covet : every word they utter 
 is either a reflection or a complaint: every criticism they 
 make is an unfavourable one. It never occurs to them that 
 the ugliness of the message which they bear is reflected in 
 their own countenances: otherwise they would surely hold 
 their peace. 
 
 So Charles and Fabia drifted further and further apart: 
 and Fabia clung more and more to the support and sympathy 
 of Ram Chandar Mukharji. 
 
 " This new agent that I've got is a fool an utter fool! " 
 exclaimed Charlie, as his wife and he were sitting at 
 luncheon one day, Mrs. Gaythorne being busily engaged in 
 London in carrying on bloodless revolutions for the benefit 
 of the whole human race. 
 
 "Then why did you engage him? I thought an agent's 
 duty was to supply the deficiencies of his employer not to 
 emulate them." 
 
 " Of course, darling, I didn't know he was a fool when 
 I engaged him: otherwise I should have been a fool myself 
 for doing so." 
 
 " Precisely : still you might have done it nevertheless. I 
 have known you and wisdom part company before now." 
 
 " I often wonder what fools were made for," the irate 
 squire grumbled on. 
 
 " So do I : but I should have imagined that you would 
 have found that out before now." 
 
 Charlie was hurt, but he tried not to show it; and Fabia 
 despised him all the more for being so thick-skinned, so 
 she imagined, as not to feel the cut of her lash. In the 
 
 [234]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 interests of peace he changed the subject: another mistake 
 on his part, as then Fabia despised him for being frightened 
 and running away. " I wonder if poor old Carr will ever 
 turn up again," he said. 
 
 "A good many people are wondering that: you are not 
 by any means solitary in your speculations." 
 
 " It is desperately rough on Janet ! She looks wretchedly 
 ill, poor little thing! " 
 
 " You would hardly expect her to laugh and grow fat 
 on such a catastrophe, would you?" 
 
 It was certainly up-hill work talking to Fabia, but 
 Charlie bravely went on his patient, dogged way, trying his 
 hardest to make himself pleasant, which was the very last 
 thing he should have endeavoured to do. " Of course not, 
 old girl: by Jove, no! I should think it would knock any 
 woman to pieces for her husband to chuck it all up, and cut 
 and run on his honeymoon." 
 
 "Not necessarily: it would depend upon the husband," 
 answered Fabia, in a tone which implied that if only Cap- 
 tain Gaythorne had seen fit to cut and run on his honey- 
 moon it would have been the most advantageous arrange- 
 ment possible for all parties concerned. 
 
 " But I really think the poor little thing was awfully 
 gone on Carr, don't you know?" persisted Charlie, still 
 intent upon his cowardly desire for peace at any price. 
 
 " Naturally. Those plain, dowdy little women are 
 always off their heads with gratitude to any man who will 
 marry them: and it is extremely bad for the man." 
 
 " Well, no one would say you were the sort of woman 
 to be grateful to any lucky beggar who was so fortunate as 
 to marry you," said Charlie, with a brave attempt to be 
 jocular. 
 
 [235]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " I am not." The reply was sufficient to crush a bolder 
 man than Charles. Again he changed the subject. 
 
 " I say, Fabia, don't you think we ought to do some- 
 thing for that poor little woman, to make things a bit 
 easier for her? Especially now the mater is so busy, and 
 can't see after her." Charlie had inherited much of his 
 mother's kindness of heart. 
 
 Fabia looked up languidly. "What sort of a thing? 
 Find her another husband, do you mean?" 
 
 "Oh, Fabia!" Charlie was really shocked. "By Jove, 
 no! She isn't that sort. You talk as if husbands were like 
 footmen: so that if one doesn't suit the situation you can 
 dismiss him and get another." 
 
 " That is how I regard them." 
 
 Charlie was positively helpless. " But what about mar- 
 riage-vows, and ' till death us do part,' and things of that 
 kind?" 
 
 " I do not believe in them." 
 
 " I say, old girl, you should just have heard my father's 
 views about marriage, and all that sort of thing! He'd got 
 most tremendous notions about the sanctity of it, and every- 
 thing in that line, don't you know? " 
 
 " I cannot help that. I never married your father." 
 
 Charlie looked puzzled. " Of course not : you couldn't 
 have done, as he was married long before either you or I 
 were born." 
 
 " Which was to his credit," added Fabia. 
 
 Charlie was more shocked than ever. " I say, darling, 
 I wish you wouldn't say such things. I don't like it." 
 
 " Not like me to praise your father's moral character ? 
 How very peculiar of you ! Men generally like their imme- 
 diate ancestors to be commended." Fabia's smile was dis- 
 
 [2 3 6]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 tinctly impertinent: but all the same she felt a faint glim- 
 mering of respect for a husband who had the courage to 
 admit that there was anything about his wife that he did 
 not like. 
 
 But the ill-starred Charlie rapidly extinguished that faint 
 glimmer. " Not in that way, my darling: I'm sure the mater 
 wouldn't approve of it: so don't do it, there's a good girl! " 
 
 Fabia shrugged her shoulders. How could she respect a 
 husband who was always bolstering up his marital authority 
 by quotations from his female parent? 
 
 " My point is," continued the well-meaning blunderer, 
 " that my father was a married man himself, don't you 
 know?" 
 
 " I never heard the faintest whisper to the contrary." 
 
 " Fabia, don't be so stupid, there's a good child! What I 
 mean is that, being a married man himself, he knew what 
 he was talking about." 
 
 " And the fact that he was married and married as he 
 was makes his opinion upon the indissolubility of marriage 
 all the more valuable and remarkable. There I agree 
 with you." Although in her way Fabia had a sincere 
 respect for her mother-in-law, she could imagine that an 
 eternity spent in that lady's society would not appear short. 
 
 " He had most awfully fine notions about marriage : 
 about its being ' for better for worse ' and ' for richer for 
 poorer,' and all that, don't you know? " continued Charlie. 
 
 " He didn't know much about ' for poorer,' did he? " 
 
 "Of course not. How could he? He and my mother 
 both had very tidy fortunes as well as the Gaythorne 
 estates." In vain poor Charlie endeavoured to follow the 
 intricate workings of his wife's mind. 
 
 " Then his opinions did not count for much after all. It 
 
 [237]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 is when you come to ' for worse ' and ' for poorer ' that the 
 shoe begins to pinch. Many married people can stand the 
 strain of ' for better ' and ' for richer ' though that is no 
 slight one at times, I admit." 
 
 " Oh ! darling, I don't know about that. Look at love 
 in a cottage, and all that sort of thing. Heaps of people 
 are most awfully keen on it." 
 
 " I never was in love and I never was in a cottage : so I 
 cannot form an opinion upon the advantages and disad- 
 vantages of either." 
 
 Charlie's face went very red, but he was too much 
 wounded to lose his temper. " I wish you were in love, 
 Fabia," he said, pleadingly. 
 
 His wife laughed lightly. " It might be rather unpleas- 
 ant for you if I were ! But it is really very unselfish of you 
 to put my pleasure before yours in this way." 
 
 " I mean in love with me." 
 
 Fabia laughed again. "What an idea! It is quite gone 
 out of fashion for a woman to be in love with her own hus- 
 band. Of course, a person like Janet Carr is: but it is 
 just part and parcel of her general dowdiness. I thought 
 you hated a dowdy woman." 
 
 " So I do ; I detest the sight of them." 
 
 " Then there is nothing dowdier than to be in love with 
 one's own husband. It is on a par with a shawl and ring- 
 lets, and a white camellia fastened by the brooch." 
 
 Charlie looked as he felt very miserable. He knew 
 that his own views were right and his wife's wrong: and 
 he also knew that he was not clever enough to demonstrate 
 either of these propositions. So he took refuge in an illus- 
 tration: the safest resource for all those not gifted in 
 argument. 
 
 [238]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " Isabel Seaton is not dowdy, and she is in love with her 
 own husband," he said. 
 
 " That is so : but Isabel is an exception to that as to 
 every rule." Since her marriage, Fabia had learnt to appre- 
 ciate Mrs. Seaton as she had never appreciated her before. 
 A friendship between a married woman and a single one 
 is rarely successful, unless it dates from pre-matrimonial 
 days. The husband and the confidential friend are not 
 often compatible ingredients. 
 
 " Yet she always fancies herself as being so commonplace 
 and normal and natural, and all that sort of thing, don't 
 you know? " 
 
 " Of course she does : that is where she shows herself so 
 exceptional. It is the commonplace people who think that 
 no one ever felt as they feel, or suffered as they suffer, or 
 loved as they love. I used to be a bit like that myself at 
 one time, till I learnt from Isabel how very commonplace 
 it was." 
 
 " When did you think that no one ever loved as you 
 did?" asked Charlie, eagerly. Men are very like children 
 in one respect, they always get hold of the least important 
 part of a toy or a conversation, and fix all their attention 
 upon that, to the exclusion of the really characteristic and 
 interesting portion of the business in hand. 
 
 Fabia told her husband the truth. She saw no reason 
 for not doing so on the present occasion. " I never actually 
 thought that nobody ever loved as I did: but I used to 
 think that nobody ever could love as I could, till Isabel and 
 experience taught me what a fool I was." 
 
 " Isabel would be pretty mad if she heard you say that 
 she was an exception." 
 
 Fabia smiled. " Would she? She is very fond of calling 
 
 [239 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 herself normal and commonplace: but I doubt if she would 
 be equally pleased if her friends endorsed her statements." 
 
 " Well, anyhow you can't deny that she is jolly smart, 
 taking her all round, and that she is in love with her own 
 husband," repeated Charlie, sticking to his point. 
 
 " I cannot : and yet I wonder at it. Mr. Seaton always 
 appears to me an extremely dull person." 
 
 " He is the sort of chap that wouldn't care a rap how he 
 appeared to you or anybody, as long as his own wife liked 
 him," said Charlie, speaking truth. 
 
 "I know: that is one reason why I dislike him. Men 
 who are very much in love with their wives always bore me 
 to extinction." 
 
 " Well, I am very much in love with mine, heaven 
 knows ! " 
 
 " And unlike Isabel you are not an exception to the 
 rule." 
 
 The arrow went home. Charlie got up from his chair 
 and walked towards the door. " I say, Fabia, you are a 
 bit too hard on a poor devil who worships the very 
 ground you walk on. Heaven knows I do all in my power 
 to please you and make you happy: and yet the more he 
 does for you the more you seem to despise and hate a fellow ! 
 What else can I do to make you care for me and treat me 
 as a wife should ? " And poor Charlie like jesting Pilate 
 ' paused not for an answer ' : but went out of the room, 
 banging the door after him in his futile misery: while his 
 wife decided within herself that unless some new interest 
 or occupation were brought into her life and at once 
 she should die of ennui. So she made haste to write to her 
 cousin, Ram Chandar. 
 
 [240]
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 DR. MUKHARJI 
 
 EARLY in the spring a considerable sensation was created in 
 the fashionable world by an oriental occultist who set up a 
 sort of seance in a small flat in Mount Street a Dr. Muk- 
 harji. He told fortunes, consulted crystals, cured nervous 
 disorders, and generally comported himself after the manner 
 of his kind. With that passion for anything absolutely new 
 and especially for anything new concerning the eternal 
 verities which characterises the denizens of London to-day 
 as it characterised the denizens of Athens long ago, it 
 became the mode to run after Dr. Mukharji, and to accept 
 with faith and humility his additions to accepted dogma and 
 his emendations of revealed truth. In short, Dr. Mukharji 
 became so much the fashion that he would have found no 
 difficulty, had he been that way inclined, in starting a 
 brand-new religion and securing countless converts to the 
 same: but it happened that he was not that way inclined: 
 so he contented himself with teaching a sort of neo- 
 Buddhism, Pseudo-Theosophy, and embellishing it with cer- 
 tain embroideries from the occult. 
 
 Of course it was women who ran after him, not men. 
 Men let it be admitted to their credit are more diffident 
 in exchanging old lamps for new than women are: they 
 hesitate before giving up the Word which has been a lan- 
 tern unto their feet, in favour of some new fad in electric 
 
 [2 4 I]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 lighting: but women as a rule will recklessly barter away 
 the seven golden candlesticks of the Book of Revelation for 
 the patent lamp which some pioneer of modern thought has 
 hung on the front of his bicycle. Therefore women crowded 
 to the little flat in Mount Street, and confided their respec- 
 tive pasts to Dr. Mukharji; on condition that he would in 
 return confide to them their respective futures. 
 
 Many silly women were led captive by the strange devices 
 of the occultist: but none attended his rooms in Mount 
 Street with such frequency and regularity as Fabia ; so much 
 so that ere long scandal began to busy itself with the names 
 of Dr. Mukharji and Mrs. Charles Gaythorne, and to hint 
 very unpleasant things concerning that lady's repeated visits 
 to the oriental quack and fortune-teller. 
 
 Then, at last, Isabel Seaton broke through her rule and 
 interfered. 
 
 " I've got something rather horrid to say to you, Fabia," 
 she began ; " I hate saying it and you'll hate hearing it, but 
 it has got to be said, so here goes." 
 
 "Then why say it at all?" Fabia interrupted her. " If 
 neither you nor I will derive any pleasure from the com- 
 munication, why impart it ? " 
 
 " Because my conscience insists upon it : and my con- 
 science so rarely mentions anything or makes itself in any 
 way troublesome, that I hardly like to refuse it on the rare 
 occasions when it does." 
 
 " Yours certainly is not an importunate conscience," 
 Fabia admitted, with her languid smile. 
 
 " No, it isn't. Its worst enemy couldn't call it a chatty 
 sort of conscience, for it hardly ever speaks. From week's 
 end to week's end I don't hear its voice. Therefore when it 
 does begin to whisper I feel bound to listen to it, as I cer- 
 
 [242]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 tainly shouldn't do if it were one of those tiresome, garru- 
 lous consciences which never give their owners a moment's 
 peace. You should just hear Paul's! The thing can't hold 
 its tongue for five minutes together, but is always poking 
 its nose into matters that don't concern it." 
 
 " I could imagine that Mr. Seaton's conscience is the 
 sort that might give trouble to its owner." 
 
 Paul's wife sighed deeply. " I believe you, and not to 
 its owner only! It is a typical specimen of the Nonconform- 
 ist conscience in full working order, with all the latest 
 improvements laid on. The moment he gives it its head it 
 begins grumbling and spluttering like an infuriated motor- 
 car, till his life and mine become burdens to us. And the 
 more we suffer the more that terrible conscience sets all its 
 hideous machinery in motion. Unfortunately Paul is such 
 an unselfish husband that he shares everything with me, 
 even down to his conscientious scruples: and they, alas! 
 are so numerous and so active ! " And Isabel sighed again. 
 
 " Poor Isabel ! " But there was envy rather than pity 
 in Fabia's tone. She could not help feeling the contrast 
 between Isabel's half-laughing and wholly-devoted attitude 
 towards her husband, and the dreary dullness of her own 
 relations with Charlie. She despised him far too much to 
 laugh at him. 
 
 " When first I was married," Isabel continued, " I used 
 to picture myself as a bold young Perseus about to deliver 
 my Andromeda of a husband from his monster of a con- 
 science: but as the enlightening of early married life went 
 on, I realised that Paul was rather like those Indian people 
 who allow white bulls and white elephants to trample them 
 to death because they worship the animals. So now I hang 
 garlands myself round the neck of the creature on its gala 
 
 [243]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 days, and lie down alongside of my husband while it plays 
 the giddy Juggernaut over our prostrate forms. Believe 
 me, my dear, a husband with a conscience is no joke ! " 
 
 " Yet I can imagine that a husband without a conscience 
 would be still less of one." 
 
 " Far less: that's the difficulty! But we have wandered 
 to my beloved husband's conscience, while the conversation 
 began about mine." 
 
 " I think you said yours was not of the white bull and 
 white elephant species?" Fabia endeavoured once more to 
 stave off what she guessed was coming, although she knew 
 that this procrastination would have no effect in the long 
 run. Isabel might not be as direct in her methods as was 
 old Mrs. Gaythorne; but she invariably arrived finally at 
 the point for which she had started. 
 
 " Not it : it is more like the War Office, or the Local 
 Government Board: never interferes until it is too late to 
 mend anything, and never locks a stable-door until all the 
 horses have died of typhoid." 
 
 " A convenient sort of conscience to keep ! " 
 
 "Very; and very little expense. But just now it is so 
 noisy in clamouring for a new lock on the empty stable-door 
 that I've no option but to listen to it. Fabia, you are going 
 too often to see that horrid cousin of yours, Ram Chandar 
 Mukharji. People are talking about it and about you!" 
 
 Fabia smiled scornfully. "Let them talk!" 
 
 " But, my dear, that's just what I don't want to let them 
 do: talking is a most hurtful and dangerous practice." 
 
 " I do not care what they say about me and Ram 
 Chandar." 
 
 "But you ought to care, my dear Fabia: you really 
 ought! Already their talking is beginning to do you harm: 
 
 [244]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 and as for Charlie, he will go mad when he hears of It 
 as he is bound sooner or later to do. Even the people 
 whom it most concerns hear of a thing eventually though 
 of course not till long after everybody else." 
 
 " I do not care," Fabia repeated. 
 
 " You ought never to have let that tiresome cousin of 
 yours come over from India at all! I met him when I was 
 out there years ago, and thought him a most weird and 
 uncanny person. I'm sure Charlie wouldn't approve of 
 him, as men always hate what is weird and uncanny and 
 different from what they learned at their mothers' knees. 
 Paul disapproves most frightfully of anything to do with 
 occultism and spiritualism and things of that kind, so I 
 never let him know how intensely they interest me." 
 
 " I do not care whether Charlie approves of my visits to 
 Mount Street or not. It is no business of his." 
 
 Stern disapproval looked out of Mrs. Seaton's blue eyes. 
 " Oh, Fabia, how horrid of you! I think it is disgusting to 
 speak of your husband like that. Why, if Paul disapproves 
 of anybody, it always turns me against them, even if I've 
 adored them up to then : and if he disapproves of my doing 
 things, I never really enjoy doing them, even though I have 
 revelled in it before. In fact, I often refrain from asking 
 him his opinion of things and people, for fear he should 
 spoil my pleasure in them for the future." 
 
 Again the scornful smile curled Fabia's lips. " If you 
 really loved him as much as you think you do, you would 
 obey him in the spirit as well as the letter." 
 
 " Now, Fabia, don't begin teaching your grandmother 
 how to love her husband, because I know a precious sight 
 more about that than you do! I may not know much; but 
 I do know how a woman feels who is absolutely devoted to 
 
 [245]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 her husband, and I know that she doesn't feel by any means 
 a fool. If you've lost your heart, it doesn't follow that 
 you've lost your brain as well." 
 
 " Still, if you lose your heart, it frequently follows that 
 you will also lose your head," persisted Fabia. 
 
 " My head isn't of the losing sort, thank you ! I rarely 
 mislay it, but generally carry it about with me under my 
 arm, a la S. Winifred, so that I can lay my hands on it 
 whenever I think fit." 
 
 " Well, Isabel, you must admit that your husband's opin- 
 ion would carry more weight with anybody than my hus- 
 band's would: therefore you cannot wonder at my thinking 
 less of Charlie's disapproval than you do of Mr. Seaton's." 
 
 Isabel's eye twinkled in a manner which in a less mature 
 and distinguished matron would have been called a wink. 
 " But I am affected by Paul's opinions even when I am 
 aware that he doesn't know what he is talking about, and 
 that they aren't worth the breath with which they are 
 uttered. That is where the rich joke of being married 
 comes in ! " 
 
 " And yet you say you are not a fool ? " 
 
 " Certainly : because I know that I am : and to be wise 
 enough to know that you are a fool is proof positive that 
 you are not one." 
 
 Suddenly Fabia's conversation took a desperate turn. 
 " Oh, Isabel, you have no idea how awfully dull it is to 
 be married to a man like Charlie! I've borne it as long as 
 I can, and I don't feel as if I could bear it any longer! It 
 is all very well for you, who are married to a clever man, to 
 preach about the due subjection of a wife: but you would 
 sing a different tune if you were married to a well-meaning 
 goose." 
 
 [246]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Isabel shook her head. " I don't think so. I should 
 never find out that he was a goose if I were in love with 
 him. For all I know, Paul may be one of the dullest men 
 on the face of the earth : in fact I know certain people con- 
 sider him so: but to me he is the one supremely interesting 
 fact in the universe the one sufficient and satisfactory enter- 
 tainment of creation. It is far more interesting to me to 
 hear Paul say that there is a button off his shirt, than to hear 
 the greatest man of the day hold forth upon the most burn- 
 ing questions. But that isn't cleverness, bless you! it's 
 love." 
 
 "But I'm not in love with Charlie, you see. I never 
 pretended to be. That is where the tragedy of my life 
 comes in. If only I loved him, then everything would be 
 different." 
 
 It was on the tip of Isabel's tongue to say, " Then you 
 ought not to have married him: " but once more her usually 
 somnolent conscience showed signs of vigour. Had she not 
 done all in her power to bring about a marriage between 
 Fabia and Charlie Gaythorne: and was not a portion of the 
 responsibility of their unhappy union hers? 
 
 Fabia went on somewhat pathetically: "You cannot 
 imagine how horribly dull it is to be married to a man with 
 whom you are not in love; you get so deadly tired of his 
 anecdotes. I believe that if a woman isn't in love with her 
 husband, she could bear anything even his neglect or his 
 downright cruelty better than his anecdotes." 
 
 " You didn't object to Charlie's anecdotes so much before 
 you married him: and I'm sure you heard them all then, 
 so you knew exactly what they were about. You married 
 with your ears open, se to speak." 
 
 " I know I did : but things sound so different before and 
 
 [247]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 after marriage. A man may be an admirable pastime but 
 an extremely poor profession. He may excel as a recreation 
 but become wearisome as a duty. He may prove delightful 
 as an hors d'ceuvre, but deadly as a piece de resistance." 
 
 " Fabia, you really ought not to discuss your husband 
 with another woman in this fashion," said Isabel reprov- 
 ingly; then having satisfied her awakening conscience 
 she added, " What anecdote of Charlie's is it that bores 
 you most? " 
 
 " There are several of them that almost kill me with 
 exhaustion. No harm in them, you know, but as long and 
 pointless as a darning-needle. And nearly always about his 
 parents; so dutiful and yet so dull! I think, however, the 
 story that wearies me most is about Mrs. Gaythorne and a 
 harvest-thanksgiving. It lasts for ages, and always requires 
 a book-marker." 
 
 " I know it," replied Isabel sympathetically. 
 
 " You must, if you know Charlie ! Well, I am now 
 twenty-three years old and Charlie twenty-six, so we shall 
 in all human probability have about another half century 
 of each other's society: and just think how often during that 
 time I shall hear the story of Mrs. Gaythorne and the 
 harvest-thanksgiving! It is appalling to contemplate!" 
 
 " It is like thinking of eternity or climbing up a winding 
 staircase no end and no beginning!" 
 
 " I suppose, however," Fabia continued, " that in the 
 most favourable circumstances marriage, like politics, is 
 the science of the second-best, and it is absurd to expect the 
 ideal in it." 
 
 "Not a bit of it," retorted Isabel, with some heat: "it 
 is either the height of bliss or else the depth of boredom. It 
 is the very opposite of the second-best, as it must be the very 
 
 [248]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 best or the very worst. A husband is either the one man in 
 the world, or else the one man that you wish wasn't in the 
 world: there is no happy mean in matrimony." 
 
