It/
 
 THE INCOGNITO LIBRARY
 
 THE INCOGNITO LIBRARY. 
 
 A series of small books by representative 
 writers, whose names will for the present not 
 be given. 
 
 In this series will be included the authorized 
 American editions of the future issues of Mr. 
 Unwin's " PSEUDONYM LIBRARY," which has 
 won for itself a noteworthy prestige. 
 
 32mo, limp cloth, each 50 cents. 
 
 I. THE SHEN'S PIGTAIL, and other cues of 
 
 Anglo-China Life, by Mr. M . 
 
 II. THE HON. STANBURY AND OTHERS, by 
 
 Two. 
 
 III. LESSER'S DAUGHTER, by Mrs. Andrew 
 
 Dean. 
 
 IV. A HUSBAND OF No IMPORTANCE, by 
 
 Rita. 
 
 These will be followed by 
 HELEN, by Vocs.
 
 A 
 
 HUSBAND 
 
 OF 
 
 No IMPORTANCE 
 
 BY 
 
 IT A ps* 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 NEW YORK LONDON 
 
 27 West Twenty-third Street 24 Bedford Street, Strand 
 
 tTbe Ifcmcfecrbocfccr preea 
 1894
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1894 
 
 BY 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 Elcctrotyped, Printed and Bound by 
 
 TTbe Knickerbocker fftress, Hew 
 O. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. "THE WORLD THAT 
 
 AMUSES us." . . 3 
 
 II. CACKLE . . . .20 
 
 III. A SERIOUS "QUART 
 
 D'HEURE" . . .32 
 
 IV. A BATTLE OF OPINIONS 48 
 
 V. THREE TYPES . . 62 
 
 VI. SOME REFLECTIONS, AND 
 
 A RESULT . . -79 
 
 VII. MISGIVINGS . . -93 
 
 VIII. AN " ARTICLE" DEFINITE 
 
 AND DEFINED . . 105 
 
 IX. A WHOLESOME DESPAIR Il6 
 
 X. AND YET ANOTHER 
 
 "TYPE." . . .128 
 XI. "THROUGH A MAN'S 
 
 EYES" . . .144 
 
 XII. A " FIRST NIGHT ". . 157 
 
 X I I I. THE MORAL OF THE PLAY 171 
 
 Hi
 
 A HUSBAND OF NO 
 IMPORTANCE
 
 A HUSBAND OF NO 
 IMPORTANCE. 
 
 I. 
 
 " THE WORLD THAT AMUSES US." 
 
 AMUSING? . . . isn't it?" 
 said the Woman. 
 
 There was scorn in her 
 accent and her eye. Scorn, too, in 
 the curl of a curved lip, which 
 seemed to emphasise an opinion with 
 an interrogation. 
 
 " Well, I think it is, very" said the 
 Man. 
 
 They had not been introduced, 
 but that was a mere detail to Mrs. 
 Hex Rashleigh. She was a woman 
 who never stopped to consider tri- 
 fles. If she saw a person she liked 
 she spoke to him, or her, as the case 
 3
 
 4 B Ibusbanfr of 1Ho Importance 
 
 might be. The acquaintance was then 
 allowed to drift or terminate, accord- 
 ing to the interest awakened. She 
 looked at the man to whom she had 
 spoken, and saw that he really meant 
 what he had said. 
 
 He positively looked amused. 
 Amused by this caravansary of 
 strange creatures who were crowd- 
 ing, elbowing, pushing, and chat- 
 tering at the top of their voices. 
 Amused by overdressed Jewesses, 
 painted actresses of no particular 
 standing, long-haired artists strug- 
 gling for fame, musicians, male and 
 female, longing for a hearing any- 
 how, anywhere, so long as they could 
 lift up their voices on high. Amused 
 by these self-important parvcnues, 
 who fondly imagined they were in 
 society this vulgar, gossiping clique 
 who made themselves the centre of 
 their own universe of boredom ! 
 
 His blue eyes were dancing with 
 fun and enjoyment as they met her 
 puzzled glance. He was young, good- 
 looking, finely built. Face and figure 
 bore the unmistakable stamp of birth
 
 a l3usbanJ> of "Ho Importance 5 
 
 and breeding. He looked so out of 
 all this, and yet he was amused. 
 
 " I think they "re all detestable," 
 she said, after a pause. " I wish I 
 had not come. I only did it out of 
 curiosity. ... I wanted to study 
 this section of society. I 'm on the 
 look-out for characters." 
 
 " Do you write ? " he asked, re- 
 garding her with evident interest. 
 
 " I do. That 's not very wonder- 
 ful nowadays." 
 
 " No," he agreed. " I 've been 
 thinking . lately the wonder would 
 come in to find a woman who did 
 not write or paint, or something. 
 Faith ! we poor men are being driven 
 out of the field entirely." 
 
 " Ah ! you 're an Irishman," she 
 said quickly. 
 
 "I am," he answered, "affecting" 
 a brogue, though he had it not. 
 " Strange how we betray our na- 
 tionality. I 've heard people puzzle 
 themselves over a Frenchman, a Ger- 
 man, a Swede, and then solve the 
 riddle satisfactorily by announcing, 
 ' You 're a foreigner.' "
 
 6 a f>usban& of Ho "Importance 
 
 She laughed. " A moment ago I 
 should have been puzzled to decide 
 about yourself. That you were so 
 easily amused might have given me 
 a clue." 
 
 " Well, we do get more fun out of 
 life than you sober-minded English 
 folk," he said. " I keep that instinct 
 alive for sake of the old country. 
 You '11 be shocked if I tell you I 
 could n't resist a street row to this 
 day." 
 
 He said it with that faint accent 
 which had seemed to amuse her, and 
 she looked at him again with some 
 curiosity as to his position or pro- 
 fession. He was the picture of aris- 
 tocratic indolence, and she hated 
 indolent young men. The business 
 of her life was a crusade against 
 their vanity and general uselessness. 
 