 " Well, Isabel, I should have been abundantly satisfied 
 with the second-best, if only I could have secured it." And 
 there was a wistful sound in the sweet voice. 
 
 " Second-best, indeed! " retorted Mrs. Seaton, tossing her 
 head. " And yet I must admit," she added with a humor- 
 ous twinkle, " that a good many men like their second best." 
 
 Fabia agreed with her. " That is so : I fancy that my 
 late respected father-in-law would have been among that 
 number if only he had had the chance." 
 
 " Paul won't," remarked Paul's first, with much decision 
 in her tone. 
 
 " You would hate to think that he could have a second, 
 wouldn't you? " 
 
 " Not I," replied Isabel airily. " I'm not that selfish, 
 dog-in-the-manger sort of a woman! I've told Paul over 
 and over again that if anything happens to me he is at 
 liberty to marry again as soon as he likes. Of course he'll 
 find any other woman awfully dull after me, but I can't 
 help that: he must take the rough with the smooth and the 
 dull with the lively, as other men much married have had 
 to do, from Henry the Eighth downwards. It is unreason- 
 able of any man to expect to get all his wives cast in the 
 same mould ! " 
 
 And then having shot her arrow and given her hint 
 Isabel wandered off into indifferent subjects. She had learnt 
 the great social art of punctuation she knew where to 
 stop; and was far too much a woman of the world to 
 indulge in the unpardonable practice known as " rubbing 
 it in." 
 
 [249]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 But in spite of Mrs. Seaton's well-timed word of warn- 
 ing, Fabia continued to visit the small flat in Mount Street 
 far oftener than was wise or desirable. She was constantly 
 seen going in and out, and people talked more than ever in 
 consequence. In time the gossip reached the ears of Captain 
 Gaythorne: but he made no sign. He was the sort of man 
 who would find it impossible to speak to his wife upon such 
 a subject as this; his innate chivalry revolted at the mere 
 idea of such a thing. But although he was slow to speak 
 and slow to wrath in his dealings with women, he was 
 neither the one nor the other in his dealings with his own 
 sex: and he made up his mind that if things continued to go 
 on like this it would not be long before Dr. Mukharji had 
 a very bad quarter of an hour indeed. 
 
 Charlie Gaythorne might be afraid to scold his wife: but 
 he was not at all afraid to give his wife's cousin a sound 
 horsewhipping: and he intended to do so at the earliest 
 opportunity. 
 
 Isabel, finding that her hint to Fabia had been of no 
 avail, decided, with characteristic courage, to tackle the 
 occultist himself upon the subject. She was still firmly set 
 against speaking to Charlie. Although she knew too much 
 about men to suppose for an instant that they are as blind 
 as they frequently in their mysterious wisdom pretend to be, 
 she nevertheless recognised the bare possibility of Captain 
 Gaythorne's being as ignorant of Fabia's goings-on as he 
 appeared ; and in that case she felt she would rather die than 
 be the instrument employed to open his mercifully-closed 
 eyelids. Therefore having taken the wise and wifely pre- 
 caution of not mentioning to her husband beforehand what 
 she intended to do, lest he should see fit to forbid the same 
 Mrs. Paul Seaton joined herself to the multitude of silly 
 
 [250]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 women who were being led astray by the false doctrines of 
 Dr. Mukharji, and presented herself at the door of the flat 
 in Mount Street. 
 
 She was shown into a waiting-room tastily though scantily 
 furnished, and already half full of fashionably dressed 
 women. To her profound relief there were none of them 
 who were known to her personally, though she knew one or 
 two quite well by sight ; and as she had added to her toilet a 
 thick motor-veil she cherished vain hopes that no one would 
 recognise her. 
 
 " It's a good thing that I put on a motor-veil like the 
 ostrich, and so am invisible," she said to herself: "though 
 I'm convinced that some of these horrid old cats will know 
 who I am all the same, and talk about it till it gets round 
 to Paul. But that won't matter, as I shall tell him myself 
 at the proper time, when it is too late for him to prevent 
 my coming. Fortunately it is often too late to forbid and 
 never too late to forgive: and that is the exact time for 
 making confessions to a husband ! " 
 
 As Mrs. Seaton had taken the further precaution of 
 making an appointment with Dr. Mukharji, she had not 
 long to wait in her ostrich-like invisibility; but was shortly 
 ushered, by a closely- veiled female attendant in gorgeous 
 native dress, into the presence of the popular charlatan. 
 
 Isabel thought him looking much older than when last 
 she saw him in those far-off, pre-nuptial days when she was 
 living with the Parleys : but that was hardly to be wondered 
 at: as she herself had then been in the early dawn of the 
 twenties, and now she was fast coming within sight of her 
 fortieth milestone. There was no doubt that she did not 
 look as young now as she had looked then ; but she took the 
 flattering unction to her soul which we all take when we
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 meet friends and acquaintances whom we have not seen for 
 several years namely, that though we may have aged a 
 little, they have aged much more. And there was more 
 ground for Isabel's assumption than there frequently is in 
 such circumstances: Ram Chandar had certainly altered 
 more than she in the long years since last they met. In the 
 first place he was no longer clean-shaven, but a long black 
 beard protected his chest from the inclemencies of the Eng- 
 lish climate: and a beard always ages a man. But his dark 
 eyes, so like Fabia's, retained their youthful brilliancy; and 
 his hands, as small and delicate as a woman's, testified as of 
 yore to the highly-strung nervous temperament concealed 
 under his manner of apparently immutable calm. He had 
 not adopted the good old English custom of measuring the 
 flight of time by the weights of avoirdupois: on the con- 
 trary he looked, if possible, slimmer and slighter than he 
 used to do, and had lost none of his eastern, panther-like 
 grace. 
 
 " So you also are among my disciples, Mrs. Seaton, as I 
 also am among the prophets?" he said, as he advanced to 
 meet his visitor, whom he recognised at once in spite of her 
 attempted disguise. He was amused at her coming to con- 
 sult him, and he showed it; he was fully aware of Paul 
 Seaton's uncompromising hostility towards everything con- 
 nected with occultism and the like; and anything in the 
 form of wifely insubordination tickled his sense of humour. 
 
 Finding her incognito thus ruthlessly thrust aside, the 
 ostrich threw back her inadequate disguise somewhat 
 haughtily. " I have hardly come to ask advice, Dr. Muk- 
 harji, but rather to administer it." 
 
 " Pray be seated," he said, in his soft, oriental voice, 
 placing a chair for Mrs. Seaton. 
 
 [252]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " I shall not detain you long," Isabel began, and her 
 manner was that of the grande dame, which she could 
 assume when she thought it necessary and worth the trou- 
 ble. " But I have just one thing to say to you." 
 
 " Regarding your future? " 
 
 " No ; regarding yours." 
 
 The occultist bowed politely. " I await your instructions, 
 Mrs. Seaton. It is an agreeable change for me to take the 
 role of learner instead of that of teacher." 
 
 " I have come to speak to you, Dr. Mukharji, about my 
 friend, and your cousin, Mrs. Charles Gaythorne." 
 
 Again Mukharji bowed. " An ever interesting subject 
 to me." 
 
 " You are doubtless unaware," continued Isabel, more 
 stately than ever, " that unpleasant remarks are being made 
 about your cousin's too frequent visits to your house. I gave 
 her a hint upon the subject, but with no avail: she is still 
 so young that she hardly realises how dangerous it is to 
 bring down scandal even upon the most undeserving head. 
 But you and I are older than she, Dr. Mukharji, and we 
 understand how much harm can be done to a woman by 
 ill-natured gossip, however unfounded it may be: and I 
 therefore come to you to ask you to make some excuse for 
 lessening Fabia's visits to you, both as regards length and 
 number." 
 
 A mocking smile lit up the dark eyes that were fixed upon 
 Isabel. " I see : you make an appeal to me to give up the 
 one pleasure of my life at your bidding: the one thing that 
 has brought me all the way from India here? Certainly 
 you have great confidence in your powers of persuasion, 
 Mrs. Seaton: I congratulate you upon so valuable a posses- 
 sion as unlimited confidence in yourself." 
 
 [253]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Isabel threw back her head haughtily. " You mistake 
 me, Dr. Mukharji: I use no persuasion and I make no 
 appeal. I merely point out to you what is required of you 
 as a gentleman, and I take it for granted that you cannot 
 disappoint me." 
 
 The mocking eyes still smiled. " And you do not call 
 that an appeal, Mrs. Seaton ? " 
 
 " Certainly not : it would be an insult to you to do so. 
 One can hardly appeal to a gentleman to act as a gentleman, 
 since it would be impossible for him to do otherwise." 
 
 The charlatan was far too clever not to recognise and 
 admire cleverness when he saw it: and just now his admira- 
 tion for his visitor was marked. The girl whom Ram 
 Chandar had once condemned as shallow and noisy had 
 developed into an extremely accomplished woman of the 
 world. " Then may I ask precisely what you did come to 
 say to me, Mrs. Seaton?" 
 
 " Merely to inform you that malicious gossip is beginning 
 to couple your name with that of your cousin." 
 
 "And did you suppose I did not know that already? " 
 
 " Your conduct in allowing her to continue her visits 
 proved conclusively that you did not." 
 
 " So you took the trouble to come here, in the midst of 
 your busy life, to enlighten an ignorance which had no 
 existence save in your own mind ? " 
 
 " Your supposed ignorance did not originate in my mind, 
 but in your manner, Dr. Mukharji. I had no alternative 
 but to believe that you were unconscious that Fabia's visits 
 here were doing her harm, as otherwise you would have 
 declined to receive her." 
 
 " You flatter me, Mrs. Seaton." 
 
 " If you consider it flattery to take you for a gentleman, 
 
 [254]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 I do," replied the undaunted Isabel, rising from her seat. 
 " And now, having said what I came to say, there is nothing 
 left to say but good-morning." 
 
 But the fortune-teller was not going to let her escape so 
 easily. "Stop a minute, Mrs. Seaton; not so fast. Now 
 that we have disposed of my cousin Fabia's affairs, would 
 it not interest you to hear something about your own ? " 
 
 " Not at all, thank you," conscientiously lied Isabel. If 
 there was one thing she would have loved more than another 
 it was to have her future foretold by the eastern seer: but 
 she knew that her husband profoundly disapproved of all 
 such dabbling in the unseen ; so she forbore. 
 
 " You would not care to know what office Mr. Seaton 
 will hold in the next Cabinet, or whether he will hold any 
 office at all ? You are indeed curiously lacking in curiosity ! " 
 
 Isabel was sorely tempted, yet she still withstood. " I 
 will not trespass on your time so far, Dr. Mukharji." 
 
 " Because your husband has forbidden it, I see. You are 
 indeed a wifely wife, Mrs. Seaton ! " 
 
 Isabel did not deign to make any reply to this: but she 
 could not fail to feel there was something rather uncanny 
 in the occultist's knowledge of her inmost thoughts and 
 reasons. 
 
 " But do you not think it a pity," continued the fortune- 
 teller, " to allow your husband's narrow views and 
 unfounded prejudices to limit your own mind and intelli- 
 gence? Do you not think that in a matter such as this 
 wherein, if you will permit me to say so, you are far more 
 competent to judge than he is it would be better both for 
 you and for him that you should disobey Mr. Seaton's some- 
 what unreasonable and arbitrary dictum?" 
 
 " I neither disobey nor discuss my husband, Dr. Muk- 
 
 [255]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 harji: so I can only bid you good-morning." And Isabel 
 swept out of the room with the air of an offended queen. 
 
 As soon as she had gone the occultist laughed aloud. " To 
 think of a brilliant woman like that subjecting herself and 
 submitting her judgment to a narrow-minded fool such as 
 Paul Seaton! Truly a woman in love is a wonderful and 
 remarkable creature ! " 
 
 Isabel at once confessed to her husband where she had 
 been and why and why she had not told him of her visit 
 beforehand. She was always candour itself, unless there 
 was any very special reason to the contrary as in this case 
 there undoubtedly was, for Paul would have vetoed her 
 visit to the charlatan at once had he heard of it. It was not 
 that she was afraid of her husband, but that she was afraid 
 of herself: not that she felt Paul's fiats must not be dis- 
 obeyed, but that she knew it was not in her to disobey them 
 if once they had gone forth. It was she, not Paul, who 
 would be really vexed if her obedience to her husband did 
 not come up to her own somewhat elastic standard. So 
 she adapted herself to what she considered her own weak- 
 ness, by preventing the commandment from being made 
 until it was already broken : a comfortable arrangement for 
 the conscience if not for the commandment! 
 
 Paul, for his part, was immensely amused at the oppor- 
 tunism of his wife, though he did not always consider it 
 politic to let that lady know how much amused he was. 
 Matrimony like experience is a certificated teacher. 
 
 But Isabel had reckoned without her host when she 
 treated Dr. Mukharji as an English gentleman. He was 
 not an English gentleman, and he did not behave as such: 
 in spite of Isabel's appeal to him, Fabia's visits to Mount 
 Street continued with undiminished frequency. 
 
 [256]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Then at last Isabel saw no option but to have recourse to 
 her dernier ressort, and to speak to Charlie. Gossip was 
 making free with the names of Fabia and her cousin; and 
 the snowball of scandal increased in size with every rota- 
 tion, as is the way of snowballs and scandals. It had proved 
 useless, and worse than useless, to tackle the principal per- 
 formers themselves; so there was nothing left but to appeal 
 to Charlie to save Fabia from herself. 
 
 But Isabel knew better than to deal with him as she had 
 dealt with the others. Charlie might not be a genius, but 
 he was a gentleman quite as good a thing in its way, and 
 better for the persons with whom he had to do. There is a 
 wonderful free-masonry among really well-bred people: 
 they know the rules of the game : and are as slow to give or 
 take offence, as they are quick to give or take a hint. The 
 art of taking a hint is a fine art : the art of taking offence a 
 debased one. Therefore all that Isabel did was to remark 
 airily one day in the middle of a conversation with Captain 
 Gaythorne : 
 
 " By the way, Charlie, don't you think that Fabia is 
 looking a bit pale and overdone? Why don't you take her 
 for a run over to Paris for Whitsuntide? The London sea- 
 son is a trying time for unseasoned Londoners; and Fabia 
 is new to the inhalation of wood-pavements as yet." 
 
 Charlie knew in a minute exactly what she meant: and 
 was grateful to her for saying it and for not saying it. 
 But all he replied was, "That's not a bad idea, by Jove, 
 not a bad one at all ! In fact, I call it a ripping good one." 
 
 " I should adopt it, then, if I were you," Isabel continued ; 
 " I'm sure it would do Fabia a lot of good. And you 
 wouldn't miss much, as there is never anything going on 
 in town at Whitsuntide. I think this is a trying sort of 
 
 [ 257]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 season, the hot weather began so soon and so suddenly: 
 April came in like an Arctic sea-lion, and went out like a hot 
 roast lamb. A cold in the head tied me by the leg, so to speak, 
 at Easter, and we couldn't get away then at all; so I've pro- 
 posed to Paul to take me for a good long holiday at Whit- 
 suntide, and I should advise you and Fabia to do the same." 
 
 " But I thought that those Government fellows had to 
 keep their noses to the grindstone, don't you know?" re- 
 torted Charlie as airily as Isabel herself. " So how will 
 Seaton be able to get away on the spree? " 
 
 " Well, you see, the grindstone won't be turning during 
 the Whitsuntide recess, so no noses will be required: and 
 after that I shall make him find some Conservative nose 
 which like Charlie's Aunt is ' still running,' and pair it 
 for another week or so." 
 
 " I'll bet you five to one that the whips won't let him off 
 with the present Government in such a hole." 
 
 " Oh! they will. I know them." 
 
 "They won't: especially now that the present Ministry 
 is in such a bad way that it may smash up at any moment." 
 
 Isabel shook her head with her wisest air. " Not it: it is 
 feeble and effete, I admit, but it is a chronic case not a 
 dangerous one. Nurses always neglect chronic cases because 
 they are so boring and tiresome ; and members of Parliament 
 do the same." 
 
 Thus Isabel conveyed to Charlie that it was his duty to 
 take his wife out of danger as soon as he could, the only 
 possible refuge now being in flight: and Captain Gaythorne 
 thanked her for her solution of the difficulty, and decided to 
 adopt it: and yet neither of them had mentioned either the 
 nature of the difficulty or the detested name of Ram Chan- 
 dar Mukharji. 
 
 [258]
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED IN PARIS 
 
 THE Gaythornes were abroad for the best part of a month, 
 and did not come back until the leafy month of June was 
 decidedly passe. Charlie would have liked to stay away 
 still longer, but Fabia was so tired of the solitude a deux 
 that she insisted on bringing their stay in Paris to a close, as 
 they had seen but few people whom she knew and none who 
 amused her. 
 
 It was a noteworthy fact, and one which set the tongues 
 of gossip wagging faster than ever, that Dr. Mukharji left 
 town when the Gaythornes did, and did not come back to 
 his flat until after their return : thus proving conclusively to 
 all the scandal-mongers interested in the matter that his 
 object in coming to London was not to tell fortunes of 
 ladies in general, but to have the spending of Fabia's in par- 
 ticular not to divulge the futures of his numerous clientele, 
 but to destroy that of Mrs. Charles Gaythorne. 
 
 On the evening of their return Charlie and his wife were 
 dining in their own house in town, old Mrs. Gaythorne hav- 
 ing foregone a meeting for the abolition of tinned fruits 
 among the inhabitants of the Cannibal Islands, in order to 
 sit at meat with her son and daughter-in-law, and welcome 
 them back to their native shores. When dessert was on the 
 table and the servants had left the room, Fabia suddenly 
 
 [259]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 interrupted the stream of unmemorable conversation which 
 had flowed intermittently during dinner, by saying: 
 
 " Whom do you think we saw in Paris, Mrs. Gaythorne? " 
 
 " Somebody who had better have stayed at home in a 
 Protestant country than gone wandering off among Papists 
 and worse than Papists." Mrs. Gaythorne was very fond 
 of the expression " Papists and worse than Papists," but it 
 was a mere figure of speech; according to the good lady's 
 ideas, the latter class of persons thus indicated were as chi- 
 merical as " the Anthropophagi, and the men whose heads do 
 grow beneath their shoulders." 
 
 " We saw Gabriel Carr," said Fabia, quietly. 
 
 The bomb-shell took full effect. Mrs. Gaythorne fairly 
 bounced in her chair. " I cannot believe it! " she exclaimed. 
 " Surely you are trifling with me." 
 
 "No, I am not: I only wish, for Janet's sake, that I 
 were." 
 
 "Charles, is this true?" asked Mrs. Gaythorne, turning 
 for confirmation to that son whom she had never known 
 from his childhood to tell a lie. 
 
 " Yes, mother ; as true as gospel. As Fabia says, I wish 
 to goodness that it wasn't, for poor little Janet's sake: but 
 it is, worse luck ! " 
 
 " Describe the circumstances," was Mrs. Gaythorne's next 
 command. 
 
 " Tell mother all about it," said Charlie to his wife : 
 " you're such a much better hand at reeling off a yarn than 
 I am." 
 
 Fabia thus adjured began : " When we were in Paris we 
 often went to the theatre, as we found it so very dull in our 
 own sitting-room at the hotel." 
 
 " Which you ought not to have done," her mother-in-law 
 
 [260]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 interrupted her : " Mr. Gaythorne and I never found it dull 
 wherever we were. I had my committees as perennial 
 sources of interest, and he had Me." Mrs. Gaythorne, when 
 referring to herself, always emphasised the personal pro- 
 noun as if the other cases as well as the nominative began 
 with a capital letter. 
 
 "Of course: but Charlie and I are different," replied 
 Fabia sweetly: as indeed they were. "Mr. Gaythorne 
 wisely allowed his wife to enjoy herself in her own way; 
 but unfortunately his son does not follow his example." 
 
 " We will leave Mr. Gaythorne for the present and 
 return to Gabriel Carr. Where did you see him, and what 
 did he say, and what excuse did he give for his extraordinary 
 behaviour?" Mrs. Gaythorne practised to the full the art 
 of keeping to the point. 
 
 " Well," continued Fabia, " one night, when we were in 
 a theatre, whom should we see in a box opposite to us but 
 Gabriel Carr?" 
 
 " At a theatre and a French theatre, too and he a 
 clergyman in fact, my clergyman! I cannot believe it! 
 You must have been mistaken." 
 
 " But unfortunately we were nothing of the kind," said 
 Charlie. " I saw him as plainly as I see you now. But he 
 was aged a bit, I admit, as the sort of life he is leading 
 leaves its mark on a man, don't you know? " 
 
 " I know nothing of the kind ! Fabia, proceed with your 
 narrative." 
 
 " As Charlie says, he was aged, and he had a worn and 
 dissipated look: but we both recognised him in an instant. 
 And though he looked older, he was just as handsome as 
 ever." 
 
 " Handsome is as handsome does; and therefore I cannot 
 
 [26l]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 call any man handsome who deserts his wife on his honey- 
 moon, and then hides himself behind the scarlet woman in 
 the city of Babylon," remarked Mrs. Gaythorne, not with- 
 out some reason on her side. 
 
 "He didn't behave handsomely, I admit: but he is a 
 jolly good-looking fellow all the same, and always will be," 
 said Charlie, echoing both his wife and his mother as usual. 
 " But never mind his looks. Fire away with the story, 
 there's a good girl ! " 
 
 " The moment we saw and recognised him, I told Charlie 
 to go round at once and speak to him, and find out what had 
 happened." 
 
 " Which I did in pretty quick time," supplemented Cap- 
 tain Gaythorne ; " as I was afraid he would cut and run as 
 soon as he recognised us, and I wanted to collar him before 
 he'd got the chance." 
 
 "Was he alone?" inquired Mrs. Gaythorne. 
 
 Charlie looked confused. " Well not exactly alone : I 
 mean I can't precisely say that he was alone, don't you 
 know?" 
 
 " Then who was accompanying him ? " 
 
 Still Charlie stammered, and Fabia looked on in silent 
 amusement, and in mute protest against the unsuccessful old 
 custom of Bowdlerising for the benefit of the in-laws. She 
 was sick of her husband's attempt to re-edit her for the 
 perusal of Mrs. Gaythorne; and she enjoyed his difficult 
 and futile endeavour to perform a like office on behalf of 
 Gabriel Carr. 
 
 " Well, mother, don't you see ? I can't exactly it 
 wasn't anybody you'd know, don't you know ? and it hasn't 
 anything to do with the point of the story." 
 
 " Charles, do not prevaricate. It is a pernicious habit, 
 
 [262]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 only one step removed from actual lying. Tell me at once 
 who was with Gabriel Carr." 
 
 " It was I don't exactly know and I couldn't exactly 
 say, don't you know ? " 
 
 " I conclude it was a brother-clergyman who had been 
 also led away by Ritualism into Papistry, and you are try- 
 ing to screen him from me." 
 
 " Good heavens, no ! It wasn't anybody of that kind, I 
 can swear," Charlie hastened to asseverate, while Fabia 
 stifled a laugh. 
 
 A new idea replete with horror seized Mrs. Gaythorne. 
 " Was Gabriel dressed like a monk, I should like to know? " 
 
 "Great Scott! no, mother; what questions you do ask! 
 He was not even dressed as a parson." 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne looked mollified. " I am relieved to hear 
 it. I was afraid the poor misguided young man might have 
 been trapped into a monastery. But that is enough subter- 
 fuge: it is no use trying to screen him from me. If it was 
 not a Romish priest or a monk, who was it? " 
 
 Fabia was enjoying herself immensely, and she would 
 have died sooner than respond to the constant appealing 
 glances which her husband threw to her for help: so she 
 held her peace and let him flounder on. 
 
 " Well, you see, mother I don't like to tell you such 
 things and it really isn't any business of ours but it was 
 it was well, it was a woman, don't you know? " 
 
 " A nun? You don't mean to say he was with a nun? " 
 almost shrieked Mrs. Gaythorne. 
 
 "Great Scott, no! Far from it!" Charlie ejaculated, 
 while Fabia, who could not stifle her mirth any longer, 
 laughed outright. 
 
 Again Mrs. Gaythorne looked mollified: things after 
 
 [263]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 all were not as bad as they might have been. " Then if it 
 was not a nun for which I am devoutly thankful what 
 sort of a woman was it ? " 
 
 " Well, mother, it was it was it was well, not quite 
 a proper sort of woman, don't you know ? " 
 
 Then at last Mrs. Gaythorne understood. " Oh, dear, 
 dear, dear!" she exclaimed: "How very, very shocking!" 
 But it must be admitted that the anguish in her voice was 
 less poignant than when she had asked whether it was a 
 monk or a nun. In her eyes it was less heinous to offend 
 against the Decalogue than against the Westminster Con- 
 fession. Like many another devout Christian, she was more 
 lenient towards actual sins than towards saintship which 
 took another line from her own. 
 
 " Gabriel did not see us as soon as we saw him," said 
 Fabia, taking up the thread of her narrative again : " so 
 Charlie went round to his box and knocked at the door." 
 
 " It was a pity that I was not there, as I should have 
 gone, too! Of course you could not go in the circumstances, 
 my dear, considering the sort of person that Gabriel had 
 with him: but a woman of my age can go anywhere and do 
 anything. Proceed with the narrative." 
 
 " Charlie must tell now, as this is his part of the 
 story." 
 
 Charlie, as was his wont, meekly obeyed. " Well, when 
 I knocked at the door Carr opened it, and didn't recognise 
 me for a second, as I'd got my back to the light. So I said, 
 ' Hillo, Carr! I've found you at last! I think it's time you 
 gave some account of yourself.' I didn't speak as strongly 
 as I felt by a long shot, as I didn't want a row in the theatre. 
 If I'd done as I wanted, I should have knocked the fellow 
 down then and there! " 
 
 [264]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 ' Then, Charles, I am thankful that for once you con- 
 trolled your inclinations. It would have distressed me for 
 my son to be involved in a vulgar brawl especially in such 
 a wicked place as Paris." 
 
 " Well, mother, anyhow I did control myself, and that is 
 what makes what happened next all the more rummy. The 
 moment I had spoken though I tell you I was as mealy- 
 mouthed as I could induce myself to be when speaking to 
 such a cad Carr turned as white as a sheet, with such a 
 look of sheer fright in his eyes as I've never seen except on 
 the faces of recruits in their first engagement before the poor 
 beggars had got seasoned to being under fire. And then 
 before you could have said ' Knife ' he dashed past me, 
 and ran for his life down the corridor, and was out of the 
 building before I knew what he was up to. By Jove, I 
 never saw a fellow in such a blue funk in my life before! 
 It was a rummy go altogether ! " 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne gasped, and then shook her head reprov- 
 ingly. " Charles, you should have stopped him ! You 
 should not have allowed him to escape before he had given 
 some explanation of his extraordinary conduct and sent 
 some sort of message to Janet." 
 
 " I tell you, mother, I couldn't help myself. The brute 
 was out of sight before I knew what he was doing." 
 
 " If I had been there, I should have stopped him." 
 
 " You couldn't, mother, I swear ! Besides, who'd have 
 expected an English gentleman, whatever he'd done, to turn 
 tail and run away like a frightened skunk?" 
 
 "There is nothing that I do not expect from misguided 
 persons who are in secret league with the Jesuits." 
 
 " Well, anyhow I couldn't stop the beggar, and I didn't." 
 
 " It was a great pity that I was not with you ! I should 
 
 [265]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 have stopped him, and should have insisted upon an expla- 
 nation then and there." 
 
 " I did ask the woman who was with him where I could 
 find him," continued Charlie; "but she refused to tell me 
 anything about him. He'd evidently given her his orders 
 that the word was ' Mum ' as far as he was concerned : but I 
 could see that she knew a precious sight more than she 
 chose to tell." 
 
 " If I had been there I should have insisted upon her tell- 
 ing," persisted Mrs. Gaythorne, who for ever afterwards 
 was rooted and grounded in the belief that had she been 
 present on that memorable occasion much further sorrow 
 and suffering would have been avoided. The extreme unlike- 
 lihood of her presence in such circumstances considering 
 that nothing would induce her ever to enter either a theatre 
 or a Roman Catholic country did not seem to occur to her: 
 and in some feminine and recondite manner she contrived 
 to lay all the blame of her absence upon her son's devoted 
 shoulders. 
 
 " The whole affair upset me most tremendously, I can 
 tell you," continued Charlie. " I always thought Carr such 
 a ripping fine fellow a really good chap with no humbug 
 about him, but as straight as they make 'em and then to 
 find him turn out like this well, it seems to shake a fel- 
 low's belief in everything." 
 
 Tears came into Mrs. Gaythorne's eyes and began to 
 course slowly down her weather-beaten cheeks. " That is 
 what makes any sort of wrong-doing on the part of the 
 clergy so very terrible," she said sorrowfully: "it brings 
 their high calling into disrepute, and appears to give the lie 
 to the truths which they have preached. But it ought not 
 to do so. However sadly His servants may fall away from 
 
 [266]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 the holiness of their first estate and may do despite to their 
 sacred profession, the Master is still the same, yesterday, 
 to-day and for ever. With Him there is no variableness, 
 neither shadow of turning. Never forget that, my son." 
 
 Charlie was touched, and therefore shy and uncomforta- 
 ble. " Of course not, mother, of course not. I shouldn't 
 think of doing such a thing. Besides," he added boyishly, 
 " those of us who have good mothers don't want any parson 
 to teach us about things. The parsons may fail us, but our 
 mothers won't: and we shan't go far wrong if we take our 
 mothers' love as a sort of sample of what God's love is like, 
 and depend on it just the same, don't you know?" 
 
 Fabia was interested and puzzled. What a strange and 
 wonderful thing this Christian reltgion was! Mrs. Gay- 
 thorne as a rule was a Martha rather than a Mary, and 
 busied herself with the practical side more than the spiritual 
 side of religion; but just now there was a look in her face 
 which must compel awe and reverence in all who beheld it. 
 Fabia had seen the same look in Gabriel Carr's face in 
 London and at Vernacre, though not a trace of it in the 
 Parisian theatre. She called it Illumination and Inspiration, 
 for want of a better name: had she been brought up in the 
 same school as Mrs. Gaythorne, she would have called it 
 the Indwelling of the Spirit. 
 
 The three Gaythornes talked over with one another the 
 problem of Gabriel: and on the following day went and 
 talked it all over again with the Seatons. But they could 
 none of them arrive at any satisfactory conclusion, or see 
 that anything more could be done. After the encounter at 
 the theatre, Captain Gaythorne had explored Paris for fur- 
 ther traces of Gabriel, but in vain: the latter had evidently 
 taken fright at Charlie's recognition of him and had once 
 [26 7 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 again disappeared. Searching for him in Paris was like 
 looking in a bundle of hay for a needle endowed with the 
 power of evading pursuit. So, as there was nothing further 
 to be done, they all agreed to do it. 
 
 Then Fabia did about the worst thing that she had ever 
 done in her life. It might not be as foolish as were her 
 repeated visits to the flat in Mount Street, but it was more 
 evil in its essence, since it was intended to do harm, while 
 the visits to Mount Street were only .organised pour passer 
 le temps: and like the worst things that are done by the 
 majority of us it had its origin in jealousy. She went 
 down for the day to Gaythorne, and told the full and com- 
 plete history of the scene in Paris to Janet Carr. 
 
 Fabia was not only jealous because Gabriel had rejected 
 her and chosen Janet, although in spite of all that had 
 happened she still hated her on that score. The cause of 
 the hatred might be over, but the hatred itself remained, 
 since hate, like love, has a wonderful power of surviving 
 its instigators. Her own love for Gabriel had died a sudden 
 death on that night in Paris. Just at first, when she saw 
 him in the opposite box, the sight of the man's physical 
 beauty stirred the embers of her love into flames again : she 
 was always particularly sensitive to the influence of beauty: 
 but when she beheld, across the theatre, the pitiable exhibi- 
 tion of craven fear which the appearance of her husband 
 produced, her love was turned into loathing and contempt. 
 If there was one thing that she adored more than beauty it 
 was strength strength as shown by physical courage, for 
 Fabia was too elemental a woman to feel the fascination of 
 moral excellencies: and as she had first loved Gabriel when 
 he showed himself her master, so she ceased to love him as 
 soon as she believed him to be in terror of her husband. 
 
 [268]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 But Fabia had still further cause of jealousy of Janet, 
 for in spite of all her sorrow and misery the supreme joy 
 of motherhood was about to crown poor Janet's life, and to 
 give her beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and 
 the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. And again 
 Fabia's nature was too elemental for her not to be jealous 
 of every woman to whom had been granted the happiness 
 which she had hitherto been denied the culminating happi- 
 ness of motherhood. 
 
 We shall all do well to remember that the unclean spirit 
 which seeketh rest and findeth none, and so returneth to the 
 house whence he came, taking with him seven other spirits 
 more wicked than himself, is nearly always the spirit of 
 jealousy. Among all the evil demons, there is none so 
 clever as he in paving the way for his comrades, and in 
 opening doors for their ingress which but for him would 
 have remained closed to them for ever. 
 
 So it came to pass that Fabia went down to Gaythorne 
 on purpose to retail the miserable Parisian episode to 
 Gabriel's wife. 
 
 Janet heard her to the end, with no sign of emotion save 
 a somewhat heightened colour: then, when the wretched 
 story was finished, she quietly asked : 
 
 "And why have you told me this, Mrs. Gaythorne? " 
 
 " Because I thought you ought to know it," Fabia replied. 
 She had indeed managed to persuade herself that it was 
 wrong to keep a person so deeply concerned in the matter as 
 was Janet in the dark with regard to the kind of life which 
 her husband was apparently leading: and that therefore it 
 was the duty of Janet's friends to enlighten her upon the 
 point. So specious are the arguments of the spirit of 
 jealousy! 
 
 [269]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " Why? " Janet never wasted words. 
 
 Fabia was somewhat nonplussed. " Oh! because you are 
 Mr. Carr's wife, and therefore his conduct affects you more 
 than anybody else," she lamely explained. 
 
 " That was rather a reason for not telling me," was the 
 quiet reply. 
 
 Fabia was silent for a moment. She found the calm 
 scorn in the hazel eyes decidedly uncomfortable. Then 
 she said : 
 
 " I should imagine, now that you know what manner of 
 man your husband is, you will leave off hoping or even 
 wishing for his return." 
 
 The hazel eyes flashed at last. " And you expect me to 
 believe this tale you have come to tell me? " 
 
 " I fail to see how you can help believing it. My hus- 
 band is quite prepared to corroborate my statement that we 
 both saw Mr. Carr with our own eyes: and although you 
 may not think much of my accuracy, everybody knows that 
 Captain Gaythorne is a painfully truthful person." 
 
 " And given that it is true, what difference will that 
 make?" 
 
 "What difference? I do not know what you mean?" 
 Fabia gasped with astonishment: it would have made all 
 the difference in the world to her had she been in Janet's 
 place. 
 
 Then the pent-up storm of Janet's wrath broke. " I 
 don't believe that what you tell me is true I can't believe 
 it. But even supposing that it were, what is that to me? 
 Does it make Gabriel any the less my husband? Wherever 
 he is and whatever he had done, I am still his wife, and he 
 is my lord and master. Nothing can alter that. I belong 
 to him, body and soul, to do with as he pleases. Whenever 
 
 [270]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 he comes back he will find me waiting to welcome him home 
 as if nothing had happened." 
 
 Fabia was aghast. " I am at a loss to understand you," 
 she murmured. 
 
 Janet laughed in her scorn. " You understand me of 
 course you can't. You who never loved anybody in the 
 world but yourself, how can you understand the mysterious 
 unity of marriage? Gabriel and I are indissolubly one, 
 whatever happens: nothing can put us asunder: and even 
 if it is true that he has sinned and suffered, then he will 
 need me more than he did when he was one of the saints of 
 God : and he will find me all the more ready to comfort and 
 cherish him when he comes to himself. Do you remember 
 the story of S. Anne, who after her husband had been 
 stoned out of the synagogue received him with more love 
 and reverence than she had ever shown him before? And 
 do you think that there are no S. Annes to-day? Not per- 
 haps of your world, or in your circle, but they exist all the 
 same. Doubtless you will find plenty of people ready to help 
 you in casting stones at my husband when he does come back ; 
 but from me, whom he has most wronged if he has wronged 
 anybody, he shall never hear a word of reproach, but only 
 words of love and of welcome." 
 
 And Janet, in the dignity of her outraged love, flung back 
 her head with such a queenly gesture that Fabia stood before 
 her cowed, as she had once stood before Janet's husband. 
 She said good-bye and got herself out of the room as best 
 she could, feeling for a second time in her life like a beaten 
 cur. And from that moment she liked and respected Janet 
 Carr: and felt that she would give the half of all that she 
 possessed if only she could love anyone as Janet loved 
 Gabriel. 
 
 [271 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 It is loving not being loved that makes a woman as a 
 king's daughter all glorious within, and clothes her spirit as 
 with wrought gold. In the Kingdom of Heaven they who 
 love will always take precedence of them who only are 
 beloved; for with regard to spiritual as well as to material 
 gifts, it is ever more blessed to give than to receive. 
 
 [272]
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 ISABEL'S TEMPTATION 
 
 ONE afternoon, not long after the return of the Seatons 
 from their Whitsuntide holiday, the Prime Minister called 
 upon Isabel at her house in Prince's Gardens. She was glad 
 to see him, with the gladness which the sight of a man who 
 has once loved her almost always produces in a woman's 
 mind. There are few people towards whom women feel 
 so kindly as towards the man whom they might have mar- 
 ried, but did not: just as there are none whom they regard 
 with such scorn and loathing as the man who might have 
 married them, but did not. Men dislike those to whom 
 they have behaved badly, even more than they dislike those 
 who have behaved badly to them: women, on the con- 
 trary, prefer those whom they have treated badly, even to 
 those who have treated them well. " He never pardons who 
 hath done the wrong," is a true saying as long as we stick 
 to the pronoun " he " ; but substitute " she " for " he," and 
 the line becomes utter nonsense. For she who hath done the 
 wrong not only pardons she commends, she praises, she 
 rewards. There is no kindness too extreme to be showered 
 upon the injured one no favour too great to be shown to 
 him. If a man wishes a woman to become really attached 
 to him, he must not be kind to her he must allow her to 
 be unkind to him. It is part of the divinely feminine law 
 of compensation. 
 
 Therefore Mrs. Seaton who had behaved abominably to 
 
 [273]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 the Prime Minister before he was ever a Prime Minister or 
 she a Mrs. Seaton cherished a sincere and lasting affection 
 for Lord Wrexham: and was always pleased to see and 
 to be seen by him: especially when, as on the present occa- 
 sion, she was conscious that she had on a becoming gown. 
 She was too true a woman to flirt after she was married: 
 and she was much too true a woman not to want to do so. 
 The consuming passion to attract, which is so incomprehen- 
 sible to the women who do not feel it and so irresistible to 
 the women who do, was bred in the very bones of Isabel: 
 when she ceased to feel it she woid cease to breathe. 
 
 As for Lord Wrexham, to him Isabel was the only woman 
 in the world, and always would be: but he had loved her 
 far too well to make love to her now that she was another 
 man's wife. The bitterest day of his life had been the day 
 when she wrote Tekel across his name: nothing had ever 
 made up to him for that. True, Fate had thrown into his 
 lot certain ingredients which are supposed to compensate for 
 a good deal in the lives of men notably the Premiership: 
 but nothing had ever compensated him for the loss of Isabel, 
 and nothing ever would. He felt towards Fate as we all feel 
 towards that mysterious entity in shops, called " Sign," who 
 comes forward, after we have finally discovered that the 
 article we want is not in stock, and endeavours to persuade 
 us that we really did not want that article at all, but some- 
 thing absolutely different of which the shop is full. For 
 instance, if we have asked in vain for black astrachan, he 
 begs to be allowed to fill the aching void with yards and 
 yards of pink calico: if we have found our prayers for 
 knitted golf-jerseys ruthlessly denied, he attempts to fill our 
 empty arms with silk umbrellas at cost price. Fate had 
 treated poor Lord Wrexham very much the same as the being 
 
 [274]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 called " Sign " treats us all in our season : he had asked for 
 Isabel Carnaby, and Fate had given him the Prime-Minister- 
 ship not by any means the same thing: and he felt, as we 
 all feel in like circumstances, both impatient and ungrateful. 
 
 " I am very glad you are at home," he began, " as I have 
 something particular to say to you. I came late in the hope 
 that I should find you in and alone." 
 
 " In that case you should have come early," retorted 
 Isabel ; " as a rule, the later the hour the larger the meet. 
 You remind me of a very worthy girl I once knew : she was 
 apologising to me for being married in Lent, and she said 
 that as so many people seemed shocked at her being married 
 in Lent, she had put off her wedding until the very last 
 week!" 
 
 Wrexham smiled. It always charmed him to hear Isabel 
 rattle on in her old inconsequent way. " Nevertheless, 
 events have proved the wisdom of my course: I have found 
 you in and alone." 
 
 " Because nothing happens except the impossible : and you 
 should never expect anything but the unexpected, or foresee 
 anything except the unforeseen. That is the wisdom of 
 life." 
 
 "Then I will follow wisdom," said Lord Wrexham: 
 " and certainly her ways are ways of pleasantness when they 
 lead me here." 
 
 "You don't want to follow her, Wrexham: she dwells 
 with you. It is not often that she avails herself of official 
 residences; but for the time being she has certainly taken 
 up her abode in Downing Street." 
 
 Lord Wrexham fell in with Isabel's mood. " I hope she 
 will take up her abode there again when it is Mr. Seaton's 
 turn to occupy one of the official residences." He never 
 [275]
 
 spoke of Paul without the prefix " Mr." It was the only 
 sign he made of not having forgiven Isabel's husband for 
 having married Isabel. Also he never addressed her by any 
 name whatsoever; the natural man kicked at having to say 
 " Mrs. Seaton," and the spiritual man hesitated at calling 
 another man's wife by her Christian name. In many ways 
 Lord Wrexham was very old-fashioned. 
 
 Isabel shrugged her shoulders. " Not she : wisdom won't 
 be dans cette galere. But / shall; and I shan't make a bad 
 understudy in the enforced absence of the real article." 
 
 " Certainly you will not. You are by far the wisest 
 woman that I ever met, as well as being the most brilliant." 
 
 Isabel shook her head. " No, I'm not not the wisest, I 
 mean; I'll give in to you about the most brilliant. But I'm 
 not really wise, Wrexham ; that is why I admire it so much 
 in you. You'll find as a rule that the people we all admire 
 most are the, people who really are what we ourselves pre- 
 tend to be." 
 
 " I do not agree with you ; I consider you extremely wise ; 
 and I think you should use your wisdom for the benefit of 
 your husband and his followers. I know that you and I 
 are one in thinking that they are going too fast, and that in 
 grasping too much they will lose everything: and I feel 
 that it is for you to influence the advanced section of the 
 party through your influence with your own husband. You 
 know as well as I do that there is nothing that Mr. Seaton 
 would not do for you : and I want you to use that power in 
 order to save the party from being first disintegrated and 
 then destroyed." Lord Wrexham was far too just a man 
 not to admit to the full his rival's excellence as a husband 
 and a politician. 
 
 Again Isabel shook her head. " But that's just what I 
 
 [276]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 don't want to do. I would give anything to convince Paul 
 that I am right and that he is wrong with regard to the 
 present political crisis, which according to you and me isn't 
 a crisis at all and shouldn't be treated as such : but I couldn't 
 bear him to do what he thought wrong and I thought right, 
 just to please me. Which is what he is quite capable of 
 doing." 
 
 Wrexham looked puzzled. As long as a drag was put on 
 the Liberal wheel, he did not see that the inner machinery 
 of the drag used was a matter of much moment. 
 
 " You see," Isabel went on confidentially, " it is like 
 this : a man will do anything that a woman asks as a favour, 
 and nothing that she advises as the wisest course. If she 
 begs her husband to stand on his head just to please her, 
 he'll be found for hours together, wrong end uppermost, 
 waving his feet aloft as if he were a pigeon in a pie: but if 
 she tries to prove to him that the head is a safer mode of 
 locomotion than the feet, and that he will be acting more 
 wisely if he adopts it as such, that man will stick to his 
 own feet as long as the world stands, and won't even go to 
 the Antipodes for fear he should thereby seem to be follow- 
 ing his wife's superior advice, and walking upside down. 
 Oh ! I know them." And Isabel sighed over the weaknesses 
 of the stronger sex. 
 
 " Well, that makes everything more easy for you," said 
 the Prime Minister, endeavouring to follow the thread of 
 her argument. 
 
 "No, no, no, it doesn't: just the very opposite! That 
 way of managing a husband is quite the best way in domestic 
 politics; no home is complete without it. But it doesn't do 
 in really big things: it is too great a responsibility for the 
 woman. Don't you understand: it is the knowledge that 
 
 [277]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Paul will do anything that I ask him which often keeps me 
 from asking anything? Of course it is excellent to have a 
 woman's strength, but it is dangerous to use it like a 
 woman." 
 
 " I think I begin to see what you mean," replied Wrex- 
 ham slowly. 
 
 Isabel babbled on: "I do hate a bossy kind of wife, the 
 sort that makes her husband's mind up for him, and then 
 sees that he doesn't change it. That isn't playing the game. 
 Now, I always pride myself on never doing anything that 
 I can't do really well: that is why I never play the violin 
 or talk to young girls." 
 
 " I am sure you could do both extremely well." There 
 was not much that Wrexham did not believe could be done 
 excellently by Mrs. Paul Seaton. 
 
 "No, I couldn't: therefore I don't do them at all. But 
 you'd be surprised at the things I've done well in my time," 
 Isabel added, naively. 
 