 Meanwhile he regarded her from 
 under long lashes which she summed 
 upas "womanish," though the eyes 
 themselves appeared intent on ad- 
 miring his patent leather boots. 
 
 " I wonder," he said at last, " if 
 I 've read any of your books."
 
 a t>u0ban& of "Ho "Importance 7 
 
 " I 'm sure not," she said. " They 
 are not what is called popular. Not 
 the sort of book that women talk 
 about at dinner parties, and critics 
 slate mercilessly." 
 
 " Then you must write with a 
 purpose." 
 
 Her lip curled. " I should be 
 sorry, certainly, to write without." 
 
 " It 's waste of time," he said 
 coolly. " It only means boring peo- 
 ple and losing your temper over un- 
 appreciated efforts. Confess you Ve 
 lost yours often." 
 
 Mrs. Hex Rashleigh was almost 
 taken off her balance. 
 
 She was a very well-known per- 
 son, and, sometimes, a very impor- 
 tant one. She wrote really clever 
 books. She was also a journalist, 
 and had once edited a -magazine. 
 She contributed to the Fortnightly 
 and the Quarterly. She went to 
 everything worth going to in Lon- 
 don, and knew all its celebrities by 
 sight and most of them personally. 
 Therefore it goes without saying that 
 she was a person of brains and
 
 8 a 1>u8banfc of Ho flmportancc 
 
 talent. A woman of importance 
 even in these days of important 
 women, and yet she found herself 
 at a loss what to make of a young 
 man. 
 
 " No," she said at last. " To quote 
 our Laureate 
 
 ' One needs must love the highest.' 
 
 I love it, and work for it. I don't 
 expect appreciation. Worthier and 
 greater women than I have lived and 
 died without it." 
 
 " You 've not told me what you 
 have written yet." 
 
 " I don't advertise my wares," she 
 said brusquely. " You can find out 
 my books very easily if you have a 
 mind to. But perhaps you don't 
 read novels ? " 
 
 " Only Lever's," he said gravely. 
 " Anything else is beyond me." 
 
 She flashed a keen glance at the 
 imperturbable face. Then took him 
 at his own valuation. 
 
 " I should have thought so," she 
 said sarcastically. " But what 's go- 
 ing on now ?"
 
 a *U8bano of Ho Ifmportance 9 
 
 There was a faint stir amongst 
 the crowd, a sibilant whisper of 
 " Hush h " from an anxious-faced 
 hostess. 
 
 Mrs. Hex Rashleigh looked over 
 a sea of bonnets and hats. " Oh ! 
 a recitation. I 'm so sick of them ! " 
 she observed. 
 
 "Are you? I'm sorry for that: 
 I enjoy them above all things." 
 
 " Hush h h " came again across 
 the room. 
 
 Mrs. Hex Rashleigh frowned, and 
 made a mental note against subur- 
 ban manners for the benefit of The 
 World's Mirror and Up-to-Date, for 
 both of which she wrote. 
 
 The reciter stood up. She was a 
 small woman with a babyish face, a 
 pile of grey hair arranged in irregu- 
 lar sausage-rolls, a large hat, and an 
 affected manner. 
 
 " I '11 bet it 's about babies," mur- 
 mured Mrs. Rashleigh. " She looks 
 that sort. ' Papa's Letter ! ' Oh 
 dear ! For the hundred and ninety- 
 ninth time ! . . . I wish I could 
 escape."
 
 io a tmsbano of 1fto -Importance 
 
 " Rough on the poor little thing. 
 She 's not half bad," drawled the 
 Irishman, lazily. 
 
 A few indignant glances shot right 
 and left at them showed that the 
 reciter had friends in their neigh- 
 bourhood who were justly indignant 
 at such criticism. 
 
 They resigned themselves to listen 
 to the childish babble that was more 
 suited to the nursery than the draw- 
 ing-room, but then Northerton was 
 rather behind the times. 
 
 It was a suburb or neighbourhood 
 that had broken out in sections, and 
 spread itself from the main body 
 through various channels and ar- 
 teries until it had reached a region 
 touching on Wormwood Common. 
 Yet still it clung to a sort of baptis- 
 mal certificate that proclaimed it a 
 relation of more fashionable dis- 
 tricts. Set going with such irre- 
 proachable relatives, Northerton had 
 launched forth into splendid man- 
 sions, tall terraces, and semi-de- 
 tached villas. It called its streets 
 " gardens." Almost every one of
 
 B tmsbanc* of Ho Importance it 
 
 them was " something Gardens." 
 " So much more style about that 
 than Terrace or Road," said the 
 inhabitants. 
 
 The houses were imposing, and 
 boasted of all the modern improve- 
 ments. The rents were moderate. 
 The district soon became populated, 
 and perambulators and " go-carts" 
 were a common sight. 
 
 When a neighbourhood boasts of 
 imposing domiciles, moderate rents, 
 and vast caravans of infantile human- 
 ity, it generally means a descent of the 
 not lost ) but living tribes of Israel. 
 
 They come they stay they con- 
 quer. 
 
 It was so with this delightful 
 suburb. Mrs. Levi, and Mrs. Moses, 
 and Mrs. Nathan, and Mrs. Korah, 
 Dathan, and Abiram flocked thither 
 on one another's heels, and assured 
 each other a hundred times a week 
 that the air was so good for the chil- 
 dren, the train so convenient for 
 their lords and masters, and the 
 fish-shops so cheap. Nothing could 
 be more suitable for a new colony !
 
 12 a twebanfc of Ho Importance 
 
 And the houses ? One really had 
 one's money's worth. 
 