 " I should not. That I can swear ! " 
 
 " Yes, you would : I've been surprised myself, and you 
 can't think better of me than I do ! I remember once Mrs. 
 Gaythorne made me go to a village Dorcas-meeting with 
 her, and you should just have seen the flannel petticoat that 
 I made! It was a perfect dream! " 
 
 " I can well believe it! " 
 
 " Well, then, you see, having laid down a rule that I 
 would never do anything unless I could do it well, I did 
 not marry without making up my mind to be one of the 
 best wives that ever hopped through a wedding ring. And 
 the best sort are not the bossy sort, and it's no good pre- 
 tending that they are! " The moment Isabel had delivered 
 herself of this statement it occurred to her that it was not 
 
 [2 7 8]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 quite the happiest thing imaginable to have said to her 
 present company: but being a woman of the world hav- 
 ing said the wrong thing, she stuck to it. The crowning 
 mistake of conversation is to show that one knows one has 
 made a mistake: just as nine times out of ten the greatest 
 insult one can offer is to offer an apology. So she went 
 gaily on : " Therefore, having become a past mistress in the 
 fine art of being a good wife, I cannot debase my art by 
 using it for unworthy purpose. ' Art for art's sake ' is ever 
 the motto of true artists, be they artists in words or in col- 
 ours paperers or painters, so to speak: and art ceases to be 
 art when it becomes a means and not an end." Isabel had 
 succeeded in covering her retreat neatly. 
 
 " Yes, yes, doubtless you are right : at any rate I am sure 
 you know best as to how far you are justified in influencing 
 your husband's political life. But that is not really what I 
 came to say to you this afternoon: there is something else." 
 " And what is that ? Something very interesting, I 
 hope." 
 
 " It is something which concerns yourself, and therefore 
 is of supreme interest to me." 
 
 " Thank you, Wrexham : you always put things so nicely 
 that one is apt to forget you are a Prime Minister." 
 
 " The long and short of the matter is this," continued 
 Lord Wrexham, in his slightly ponderous manner : " on 
 account of his health, Gravesend has had to resign the 
 Governorship of Tasmania, and I want to know if you 
 would like me to offer the post to your husband ? " 
 
 Isabel gasped. It is always a little overpowering suddenly 
 to find one's heart's desire within one's grasp. 
 
 "That is what I really came to say to you," added 
 Wrexham. 
 
 [279]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " But why say it to me and not to my husband ? " Isabel 
 was herself again that impertinent self which could ask 
 such pertinent questions. 
 
 Wrexham began to explain in his usual somewhat labo- 
 rious fashion. " Because, owing to certain reasons which I 
 need not enter into now, it seems probable that the Liberal 
 party will continue in power; and, you must understand, it 
 is not customary to offer a Colonial Governorship to a man 
 who is sure of a seat in the Cabinet before long : it looks too 
 much like shelving him." 
 
 "Then why shelve Paul?" was the quick rejoinder of 
 Paul's wife. 
 
 " That is just what I am endeavouring to explain to you: 
 because I happen to know that you would very much like this 
 appointment; and because it is you who are my friend not 
 Mr. Seaton. I only feel an interest in him because he is 
 your husband! " (He meant that he only felt a hatred for 
 Paul because Isabel was Paul's wife: but that was neither 
 here nor there.) " It is your pleasure and happiness that 
 concern me," he went on: "not Mr. Seaton's." 
 
 " My happiness is bound up with my husband's," said 
 Isabel haughtily. The woman was suddenly merged in the 
 wife, and for a moment she almost hated Wrexham. 
 
 " Then, so far as it is, Mr. Seaton's wishes are of supreme 
 importance to me," replied Wrexham, with unfailing cour- 
 tesy: "And, if you wish it, I will offer Mr. Seaton this 
 appointment at once." 
 
 " No, no, no, wait a bit ; don't be in such a hurry : I want 
 to think." Isabel spoke impatiently. She had noted the 
 " Mr." and knew the social exclusiveness which it implied : 
 and the moment of hatred was prolonged into two. 
 
 " Believe me, I would not hurry you for anything. I 
 
 [280]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 will leave you to think the matter over, and you can send 
 me a line in a day or so. Just Yes or No will be sufficient : 
 I shall understand," said the Prime Minister, rising from 
 his seat. 
 
 " No, no : don't go : stay here. ' I can think it over just 
 as well in a few minutes as in a few days in fact, better. 
 I never make a mistake except through caution." 
 
 "Just as you like: my time is at your disposal," replied 
 Wrexham, with his usual old-fashioned politeness: and 
 straightway buried himself, after the manner of the Babes 
 in the Wood, in the " sweet green leaves " of the West- 
 minster Gazette. 
 
 Isabel got up from her chair and went to the window at 
 the far end of the back drawing-room, where she stood look- 
 ing out upon the gardens in the rear of the house. It was 
 a tremendous temptation, and she recognised it as such. Not 
 only would she herself have the sort of life she liked best, 
 but if she accepted Wrexham's offer Paul would be saved 
 from making those mistakes which she felt convinced he 
 would make as soon as he became a Cabinet Minister. The 
 country was not ripe for the reforms proposed by Paul and 
 his section of the party would not be ripe for some years 
 to come and the Liberal majority which, owing to the turn 
 affairs had taken, now seemed probable at the next General 
 Election, would be speedily turned into defeat by the oft- 
 repeated Radical error of plucking the apple before it was 
 ripe. And then where would Paul and his followers be? 
 Deeply buried under the onus of having broken up the 
 Liberal party and restoring to power the present Opposition. 
 Just now the Government majority was so small that noth- 
 ing vigorous in the shape of reform could be contemplated: 
 but when the hands of the Radicals were strengthened, as 
 [281]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 there seemed every likelihood that they would be after the 
 forthcoming Dissolution, there was no revolution too 
 immense no mistake too egregious for them to attempt 
 to effect. Thus Mrs. Seaton reasoned : and felt that it \vas 
 her duty as well as her pleasure to accept the Prime Min- 
 ister's offer, and so to save her husband from himself. 
 
 Of course there was the bare possibility that Paul might 
 be right and she wrong with regard to what was best for 
 the country: but that possibility seemed so very remote that 
 she speedily dismissed it from the line of argument. 
 
 But, on the other hand, there was Paul himself, with his 
 own hopes and desires and wishes. What right had she to 
 frustrate these hopes, even if she believed them to be delu- 
 sive : what right to disappoint those wishes, even though they 
 might be opposed to hers? There was no doubt that his 
 political position was strengthening every day. A year or 
 two ago the possibility of his having a place in the Cabinet 
 was frequently hinted at: now the possibility of a Liberal 
 Cabinet being reconstructed without him never occurred to 
 anybody. And even if her foreboding came true, and his 
 reign was doomed to a swift and suicidal ending, he would 
 still have been a Cabinet Minister and that is something 
 in a man's life; in fact the only thing, except herself, that 
 Paul had ever set his whole heart upon. And had she any 
 right to stand between him and the realisation of his life's 
 ambition any right to stand between him and the fulfil- 
 ment of his heart's desire? 
 
 She knew that he would at once accept the Colonial 
 appointment if it were offered to him: she had no doubts 
 upon that score. Had she not once said that she wished for 
 it and were not her wishes always paramount with him? 
 She was well aware that unselfishness was one of the strong- 
 
 [282]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 est elements in her husband's character; and that he carried 
 it to such a pitch where she was concerned that her happi- 
 ness was really and truly his that his could not exist apart 
 from hers. But how far was she justified in taking advan- 
 tage of this deep and passionate and selfless affection, even 
 if she believed that she was acting for his good as well as 
 for her own? The very plenitude of her power made her 
 pause before exercising it. 
 
 All these thoughts raced through her mind as she stood 
 looking out upon the trees in the garden, and Lord Wrex- 
 ham studied the pages of the Westminster Gazette, 
 
 Then suddenly there came into her head a conversation 
 she had once had with poor Gabriel Carr about the sanctity 
 of marriage; and stray phrases from the marriage-service 
 rang in her ears. "Wilt thou obey and serve him?" did 
 that mean, " Wilt thou so order his life that he shall have 
 no voice in the matter? " " That this woman may be lov- 
 ing and amiable, faithful and obedient " : did this mean, 
 " May she have such a strong will of her own that her hus- 
 band, for the sake of peace, will always give in to her?" 
 " For the husband is the head of the wife " : did that con- 
 vey the idea that it was hers to command and his to submit; 
 hers to express a wish and his to carry it out? " Ye wives, 
 be in subjection to your own husbands": was this an 
 apostolic rendering of the modern notion that it is a woman's 
 right to take her own way independently of the man she has 
 married, and to live her own life utterly regardless of him? 
 
 And as these thoughts rapidly chased each other through 
 her active brain, Isabel knew for a certainty that she would 
 reject Wrexham's offer. It was the only course open to 
 her, as long as she regarded her marriage as a sacrament, 
 and her husband as her lord and master divinely appointed : 
 
 [283]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 there was no alternative. " Subjection " might mean all 
 sorts of things; but it could not possibly mean having one's 
 own way at all costs and in- defiance of all authority: if she 
 attempted to prove that it did, not a dictionary in England 
 would support her. As she herself had said, she could make 
 up her mind as well in a few minutes as in a few days: and 
 she had made it up. 
 
 " It's no good, Wrexham," she said, as she came back into 
 the front drawing-room : " I can't accept : it was nice of you 
 to think of me, but the thing is impossible ! " 
 
 " Just as you please." Lord Wrexham's manner was as 
 ponderously polite as ever; it was impossible to tell from 
 the expression of his face whether he approved or disap- 
 proved of Mrs. Seaton's decision. 
 
 "I can't put my interests before Paul's in that way: it 
 would be too horrid of me! " 
 
 " I thought you said they were identical." Lord Wrex- 
 ham always experienced an indulgent pleasure when he 
 convicted Isabel of inaccuracy. 
 
 Isabel drew herself up : "I said that our happiness was 
 identical. If you do quote, you should always be careful to 
 verify your quotations especially if you use them to point 
 morals or to adorn tales." 
 
 Wrexham took his snubbing quite meekly: he thought 
 that he had deserved it. But he did not think that Paul 
 Seaton had deserved the happiness which was identical with 
 Isabel's; and he never would think so, however long he 
 might be Prime Minister of England. 
 
 A few nights after this, when Paul and Isabel were sitting 
 together after dinner, preparatory to Paul's going back to 
 the House, Isabel said : " What's the matter, Paul ? You've 
 been so quiet all through dinner, that I feel sure something 
 
 [284]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 must be the matter with you : but I didn't like to ask before 
 the servants if it was an ill-digested foreign policy or merely 
 an ill-digested meal. Has anything vexed you really?" 
 
 " Well, darling, it has and it hasn't." 
 
 "What a statesmanlike answer! Go on." 
 
 " Well, my own, if you want to know the truth, it is 
 this. You remember once saying to me that you should like 
 me to be appointed Governor of Tasmania in Gravesend's 
 place if he resigned, don't you? " 
 
 Isabel remembered only too well, and intimated as much, 
 as she came and sat on the arm of her husband's chair while 
 he enjoyed his post-prandial cigar. 
 
 " Well, then," continued Paul, " I was wrong in imagin- 
 ing that Wrexham might offer it to me : that's all. Graves- 
 end has resigned, and Wrexham has given the place to Lord 
 Bobby Thistletown." 
 
 "And you are disappointed? Oh, Paul!" There was 
 positive anguish in Isabel's voice: surely her great renuncia- 
 tion had not been in vain after all. 
 
 " Only on your account, my sweet. I thought you wanted 
 it." And Paul's arm stole lovingly around his wife's waist. 
 
 "And didn't you want it yourself?" There was still 
 anxiety in Isabel's blue eyes. 
 
 "I? for myself? Good gracious, no! But I want 
 everything that you want, sweetheart, as I can only find my 
 happiness in yours. You know that well enough." 
 
 " But you wouldn't have wanted it if you hadn't thought 
 I did ? You are quite sure of that ? " Isabel persisted. 
 
 " Good heavens, no ! How could I ? It would have been 
 the final shelving of me and the end of my political career. 
 But all the same I should have taken it if Wrexham had 
 given me the chance, because I thought it would please you." 
 
 [285]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Isabel laid her cheek tenderly against the top of Paul's 
 head. " Then that would have been very wrong, dearest ; 
 very wrong, indeed! Your wishes ought to regulate our 
 lives not mine." 
 
 " Yours will, however, as long as I am master in my own 
 house. I can tell you that." 
 
 " Well, they oughtn't to." 
 
 " Well, they will." 
 
 " I don't think that that is the proper way of bringing a 
 wife into subjection to her own husband." 
 
 Paul laughed. " Subjection be hanged! Your happiness 
 is my first object, and always will be. It makes me far hap- 
 pier to see you happy than to be happy myself, if you will 
 excuse the bull. In fact, I can only be happy through you: 
 so that it is really the height of selfishness on my part to do 
 the things that give you pleasure." 
 
 Isabel nestled up to him. " You are quite the nicest hus- 
 band that was ever invented," she whispered. " It was a 
 happy find of mine when I chanced upon you! " 
 
 " Not so lucky as mine, by a long way," answered Paul, 
 kissing her. " But about this Tasmanian business? Are 
 you disappointed, my darling? Because if you are, I shall 
 never forgive Wrexham as long as I live for not shelv- 
 ing me." 
 
 " No; I'm not a bit disappointed, Paul. I've changed my 
 mind since that time I talked to you about Lord Gravesend. 
 I'd much rather see you a Cabinet Minister than a Colonial 
 Governor." 
 
 " I'd much rather see myself one, I can tell you that," 
 replied Paul with a huge sigh of relief. It was such a 
 comfort to him to find that Isabel had not cared about that 
 Tasmanian appointment after all ! " But what about your- 
 
 [286]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 self, my sweet? I thought you had set your heart upon 
 being an Excellency?" 
 
 " So I had, but I've changed my heart I mean my mind : 
 and now I'd far rather be a Cabinet Ministering-angel than 
 a Colonial Governess, if these are the proper terms for the 
 wives for those offices." 
 
 " Well, I'm very glad to hear it," said Paul, kissing her 
 again: "exceedingly glad, I can tell you! For much as I 
 should like to be in the Cabinet, it would be no pleasure to 
 me if it didn't please you as well." 
 
 " But you really would enjoy it for yourself, wouldn't 
 you?" 
 
 " Rather! My only fear is that I am not a big enough 
 man for the place." 
 
 " Oh! you are big enough for that," replied Isabel, coolly: 
 " you are what I should call ' ordinary Cabinet size.' " 
 
 " But it would please you, too, wouldn't it, my darling? " 
 Paul persisted. 
 
 " It would ; it would please me most tremendously," an- 
 swered Isabel. And as she thrilled at the touch of her hus- 
 band's arm round her, she knew that she was speaking the 
 truth. 
 
 After Paul had gone back to the House, she went up into 
 the drawing-room and stood with her elbows on the mantel- 
 piece, looking thoughtfully down upon the mass of flowers 
 which filled the unused fireplace. " I have, done the right 
 thing," she said to herself: "there's no shadow of doubt 
 whatever upon that score. The poor darling would simply 
 have jumped at that silly Governorship, if Wrexham had 
 offered it to him, just to please me : and it would have spoilt 
 the rest of his life for him, poor dear. It was my turn to 
 give way this time and never to let him know that I had 
 [ 287 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 done so : it would be all spoilt if he were to find out that I 
 had given it up for his sake, so he never must. I really 
 think that I am on all fours with S. Peter as to the meaning 
 of the word ' subjection ' : this was the sort of thing he had 
 in his mind at the time this or its Roman and Jewish equiv- 
 alent. But nevertheless," she added, with a sigh, as she 
 glanced at herself in the mirror of the overmantel, " I should 
 dearly have loved to be an Excellency! It is, after all, the 
 only really graceful way of growing old." 
 
 [288]
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 CAPTAIN GAYTHORNE'S HORSEWHIP 
 
 CAPTAIN GAYTHORNE was intensely unhappy: there could 
 be no two opinions as to that : and his misery was beginning 
 to show itself in his countenance and bearing. His ruddy 
 complexion was fast losing its claim to that epithet; and his 
 round face was growing pinched and haggard. 
 
 His mother did not notice his depressed spirits and 
 changed appearance. She was just then so fully occupied 
 with a scheme for sending out the " Sunday at Home " of 
 yesteryear to the inhabitants of the South Sea Islands that 
 she had no time nor attention to spare for domestic and 
 family matters. Moreover, Mrs. Gaythorne had a great deal 
 of the masculine element in her cast of mind notably that 
 power, usually the prerogative of the stronger sex, of steadily 
 refusing to see a thing at all for a long time, and then as 
 persistently declining to see anything else. The natural and 
 normal man either believes that his nearest and dearest are 
 as Behemoth in their strength; or else he beholds the very 
 jaws of Death gaping to receive them: he knows no middle 
 course for the treading of the feet he loves, between the 
 path of the young hart upon the mountains and the Via 
 Dolor osa that leads direct to the grave. And in this respect 
 Mrs. Gaythorne was one with the normal man. 
 
 Fabia saw what was wrong with her husband; but she 
 hardened her heart and did not care. She was in a chronic 
 
 [289]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 state of irritation against him ; and there is nothing so hard- 
 ening to the heart as irritability. To use a horrible and 
 popular expression of the present day, Charlie " got on her 
 nerves"; and a woman who is capable of allowing things 
 to " get on her nerves " is capable of anything. 
 
 Our grandmothers bless their memory! did not allow 
 things to get on their nerves either their husbands or things 
 of less importance. They knew the devil when they met 
 him ; and therefore did not confuse ill-temper with ill-health, 
 nor call by the euphonious name of " nerves " the ungov- 
 erned passions of their own sinful hearts. It is one of the 
 devil's latest and most successful disguises, that of the irre- 
 sponsible and neurotic invalid: the pose termed "neuras- 
 thenia " has completely thrown into the shade his old 
 make-up of the angel of light; as it not only deceives the 
 victims of the performance, but takes in equally the per- 
 formers themselves. 
 
 And there was something if not much to be said on 
 Fabia's side. Charlie simply adored his wife; but he did 
 not take the trouble to understand her. A not uncommon 
 mistake among those who like the Apostle Peter are 
 themselves married men! Charlie had cut-and-dried rules 
 as to what women liked and what women did not like; 
 and he regulated his behaviour towards each and every mem- 
 ber of the sex accordingly. He had a deeply-rooted convic- 
 tion implanted by his father and cultivated by his mother's 
 fostering care that the more a man permitted a woman to 
 trample upon him, the better that woman was pleased: and 
 therefore he persistently made himself into a door-mat under 
 Fabia's feet without pausing to consider whether this was 
 the conjugal attitude most likely to suit her particular 
 requirements. Charlie's rule of conduct was to do and to 
 
 [290]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 say everything that he thought would please his wife: so 
 far so good: but he made the initial mistake of omitting to 
 discover in the first place exactly what would please her. 
 In which error again he did not stand alone. If he had 
 worshipped Fabia less and understood her more, things 
 would have been better for both of them, and all this misery 
 might have been averted. But a firm conviction is hard to 
 uproot especially if it be implanted in the mind of a man, 
 and most especially if it happen to be an incorrect one. 
 There is an innate loyalty in the masculine nature which 
 makes it cling to wrong impressions as it would cling to lost 
 causes: it seems somehow rather shabby to throw them over 
 simply because they happen to be unfounded. This trait 
 which is not without its excellencies is a survival of me- 
 diaeval chivalry, and accounts for much that is otherwise 
 difficult to understand in the sons of men. 
 
 Therefore if Charlie were miserable, Fabia was miserable 
 also: and let conventional moralists say what they will 
 there are few things more selfish than misery. It is the 
 happy people who are the kind and unselfish people; and it 
 is quite right that they should be so. It is not when our own 
 pockets are empty that we see to the replenishing of our 
 neighbours': it is not when our own teeth are aching that 
 we accompany a friend to the dentist's. With regard to 
 suffering although not with regard to sin we have neither 
 the time nor the inclination to remove the mote from our 
 brother's eye, until the operation for the beam has been suc- 
 cessfully performed upon our own. 
 
 Fabia Gaythorne was bored to extinction: the dulness of 
 her life was well-nigh killing her: and the truth that, hav- 
 ing chosen her own lot, she was in duty bound to make the 
 best of it, in no way affected the fact that she neither made 
 
 [291 ]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 the best of It nor even attempted to do so. Life without love 
 is far too dull for the majority of women: so as a rule 
 with their usual power of adaptation failing the real 
 article, they invent a substitute: which is often as difficult 
 to distinguish from the real thing as is Elkington's Best- 
 Electro from solid silver: the hall-mark being in cypher and 
 known only to the gods. Mortals are only able to differen- 
 tiate between the two when the electro begins to wear off: 
 and that rarely happens until it is too late to change the 
 plated goods. 
 
 Of course ennui is no excuse for wrong-doing: but it is 
 often a reason for it. It is the idle hearts, as well as the 
 idle hands, that are supplied with occupation by Satan. 
 
 The one person who saw Charlie Gaythorne's misery and 
 was made wretched by it was Isabel Seaton. How she 
 wished she had never invited Fabia to England at all ! And 
 how she wished she had left a few stones unturned in her 
 efforts to bring about a match between Fabia and Captain 
 Gaythorne! If wishes were horses, Isabel would have had 
 a fine stud : but, as it was, they were now absolutely useless. 
 Charlie had married Fabia, and Fabia was breaking his 
 heart ; and unless Isabel were much mistaken Fabia would 
 soon break up his home also. Isabel was not the sort of 
 woman to believe in platonic friendships, unless she hap- 
 pened to have any special reason for professing that article 
 of faith: she was too fond of admiration: but she knew 
 that if such friendships did exist, the contracting parties were 
 rarely if ever newly and unhappily married women and 
 their recently rejected lovers. Of course there was the case 
 of herself and Wrexham to prove the contrary : but she was 
 nearly forty and Wrexham fifty-nine; while Ram Chandar 
 was in the prime of life, and Fabia only twenty-three. Time 
 
 [292]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 not only heals many sorrows ; it also obviates many dangers. 
 Then, again, Lord Wrexham was an Englishman and a 
 gentleman, and Dr. Mukharji was neither the one nor the 
 other, as his treatment of Isabel's appeal to him had proved : 
 moreover, Isabel was passionately in love with her own hus- 
 band, while Fabia utterly despised hers: therefore the inti- 
 macy between Fabia and her cousin was not to be classed in 
 the same category as the friendship between Isabel and Lord 
 Wrexham; and as Mrs. Seaton contemplated what the end 
 of the mad folly on the part of Fabia would probably be, 
 her heart was very heavy indeed. 
 
 The visit to Paris had done no permanent good. The 
 relief it afforded had only been temporary. As soon as 
 Fabia returned to London her visits to the rooms in Mount 
 Street became as constant and as prolonged as ever. In vain 
 her husband besought her to go back with him to Gaythorne ; 
 in vain he suggested another trip abroad. Fabia was as 
 immovable in her decision to remain in London as she had 
 been in her decision to return to it from Paris. 
 
 Charlie felt that he could not speak to her about what was 
 filling his thoughts : nothing would induce him to do such a 
 thing. His chivalrous nature revolted at the bare idea of 
 suggesting to his wife that her relations with another man 
 were too intimate: all that he could do was to have it out 
 with the other man himself. Therefore the only course 
 open to him was to go direct to Dr. Mukharji's rooms and 
 tell the popular charlatan what he thought of him. And 
 the instrument which appeared most to lend itself to the 
 appropriate and adequate expression of this opinion was a 
 good old English horsewhip. 
 
 There were many reasons why the horsewhipping of Dr. 
 Mukharji appealed strongly to the taste of Captain Gay- 
 
 [293]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 thorne. In the first place, Charlie hated the Hindoo because 
 the latter had once wanted to marry Fabia: and no man 
 really likes the other men who have wished to marry his 
 wife. In the second place, Charlie was far too normal and 
 healthy-minded an Englishman to entertain anything but 
 disgust and contempt for any juggling with the supernatural: 
 he disapproved of everything of the nature of occultism, 
 spiritualism, or prying into the future, classing them all 
 together in his own pellucid mind under the generic term of 
 "rot." And, thirdly, Charlie loathed Dr. Mukharji, be- 
 cause he held the latter entirely responsible for the present 
 state of affairs. Fabia was young and inexperienced ; but 
 as he argued, and argued with some reason Mukharji (or, 
 as he called him, " that confounded nigger ") was old enough 
 to understand the irreparable mischief he was causing by 
 allowing scandal to associate his name with that of his beau- 
 tiful cousin. Thus Charlie hated Ram Chandar with a 
 three-fold cord of hate, and decided to deal with his enemy 
 as it pleased him. 
 
 Fabia and her husband were sitting together at breakfast 
 one morning, close upon the end of the season. It was 
 always Fabia's habit to rise early: she had learnt it in 
 India: and the English custom of getting up late never 
 appealed to her. Neither did she enjoy having her break- 
 fast in her own room, with nobody to talk to save her old 
 ayah, Saidie, who now fulfilled the part of maid to her. She 
 liked life and society; she hated solitude and dulness: and 
 although she found Charlie dull enough, still even he was 
 better than the ayah, who never did anything but echo all 
 that her mistress chose to say. Charlie did not do very much 
 more, it must be confessed: but Mrs. Gaythorne did that 
 dear woman never erred on the side of being too subservient 
 
 [294]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 to anybody. On this particular day, however, the cries of 
 the South Sea Islanders for disused " Sunday at Homes " 
 had apparently become so importunate that Mrs. Gaythorne 
 had risen while it was yet night to attend a breakfast-meet- 
 ing which had been organised in order to satisfy the spiritual 
 hunger of the heathen abroad and the more physical necessi- 
 ties of their Committee at home. 
 
 " How are you going to amuse yourself today, my pet? " 
 Charlie asked. He felt a horrible suspicion that his wife 
 was going to see her cousin, but hoped against hope that 
 she was not. 
 
 Fabia sighed wearily. " How am I going to amuse 
 myself? Not at all. I may try various means for the secur- 
 ing of that end, but it is a foregone conclusion that they will 
 none of them prove successful." 
 
 Charlie's kindly face at once assumed an expression of 
 sympathy. He pitied Fabia profoundly for having married 
 a fool, but he did not see how the evil was to be cured. 
 " Poor old girl ! I wish to goodness that I could hit upon 
 something to amuse you." 
 
 " I wish to goodness or even to badness that you 
 could!" 
 
 " You don't seem to feel any interest in the sort of things 
 that I talk about." Poor Charlie's voice was very wistful. 
 
 Fabia raised her delicately-pencilled eyebrows. " Does 
 anybody? " 
 
 It was extremely rude of her, but Charlie was very 
 patient: too patient for the type of woman with whom he 
 had to deal. " I wish I could talk about things that you 
 are interested in, Fabia, dear." 
 
 "I wish that you could: it would make a considerable 
 difference to me." 
 
 [295]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 "But other people can. I'm not the only person in the 
 world." 
 
 " Fortunately not." 
 
 Even then the worm did not turn. " Now, there's Isabel 
 Seaton, don't you know? A rattling good sort of woman! 
 Surely she is interesting enough for anybody: I never knew 
 such a woman in my life for talking about thoughts and 
 feelings and rot of that kind, and all the sorts of things that 
 women go on about for hours and hours together. You 
 ought to like talking to her, old girl ! " 
 
 " When she talks rot? Thank you." 
 
 The gentle Charles hastened to eat his words. " By 
 Jove ! I didn't mean that. When I say ' rot ' I don't mean 
 * rot ' : I only mean that women like talking about a lot 
 of highfalutin' and sentiment, that men poor brutes! 
 are much too great asses to understand. And if you're on 
 the highfalutin', sentimental w y arpath, Mrs. Paul Seaton's 
 your man." 
 
 " Still it is possible that an undiluted and age-long tete-a- 
 tete with Isabel might pall in time especially upon another 
 woman." 
 
 " Perhaps it might : though hardly upon another man, if 
 that man happened to be Seaton. I never saw a beggar so 
 cracked on his wife in my life: and after being married all 
 this time, too ! He isn't like a husband ; he's more like a 
 fellow that only meets his best girl once in a way, and has 
 to make the most of it. He never looks at anybody else 
 when she's in the room, and he is always straining his ears 
 to hear what she is saying." And Charlie laughed aloud 
 at the memory of Paul's infatuation. There is always so 
 much more humour in a thing done by someone else than in 
 the very same thing done by ourselves. Our mere perform- 
 
 [2 9 6]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 ance of an act at once robs that act of humour and clothes 
 it with dignity in our own eyes. 
 
 " I thought you approved of that sort of thing," said 
 Fabia, coldly. " You once told me that your father laid 
 great stress upon the sanctity of marriage." 
 
 " So he did, by Jove, so he did! He was a tremendous 
 stickler for it. I should think he did lay stress on it ! Just 
 a few rather! " 
 
 " Then why laugh at Mr. Seaton for practising what the 
 late Mr. Gaythorne preached ? " 
 
 " I am not laughing at him ! I admire the fellow for it 
 most tremendously, I can tell you! But somehow it seems 
 a bit rummy for an old fellow of that age to be so deuced 
 spoony, don't you know? Why, if he's a day, he must be 
 forty: and though the fair Isabel is a duck, she's no chicken!" 
 And Charlie laughed again, in the insolence of youth, at his 
 own wit and the Seatons' folly. 
 
 Fabia smiled too. It struck her as so distinctly comic 
 for her husband to be laughing at the Seatons and good- 
 humouredly tolerating them. " Then I gather that your 
 late father would have commended the admirable Seaton." 
 
 " Great Scott, yes: just a little! I commend him myself. 
 He's not a bad sort, good old Paul ! But as for my father, 
 you should just have heard him on the subject of how hus- 
 bands ought to obey and reverence their wives. And so they 
 ought. They're told to in the Bible, or something on the 
 same lines, don't you know? I'm a poor hand at quotations, 
 but I fancy that's the idea." 
 
 " It is a good thing that Mrs. Gaythorne is not present, 
 or she would make you look it up in the Commentary after 
 breakfast." 
 
 " By Jove, so she would ! The dear old mater never can 
 
 [297]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 bear me to be shaky about the hang of a text: she likes it 
 all cut and dried, and committed to memory. I remember 
 once, when I was a little chap, there was a harvest-thanks- 
 giving at a Methodist chapel the place where she went to 
 when old Cattley made such an ass of himself over that 
 Psalm business and what should catch her eye the minute 
 she got up from that face-in-the-hat affair at the beginning 
 but a cross worked on the beam-end of the pulpit in white 
 chrysanthemums, or Michaelmas-daisies, or some other 
 flower of that persuasion, don't you know?" 
 
 Fabia knew only too well so well that she felt it would 
 asphyxiate her to know it any better: so she rose from the 
 finished meal and the unfinished story, and left the room, 
 saying as she went, " You'd better put ' To be continued,' 
 and finish the tale some other time. Serial publication is the 
 only form possible for stories of such length as that one." 
 
 Charlie sat quite still after she had gone: for a few min- 
 utes he was too completely crushed to move. Then other 
 thoughts roused him. " I wonder if she's off to that 
 d d scoundrel ! " he said to himself. " I expect he's come 
 round her with his devilish hypnotism or some vile humbug 
 of that sort, and the poor girl can't resist him. By Jove, 
 if I was sure of that, I'd blow his brains out! " Then a 
 sudden idea struck him. "Great Scott! I'll go straight to 
 the brute's place now and see what the skunk is up to; and 
 if I find Fabia there ! " Anyone who had seen Char- 
 lie's face then would hardly have recognised the usually 
 good-tempered Captain Gaythorne. 
 
 It was not long before Charlie put his threat into execu- 
 tion, and jumped into a hansom, taking with him a brand- 
 new riding-whip which he had only bought a few days ago. 
 But quick as he had been, somebody else had been quicker; 
 
 [298]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 he dismissed his cab at the end of Mount Street and walked 
 the rest of the way. Another hansom overtook him: but as 
 it was going the same way as he was, he did not see the occu- 
 pant until it pulled up a few paces in front of him at the door 
 of the house in which were Dr. Mukharji's rooms: and out 
 of that hansom stepped Fabia. 
 
 This was enough, but it was not all. 
 
 She did not stop to ring the bell: she was too much at 
 home for that: she opened the door by means of a latchkey 
 and went straight in, shutting the front-door behind her, and 
 leaving her husband whom she had not seen standing 
 stupefied on the pavement. 
 
 Then Charlie saw red. 
 
 His wife to possess the latchkey of another man's house 
 so that she could go in and out undetected ! The mere idea 
 of such a thing was insufferable, and drove him to absolute 
 frenzy! It proved an intimacy between Fabia and the occu- 
 pant of that house far greater than Charlie had ever insulted 
 his wife by supposing possible. If she had a latchkey to her 
 cousin's rooms! Well, the scandalmongers were not so 
 far out, after all ! 
 
 Charlie was obliged to walk a little way up the street 
 and back again in order to steady himself. He knew that if 
 he rushed straight into Dr. Mukharji's presence he should 
 kill the man then and there; and for Fabia's sake he did not 
 wish that murder should be done. But after a turn or two 
 in the open air his frenzy of rage subsided sufficiently to 
 allow him to present himself, as any ordinary English gentle- 
 man, at the fortune-teller's door, and to ask in a fairly nat- 
 ural voice if he could see Dr. Mukharji. He duly sent in 
 his card, so that there might be no mistake: but he took care 
 to follow closely upon it, to prevent the possibility of being 
 
 [299]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 denied admittance: he also kept his whip in his hand, so that 
 there might be no mistake about that either. 
 
 His first impression on seeing his enemy was surprise at 
 the strong family likeness between the occultist and Fabia: 
 Mukharji looked more like her father or elder brother than 
 her distant cousin: and his second was still greater surprise 
 that a man as old as Ram Chandar should obtain so great 
 an influence over a handsome young woman such as Fabia. 
 Youth is always sceptical as to middle-age's pow r er to charm. 
 It struck Charlie as rather a joke that a man of forty should 
 be able to fascinate his own wife : but that a man apparently 
 of about forty-five should be able to fascinate Charlie's wife 
 was considerably more than a joke was altogether an inex- 
 plicable mystery, and a thing to be neither understood nor 
 endured. 
 
 While these thoughts raced through Charlie's brain, the 
 Oriental came slowly forward with outstretched hand and a 
 scornful smile which was the very counterpart of Fabia's. 
 "How do you do, Captain Gaythorne?" he said, in his 
 low, Eastern voice, which was as soft as a woman's : " allow 
 me to welcome my cousin's husband to my humble lodging." 
 
 But Charlie put his right hand behind his back, to where 
 the left one was gently fingering the horsewhip. " I haven't 
 come here for any infernal palaver," he replied, and his face 
 looked as nobody had seen it look except his comrades in 
 action : " I've come to tell you that I won't stand any more 
 of your d d nonsense. There's been about enough of it 
 as it is." 
 
 The Oriental paused a moment in admiration before he 
 answered. How splendid these English people were when 
 they were angry! When he saw the look on Charlie's face 
 he understood why the English, wherever they go, are 
 
 [300]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 the dominant race. Then he began suavely: "Surely 
 Fabia " 
 
 But he was promptly cut short by the infuriated young 
 giant before him. " Mrs. Gaythorne's name does not enter 
 into this present conversation: please remember that." 
 
 '' Then may I inquire to what I owe the honour of this 
 visit ? " The fortune-teller tried to keep up his scornful 
 smile, but he was trembling all over. He had never in all 
 his life seen a man look at him as Charlie was looking. He 
 understood now why the native tribes were in awe of Cap- 
 tain Gaythorne: he was in awe of the man himself. 
 
 " I can soon tell you that. I've come to pay my little 
 account of what I owe you for your infernal hypnotism 
 and treachery and general damnableness. That's what I've 
 come for; and, if you please, I'll settle my little bill at once." 
 And with that Charlie showed him his horsewhip and looked 
 like business : his rage was breaking through its leash again. 
 
 The other shook from head to foot with sheer fear. 
 Charlie saw his enemy's terror and it infuriated him still 
 further. What a coward the hound was ! " Surely you are 
 not going to beat me with that thing," pleaded the trembling 
 occultist. 
 
 Charlie laughed a grim laugh that was not altogether 
 pleasant to hear. " But I am, though. I'm going to thrash 
 you within an inch of your life for bringing your confounded 
 fortune-telling and hypnotism and all the rest of your 
 infernal rot into decent English houses, and among decent 
 Englishmen's wives: and then I'm going to pitch your mis- 
 erable little body out of the window. That's what I'm going 
 to do, and the sooner it's done the better! I've no pity for 
 d d scoundrels such as you ! " 
 
 And as the memory of how this man had come between
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 himself and Fabia rushed on Charlie, it maddened him so 
 that he lost all self-control, and seized his enemy by the 
 throat, meaning to shake him as a dog might have shaken a 
 rat. But before he had time to fulfil his intention, or to 
 bring the raised horsewhip down upon the trembling form 
 that was struggling in his iron grasp, the slender figure col- 
 lapsed altogether and fell in a heap upon the floor, leaving 
 in Charlie's hands a tangled mass of false black hair and 
 beard: and Charlie saw lying at his feet no grovelling 
 Indian juggler, but the unconscious form of his wife, Fabia 
 Gaythorne. 
 
 [302]
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE EFFECT OF THE HORSEWHIP 
 
 DUMBFOUNDERED with amazement and hardly knowing 
 what he did, Charlie shouted for help ; and the veiled attend- 
 ant came rushing into the room with her veil thrown back, 
 thereby disclosing herself to be none other than Fabia's old 
 ayah, Saidie. 
 
 " See to your mistress at once," commanded Charlie. " I 
 believe I've killed her." And the big man trembled now as 
 his wife had trembled a few minutes before. 
 
 " The Memsahib is not dead : she is only fainting," re- 
 plied the ayah, unfastening her mistress's robe and pouring 
 something between the white lips. 
 
 " Are you sure ? " groaned the distracted man, kneeling 
 at her side. 
 
 " Quite sure, Sahib. See, even now the colour returns to 
 Memsahib's lips, and she begins to recover consciousness." 
 
 " Then I must go," said Charlie, rising to his feet. 
 " After what I've done I am not fit that she should ever look 
 at me again. But first tell me, where is the real Dr. 
 Mukharji?" 
 
 " There is no real Dr. Mukharji, Sahib. It has always 
 been a play of Memsahib's." 
 
 " No real Dr. Mukharji? " Charlie could not believe his 
 ears. 
 
 [303]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " No, Sahib. There is Ram Chandar Mukharji out in 
 India, but he has never been in England at all. It has been 
 a play of the Memsahib's because she found the English life 
 so dull." 
 
 Charlie put his hand to his head as if he were dazed. 
 " And I've knocked her down for nothing. It has all been 
 my own infernal folly. What a confounded fool of an ass 
 I've been!" 
 
 The ayah tried to comfort him. Like the rest of his 
 servants, she adored Captain Gaythorne. " See, the Mem- 
 sahib is not really hurt. She is opening her eyes." 
 
 " Then I must be off." And before the dark eyes had 
 time to unclose themselves he was out of the room and out 
 of the house. 
 
 At first he did not know where to go. He fairly reeled 
 with misery. He had assaulted his own wife had ill- 
 treated her so that he had reduced her to unconsciousness; 
 and he felt that the shame of this would kill him. He was 
 a branded man he had disgraced himself and his manhood 
 and he felt he would never lift up his head again. That 
 he had attacked Fabia in ignorance was not of much comfort 
 to him, for it was his own unfounded suspicion of her that 
 had brought him to this pass. If he had never doubted her, 
 this terrible thing would not have happened. The hideous 
 fact remained: he had knocked down a woman, and that 
 woman his own wife the woman whom he had sworn to 
 love and to cherish: and nothing else mattered. He had 
 done the one thing which he could never forgive any man 
 for doing, and he could never forgive himself. He was a 
 blackguard, and a coward, and he deserved to be drummed 
 out of his regiment: there was no palliation of such an 
 offence as his no excuse for such dastardly conduct. 
 
 [304]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Such were poor Charlie's meditations. 
 
 He never attempted to make any excuse for himself: 
 excuses were not in Charlie's way. He had done a shameful 
 thing, and he must abide by the consequences: that was the 
 beginning and the end of it. 
 
 Of course he should never see Fabia again : she would not 
 nor would any woman in like circumstances be able to 
 endure the sight of such a brute as he had proved himself 
 to be. No: she and his mother must continue to reign at 
 Gaythorne, and he must go away and hide himself as best 
 he could. There was no place in decent society for such 
 as he! 
 
 He did not know where to go what to do: and half- 
 unconsciously his steps led him across to Prince's Gardens. 
 People in trouble instinctively turned to Isabel : her common 
 sense and cheerful disposition made her a veritable tower of 
 strength to storm-tossed souls: and Charlie felt that if any- 
 one could help him in this terrible strait it was Isabel 
 Seaton. Naturally he clung to his mother for comfort : but 
 even the filial Charlie could not but see that Isabel was far 
 more of a woman of the world than was Mrs. Gaythorne, 
 and therefore more competent to advise him what to do in a 
 matter of this kind. And therein he was right. 
 
 So he went straight to Isabel and fortunately found her 
 at home ; and he told her the whole story, extenuating noth- 
 ing with regard to his own conduct, nor setting down aught 
 in malice with regard to Fabia's. Isabel was one of the 
 rare women who cannot only talk cleverly, but can also 
 listen cleverly; and therefore she heard Charlie's tale to 
 the end in silence, her expressive face alive with sympathy. 
 One of her many gifts was that she could always put herself 
 in another's place and see a thing from another person's point 
 
 [305]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 of view : it is an attribute never lacking in dramatic tempera- 
 ments, and an attribute which perhaps more than any other 
 enables its possessor to attain to that universal comprehen- 
 sion which involves universal pardon. Therefore she under- 
 stood both Charlie's and Fabia's position in the present crisis, 
 and sympathised with both accordingly. 
 
 When Charlie had finished his recital Isabel did not say 
 much: she knew he had come to talk to her and not to listen : 
 and he then confided to her his intention to banish himself 
 from his beloved home for ever and to leave his insulted and 
 outraged wife to reign there undisturbed in his stead. It 
 was his old mistake: he set himself to do the thing that 
 would best please his wife, without first setting about to 
 discover what that thing was. 
 
 But Isabel did not fall into this error: she was consider- 
 ably older than Charlie, and a woman at that : and she made 
 up her mind that Fabia herself should have a voice in pro- 
 nouncing sentence upon her husband. 
 
 " The only bright spot in the whole ghastly concern is that 
 it is I who have come a cropper, and not Fabia. I'd a 
 million times sooner know myself for the confounded cad 
 I am than that there should be a shadow of reproach against 
 her. She is all right, bless her ! as I might have known from 
 the beginning, if I hadn't let my infernal jealousy make such 
 a besotted ass of me. But I was a suspicious fool, not fit 
 to black her boots, and I deserve all the misery that I shall 
 get." And poor Charlie looked out of the window so that 
 as he imagined Isabel should not see the tears that stood 
 in his honest blue eyes. 
 
 Isabel remembered Browning's lines 
 
 "Would it were I had been false not you; 
 1 that am nothing, not you that are all!" 
 
 [306]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 And she felt that the man in the poem would agree with 
 Captain Gaythorne that in this case the worst had not 
 happened. 
 
 Isabel's voice was very gentle as she said : " Poor boy ! 
 Things have gone crooked, haven't they? Now what can 
 I do to set them straight again ? " She knew perf ectly well 
 what she was going to do: but she thought it much better 
 that the suggestion should come from Charlie himself. Wise 
 women rarely make valuable suggestions: they guide men 
 into making them, and then they carry them out. It is the 
 surest in fact the only way of avoiding masculine opposi- 
 tion. If they are very wise women indeed, they begin with 
 a slight demur: this not only ensures the carrying out of the 
 suggestion on the part of the man concerned it ensures it 
 being carried out with enthusiasm. 
 
 " That's just what I'm coming to," replied Charlie. But 
 he did not come at once : it took him all his time just then 
 to avoid what Wolsey would have called " playing the 
 woman," but what Charlie himself would have described 
 as " making a blooming ass of himself." 
 
 The wily Isabel thought aloud. " I wonder how Fabia 
 is now." 
 
 "That's what I'm coming to," repeated Charlie: and 
 this time he came. " I want you to be so awfully good as 
 to take a hansom at once and run round and just see how 
 she is, and how badly the poor darling is knocked about. I 
 should be so tremendously grateful if you would! And 
 then you can just tell her that she need never see me again, 
 for I'm not fit for it." And once again the big tears hung 
 on Charlie's golden eyelashes. 
 
 " Of course, my dear Charlie, she'll be very angry at first: 
 you can't wonder at that: but I don't believe she will prove 
 
 [307]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 as implacable as you seem to imagine. She'll get over it. 
 You see you didn't mean to knock her down." 
 
 " But I did it. I can't get over that, and she won't 
 either." Simple natures look always at results; complex 
 natures at motives. Therefore Charlie's point of view was 
 diametrically opposed to Isabel's. 
 
 " Well, all I know is that if Paul knocked me down, 
 imagining all the time that I was someone else who wanted 
 knocking down badly, I should get over it." 
 
 " Because you are fond of Seaton ; and Fabia has never 
 been fond of me. It makes all the difference, don't you see, 
 whether you are fond of a fellow or not? There's nothing 
 that a woman won't forgive if she is: and precious little 
 that she will if she isn't." 
 
 Isabel's heart overflowed with pity for the big man 
 looking out of the -window. He seemed such a boy after 
 all, and such an unhappy boy. 
 
 " Well, Charlie," she said cheerfully, getting up from 
 her chair, " ring the bell and tell Perkins to whistle me a 
 hansom, while I go and put on my hat; and I'll run round 
 to Fabia at once and see how she is. And mind if I do 
 this for you you must promise me in return to stay here 
 till I come back." There was a despairing look on the boy- 
 ish face that made Isabel afraid the poor fellow might do 
 something desperate. 
 
 " I promise," he said simply. And she knew that he was 
 incapable of breaking his word. " But tell her," he con- 
 tinued, " that if after what has happened she'd rather I was 
 dead, I'll go abroad and shoot myself where it would never 
 be spotted or found out. She's but to give the word. See ? " 
 
 " I see: and I'll give your message." 
 
 As soon as Isabel had gone and there was no need to keep 
 
 [308]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 up any longer, Charlie sat down on the sofa and sobbed like 
 a child. He cried as he had not cried since his father's 
 death; for there seemed the same upheaval of all known 
 laws the same awful transition of the ordinary and familiar 
 things of life into some dread and horrible nightmare now 
 as then. And now as then poor Charlie felt that he should 
 never be happy again. 
 
 Fabia meanwhile was undergoing a new and strange 
 experience. 
 
 She was not long in recovering from the shock of Char- 
 lie's assault upon her, as he had not had time really to hurt 
 her before she fell unconscious at his feet, and in so doing 
 revealed her identity; but although she was physically none 
 the worse for this unparalleled incident, she was mentally 
 completely changed thereby. 
 