 They were large, well-designed, 
 airy, and " up-to-date " in the way 
 of electric bells and conservatories 
 and front doors. Northerton was 
 especially great in the matter of 
 front doors, with stained glass panels 
 and elaborate brass knockers. On 
 the whole, the Semitic section of 
 the suburb were much delighted 
 with its advantages, and their Sat- 
 urday morning devotional promen- 
 ade made quite a brilliant spectacle 
 and a convenient rendezvous for the 
 various tribes. 
 
 Occasionally the Semitic section 
 entertained. 
 
 They did it well, and expense 
 was no object. True they resorted 
 to many little stratagems for pro- 
 curing artistes or amusements. But 
 then this might have been due to 
 prejudice. The Israelite, as a rule, 
 has but a poor opinion of any 
 human being who resorts to art for 
 a livelihood knowing well that it 
 is not a money-making profession.
 
 a 1)u0ban& of flo Importance 13 
 
 So when it came to entertaining 
 their friends they put the matter on 
 a footing of favour. The professional 
 singer or player would not receive 
 terms . . . but if at any time they 
 gave a concert the Section would 
 rally round them in the matter of 
 selling or taking tickets. 
 
 The professionals came some out 
 of curiosity, some because they 
 wanted " to be heard " it mattered 
 not by whom as long as there was 
 an audience. Everything must have 
 a beginning, so they accepted invi- 
 tations to Northerton " At Homes." 
 
 Mrs. Hex Rashleigh had been 
 decoyed thither this warm June 
 afternoon by a friend who said it 
 would do for " copy." The friend 
 was rich, popular, good-looking, and 
 loved to go " everywhere." She had 
 determined on writing a wonderful 
 book some day. Such a book as 
 had never yet been written. A 
 book that would make modern au- 
 thors look to their laurels. But it 
 wanted a vast amount of prep- 
 aration. She had already invented
 
 14 a 1)U8banJ> of Ho Importance 
 
 , i 
 
 some twenty or thirty plots, but was 
 not quite satisfied with any of them. 
 Meantime she wrote short tales for 
 the magazines. Mrs. Rashleigh and 
 Mrs. Despard were great friends. 
 They were almost always together, 
 and almost always on the search for 
 new experiences. What they had 
 expected to find in Northerton they 
 alone knew. 
 
 Having drifted asunder in the 
 crowd Mrs. Rashleigh had opened 
 a conversation with Blake Beverley, 
 as she had a trick of doing with 
 people if she liked the look of them. 
 By the time the baby-faced reciter 
 with the grey curls had finished her 
 harrowing description of a postage 
 stamp and a pair of runaway horses, 
 Mrs. Rashleigh was convinced that 
 the young man was worth cultivating. 
 
 " Do you live in this neighbour- 
 hood ?" she asked, under cover of 
 applause. 
 
 " Oh, no. ... I live at the other 
 end of the North Pole." 
 
 " The North Pole ? " She re- 
 flected, and looked bewildered.
 
 H 1>uebanO of Ho Importance 15 
 
 "Didn't you know? We're al- 
 most at it. It 's about a quarter of 
 a mile off. ... A great place on a 
 Bank Holiday, I assure you." 
 
 Mrs. Rashleigh felt indignant. 
 This young man was treating her 
 to "chaff," evidently. She did not 
 like it. 
 
 " I mentioned I had never been 
 in this part of the world before," she 
 said frigidly. " Judging from the 
 people here" with a comprehensive 
 sweep of her hand, " I seem to have 
 strayed into a New Jerusalem." 
 
 " There has been an exodus late- 
 ly from Maida Vale," he answered. 
 " Result University Gardens." 
 
 " Is that the name ? " 
 
 " Yes ; not very applicable perhaps, 
 but there are a few Christians scat- 
 tered about. Note that auburn- 
 haired woman with her daughters 
 ' gathered like chickens under her 
 wings.' They 've sat in that corner 
 the whole afternoon and behold, 
 oh ! wonder of wonders a parson ! 
 Surely he has n't come on a ' mission 
 for converting female Israel ! ' '
 
 16 B fnisbanfc of flo Importance 
 
 She laughed. " I know him, he 
 goes everywhere. He is liberal- 
 minded, except to his own parish. 
 But that 's neither here nor there. 
 He 's only setting an example." 
 
 " I thought it was a fashion he was 
 setting. His coat has been a source 
 of wonder to me. I took it for moire 
 antique, but I believe it 's alpaca." 
 
 " Have you ever remarked how 
 many human faces resemble different 
 animals, or birds ? One could class- 
 ify his very easily " 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; if he bleated it 
 would not surprise me. 
 
 " And, there again," she said, with 
 a glance at a portly female, satin- 
 robed and purple-faced. " Bovine, 
 is n't it ? " 
 
 " The safe and homely type, ac- 
 cording to modern writers." 
 
 " Take care," she said. " For 
 aught you know you may be tread- 
 ing on dangerous ground." 
 
 " Oh ! I 'm sure you 're strong- 
 minded I could tell that by your 
 chin. But I hope not too ad- 
 vanced."
 
 B f>u0ban& of flo Umportance 17 
 
 " That depends," she said gravely, 
 " on what you term ' advanced.' But 
 I scarcely think this is the time or 
 place for such a discussion. First 
 we 've been uncharitable, now we 're 
 drifting into personalities. It 's time 
 to part." 
 
 " Don't you ever discuss personali- 
 ties then ? " 
 
 " With kindred souls, yes." 
 
 " The fact of our meeting here, and 
 mutually abusing our entertainment, 
 shows we have something in com- 
 mon." 
 
 " That does not sound nice," she 
 said, with a sudden flush of colour. 
 " Why did you come ? " 
 
 " Because I was asked. Our host- 
 ess as you know or perhaps you 
 don't know is a German lady. I 
 met her at a big luncheon in the 
 West End. I was induced to sing. 
 She got introduced to me. The next 
 day I had a card and here I am." 
 
 " But the inducement ? " 
 
 " Pure curiosity, I assure you. I 
 only know one person in the crowd." 
 
 "Is that that woman over there 
 
 a
 
 is B twsbanD of flo Importance 
 
 who 's been making eyes at you so 
 long ? " 
 
 He started and coloured slightly. 
 " You flatter me. No I have n't 
 the honour of her acquaintance." 
 
 " You soon will then. I can read 
 character at least that of my own 
 sex That woman means to know 
 you." 
 
 He laughed. " Well, I don't mind. 
 She 's good-looking fair fine fig- 
 ure. Rather my style." 
 
 " Good-looking ! " There was 
 withering contempt in the voice. 
 " A face like a cat's small screwed- 
 up eyes, dyed hair, a coarse mouth. 
 Figure a dressmaker's model. How 
 blind men are ! " 
 
 " I do believe she is coming this 
 way," he said. 
 
 He had noted every point enu- 
 merated, but he was bent on " draw- 
 ing out " his new acquaintance. She 
 amused him immensely, and he was 
 longing to know who she really 
 was. 
 
 " I told you she meant to know 
 you."
 
 a l)U8ban& of Ho Umportance 19 
 
 " I feel alarmed. You 're a sort 
 of sorceress. You 're not going to 
 leave me unprotected, are you ? " 
 
 " I see my friend over there. I 
 hope she 's going away. I 've had 
 enough of this. . . . Your fate 
 is approaching." 
 
 " One thing more," he entreated. 
 " In what category of natural history 
 would you place that approaching 
 fate ? " 
 
 She flashed one swift glance at his 
 mirthful eyes, then rose from the 
 seat she had so long occupied. 
 
 " A Bird of Prey ! " she said sig- 
 nificantly.
 
 II. 
 
 CACKLE. 
 
 SOME quarter of an hour later, 
 two women were leaning back 
 in their victoria and satirising 
 University Gardens with that com- 
 mendable spirit of nineteenth cen- 
 tury charity which " thinketh evil " 
 of every one and everybody and 
 says it too. 
 
 Mrs. Hex Rashleigh was in a bad 
 temper, and she let her friend know 
 that she considered this an afternoon 
 wasted. 
 
 " Vulgar stupid hateful ! " she 
 repeated. " All Jews ever want you 
 to do is to appraise their household 
 gods, eat their food, and admire their 
 wives' jewels. What a set ! How 
 could you go there ? " 
 
 20
 
 a tmsbanD of Ho importance 21 
 
 " Oh, I 'm not a bit proud," 
 laughed pretty little Mrs. Despard, 
 safe in the possession of irreproach- 
 able lineage, and equally irreproach- 
 able fortunes. " I go anywhere and 
 everywhere. Contrasts are amusing. 
 Buckingham Palace one day and 
 Peckham Rye the next. The cream 
 and the skim milk alternately, . . . 
 that 's half the pleasure of life." 
 
 " I can't say I find pleasure a very 
 inventive god," observed Mrs. Rash- 
 leigh. "And as for skim-milk . . . " 
 She shuddered and opened her lace 
 sunshade as the carriage swept along 
 the broad high-road. " What sort 
 of people live here ? " she asked con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 " Oh, my dear, if it comes to that, 
 much the same sort as ourselves as 
 far as morals go. I cannot give you 
 a carte du pays of the settlement. 
 I 've only been to it some half-dozen 
 times. But I take it that each little 
 tract of country has its own special 
 set, its own circle of gossip, its own 
 centre of ambition. You see May- 
 fair and Mile End are not very un-
 
 22 a fjuebano of flo Importance 
 
 like after all. It 's only a question 
 of a little less money, a little less 
 extravagance, and the City Road to 
 shop in instead of Bond Street." 
 
 " I beg your pardon. It 's a ques- 
 tion of a possible and impossible 
 life ! " 
 
 Mrs. Hex Rashleigh had a bijou 
 flat in the neighbourhood of Sloane 
 Street. To her this region of dull 
 respectability and incessant omni- 
 buses seemed as a very Sahara. 
 
 " There are a few military people," 
 went on Mrs. Despard, whom all her 
 friends called V^loutine, " and a col- 
 ony of retired Indians I don't mean 
 savages, you know the sort of peo- 
 ple who pride themselves on their 
 curries and kitcherees, who talk of 
 Calcutta as a lost paradise, and are 
 quite unable to believe that their own 
 importance is insignificant after forty 
 years of native kow-towing and offi- 
 cial dignity. Would they amuse 
 you ? " 
 
 " Not in the least. I know the 
 class. Vain, selfish, arrogant, for 
 ever bringing up legends of past
 
 a fnisbanfc of Ho Importance 23 
 
 glories and sprinkling Hindustani 
 about their conversation by way of 
 ' local colour.' " 
 
 " You 're in a bad humour, Mar- 
 iori. Did it really bore you so much ? 
 I saw you talking very animatedly 
 once to a man. Who was he ? " 
 
 " I don't know. Irish, I believe. 
 A singer, he told me." 
 
 " Impossible ; he had n't the artist 
 look. I thought he was an army 
 man. Why did n't you ask his 
 name ? M 
 
 " I did n't feel sufficiently in- 
 terested in him." 
 
 " He was the only decent speci- 
 men of the male sex there. He 
 looked out of his element, I 
 thought." 
 
 " On the contrary, he said he was 
 immensely amused." 
 
 " You say that as if the fact an- 
 noyed you. I wish I had had the 
 chance of speaking. A singer, did 
 you say? I don't know his face at 
 all. I saw that awful Loosely woman 
 get hold of him before we left. Trust 
 her for tracking."
 