 As she gradually grasped what had happened, and re- 
 enacted the scene in her own mind again and again, her 
 feelings for her husband underwent a total revolution. When 
 she saw him towering above her in his righteous indignation, 
 and literally trembled at his wrath, she realised for the first 
 time that this man was her master: she understood at last 
 that what she had mistaken for the cowardice of a weak 
 man was in reality the patience of a strong one that what 
 she had despised as a sign of vacillating feebleness, was 
 really the outcome of infinite self-control. Her husband 
 had not endured and condoned her insolence and ill-temper 
 because he had not the power to control her: but because he 
 had the power to control himself. 
 
 As with her usual quickness Fabia comprehended how 
 totally she had misunderstood and misinterpreted Charlie's 
 dealings with her, her emotional as well as her mental atti- 
 tude towards him changed. She had scorned the man whom 
 
 [309]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 she believed to be her slave: but her spirit humbled itself in 
 the dust before him whom she recognised as her master. As 
 she had fallen in love with Gabriel when he showed himself 
 morally stronger than she, so now she fell in love with 
 Charlie because he had shown himself physically stronger 
 than she: and she fell in love all the more deeply this time, 
 because she was one of those to whom the material world 
 is ever more present than the spiritual. And Charlie had 
 not only shown himself her superior as regards mere brute 
 force : there had been a look in his eye when he imagined that 
 he was dealing direct with Dr. Mukharji before which a 
 braver man than Ram Chandar would have quailed : much 
 less a highly strung woman such as Fabia. 
 
 Herein she showed her oriental blood and training. An 
 English woman would have resented the outrage to her 
 feminine dignity, even if she did homage to the virile 
 strength which prompted it: but Fabia belonged to a race 
 whose women had long lived in slavery, hugging their 
 chains: and when she recognised her lord and master she 
 fell at his feet and owned his authority, loving him all the 
 more in that he had used her roughly and treated her with 
 contempt. As long as her husband placed the sceptre in her 
 hands, she merely belaboured him with it: but as soon as he 
 took his rightful place and invested himself with the insignia 
 of his own sovereignty, there was no more humble and 
 devoted subject to be found in the whole realm of matrimony 
 than she. 
 
 Her soul had long ago been crying out for its master, and 
 had only so far found its mate: now that at last it had dis- 
 covered its master, it was ready to fold its tired wings in the 
 shelter of his strong arms, and there to make its permanent 
 resting-place.
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 When Isabel arrived at the rooms in Mount Street the 
 ayah ushered her at once into Fabia's presence. The latter 
 was lying on a sofa looking rather pale and shaken, but other- 
 wise none the worse for what had happened. For a second 
 or two Isabel stood looking at her : and then simultaneously 
 the two women burst out laughing. 
 
 " It was a magnificent hoax, Fabia ! " cried Isabel as soon 
 as she could speak : " Simply magnificent! I wouldn't have 
 believed that any woman could have taken in half London 
 so completely! " 
 
 " I think it was cleverly done." 
 
 " Clever? It was marvellous! And do you mean to say 
 that Ram Chandar never came to England at all?" 
 
 " Never. I wanted him to do so, but he refused. And 
 then I thought what fun it would be to personate him and 
 perform some of the tricks which he had taught me. And 
 it was fun ! Glorious fun ! " 
 
 "I can believe it! It must have been simply killing to 
 hear all those women's secrets and give them advice. I 
 should have adored doing it ! " 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " But what made you begin in the first instance? " Isabel 
 asked. 
 
 " Dulness dulness pure and simple. I was so bored that 
 I felt I must do something to amuse myself or else I should 
 go mad and this seemed a fairly harmless and yet absorbing 
 pastime." 
 
 " It was brilliantly contrived and carried out." 
 
 " It was quite simple. Saidie took the rooms for me, and 
 I dressed up in native dress and a false black wig and beard. 
 You see I have sole control of all my own fortune : Charlie 
 always refuses to touch a penny of it, or to know how I
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 spend it: and with plenty of money at one's command, 
 everything is easy." 
 
 The mention of Charlie recalled to Isabel the purport of 
 her errand. " That reminds me I have come to you with a 
 message from Charlie. He is simply wild with anxiety to 
 know how much you are hurt." 
 
 " He need not be. There are some bruises on my throat, 
 but that is all. I am quite right again now; the faintness 
 soon passed off." 
 
 " Fabia, I have come to plead with you for him. He is 
 so mad with horror at having knocked you down that he 
 proposes never to see you again: he thinks he isn't fit: and 
 he is full of a wild scheme of disappearing altogether, 
 and leaving Gaythorne to you and his mother. He even 
 says he will go quietly away and shoot himself if you'd 
 rather he was dead. But, oh Fabia ! won't you forgive 
 him? He did not know what he was doing, and he is so 
 broken-hearted about it." And there were tears in Isabel's 
 eyes. 
 
 Fabia looked puzzled : " Forgive him ? What have I to 
 forgive ? " 
 
 " Forgive him for having knocked you down and hurt 
 you," Isabel explained. " And, after all, as I said to him, 
 he didn't know it was you." 
 
 " What if he had known ? I am his wife." 
 
 It was now Isabel's turn to look puzzled. " I don't see 
 what that has to do with it." 
 
 "Don't you? To me it seems to have everything to do 
 with it. Surely a man has the right to do what he will with 
 his own." 
 
 Isabel gasped. To her Western ideas this was flat heresy 
 indeed: but Fabia, the daughter of a long line of Eastern
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 women, saw the matter in a different light. It was one of 
 her inherited instincts instincts which had come down to 
 her through the purdah and the harem that a husband is 
 a lord and master, and a wife a chattel and a slave: and 
 instinct is ever stronger than reason, especially in elemental 
 natures. " Then do you mean to say that you don't resent 
 his having treated you like that? Oh, Fabia! " 
 
 " Resent it? No; a thousand times no! And more than 
 that," added Fabia, sitting up in her eagerness, a soft light 
 coming into her beautiful eyes, " it has changed my whole 
 life; for it has made me fall in love with Charlie fall in 
 love with my own husband ! " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " Isabel was so interested that she 
 could hardly speak. 
 
 " I mean that at last I see what a fool I have been, and 
 that there isn't and never was any other man in the 
 world but Charlie! Isabel, don't you understand? I used 
 to despise him because he was so meek and so gentle, and 
 always let me have my own way and be as rude to him as 
 I liked: and I believed it was because he was weak and 
 feeble and not a real man. But I was a blind fool ! " The 
 usually deliberate Fabia was now so excited that she could 
 not get out her words fast enough: they tumbled one over 
 the other. " But when he thought I was a man, and a man 
 that he hated, he treated me as he treats other men, and I 
 recognise him for the man he is. Oh, you should have seen 
 him when he said he was going to thrash me ; he looked like 
 a Greek god ! " 
 
 "I never heard such a thing in my life!" Isabel was 
 well-nigh speechless. This oriental attitude of mind was a 
 thing as yet undreamed of in her philosophy. 
 
 Fabia went on : " When I saw him look like that, I loved 
 
 [313]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 him loved him with all my heart and soul and strength. 
 And when he took hold of me, and I felt like a reed in his 
 grasp, I simply worshipped him. I thought he was going 
 to kill me, and that made me adore him all the more. I 
 shouldn't have cared if he had : it would have been a splendid 
 death to be killed by his hand ! " 
 
 Isabel continued to gasp with sheer amazement: this new 
 Fabia was a revelation to her. Mrs. Seaton was Occidental 
 to her finger tips: and the idea of being slain by Paul's hand 
 did not offer the slightest attraction to her. 
 
 " Now I know what he looks like in a battle," continued 
 Fabia; "now I know why his men are afraid of him! He 
 is a splendid hero, and I have been treating him as if he 
 were a stupid child. What a fool what an arrant fool 
 I have been ! " 
 
 By this time it occurred to Isabel that it might be well 
 for the hero to learn the surprising results of his prowess. 
 She judged and judged rightly that he would be if possi- 
 ble more astonished, and certainly more delighted, than she 
 herself. 
 
 " Fabia, I'm going to fetch him," she cried, springing to 
 her feet. 
 
 Fabia caught her dress. " No, no : he will never forgive 
 me. I'm not fit that he should ever speak to me again after 
 the way I have treated him. Why, I used to jeer at him 
 and flout him, and all the while I was not fit to black his 
 boots!" 
 
 Isabel burst out laughing. It was very funny to hear 
 Fabia speaking of Charlie in so much the same terms as he 
 had spoken of her. " Well, as you say you aren't fit to black 
 his boots, and as he has just told me that he isn't fit to 
 black yours, I should advise you both to go in for brown
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 boots in the future, if you want them well cleaned ! " And 
 then she hurried back to the waiting Charlie. 
 
 He started up as she came into the room. " How is she? 
 What did she say? Can she ever forgive me? " His ques- 
 tions followed each other in rapid succession, never waiting 
 for an answer. 
 
 " It's all right," replied Isabel, as if she were speaking to 
 an unhappy child. " There's nothing to worry about." 
 
 "She isn't badly hurt?" 
 
 " She isn't hurt at all. And, oh ! Charlie, the most killing 
 thing has happened. She has fallen in love with you ! " 
 
 Charlie looked dazed. " Fallen in love with me after I've 
 been such a brute to her? What in heaven's name do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 " I mean exactly what I say." And then Isabel told him, 
 as briefly as she could, of the unexpected turn that things 
 had taken. 
 
 As she had anticipated, he was as much astonished as she 
 had been; in fact this good news following so closely on 
 his recent despair was almost too much for him. But he 
 quickly pulled himself together like the man he was. 
 
 " By Jove! this beats cockfighting ! " was all that he could 
 say at first: and he said it several times. Then, as the 
 effects of the shock gradually subsided, he announced his 
 intention I of going with all possible speed to his newly- 
 reconciled wife. 
 
 " Go at once," replied Isabel, who was nothing if not 
 practical : " I kept my hansom, as I knew you'd want one 
 in a hurry." 
 
 "Mrs. Seaton, you're a brick!" cried Charlie, grasping 
 her hand till the rings cut into her fingers, and almost made 
 her scream.
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " But look here, Charlie," she added, laying her uninjured 
 hand upon his arm, " don't go and make the old mistake 
 over again. You have won Fabia's love by showing her 
 that you are her master; now don't go and throw it away 
 again by behaving like her slave ! " 
 
 "But I can't behave like a brute to the poor darling! " 
 
 " Yes, you can : like a nice brute. The long and short of 
 it is, Charlie, that you've been much too meek: women 
 don't like meekness especially Eastern women: they spell 
 it with a ' w ' and despise it. Remember the husband is the 
 head of the wife, and must behave himself accordingly." 
 
 " Is he? " Charlie looked doubtful. 
 
 " So the Bible tells us." 
 
 " Does it, by Jove ? Well, there's no getting round the 
 Bible, is there?" 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " I've always had a sort of notion that it was the other 
 way on that the wife was the head of the husband and all 
 that kind of thing, don't you know? But I suppose I was 
 up a wrong street." 
 
 "You were: an absolutely wrong one," replied Isabel 
 firmly. But considering that his own mother had been the 
 living epistle known and read of Charlie, she felt that she 
 could not altogether blame him for this misinterpretation of 
 revealed truth. 
 
 " Well, I'll try and get the right hang of the thing this 
 time," cried Charlie, as he escaped from Isabel and jumped 
 into the cab. 
 
 Both he and Fabia were sorely exercised as to what they 
 should first say to each other : they composed reams of pretty 
 confessions which never saw the light. But when the 
 moment came they said nothing at all, but just flew into
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 each other's arms, and blotted out all their past misunder- 
 standings and misery with kisses. As a patent past-eraser 
 there is nothing equal to a kiss: it will remove every stain, 
 and make things generally as good as new. Some people 
 endeavour to erase things by means of explanations: but 
 these are not a success: they nearly always leave a larger 
 mark than the original one, as benzene often does. But 
 kisses rarely if ever fail: they clear away everything, pro- 
 vided, of course, that the genuine article is used, and not a 
 counterfeit. And the genuine article comes straight from 
 the heart.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 A SECOND GABRIEL 
 
 JUST at first Charlie was tempted to fall into his old mis- 
 take of making himself into a door-mat for Fabia to walk 
 upon, and thus once more upsetting the apple-cart which 
 had so recently regained its equilibrium: but, supported by 
 Isabel's constant encouragement, he nobly struggled against 
 the old man that was in him, and bravely endeavoured to 
 put on the new man of whom he himself so heartily disap- 
 proved. And his efforts were amply rewarded by his wife's 
 increasing devotion to him. As she said one day to Isabel, 
 " When he looks particularly adoring, with that old dog- 
 like expression of abject devotion, I just shut my eyes, and 
 see his face as it appeared that day in Mount Street: and 
 then I worship him more than ever." 
 
 She kept the riding-whip as a sacred treasure, and fondled 
 it at intervals: the humour of which arrangement strongly 
 appealed to Mrs. Sea ton. 
 
 " I think it is perfectly fascinating of you to cherish a 
 horsewhip as a relic," she remarked : " it is so much more 
 original than flowers and letters and ordinary rubbishy 
 things of that kind. I've got hidden away somewhere 
 goodness knows where! a spray of roses and maiden-hair 
 that Paul once gave me before we were engaged: and now 
 the roses look like scraps of worn-out boot-leather, and the 
 
 [318]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 fern like dried essence of mint-sauce. But a relic like a 
 horsewhip never grows old ! It will be as fresh a hundred 
 years hence as it is today and as full of meaning." 
 
 Fabia laughed. " Yes : the meaning is fairly obvious." 
 
 " That's one of the beauties of it. Flowers want such a 
 lot of letter-press to explain their special fragrance. Ben 
 Jonson had to write a whole song to expound to the uniniti- 
 ated that his rosy wreath smelt ' not of itself but thee ' : and 
 my aforesaid rosy wreath smells neither of myself nor of 
 Paul, but of decayed vegetation. But a horsewhip requires 
 no explanation: it smells of leather and speaks for itself: 
 and he who runs may read, as may also he who runs away." 
 
 " You would not have liked a whip as a relic, Isabel : you 
 know you would not. It would be to you a symbol of all 
 that you most disliked in your husband." 
 
 Isabel sighed. " Perhaps not; but I wish I'd something 
 more interesting to treasure up than dried herbage: and I 
 don't even know where that is! It is so fearfully common- 
 place to express love by means of roses, and so original to 
 express it by means of a horsewhip ! " 
 
 " Not so original among the lower classes, I fancy." 
 
 " Perhaps not. But the whole heart of the great middle- 
 class offers itself to its respective young women by the token 
 of roses and maiden-hair: and it is the love of the great 
 middle-class that is so respectable and so dull ! " 
 
 " But, my dear Isabel, I thought that you prided yourself 
 upon belonging to the great middle-class; and upon being 
 absolutely normal and commonplace." There was a mis- 
 chievous gleam in Fabia's eyes as she spoke. 
 
 " Oh! I forgot: so I do. I'm glad you remind me of it. 
 To tell the truth it is one of my favourite poses." It was 
 one of Isabel's many virtues that she was always ready to
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 laugh at herself. " Now I come to think of it, I'm very 
 pleased that the romance of my life is embalmed in the 
 absolutely ordinary and normal form of a spray of roses 
 and maiden-hair: and I shall set about finding it at once, 
 and treasuring it accordingly; though I can't for the life 
 of me remember where I've put it." 
 
 Fabia was right: the submission which was delightful to 
 her was difficult to Isabel. The Eastern nature loved to 
 submit: the Western nature found it hard to do so. Yet 
 both did it in the spirit, if Isabel sometimes failed in the 
 letter: and each in her own way fulfilled the apostolic 
 injunction. 
 
 And now Fabia no longer grumbled at the length of 
 Charlie's anecdotes : on the contrary, she listened from begin- 
 ning to end, laughing and applauding at the right moments, 
 as a good wife should. Even in the story of Mrs. Gay- 
 thorne and the harvest-thanksgiving she murmured responses 
 of the correct sort at the correct places, never omitting one. 
 It is always amusing, as well as profitable, to see a wifely 
 wife listening to her husband's stock anecdotes: the recital 
 becomes a sort of litany, wherein he takes the part of the 
 parson and she that of the parish clerk. He pauses for her 
 responses, and she utters them almost before he has time to 
 pause, and thus gives the lead to the rest of the congregation. 
 She is not enthusiastic not too much surprised or too much 
 amused: that she leaves for those of the audience (if there 
 be any such) who have never heard the tale before. She 
 does not laugh herself; she merely shows others when to 
 laugh. In short, she uses a mental tuning-fork, and starts 
 the tune for others to sing: and she generally affords the 
 same official support to the reciter of the anecdote as the 
 clerk affords to his parish priest. 
 
 [320]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 At the end of July the Gaythornes duly migrated to their 
 country house; and there found Mrs. Carr and her daugh- 
 ter-in-law pursuing the even tenor of their way uncheered 
 by any news of Gabriel. It seemed indeed as if the lost 
 Rector were blotted out of existence; and as if that passing 
 glimpse in the Parisian theatre were the last that would 
 ever be seen of him by those who had known him in his 
 former state of existence. 
 
 Janet was very calm, very resigned ; and her love for her 
 husband stood the test of time and absence, remaining as 
 firm and devoted as ever. She carried the art of perfect 
 wifehood to a point not attained by Fabia or by Isabel. 
 They loved and honoured and obeyed men who would only 
 be obeyed in spite of themselves ; men who freely and chival- 
 rously offered the submission and devotion which they had 
 the right to demand: men who in spite of (or, rather, per- 
 haps on account of) their divine right of kingship, always 
 rendered to the consort the special honour and the higher 
 place. The theory of wifely submission might be naturally 
 acceptable to Fabia and naturally unacceptable to Isabel: 
 they approached the question from the opposite sides of two 
 hemispheres ; but the practice of the thing was simply child's 
 play where such men as Paul Seaton and Charlie Gaythorne 
 were concerned. 
 
 But with poor Janet it was different. She had sworn 
 allegiance to a monarch who had vacated his throne as soon 
 as he had the right to occupy it : she owed her submission to 
 a king who had flung away his crown the moment after it 
 was planted upon his brow. Yet her fealty remained un- 
 altered, her loyalty unchanged. She was married to a hus- 
 band who had apparently repudiated her without the slight- 
 est reason for so doing; and yet her wifely devotion was as
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 deep and absorbing as it had been on her marriage day. She 
 was prepared, should Gabriel return to her, to welcome him 
 back as if nothing had happened and to love and to cherish 
 him as tenderly as ever, asking no questions and uttering no 
 reproaches : and, should he never return to her, to go mourn- 
 ing for him all the days of her life, and to go down to the 
 grave honouring and respecting his memory. 
 
 And then it came to pass that a great change came o'er the 
 spirit of Janet's dream. For her there was a new heaven and 
 a new earth, so new and so wonderful that for a time sorrow 
 and sighing fled away, and her former miseries were forgot- 
 ten. In the middle of August her baby was born, and she 
 touched the high-water-mark of human happiness and entered 
 into the earthly paradise: that paradise which was opened to 
 Woman after her banishment from Eden, and the gates 
 whereof have never yet been closed. True, those gates are 
 still guarded by the twin cherubim Sorrow and Suffering, 
 whose fiery swords pierce to the very bones and marrow: 
 but they are not impregnable: and those blessed among 
 women who win through those fiery barriers and reach the 
 other side find themselves resting at the foot of the tree 
 of life which grows in the very midst of the paradise of 
 God. 
 
 To Janet's delight the baby was a boy: and her mother- 
 in-law shared her joy ; for Mrs. Carr was one of the people 
 who consider that the world was made for men only, and 
 that girls and women were mere padding. To bear a son 
 was in Mrs. Carr's mind the height of feminine honour and 
 glory: to bear a daughter, only one degree more creditable 
 than being an old maid. It is not an uncommon type: and 
 it came to perfection in the early Victorian age. 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne was as early-Victorian as Mrs. Carr; 
 
 [322]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 but in this respect the two ladies fundamentally differed. It 
 was the grief of Mrs. Gaythorne's life that she had never 
 had a daughter to train up in the way that she herself had 
 so ably and so firmly trod : and she had abundant sympathy 
 with the regret which the immortal aunt of David Copper- 
 field summed up in the expression, " Your sister, Betsy 
 Trotwood." Even now Mrs. Gaythorne's mind bristled 
 with devices whereby Charlie's sister if he had ever had 
 one might have benefited the human race. A son was all 
 very well, she admitted : he could fight for his country, and 
 he could follow in his father's footsteps and step into his 
 father's shoes: but he could neither conduct a Mothers' 
 Meeting nor regulate a Ladies' Needlework Guild, and it 
 was no use pretending that he could. Yet duties such as 
 these might and probably would have been ably fulfilled 
 by his sister, if only he had had one: therefore Mrs. Gay- 
 thorne never ceased to regret the absence of that amiable 
 and efficient young lady. 
 
 Therefore it followed that Mrs. Gaythorne seriously 
 objected to the sex of Janet's baby; and was the more deeply 
 rooted in the objection which she experienced more or less 
 towards every mother's son w r hose advent was chronicled in 
 the first column of The Times by the peculiar circum- 
 stances of the case. In the first place, she argued in her own 
 mind, it was far more difficult for a woman to bring up a 
 son than a daughter without her husband's help; and in the 
 second, another Gabriel Carr did not seem likely to make 
 for the comfort of those concerned in him, judging from his 
 father's recent example. 
 
 But Janet's happiness was complete. God had given to 
 her the desire of her heart a son to fill Gabriel's place and 
 to take Gabriel's name and so she was content. Of course 
 
 [323]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 she could not fail now and again to be overpowered with 
 longing for her husband to share this new bliss with her: 
 but she was one of those rare people who really and truly 
 have faith in God. 
 
 The majority of us believe in Him more or less; so do the 
 devils who believe and tremble : but how many of us believe 
 in Him as the great Controller of all things without Whom 
 not even a sparrow can fall to the ground, and yet Who 
 calleth the stars by their names that not one faileth? How 
 many of us actually hold fast the truth that our times are 
 in His Hands, and that nothing can happen to us save what 
 is ordained and permitted by Him? If we really believed 
 this, what would become of all that worry and anxiety 
 which burden our hearts and line our faces? Where would 
 be our despair for the present or our doubts for the future? 
 If we believed with our hearts what we profess with our 
 lips, that all things work together for good to them that 
 love Him, according to His promise, we should mount up 
 with wings like eagles and should walk and not faint. But 
 we do not really believe it. Every foreboding for the future, 
 every doubt, every fear, are so many contradictions of His 
 Word, so many slurs upon His faithfulness. And thus by 
 our own limitations we limit the power of God ; and He 
 cannot do many mighty works among us because of our 
 unbelief. " If Thou canst do anything, have compassion 
 upon us and help us ! " So prayed the father of the boy 
 possessed with the dumb spirit ; and so we are praying today. 
 And the answer is the same as it was then : " If thou canst 
 believe, all things are possible to him that believeth." There 
 is no limit to what Christ can do to help us; the only limit 
 is in ourselves. The words of Jesus are still sounding in 
 our ears, " According to your faith so be it unto you : " and 
 
 [324]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 it is unto us only according to our faith; and therefore the 
 result often falls short of what He is ready and willing to 
 do on our behalf. Through our blindness and hardness of 
 heart we cannot believe; and so we miss the blessing that 
 would otherwise be ours, and forfeit our inheritance. 
 