 24 a tmsbanft of Ho Umportance 
 
 " Who is she? " asked Mrs. Rash- 
 leigh eagerly. " One of the " lo- 
 cals ? " 
 
 " Yes. I know a neighbour of 
 hers, so I 've heard a good deal 
 about her. She 's the sort of wo- 
 man who puts on a pink apron and 
 waters her plants in the balcony 
 every morning, trilling little ' chan- 
 sonettes ' all the time. She has a 
 house in that big square we Ve just 
 passed. The remarkable feature of 
 the house is a smoking-room a femi- 
 nine one. It opens on a balcony 
 balcony on steps steps on garden 
 garden on Square. So convenient ! " 
 
 "What on earth do you mean, 
 Tina?" 
 
 Mrs. Despard laughed softly. " If 
 you knew Laura Loosely you 
 would n't ask. She 's a little too 
 much even for me. But I mustn't 
 talk scandal though this is the very 
 hotbed and forcing-house of that 
 noxious plant. You look quite sol- 
 emn. What is it?" 
 
 Mrs. Rashleigh answered vaguely. 
 Her mind was preoccupied. She
 
 a fjuebanfc of "Wo ITmportance 25 
 
 was reflecting on " types," and won- 
 dering why the Bird of Prey had 
 suggested itself to her mind. What 
 had she said to him ? How stupid 
 not to have asked his name ! 
 
 " Shall we do the Park, or go to 
 the Club?" asked Mrs. Despard as 
 the victoria turned into the Bays- 
 water Road at last. 
 
 " You might set me down at the 
 Club. I 've some letters to write, 
 and the column to do for the Sturm 
 und Drang." 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 Mrs. Despard gave the necessary 
 order to the coachman, and they 
 drove straight on towards Oxford 
 Street. 
 
 "What do you do to-night?" she 
 asked presently. 
 
 " I was thinking of the ' Circle ' for 
 an hour or two. I Ve not been once 
 this season ; and to-night they 've 
 something special." 
 
 "Well, I'll go too. But you'll 
 come across a lot of our late friends 
 again. I don't know how they 've 
 managed to get in, but they have."
 
 " Oh, it 's like everything else men 
 manage," exclaimed Mrs. Rashleigh, 
 contemptuously. " The thing was 
 first started for workers only. One 
 had to write, or paint, or act, or sing, 
 before one could claim admission. 
 Now, just look at the crew that have 
 managed to get in as members ; and 
 the lady secretary resigns, and then 
 some one's husband takes it up, and 
 it 's more a man's affair now th^n a 
 woman's." 
 
 " I hear it 's better this season. 
 More select." 
 
 "Select!" exclaimed Mrs. Rash- 
 leigh, shrugging her shoulders. 
 "Who wants it to be select? We 
 intended it as a common meeting 
 ground for authors and artists, as I 
 said. There was no nonsen-se about 
 dress. You could go in cotton or 
 tweed if you liked. Now they 're 
 all trying to outvie each other for 
 the sake of getting a line in a fashion 
 paper, and you meet women with 
 spines instead of brains, and dia- 
 monds instead of talent ! They '11 
 be introducing skirt-dancing next,
 
 or wanting the cotillon and cham- 
 pagne suppers." 
 
 Mrs. Despard looked amused. 
 " Decidedly," she said, " the wind is 
 in the east with you to-day. I won't 
 take you to Northerton again." 
 
 " No, please don't. A little of 
 that goes a long way. ... By 
 the way, what did you say was the 
 name of that woman with the . . . 
 house-that- Jack-built arrangement, 
 you know ? " 
 
 " Oh, Loosely Mrs. Loosely. . . . 
 I don't know how even the ' colon- 
 ists ' tolerate her ! There '11 be an 
 open scandal some day ; but she 's 
 been very clever as yet. Manages 
 to throw dust in a good many eyes 
 besides her husband's " 
 
 " Oh, there is a husband ? " 
 
 " Of course, my dear. That 's 
 why she 's so safe. He 's nearly as 
 retiring and useful an appendage 
 as your own. I always expect to 
 hear you announced as ' Mrs. Hex 
 Rashleigh and her husband ' when 
 you do put in an appearance together. 
 It's not often."
 
 28 a twBbanD of flo importance 
 
 Mrs. Rashleigh shrugged her 
 shoulders. " Well, he 's not of much 
 importance, you must allow. I Ve 
 always had my own way and done 
 what I wanted. Why should n't I ? 
 There 's no nonsense about me. I 'm 
 not the sort of woman who can only 
 run straight when she 's driven ! . . . 
 Now, you you 're full of sentiment 
 and romance. You like being made 
 love to. I loathe it. Men to me 
 are only abstract things. Life is a 
 history of their vileness, cruelty, and 
 tyranny. I made up my mind years 
 ago that I would never put my head 
 under the heel of one. I should 
 hate to think my husband was my 
 intellectual superior." 
 
 " Oh, well, we all know he 's not 
 that" laughed her friend. " But 
 don't mount your hobby for my 
 benefit, dear. I know your opinions 
 pretty well. Give them to the Sturm 
 und Drang, and try to teach your 
 down-trodden German sisterhood the 
 lessons of independence and emanci- 
 pation." 
 
 " A nation of Haus-Fraus ruled
 
 B twsbano of "Wo importance 29 
 
 by a despot are not likely to learn 
 even the alphabet of such a lesson 
 as we are teaching," answered Mrs. 
 Rashleigh. 
 
 Then the victoria stopped, and 
 she got out and entered a large and 
 imposing-looking building, and as- 
 cended to the first floor. On the 
 door was inscribed in elaborate cap- 
 itals, " The Woman's Reconstitution 
 Club." 
 
 The room which Mrs. Rashleigh 
 entered was large and comfortable, 
 but very plainly furnished with writ- 
 ing-tables, chairs, book-cases, and 
 stands with all the leading magazines 
 and papers. A few lounges for lazy 
 or tired members were the only ap- 
 proach to the feminine weakness of 
 comfort. 
 