 But Janet Carr was so rooted and grounded in the faith 
 that all things are made by Him, and without Him was not 
 anything made that was made, that she accepted all the 
 orderings of her life as direct from Him, and therefore never 
 chafed nor rebelled. She was as certain that the cloud which 
 had darkened her life had been sent by God, as she was cer- 
 tain that the birds and the flowers were the works of His 
 Hands: and she knew that all things were working together 
 for her good, however hard it might be just now to under- 
 stand their why and their wherefore. 
 
 There was much consultation and discussion over the 
 baby's name, the fact that his mother had already settled it 
 in no way interfering with the full expression of Mrs. Gay- 
 thorne's views upon the subject. 
 
 " If it had been a girl," she remarked, as she and Mrs. 
 Carr were sitting by Janet's sofa, " it might have been 
 called after Me." As usual she used the capital letter in 
 speaking of herself. " I approve of children being named 
 after their god-parents." Janet had already asked Mrs. 
 Gaythorne to act as godmother: that lady seemed so admira- 
 bly fitted to renounce the devil and all his works on behalf 
 of anybody or everybody. 
 
 "So it might," agreed Janet: "but being a boy, there 
 are difficulties in the way. I never heard of a boy being 
 christened Eliza." 
 
 " Neither did I, my dear: nor should I approve of such 
 a thing. I do not like boys to be christened by girls' names ; 
 
 [325]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 it savours of Popery. There is nothing that shocks me more 
 than to hear of Roman Catholic kings being called ' Joseph 
 Mary,' and mixed names like that." 
 
 "No," replied Janet demurely; "I agree with you that 
 Eliza is not a suitable name for a boy. In fact I don't 
 remember of ever hearing of even a Roman Catholic king's 
 being christened Eliza." 
 
 " I do not recall one myself at the present moment: but 
 I daresay there are plenty if we only knew. Romanists are 
 capable of anything." 
 
 Here Mrs. Carr joined in. " Still, dear Mrs. Gaythorne, 
 I always considered Eliza quite a Protestant name so sug- 
 gestive of good Queen Bess and the Electress Sophia of 
 Hanover and people of that kind: and I almost think that 
 Martin Luther's wife was called Elizabeth if it wasn't 
 Catherine, and there is nothing at all Romanising in the 
 poetry of Eliza Cooke." 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne was pleased at this complimentary refer- 
 ence to the name given to her by her godfather and god- 
 mothers in her baptism. " Yes : I think there is a good 
 Protestant sound about Eliza, and I thank heaven for it! 
 I should not have liked to bear a Popish-sounding name. 
 That is my only objection to Mary; to my mind it savours 
 somewhat of Roman Catholicism, even when applied to a 
 woman." 
 
 " Oh! no, no, no, dear Mrs. Gaythorne; pray do not say 
 that," Mrs. Carr expostulated. 
 
 " I must say it if I think it." 
 
 Janet failed to see this necessity; but to Mrs. Gaythorne 
 it was paramount. 
 
 " Mary is the most beautiful name in the world," con- 
 tinued Mrs. Carr; "I remember learning a poem when I 
 
 [326]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 was a girl which began, ' In Christian world Mary the some- 
 thing wears ' ; I forget exactly what it was that she wore, 
 but I know it meant that Mary is the most beautiful name 
 in the world except Edith : and I really don't think it sounds 
 at all Popish unless you put the prefix Bloody before it: I 
 don't indeed, Mrs. Gaythorne." 
 
 Janet was not very strong, so she utterly failed to conceal 
 her amusement. " I don't remember ever to have heard of a 
 child being christened Bloody Mary," she remarked. 
 
 " Excepting the queen of that name," emended Mrs. 
 Gaythorne. 
 
 " I don't think that even she was christened anything but 
 Mary. I fancy the other name was an accretion." 
 
 " Janet Carr, do not attempt to teach me history. Bloody 
 Mary was her name and Bloody Mary was her nature : from 
 my earliest childhood I have called her by no other name, 
 and I never shall." 
 
 This was conclusive, so Janet wisely dropped the subject. 
 
 "If I had had a daughter," remarked Mrs. Carr, "I 
 should have called her Margaret after poor dear aunt 
 Susan." 
 
 " I do not quite see that, Eveline. How could you call 
 her Margaret after a woman who was named Susan?" 
 
 " Because poor dear aunt Susan's name was Susan Mar- 
 garet, and Margaret is so much the prettier name of the two, 
 and I think it is much nicer for a girl to have a pretty name 
 than an ugly one, if it is all the same to everybody and the 
 relations equally pleased. I think Margaret is a sweet name 
 in itself, and Madge or Maggie so nice for her own family 
 and intimate friends, and not quite so stiff and stately, being 
 shorter for everyday use." 
 
 " If I had been so blessed as to have a daughter," said 
 
 [327]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 Mrs. Gaythorne, " I should have called her Maria after 
 my eldest sister." 
 
 " But you said it sounded Popish, Mrs. Gaythorne." 
 Janet could not resist this temptation. 
 
 " I did nothing of the kind, Janet Carr. I said that 
 Mary did." 
 
 " But they are the same name." 
 
 " Janet Carr, you are talking nonsense. You might as 
 well say that Eliza and Elizabeth are the same name." 
 
 " So they are." 
 
 " They cannot be : because I was christened Eliza after 
 Lady Summerhill, and my youngest sister was christened 
 Elizabeth after aunt Elizabeth Latimer; and our parents 
 could not possibly have called two children by the same 
 name. Besides Lady Summerhill and aunt Elizabeth Lati- 
 mer were totally different people, in no way resembling each 
 other." 
 
 This again w y as conclusive: so Janet once more wisely 
 turned to a side issue. " Well, for my part, I don't see 
 that Maria sounds more Protestant than Mary." 
 
 " It does: my eldest sister was named Maria." 
 
 This was the most conclusive of all. Janet felt that to 
 go on arguing in the face of this statement was beating the 
 air; so she desisted. 
 
 " And she was named Maria," added Mrs. Gaythorne by 
 way of further proof of the Protestant tendencies of the 
 name (as if any further proof were needed!), "after aunt 
 Maria Latimer, who always lived in the near vicinity of 
 our birthplace." 
 
 It was on the tip of Janet's tongue to ask where that was : 
 but she checked herself. It seemed such a proof of historical 
 ignorance not to know Mrs. Gaythorne's birthplace. 
 
 [328]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " But we are wandering from Janet's point," Mrs. Gay- 
 thorne went on. " The question to be now considered is, 
 what are we to call Janet's baby ? " 
 
 " He will be called Gabriel after his father," said Janet. 
 She spoke very quietly, but the two who listened realised 
 that the matter was settled and that further discussion was 
 useless. So Mrs. Gaythorne dropped the subject. She 
 knew her match and, what is more, she respected her 
 match when she met it. 
 
 The weeks rolled on; and each day led to the discovery 
 of fresh perfections in the baby Gabriel. No one who 
 has not watched the growth of a little child has any idea 
 of the wonderful developments which are new every morn- 
 ing, nor of the absorbing interests which such developments 
 excite in the loving mind of the onlooker. There is no 
 interest more absorbing few as much so ; yet it is the fash- 
 ion nowadays to scoff at the delights of the baby-world, and 
 to pretend that modern women need wider fields of thought 
 and occupation than the house and the nursery afford. Let 
 the modern women scoff if they will! But let them also 
 remember that if they would have a foretaste of the millen- 
 nium here and now, they must put away for a time all the 
 cares of this world and the deceitfulness of its riches, and 
 must slip aside into that magic fairyland which lies around 
 all of us in our infancy, but of which, alas! we soon lose the 
 key, so that we can go in and out by ourselves no more. 
 And they cannot do this unless a little child shall lead them. 
 It was a bitterly cold evening early in the new year. Mrs. 
 Carr had gone to visit some friends in the neighbourhood 
 of her old home, leaving Janet to the uninterrupted society 
 of her baby: and Janet was happy in the new bliss that had 
 come to her, although sometimes her longing for her hus- 
 
 [329]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 band seemed almost more than she could bear. But she had 
 learnt to possess her soul in patience and to wait upon the 
 Lord : and therefore as in the case with all those who have 
 thus learnt to wait He inclined unto her and heard jher 
 calling. 
 
 Suddenly the front door bell rang: and as the one servant 
 was upstairs and the other was out, Janet laid her baby 
 down on the drawing-room sofa and went to open the door 
 herself. She thought it could not be anybody but Mrs. Gay- 
 thorne or Fabia at this late hour of the day ; and she did not 
 want to keep either of them standing out in the cold. 
 
 But it was neither the one nor the other. 
 
 On the door-step stood a tall man dressed in a light suit 
 of clothes, over which he wore a somewhat flashy top-coat 
 with a velvet collar: the sort of costume that would be worn 
 by a fifth-rate actor or a member of the swell-mob. Janet 
 was a short woman, and the hall at the Rectory was but 
 poorly lighted; so that she saw the stranger's clothes before 
 she saw his face, which was in the shadow. But as he 
 stepped forward and the dim light from the hall-lamp fell 
 upon him what was her incredible joy and gladness to 
 recognise in this showily-dressed stranger her husband, 
 Gabriel Carr! 
 
 [330]
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE FIVE DOTS 
 
 WITH a cry of delight Janet flung herself into her hus- 
 band's arms, and the two clung to each other for a few sec- 
 onds in the inarticulate joy of reunion: then she drew 
 Gabriel into the house, shutting the door behind him, and 
 gazed earnestly into his face. 
 
 Her first thought was that they had lied to her when they 
 told her that sin and shame had written their story upon 
 his features. There was not a word of truth in such a state- 
 ment. He looked older perhaps: but his face was more 
 spiritual and saintly than ever the face of a man who, like 
 Enoch, had walked with God. 
 
 Her next thought was how much better in health he 
 looked than when they parted : he had lost all signs of deli- 
 cacy, and appeared strong and well and in good condition. 
 
 Then all thoughts were swallowed up in the ecstasy of 
 seeing him face to face, and feeling his dear arms round her 
 once more. It was only now that the misery of it was sud- 
 denly relaxed, that Janet realised all the agony she had 
 undergone since Gabriel's disappearance: it was only in the 
 revulsion back to joy, that she knew how terrible the bygone 
 pain had been. For a time her whole being was merged in 
 the torrent of overwhelming happiness which swept over her 
 soul. Wherever Gabriel had been, he was now at home
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 again: whatever he had done, he was still her husband, 
 bound to her by an indissoluble tie which could never be 
 broken. 
 
 For what seemed an eternity of bliss the two married lov- 
 ers remained locked in each other's arms, murmuring mean- 
 while passionate and inarticulate expressions of tenderness 
 and endearment. The first to speak was Janet. " Oh! my 
 love, my love," she whispered, " it is heaven on earth to have 
 you back again ! " 
 
 " My dearest, think what it must be to me to come back ! " 
 
 "Dear heart, where have you been this long time?" 
 Janet went on when her husband allowed her once more to 
 speak. " Life has been dark and hard indeed without you! " 
 
 Gabriel's eyes filled with tears as he looked into her face 
 and saw the lines that sorrow had engraved therein. " My 
 poor little girl, what a brute you must think I have been ! " 
 
 Janet started back, and put her hand over his mouth. 
 " No, no, Gabriel : I have never thought you that. Although 
 God knows it has been hard to bear. He also knows that I 
 have never once doubted you, nor imagined for a moment 
 that you were in any way to blame. My confidence in you 
 is as firm and unshaken as it ever was. See, my beloved, I 
 will prove it to you by never again asking you any ques- 
 tions as to your absence: as long as you tell me that you 
 have been well and happy, I am content." 
 
 " My own darling wife ! " 
 
 " It isn't that I don't wonder where you have been and 
 why you didn't come back to me before," continued Janet: 
 " I have done nothing but wonder that all the time. But if 
 for any reason you would rather not tell me, don't. Remem- 
 ber nothing that you say or leave unsaid will ever make any 
 difference in my love to you." 
 
 [332]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Gabriel's only answer was another passionate embrace: 
 and then Janet said, " Come into the drawing-room, love, 
 and see baby; and I will get you something to eat." 
 
 Even Gabriel, well as he thought he knew her, was 
 astonished at her absolute trust and confidence. Was there 
 another woman in England, he wondered, who in such cir- 
 cumstances would not have insisted upon knowing where 
 her husband had been, and what he had been doing, and 
 why he had forsaken her? He had not found so great faith 
 as this in all his life before. 
 
 And when she laid their baby in his arms it was just the 
 same. She gave up the child absolutely into his keeping, 
 without asking why he had left her house unto her desolate 
 until that child was born. 
 
 " But, my dear love, you must hear why I went away and 
 why I could not come back before," he said, after he had 
 kissed and blessed the boy. 
 
 " Not unless you wish to tell me," she repeated. " It is 
 enough for me that the dead is alive again and the lost is 
 found." 
 
 And once more he marvelled at the perfection of her faith 
 
 and love. 
 
 But after he had had food and drink and was refreshed 
 and strengthened, he told Janet his story. And she sat at 
 his feet in the firelight, and tasted the full fruition of human 
 bliss. 
 
 " After I left you that day in the inn," he began, " I 
 walked for a time over the moor; and then the fog suddenly 
 became so dense that I missed my way altogether, and when 
 I tried to get back again I found that I had completely lost 
 all my bearings. Once or twice I found myself at the edge 
 of deep pits or quarries, and was only just saved from falling 
 
 [333]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 over: so after one or two experiences of this kind I de- 
 cided that it was unwise to wander about any more in the 
 fog, and that I had better find some sheltered spot and stay 
 there until the mist lifted." 
 
 Janet shuddered: "How terrible!" she murmured. 
 
 Gabriel continued : " Then suddenly I found myself close 
 to a shepherd's hut, and thought I would wait there until it 
 was safe to go back to the inn again. It was not yet dark, 
 as it was still early in the afternoon, but the wall of white 
 mist was impenetrable. So I entered the hut: and to my 
 horror found that it was already tenanted and tenanted by 
 an escaped convict from Dartmoor prison. I knew him at 
 once by his dress." 
 
 "Oh! Gabriel, whatever did you do?" 
 
 "I did the best I could in the circumstances: I told him 
 at once who I was and that I had lost my way, and I begged 
 him of his courtesy to allow me to share the hut with 
 him." 
 
 " Was he very wicked-looking? " Janet asked. 
 
 " No ; that is the strange part of the story. He was an 
 exact counterpart of myself in appearance the same age, 
 the same height, the same colouring, the same features. He 
 might have been my twin brother. I have since found out 
 that he was a noted criminal of Italian extraction, by name 
 Cassar Costello: and that he was serving a five years' sen- 
 tence for a burglary near Exeter, more than a year of which 
 sentence was yet to run." 
 
 " How very strange that he should have been so like 
 you ! " exclaimed Janet. 
 
 " Those accidental resemblances are always strange, my 
 darling: but perhaps this one may be to some extent 
 accounted for by the fact that both Costello and I have 
 
 [334]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 Italian blood in our veins; and in the two cases the same 
 mixed nationalities have produced the same physical type." 
 
 " Yes, yes: now I begin to see how it all happened." 
 
 Gabriel continued his narrative. " But the worst part is 
 yet to come. To my further horror I found that the man 
 was raving mad ! At least so he appeared to be at the time ; 
 but I have since discovered that he feigned madness in order 
 to suit his own purposes, and was really as sane as you or 
 I and a great deal cleverer ! " 
 
 "What did he do?" 
 
 " He was silent at first, evidently maturing his plans, and 
 seeing how he could make the most of the opportunity thus 
 thrown in his way. And then suddenly he seized a rifle 
 which he had with him (he had seized it, I presume, from 
 the warder in charge of the gang, when he knocked the latter 
 down and escaped) and held it at my head, saying that he 
 would shoot me if I would not grant a request he was about 
 to make." 
 
 "And what was his request?" asked Janet, absorbed in 
 the story. 
 
 " That he might tattoo me on the shoulder. It seemed a 
 mad idea at the time just the thing for a maniac to think 
 of but I have since seen how ingenious it was." 
 
 " So you submitted ? " 
 
 " There was nothing else to be done. It seemed certainly 
 preferable to be tattooed than to be shot: and it never 
 occurred to me at the time that the man was anything but 
 the dangerous lunatic he pretended to be: so I thought it 
 my wisest plan to humour him." 
 
 " Certainly : you were entirely at his mercy, since he was 
 armed and you were not." And Janet shuddered again at 
 the thought of her husband's imminent peril. 
 
 [335]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " So he unloaded his rifle, took the gunpowder out of one 
 of the cartridges, and with the aid of the finest blade in 
 my own pocket-knife, which he borrowed for the occasion 
 tattooed my shoulder with five small dots in the shape of a 
 cross." 
 
 " Did it hurt ? " Janet was always very woman. 
 
 " Only like five pin-pricks ; it was done in a few seconds. 
 He just pricked the skin and rubbed the gunpowder in. 
 Then he laid down his weapon and became most aifable, 
 showing me a similar tattoo-mark on his own shoulder: and 
 I fool that I was! congratulated myself upon having 
 humoured his insane fancy so successfully. By that time it 
 really was getting dark: and as soon as the darkness came 
 on the man picked a quarrel with me, evidently in accordance 
 with his rapidly-devised plan." 
 
 "What did he quarrel about, dearest?" 
 
 "I really cannot remember," Gabriel replied: "it was 
 all so sudden. Before I knew where I was he was wrestling 
 with me and we were fighting for dear life. And after that 
 I remember no more, until I came to myself many weeks 
 afterward in the prison infirmary, after a severe attack of 
 brain-fever; and found that I had unconsciously taken the 
 place of the escaped convict." 
 
 Janet seized her husband's hand and covered it with 
 kisses. " Then did you tell them who you were, and explain 
 everything ? " she asked. 
 
 " Of course I did : but nobody believed me. They had 
 found me lying unconscious at the bottom of a stone pit, 
 close to the shepherd's hut; and I wore the convict's out- 
 ward appearance and was dressed in convict's clothes. More- 
 over, if further proof were needed of my identity with him, 
 he was distinguished by a tattoo-mark upon his shoulder 
 
 [336]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 five dots in the shape of a cross: and there on my shoulder 
 was the self-same mark; which, by the time that I was well 
 enough to require confirmation as to who I was, had lost 
 every sign of being recently done, and looked as if it had 
 been there for years. How could they doubt that I was 
 he?" 
 
 " Oh ! Gabriel, they ought to have known better." 
 
 Gabriel smiled the old sweet smile that Janet knew so 
 well. " I do not really see that they were so much to blame. 
 All the evidence was on their side: and naturally they 
 regarded my statement either as the delirium of illness, or 
 the feeble subterfuge of a recaptured prisoner. Besides my 
 very hands testified against me; for, as you know, I have so 
 roughened and coarsened them by working with the lads in 
 my parish at carpentering and gardening and the rest, and 
 by conducting the gymnasium for the benefit of the boys, 
 that no one could take them for the hands of a gentleman. 
 They looked as if the picking of oakum had been their 
 wonted occupation." 
 
 " Then evidently the man escaped in your clothes : be- 
 cause you were supposed to have ridden to Newton Abbot 
 in a farmer's cart, and to have taken the train to London," 
 said Janet. 
 
 " Was I? Then evidently the man who went to Newton 
 Abbot was Costello wearing my clothes. He must have 
 knocked me senseless, and, while I was unconscious, have 
 changed clothes with me. Then apparently he dragged me 
 out of the hut and threw me over the edge of a neighbouring 
 stone-pit, not caring whether I was alive or dead. And 
 then he escaped to London." 
 
 " It was evidently he whom the Gaythornes saw in Paris." 
 And then Janet related to Gabriel the Parisian incident. 
 
 [337]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " Those are his clothes that you are wearing now, I 
 presume," she added : " the clothes that he wore when he 
 was first taken into custody? " 
 
 Gabriel looked down at himself with disgust. " Yes : the 
 prison authorities gave them to me this morning when I 
 left off my convict dress. Are they not too terrible for 
 words? Costello certainly got the best of the bargain in 
 the way of clothes." And he laughed softly. 
 
 " And you? you served out the rest of his sentence? " 
 
 " I served out the rest of his sentence, my dearest : and 
 God was with me all the time." 
 
 Thus the year which the locust had eaten was returned to 
 Janet: and her husband came back to her alive and well. 
 Although (or, perhaps, because) she was prepared to forgive 
 everything, there was nothing for her to forgive: for it is 
 the things which we cannot do that we are called upon to 
 do in this life not the things which we can. How often 
 we notice that sickness is sent to those who lay unnecessary 
 stress upon the advantage of bodily health, and poverty to 
 those who set undue store upon the possession of riches: 
 while such as exaggerate the happiness of human companion- 
 ship are doomed to a solitary life, and such as crave inordi- 
 nately for fame and distinction are condemned to ineffective 
 obscurity. Just as in the old days it was the cowardly 
 schemer the man who always made up in craft what he 
 lacked in courage that was compelled to wrestle upon 
 Mount Peniel until the breaking of the day; while it was 
 the very Hebrew of the Hebrews the man who breathed 
 out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the 
 Lord and brought them bound to Jerusalem that was 
 called to be the great Apostle of the Gentiles. Thus men 
 and women are taught how to compass the impossible and 
 
 [338]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 to endure the unendurable: since all things are possible 
 through Christ Which strengthened them. 
 
 There was great interest felt and expressed not only in 
 his immediate circle but all over England, in Gabriel Carr's 
 return. His experience was so remarkable that it com- 
 manded universal attention. Of course there was sincere 
 regret expressed in high and official quarters over what had 
 happened, and an elaborate apology was despatched from 
 the Home Office. But official apologies, however hand- 
 some and well clothed they may be, hardly compensate to 
 an innocent man for the discomforts arising from false 
 imprisonment. The mistakes of those in authority are 
 hard to correct. The State can do no wrong: and there- 
 fore when it does, it is no easy matter to put affairs right 
 again. 
 
 But all things worked together for good to Gabriel Carr, 
 according to the promise: as he had preached and as he had 
 believed, so it was done unto him. The regular hours of 
 plain fare, and the absence of all responsibility in his prison 
 life, had done more for his overwrought nervous system 
 than any so-called " rest-cures " could have done, and Gabriel 
 was once more a strong man. Like Janet, he had learnt to 
 cast all his care upon One Who cared for him and so he 
 likewise had possessed his soul in patience, and had waited 
 for the Lord. 
 
 But although he was restored to health and strength, the 
 Rector of Gaythorne did not resign his country living and 
 once more take upon himself the responsibility of a town 
 parish : he gave all his spare time, of which he had plenty, to 
 revival work: and conducted most successful missions all 
 over England, which were crowned with abundant results. 
 For he felt that in this way he accomplished more work and 
 
 [339]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 gained a wider spiritual influence than he would ever have 
 done in one parish, however large and populous. 
 
 So the Lord turned the captivity of Gabriel as the streams 
 in the south, and blessed his latter end more than his begin- 
 ning. And he accomplished that which he pleased, and 
 prospered in the thing whereto he was sent: for God was 
 with him. 
 
 [ 340 1
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 CAESAR COSTELLO 
 
 IT was about a year after Gabriel's return, and he was con- 
 ducting a mission in one of the largest seaport towns in the 
 north of England. As usual he set aside a portion of each 
 morning and evening for seeing privately any who might 
 wish to consult him upon spiritual matters, and giving them 
 discreet and ghostly counsel: and great was his amazement 
 late one night when who should be ushered into his sanctum 
 but the quondam convict, Caesar Costello ! 
 