 A few women were reading. Two 
 or three were busy with pen and 
 papers. Mrs. Rashleigh nodded a 
 general greeting, drew up a chair 
 to a specially workmanlike table in 
 a remote corner of the large room, 
 and commenced to work. 
 
 No one spoke. The only sound
 
 was the scratching of pens, or the 
 rustle of a page as it was turned. 
 
 The Reconstitution Club was es- 
 sentially a working club. One of 
 use and service no mere meeting 
 ground for afternoon tea, illicit love- 
 letters, and feminine scandal. 
 
 It was exclusive, and it was busi- 
 nesslike. Society laughed at it but 
 then it could afford to pay off Society 
 in its own coin. 
 
 Here were concocted spicy " pars " 
 which pointed the finger of scorn at 
 fashionable sinners. Here the Small 
 World was enlightened as to the 
 doings of the Great World it adored 
 at a respectful distance. Here were 
 formulated the bombshells of femi- 
 nine anarchists who hated and de- 
 spised the tyranny of Man, and, while 
 accepting him as a necessity, would 
 sweep him away as an obstacle to 
 the programme of emancipation. 
 
 Here underpaid genius found a 
 hearing, and overpaid mediocrity its 
 level. Here all were helpers in one 
 great cause, and agreed to work for 
 it, fight for it die for it, if need be !
 
 B t)U8ban& of Ho Umportance 31 
 
 A noble army of martyrs banded 
 together by one common fate the 
 fate of sex yet struggling boldly for 
 Freedom, and determined to get the 
 Franchise. 
 
 Probably when they did get it 
 they would only think it a bore and 
 a nuisance, and forget their voting 
 papers, and quarrel over the atten- 
 tions of a particular candidate ; but 
 that was unimportant at present. 
 
 They were working for an object, 
 and Liberty seemed a beautiful ideal 
 an oasis of tranquil ease in the 
 rush and fever and oppression of 
 Modern Life. 
 
 To this noble institution Mrs. Hex 
 Rashleigh stood in the proud posi- 
 tion of Founder, Prime Minister, 
 and General Propagator.
 
 III. 
 
 A SERIOUS QUART D HEURE. 
 
 MRS. HEX RASHLEIGH threw 
 down her pen at last with an 
 exclamation of impatience. 
 Her ideas would not flow ; her 
 diction lacked its usual ease and 
 fluency of expression. She felt 
 restless, out of temper, dissatisfied. 
 After all, even an Emancipated 
 Woman can't get away from moods. 
 They are the bane of the sex, and 
 cling to it in spite of abolished cor- 
 sets and divided skirts. 
 
 Mrs. Rashleigh was the victim of 
 a mood to-day, and it seriously in- 
 terfered with her work. 
 
 She sighed, and glancing up from 
 the scattered sheets of MSS., caught 
 32
 
 a twsbanD of "Wo importance 33 
 
 sight of her own reflection in the 
 one mirror that graced the room. 
 
 There had been a committee meet- 
 ing on the subject of that mirror, and 
 it had only been conceded with great 
 reluctance. The sterner minded of 
 Reconstitutionalists had strongly op- 
 posed this aid to vanity, but an art- 
 ful and good-looking member had 
 suggested they surely might see if 
 their bonnets were straight without 
 harm to the cause. So the mirror 
 took its place on the wall, and Mrs. 
 Hex Rashleigh suddenly caught her- 
 self looking into it with a dim sense 
 of disappointment. 
 
 It showed her a woman of some 
 thirty or more years. A clear-cut, 
 rather massive face ; brown hair 
 taken severely off the brow ; and 
 dark eyes large, flashing eyes that 
 seemed to say, " Trust me." 
 
 Not a beautiful face, certainly ; 
 not one to be noted where golden 
 locks and violet orbs found favour. 
 It held strength and force instead 
 of fascination self-will, self-control, 
 the power of organisation ; but one
 
 34 a f)usban& of mo importance 
 
 looked in vain for tenderness, or that 
 soft, caressing grace so essentially 
 feminine. 
 
 Perhaps her life and surroundings 
 had had much to do with this mas- 
 culine tendency. Her youth had 
 been spent in a household of weak 
 men and frivolous women. She had 
 grown up despising both. 
 
 Whatever talents she possessed had 
 been neglected rather than trained, 
 but hardship is no bad forcing-house 
 after all, and she had educated her- 
 self on good models, and worked un- 
 ceasingly for the one end she had in 
 view. 
 
 She was now thirty-three, and had 
 achieved much and hoped for more. 
 Like many enthusiasts, she took a 
 very one-sided view of her subject. 
 Her ambitions were on a large scale, 
 her talents above the average. She 
 rushed at obstacles and overthrew 
 them recklessly if possible ; de- 
 nounced them, if not. More peo- 
 ple feared her than loved her. She 
 was so terribly outspoken and hon- 
 est, that they shrank from her de-
 
 a l)usbanD of 1*0 Importance 35 
 
 nunciations even while cultivating 
 her acquaintance. 
 
 Society is thin-skinned. It can't 
 bear to hear things called by their 
 proper names, and Mrs. Rashleigh 
 never would call a spade an " imple- 
 ment of husbandry." Very few men 
 liked her married men especially. 
 They said she was dangerous. The 
 flail of her sarcasm beat them into 
 powder, and her merciless irony made 
 them feel decidedly uncomfortable. 
 
 They wondered how any man 
 could have been bold enough to 
 marry such a woman. They were 
 sure they never could have done 
 so. 
 
 Men as a rule make their own 
 conception of the Weaker Sex its 
 standard of perfection. When a 
 woman answers their requirements 
 they are satisfied she is all right. It 
 is exceedingly difficult to convince 
 them that she may do that and yet 
 be all wrong. 
 
 Mr. Hex Rashleigh as his wife 
 decreed he should be called, instead 
 of by his baptismal cognomen Hes-
 
 36 a 1>usbanD of flo ITmportance 
 
 keth held that comparatively unim- 
 portant position in her life and 
 household which the lawful possessor 
 of Emancipated Woman is now des- 
 tined to hold. 
 
 To tell the simple truth, Mrs. 
 Rashleigh knew very little about him 
 and cared less. She had had an 
 ideal of manhood in her girlish days. 
 It had been a combined essence of 
 Hercules and Apollo, with a dash of 
 King Arthur thrown in (Tennyson's 
 King Arthur, which is a sublimatised 
 essence of the real thing). 
 
 It is unnecessary to say she had 
 never found that ideal. They don't 
 walk the world now. Pot hats, 
 masher collars, and burlesque act- 
 resses have much to answer for. 
 They have made chivalry ludicrous 
 and picturesqueness impossible. 
 
 Mr. Hex Rashleigh was really an 
 excellent man ; clever too, if a little 
 dreamy and unassertive. He was 
 very proud of his wife and very fond 
 of her, but he never dared to tell her 
 so. She would have laughed in his 
 face. She had married him because
 
 a twsbano of "Wo importance 37 
 
 she felt that marriage was her only 
 chance of freedom from an unsuit- 
 able and distasteful environment. 
 He was five years older than her- 
 self, and had an appointment in the 
 War Office. 
 
 They had been married nearly ten 
 years. Those years had meant a 
 very active and important career for 
 Mrs. Hex Rashleigh. A certain 
 amount of talent and a skilful use 
 of subjects brought her books into 
 quite distinctive notice. She got to 
 know the best literary and artistic 
 people in London, and life became 
 interesting as well as exciting. 
 
 Freedom had been the ideal of her 
 life, and certainly her husband made 
 no claim on her liberty, and inter- 
 fered in no way with her projects. 
 
 He too had a club, and friends of 
 congenial mind, and work of a na- 
 ture his wife never guessed, and 
 would never have credited him with 
 the ability to execute. 
 
 They were really almost strangers 
 to one another. Ample means per- 
 mitted the domestic machinery to
 
 roll smoothly, and when Mrs. Hex 
 Rashleigh was " at home," or dined 
 any one, the details of entertainment 
 were irreproachable. 
 
 She was eccentric in her dress, but 
 not unwarrantably so. She had a 
 preference for tailor-made skirts and 
 coats, because they were smart, neat, 
 and serviceable, and in the house or 
 while working she wore a tea-gown. 
 
 Evening-dress she scorned. It 
 was immodest and degrading, she 
 declared ; designed to allure that 
 weak creature, Man, and to pander 
 to his vicious instincts. Possessed 
 of a beautiful figure and irreproach- 
 able arms, Mrs. Hex Rashleigh never 
 deigned to display these charms. 
 She was true to her principles at the 
 cost of vanity. 
 
 She was a staunch friend, too, to 
 those for whom she cared ; but to 
 the idle, frivolous, sensuous members 
 of her sex she presented a cold and 
 ironical contempt that seemed to 
 crush them into insignificance. 
 These were not popular virtues, and 
 bore their own fruit.
 
 a tmgbanfc of "Wo Kmportance 39 
 
 As she looked at herself now in 
 that disputed mirror she thought of 
 all this, and thought of it for the 
 first time with some instinct of sex. 
 
 It occurred to her that she was a 
 little sorry that men did not like her. 
 And yet why should she be sorry, 
 knowing her own worth, her sterling 
 virtues, and equally conscious of the 
 utter vileness and silliness and rapac- 
 ity of the popular feminine type ? 
 
 She looked at herself so long, ab- 
 sorbed in these speculations, that 
 other women in the room noted it 
 and exchanged glances of signifi- 
 cance. 
 
 Even the Emancipated can be un- 
 charitable occasionally, and to see 
 their leader studying her own reflec- 
 tion and idly tracing lines on a blot- 
 ting-pad, filled them with wonder 
 and amusement. 
 
 Suddenly she rose, put her letters 
 together for the post, and thrust her 
 MSS. into the drawer of her table 
 and locked it. 
 
 The article for the Sturm und 
 Drang was incomplete. For once
 
 40 a f)usban& of 1Ro Umportance 
 
 in her life she had found it impossi- 
 ble to bend her will to duty. Some- 
 thing had disturbed and distracted 
 her. She felt restless, impatient, 
 angry, and she had no reason for 
 being so. That was the worst of it. 
 It made her irrational, irresponsible, 
 feminine all that she most despised, 
 and had denounced so often in lec- 
 tures, articles, and books ! 
 
 She spoke a few words to the 
 other members of the Club, then 
 left and called a hansom and drove 
 home to dinner. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hex Rashleigh, 
 never interfered with each other's 
 engagements, and rarely inquired 
 into them. 
 
 It is an admirable system, and 
 can be commended to all advo- 
 cates of emancipation. It possesses 
 only the trifling drawback that 
 occasionally husband and wife may 
 find themselves in the same place 
 without previous intimation that 
 such a meeting is probable. 
 
 To-night Mrs. Rashleigh attired 
 herself in one of her apologies for
 
 a tmsbanfc of flo flmportancc 41 
 
 evening-dress a tea-gown of rich 
 oriental brocade and took herself 
 off to the " Circle," as she had 
 agreed with her friend, Mrs. Des- 
 pard. 
 
 The " Circle " was a very re- 
 markable combination of Talent, 
 Mediocrity, and Celebrity-Worship. 
 Originally, it had been instituted 
 solely in favour of the first-named 
 possession, but by degrees it had 
 widened and spread into a very 
 large ring indeed. All sorts of 
 people clamoured for election or 
 admission, and put forth strange 
 pleas for that purpose. 
 