 Once again Gabriel was startled by the man's extraordi- 
 nary resemblance to himself. And yet hardly to himself as 
 he was, but rather to himself as he might have been had he 
 chosen evil instead of good, and walked in the broad path 
 that leadeth to destruction rather than in the narrow way 
 the end whereof is everlasting life. There, but for the grace 
 of God, stood Gabriel Carr Gabriel Carr as he would have 
 been had not the Master called him to be His disciple, and 
 had he not heard the Master's Voice and followed Him 
 whithersoever He went. 
 
 And as Gabriel looked closer he saw with the trained 
 eye of the priest, which is quick to pierce below the surface 
 and read the hidden things of the heart that Costello was 
 not the same as when he saw him that day in the shepherd's 
 hut upon Dartmoor. Continued sin and vice and dissipation 
 had ploughed fresh furrows and inscribed new lines upon 
 
 [341]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 the man's face. But there was something more than that. 
 Out of the mud, wherein the sinner was wallowing, a 
 pierced Hand had made clay and had anointed his eyelids; 
 and whereas he had been blind, now he saw saw himself 
 as God saw him, and regarded his sin as God regarded it: 
 and the sight had well-nigh driven him mad. 
 
 In broken accents Costello told Gabriel his story. Told 
 how he had been living in Paris upon ill-gotten gains ever 
 since his escape from prison, draining the cup of illicit pleas- 
 ure to the dregs : and how he was then on his way to Amer- 
 ica, there to seek " fresh woods and pastures new," where 
 he might pluck the fruits of sin and cultivate the flowers of 
 vice. On his way to the docks he had passed the door of the 
 hall where the Rector of Gaythorne was conducting his 
 mission; and, having learnt from the notices outside the 
 doors who the missioner was, Costello was compelled by curi- 
 osity to look in just to see once more the man who had stood 
 in his place and had suffered in his stead. 
 
 And then, through the mouth of the preacher, God spoke 
 to the sinner, and called him out of the darkness of ignorance 
 into the marvellous light of spiritual knowledge. In that 
 light Costello saw the hideousness of his own soul and his 
 own sins, and cried to the mountains to cover him and the 
 earth to swallow him, so that he might escape from the 
 Presence of the living God. The fear of the Lord con- 
 sumed him: the fire of God's wrath shrivelled him up. 
 Horror overwhelmed him, and terror made him afraid. His 
 soul stood naked and ashamed before its Maker, and strove 
 in vain to hide itself from the vengeance of God. And now 
 he came to the man, who had been God's instrument in 
 awakening him out of the sleep of sin to the awful con- 
 sciousness of his own condition, in the hope that he might 
 
 [342]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 thereby find balm in Gilead, and a physician to minister to 
 his spirit's sickness. 
 
 For long hours Gabriel talked and prayed with the 
 stricken man. On the sinner's behalf he wrestled until the 
 breaking of the day with One Who is ever mighty to save : 
 and because the fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth 
 much because he himself had vicariously suffered and had 
 implicitly believed he had power with God and prevailed. 
 
 And then there happened to Caesar Costello that great 
 miracle which is as old and as new as the great miracles of 
 birth and death : that miracle which is described by Catholics 
 as Regeneration, and by Evangelicals as Conversion, and by 
 the Master Himself as being born of the Spirit: that miracle 
 which is as mysterious as the wind blowing where it listeth 
 and though men hear the sound thereof they cannot tell 
 whence it cometh nor whither it goeth; and yet without 
 which no man can see God. 
 
 As the two knelt together wrestling with God for a sin- 
 ner's salvation, their prayers were heard and answered. The 
 Son of Man Who alone hath power on earth to forgive sins, 
 blotted out the handwriting which was against the ex-con- 
 vict, nailing it to His Own Cross: and a clean heart was 
 granted to Caesar Costello, a right spirit was renewed within 
 him. He was converted and became as a little child, and 
 then and there entered into the Kingdom of Heaven. 
 
 After the men had risen from their knees, Costello's first 
 thought was how he could make reparation for the sins he 
 had committed: and he told Gabriel that he intended as 
 soon as it was day to give himself up to the authorities so 
 that they might send him back to Dartmoor, there to work 
 out the rest of his sentence. 
 
 But Gabriel bade him forbear. " I do not know if what 
 
 [343]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 I am going to say to you is according to the laws of man," 
 he said, " but I believe it is according to the laws of God : 
 and I tell you not to give yourself up again to the authorities, 
 nor to return to prison." 
 
 Costello was amazed: this had seemed the only course 
 open to him. But he was ready to subjugate his will and 
 submit his judgment to the man who had shown him the 
 way to the foot of the Cross. " I will do whatever you bid 
 me," he replied. 
 
 " Then listen. I hold that one sin cannot be doubly 
 expiated nor punished twice over; and your sin has been 
 expiated, your chastisement has been borne, by me. There- 
 fore I believe that the punishment of your iniquity is accom- 
 plished, and your sin is pardoned, because I have suffered in 
 your stead. By right of what I have borne for you, I have 
 redeemed you; and now you are no longer your own, but 
 mine!" 
 
 Tears filled the criminal's eyes, and he could not speak. 
 He was dumbfoundered by such generosity. 
 
 " I daresay I am all wrong according to the laws of Eng- 
 land," Gabriel continued with a smile : " but I believe that 
 I am doing right according to the laws of Heaven. Besides, 
 surely I have paid the full price for what I claim : I served 
 fourteen months in Dartmoor for it, and that was no light 
 matter." 
 
 s 
 
 " But mayn't you get into trouble yourself by screening 
 me ? " For the first time in his life Costello put another's 
 interest before his own. " Oughtn't you to give me up to 
 justice?" 
 
 " No ; my conscience is quite clear on that score. What I 
 have heard from you has been told under the seal of the con- 
 fessional, and therefore I am bound not to repeat a word of 
 
 [344]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 it. It would be against every principle of my sacred profes- 
 sion and calling. All I could do would be to induce a peni- 
 tent to give himself up to justice, if I thought that was the 
 right thing to do: but in this case I do not think so." 
 
 '* Then do you mean to say, sir, that I am to go scot-free 
 and not to be punished any more? " Costello could hardly 
 believe his own ears. 
 
 " I do. I believe you are not to be punished any more in 
 this world because I have borne the punishment for you: 
 just as I believe you are not to be punished in the world to 
 come because Christ has borne your punishment for you. 
 Twice over have you been redeemed first by God and then 
 by man: and if God remits punishment because Another 
 suffered in your stead, ought not man to do the same ? Shall 
 man be more just than God? " 
 
 Costello broke down and sobbed aloud. " Sir, your gen- 
 erosity is almost more than I can bear. When I think of 
 all you have endured for me and how I have treated you, I 
 feel I am unfit to live! " 
 
 Gabriel laid his hand upon the other's shoulder. " Ah ! 
 now we are coming to the point of the whole matter. If 
 you feel like this when you think of what I have done for 
 you, how do you feel when you think of what my Master has 
 done for you? For your sake I spent fourteen months in 
 Dartmoor prison: for your sake He became obedient unto 
 death, even the death of the Cross. I endured imprisonment 
 that you might be free: He suffered death that you might 
 live. I changed places with you involuntarily and was pun- 
 ished in your stead : of His Own free will He took your sin 
 upon His Shoulders and bore the full chastisement of it, 
 so that by His stripes you might be healed. I became your 
 surety because I could not help myself : He took your nature 
 
 [345] 
 
 i
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 upon Him and bore away the guilt of your sin, because He 
 loved you and gave Himself for you. Therefore if you are 
 grateful to me, what must you be to' Him?" 
 
 " A thousand times more so. For the first time in my life 
 I begin to realise what Christ has done for me: and it is 
 you who have made me understand this by what you have 
 done for me." 
 
 " By the love of the brother whom you have seen, you 
 are learning something of the love of the God Whom you 
 have not seen," said Gabriel : " it is by no means a new 
 method of gaining divine knowledge." 
 
 " And do you mean to say, sir, that you can forgive me 
 for all that I have made you suffer at my hands? " 
 
 " I have not suffered for you a thousandth part of what 
 my Master has suffered for you : and as He forgives you, so 
 I forgive." 
 
 " I can never thank you, sir, never! So it is no use trying 
 to do so. And do you mean to say that I am free to go 
 where I will and do what I like? " 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Gabriel, with his old whimsical 
 smile. " I never said anything of the sort. You are no 
 longer your own you are bought with a price. Twice over 
 you have been redeemed, and now you belong first to Christ 
 and then to me." 
 
 The criminal fell on his knees before the priest, and seiz- 
 ing his hand kissed it. " I will be your servant to my life's 
 end," he cried : " whatever you tell me to do I will do it." 
 
 " This is what I tell you to do : and though I speak of 
 myself I believe that I also have the Spirit of God. You 
 shall go to America as you had arranged, and in the berth 
 you have already taken: and when you land you shall go 
 straight to a Missionary Training College, the head of which 
 
 [346]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 is a friend of mine to whom I will give you a letter of intro- 
 duction: and there you shall learn to serve Christ in the 
 mission fields." 
 
 " And I swear that I will serve Him, so help me God! " 
 " You cannot stay in England, you see," continued Ga- 
 briel : " if you do the police will track you, and send you 
 back to prison. And I cannot help believing that you can 
 serve God better by carrying His Gospel to the far-off isles 
 of the southern seas, than by picking oakurn in Dartmoor 
 gaol. Besides," he added with a humorous twinkle in his 
 eye, " we have defrauded the Government of nothing in that 
 line: I have picked your full share of oakum, so the authori- 
 ties can have nothing to complain of : though I have no doubt 
 they would complain a good deal if they only knew." 
 
 " Sir, I will follow your counsel to the end of my life. 
 You shall never regret what you have done for me this 
 night." 
 
 Gabriel's face grew serious again. " I shall not know 
 how you requite my dealings with you: but Christ will 
 know how you requite His, I shall probably never see you 
 again: but His Eye will be with you even unto the end of 
 the world. Upon you and you alone will rest the awful 
 responsibility if you neglect so great a salvation. And now 
 we must get to business and conclude all the arrangements," 
 he added, changing his tone: " the day is breaking, and there 
 is no time to be lost, as your ship sails for America in a few 
 hours from now, and I do not want you to miss it and to 
 fall once more into the hands of the police: I would rather 
 let you fall into the Hands of God than into the hands of 
 man; and into His Hands I commit you, body, soul and 
 spirit, from this time forth and even for evermore." 
 
 With his usual efficiency and rapidity Gabriel gave the 
 
 [347]
 
 THE SUBJECTION OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 future missionary full instructions as to the new life on 
 which he was about to enter, and the way in which he was 
 to set about it ; and wrote a letter to the head of the Train- 
 ing College giving such instructions and advice regarding the 
 convict as he thought necessary. And then he put before 
 Costello food and drink and finally despatched him with a 
 blessing, to serve God according to his day and generation. 
 So Caesar Costello went on his way rejoicing because the 
 former things had fled away for ever and all things had 
 been made new; knowing that he had passed from death 
 unto life, because through the medium of the love of a 
 brother he had learnt something of the Love of God. 
 
 [348]
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 THREE years had come and gone since the events narrated 
 in the last chapter. 
 
 In a house in Prince's Garden a man and a woman were 
 sitting over their dessert. 
 
 " I can just finish this cigarette, and then I must get 
 back to the House, my sweet," the man said. 
 
 The woman rose from her seat at the head of the table 
 and came round to her husband's side, perching herself on 
 the arm of his chair. " It's a funny thing," she said with a 
 sigh: "a very funny thing: but you were right and I was 
 wrong after all." 
 
 He laughed. He knew how very remarkable it always 
 seemed to her to find herself in the wrong. "As how?" 
 he asked, putting his arm round her. 
 
 " Oh! about politics and things. I thought you'd smash 
 up the party and ruin the country when you got into the 
 Cabinet: but you've done neither the one nor the other." 
 
 Again the man laughed. " It is amazing how little per- 
 manent mischief even the most gifted and indefatigable of 
 politicians are able to accomplish. The mistakes of the 
 greatest statesmen are not nearly so irremediable as they 
 would fain believe. The great forces of Nature and the 
 Permanent Staff pursue the even tenor of their way regard- 
 less of changing Governments or fluctuating parties: and 
 nothing really makes much difference." 
 
 [349]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 " Nothing really ever does make much difference to any- 
 body," replied the woman : " except dying and getting 
 married." 
 
 " But I believed that everything did," said the man, 
 " when I was young and unofficial. In fact in those far-off 
 times there was precious little that I did not believe." 
 
 " I used to think you much too high-flown and ideal, you 
 know." 
 
 " So I was when revelling in the unsubstantial pageants 
 of private membership or irresponsible office. But then the 
 Cabinet ' like an angel came, and whipp'd the offending 
 Adam out of me.' In my unofficial and unregenerate days 
 I aimed at the stars." 
 
 " And a very good thing, too, Paul ! It is the people who 
 aim at the stars that succeed in sweeping their own chimneys: 
 and the people who set out to ascend the Jungfrau, that 
 manage to get to the top of Netting Hill. Now stupid 
 sensible people like myself and Wrexham for instance 
 only aim at the chimneys, and so do nothing better than ring 
 the front door-bell: we set out for Netting Hill, and get no 
 further than the Albert Memorial. Which things are an 
 allegory." 
 
 " It is quite true as a distinguished statesman once 
 remarked that politics is the science of the second-best." 
 
 " I suppose, when you come to that, most things in this 
 world are." 
 
 The man's arm tightened round her: "Except one," he 
 said : " and the reality of that exceeds the wildest dreams of 
 the maddest idealist." 
 
 His wife nestled up to him: " You are a very successful 
 man, Paul, and have had a good many cups of happiness put 
 to your lips : the cup of success, and the cup of fame, and the 
 
 [350]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 cup of power, and the cup of rank, and in fact quite a tray- 
 f ul of them. Which do you like best of all ? " 
 
 " There is no comparison, my darling," he answered with 
 a laugh of absolute content: "of all the cups of happiness 
 that have been put to my lips I have found none to compare 
 with the falsely so-called ' weaker vessel ' ; so, with your 
 permission, I will just put my lips to it again." And hr 
 kissed her with all the rapture of a lover. 
 
 THE SCENE CHANGES 
 
 On the lawn in front of an old-fashioned manor-house i 
 man and two women were having tea. A small girl of two 
 years old was trotting about from one to the other, while a 
 baby-boy lay asleep in a perambulator. 
 
 " I consider that it is almost time for Lisa to have a. 
 thimble of her own," remarked the elder of the women: 
 " when I was two and a half years of age I could sew quite 
 neatly: and at three I joined the village Dorcas-meeting." 
 
 " By Jove, mother, but you were an extra forward one ! " 
 exclaimed the man, who was lying full-length on the grass 
 at his wife's feet, his tea-cup in a position of imminent dan- 
 ger at his elbow. " You can't expect the poor little kiddie 
 to be as clever as her grandmother." 
 
 " That, Charles, is what I do expect. The training of a 
 child cannot begin too early. When I was four I read The 
 Falrchild Family aloud to my dear mother; and at five I 
 was conversant with all the information contained in Near 
 Home and Far Off" 
 
 Lisa's mother smiled languidly. " If you gave her a thim- 
 ble now she would probably swallow it : and I have always 
 understood that thimbles are most indigestible." 
 
 [351]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 But the old lady shook her head. " I never swallowed 
 anything at that age: nor did my sister Maria." 
 
 A shout of laughter emanated from the figure on the 
 grass : his sense of humour had ever been elemental. " Great 
 Scott! mother, you must have been wonderful children. Do 
 you mean to tell me that you and aunt Maria never had 
 anything to eat or drink ? " 
 
 " Charles, do not be ribald. What I mean is that my 
 sister Maria and I never swallowed anything that was not 
 intended for swallowing: we were too well-trained." 
 
 " Well, it strikes me that you swallowed a good deal 
 one way or another if you were dosed with Near Home and 
 Far Off, to say nothing of The Fairchild Family. Eh, 
 mother?" 
 
 " Charles, I cannot permit you to be irreverent : it is an 
 atrocious habit for the young, and I beg you will not allow 
 yourself to fall into it." 
 
 The man did not reply to his mother, but he looked up 
 into his wife's dark eyes and smiled; and she smiled back, 
 stroking his yellow hair as she did so. As they were both 
 still on the sunny side of thirty, it struck them as distinctly 
 funny to be referred to as " the young." Ten years later 
 they would have accepted as a compliment what they now 
 treated as a joke. But that is the rule of life: the sarcasms 
 of today are the compliments of tomorrow, and yesterday's 
 sneers are today's plaudits. So we learn as we grow older 
 to be thankful for small mercies. 
 
 " As to the volumes you mention," continued the elder 
 lady, quite unconscious of the fact that she was affording 
 much amusement to her juniors: "I derived from them 
 immense benefit. In fact all my present knowledge of 
 Thibet I owe to the reading of Far Off, or Asia Described" 
 
 [352]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 " So I can believe," murmured her daughter-in-law. But 
 fortunately nobody heard her. 
 
 At this moment the youthful Lisa made a gallant attempt 
 to sit down upon her father's tea-cup; and was only saved 
 from doing so by the prompt action of that parent himself. 
 But her grandmother went on undisturbed: 
 
 " As soon as she is old enough to understand it, I shall 
 read portions of The Fairchild Family aloud to Lisa; as I 
 know no book more fitted to open the eyes of a child to good 
 sound Protestant doctrine." 
 
 " By Jove, it does that ! " exclaimed her son, who had 
 been himself brought up on the work in question : " and 
 gives you the shivers sometimes into the bargain." 
 
 " If you can make her as good a woman as you are," said 
 the younger woman, " I shall be thankful for you to read 
 to her anything that you choose." 
 
 " Thank you, Fabia. And if she is as good a daughter 
 to you as you have been a daughter-in-law to me, you will 
 have indeed x cause for thankfulness. And I shall probably 
 find my old copies of Near Home and Far Off, and read 
 those to her as well, as I do not approve of modern books 
 of travel: they give young people such erroneous ideas. I 
 read one only yesterday which said that the South Pole was 
 actually colder than the North Pole, and that is obviously 
 absurd ; as the North must in the course of Nature be always 
 colder than the South. I consider that these modern habits 
 of proving that black is white, and hot is cold, and North is 
 South are extremely unsettling to the young, and frequently 
 lead to atheism." 
 
 [353]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 ONCE MORE THE SCENE CHANGES 
 
 In a large church in the East End of London the newly- 
 appointed Bishop of Shoreditch was preaching to a vast con- 
 gregation. He held them spell-bound, for he was one of 
 the most striking preachers of his day; a man who had 
 already risen to high office in his Church, and who was 
 destined and fitted to rise still higher; a man who had been 
 as a beacon set on a hill to countless struggling Christians, 
 and who, being endowed with wisdom from on high, had 
 succeeded in bringing many to righteousness. 
 
 In one of the foremost pews in the church, two women 
 and a little boy were sitting, drinking in every word of the 
 preacher's discourse, and rilled with pride and exultation 
 because of him: for to them he had been respectively the 
 most dutiful of sons, the most devoted of husbands, the most 
 loving of fathers. And now they rejoiced that at last he 
 was entering into the fruits of his labours. At least the two 
 women rejoiced : the boy was as yet too young to understand 
 anything save that all these hundreds of people were listening 
 to his father, and that he ought to be proud indeed of being 
 the son of so great a preacher. 
 
 As for the preacher himself, the Lord had brought him 
 out of prison that he might praise His Name, also the Lord 
 had given him twice as much as he had before. He had 
 gone through much tribulation, but his faith in God had 
 never faltered ; and now he saw the end of the Lord : that 
 the Lord is very pitiful and of tender mercy. He forgot 
 his misery, and remembered it only as waters that pass away : 
 for at last the lines had fallen to him in pleasant places, and 
 he had a goodly heritage. 
 
 [354]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 FOR THE THIRD AND LAST TIME THE SCENE 
 CHANGES 
 
 Upon the shores of an island in the southern seas three 
 men one white and two black were walking up and down 
 engaged in earnest conversation. The white man was a 
 newly-ordained missionary who had but recently come to 
 these parts, but who had already made his mark there by 
 the untiring zeal and unflagging enthusiasm which he dis- 
 played in his Master's service: the blacks were two native 
 priests, whose sacerdotal pride and love of power were up 
 in arms against the new faith which was gradually sapping 
 their influence for evil, and supplanting their religion of 
 hate and cruelty by the worship of the God of Love. 
 
 The Bishop of that district had come on a visit to this 
 particular island in response to an invitation from the chief 
 of the savage tribe which dwelt there a man considerably 
 in advance of his race and people, who was anxious to learn 
 and to embrace the doctrines of Christianity: the young 
 Anglican had rowed the Bishop over from the missionary 
 station, and was now waiting his boat securely stranded on 
 the beach while the Bishop and the chief held private con- 
 verse together in the hut of the latter, some few hundred 
 yards away. 
 
 It was the opportunity of the native priests : and they took 
 it. They were well aware that the man before them was 
 one of the most ardent and untiring of all the hated band of 
 missionaries: and they believed that if he were once out of 
 the way, his weaker and less impressive brethren would soon 
 follow: and that thus their island would once more be left 
 secure in the fetters of its former heathenism. Of the Bishop 
 
 [355]
 
 THE SUBJECTION 
 
 they did not take much account. He was growing old ; 
 and his sphere of work was so wide that he could visit each 
 particular island but rarely. But this man was in the prime 
 of life not much over thirty and was distinguished by 
 considerable personal beauty: moreover his labours were 
 confined to this particular corner of his Master's vineyard ; 
 and he was seen frequently in this island, preaching the 
 Gospel which the native priests hated and promulgating the 
 religion which they regarded with dread. 
 
 At first the two natives approached him in a friendly and 
 commercial spirit, walking up and down the shore with him 
 arm-in-arm, and endeavouring by means of costly presents 
 to bribe him to go away and trouble them no more. But to 
 their surprise he refused, and would have none of their 
 skins and furs and feathers. 
 
 Then they became angry and threatened him: told him 
 that unless he would give his word as a white man that 
 word which could never be broken that he would not visit 
 their island again, nor attempt further to convert its chief 
 to Christianity, they would kill him then and there. And 
 still he smiled his serene smile, and bade them hear in their 
 own tongue some of the wonderful works of God. 
 
 And then as they looked steadfastly on him they saw his 
 face as it had been the face of an angel : and the devils that 
 were in them were filled with that hatred which the sons of 
 darkness ever feel towards the children of light the hatred 
 which persecuted Job and stoned Stephen and crucified the 
 Christ. So the two savages fell upon the European and 
 slew him then and there : and then fled into the dense forest 
 to hide themselves, until the wrath of their chieftain (on 
 finding that his people had murdered one of his beloved mis- 
 sionaries) should be overpast. 
 
 [356]
 
 OF ISABEL CARNABY 
 
 When the visitation of the Bishop was ended and he 
 returned to his boat, he found the young missionary lying 
 dead upon the shore, pierced through with many arrows: 
 for the life which was twice redeemed first by the Master 
 Himself and then by the Master's servant had been freely 
 and willingly given up to God. 
 
 THE END 
 
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