 The writing of a single pam- 
 phlet or a magazine article served 
 as the claim of " authorship." 
 Publishers, again, were elected 
 because the authors thought it 
 would mean better terms for them- 
 selves, and that a general meeting- 
 place for the discussion of Work 
 might place such work on a more 
 lucrative footing. Artists who 
 could paint and not get " hung " 
 came tripping on the heels of ar-
 
 42 tl fcusbaiifc of Ho tfmportance 
 
 lists who got " hung " and could n't 
 paint at least this was what they 
 said of one another. 
 
 Music had, of course, its own 
 special claims. Besides, it enter- 
 tained literature on occasions by 
 giving gratuitous concerts to which 
 nobody listened unless a particu- 
 lar novelty was introduced such as 
 a Whistling Lady, an Infant Phe- 
 nomenon, or a Professor of Musical 
 Glasses. When ordinary artists 
 played or % sang the Circle talked, 
 as if to show how superior it was 
 to such trivialities. 
 
 But the root and ground of the 
 whole institution was Literature. 
 The big authors with names and a 
 banking account came here to 
 sneer at or patronise the strugglers 
 who had neither. 
 
 Family Herald and Temple Bar 
 looked askance at one another ; 
 Burlington Street and Paternoster 
 Row reckoned comparative profits. 
 The writer of the last popular 
 novel and the author of the last 
 shilling shocker here met on neu-
 
 tral grounds of fame, and held a 
 court of special admirers and 
 toadies. Altogether the Circle was 
 a curious assemblage, and on guest 
 nights, when it was supposed to 
 entertain, it presented to the ordi- 
 nary observer a spectacle that was 
 at once unique and remarkable. 
 
 Always on these occasions the 
 old members and the authenticated 
 authors drew together into solid 
 groups of severe animadversion, 
 and asked one another, " How on 
 earth did he get here ? " or " How 
 she became a member ? " and shook 
 their heads over a degenerate com- 
 mittee, and agreed the whole thing 
 was going to the kennels, and that 
 it had been very different in their 
 time, and that they should give 
 it up. 
 
 But season after season passed 
 and they had not given it up, and 
 were still critical, and still abusive. 
 So one can only suppose they grum- 
 bled on Parliamentary principles, 
 and with equal benefit to those con- 
 cerned.
 
 44 B tmsbanD of "Wo flmportance 
 
 On these nights the Circle was 
 favoured with guest tickets, and mem- 
 bers could bring two or three special 
 friends with them. This enabled 
 each aspiring author to have his or 
 her Court in attendance, and to 
 move about the large roomy gal- 
 leries with these devoted sycophants 
 and reward them by pointing out 
 Names. 
 
 The Court dearly loved " Names." 
 It stared and gasped and gasped in 
 wonder when the ownership of a 
 name resolved itself into an ordi- 
 nary human being with the usual 
 complement of legs and arms. It 
 was still more amazed to find that 
 even Names committed few sole- 
 cisms in the shape of attire. The 
 Court had expected something dif- 
 ferent. It did not quite know what ; 
 but still it was hardly prepared for 
 dazzling shirt fronts, or satin-framed 
 busts, and diamonds. It had held 
 vague theories concerning unkempt 
 hair, blue spectacles, dirty finger- 
 nails, and a Jellaby looseness of 
 garmenting with a laxity in the
 
 H f)usbanD of Tlo 1f mportancc 45 
 
 matter of hooks and eyes. It 
 naturally took some time to get 
 accustomed to the sight of, satins 
 and silks, gorgeous trains, and 
 sparkling jewels. 
 
 When by some happy chance the 
 Ideal did appear correct even to 
 the spectacles, towzled hair and slip- 
 shod petticoats it usually proved to 
 be a guest, or a struggler. 
 
 Female celebrity knew better 
 than to hide its light under a 
 bushel, or wear an ill-fitting and 
 unbecoming gown. Dresses were 
 an advertisement of profits, and 
 publishers' liberality. Hence their 
 splendour. 
 
 Into this queer jumble of Sex 
 and Celebrity, Mrs. Hex Rashleigh 
 swept proudly and alone, asserting 
 by absence of escort another of the 
 privileges of emancipation. 
 
 A group of the committee of the 
 Circle stood in the position of hosts 
 and hostesses, and she gave a gen- 
 eral greeting to their effusive wel- 
 come as became one of their leading 
 lights and show pieces.
 
 46 a twsbano of Ho Umportance 
 
 " You have not honoured us once 
 this season," gushed a hostess, seiz- 
 ing her hand and pressing it warmly. 
 " We began to think you were going 
 to desert us." 
 
 " I 've been busy," said Mrs. 
 Rashleigh in her usual curt way. 
 She lifted a long-handled eye-glass 
 and looked at the crowd round the 
 refreshment tables. " I '11 go and 
 see the lions feed," she said, and 
 passed on. 
 
 At every step she was met by a 
 bow, a smile, an eager glance, a 
 word of greeting. It was plain that 
 Mrs. Hex was a very well-known 
 person indeed. In fact it was popu- 
 larly believed that she had been 
 the founder of this remarkable in- 
 stitute. This, however, was not true. 
 She had simply helped to organise 
 it, and then retired in despair after 
 a brief experience of what a com- 
 mittee is capable of. 
 
 Shaking herself free with some 
 difficulty from the oppression of 
 greetings, she drew her beautiful 
 artistic draperies slowly through the
 
 a t>usbanJ> of Ho Umportance 47 
 
 long tea-room. She was looking for 
 Mrs. Despard. 
 
 Suddenly she stood stock-still as 
 if turned to stone. Astonishment 
 expressed itself without word or 
 gesture. 
 
 She found herself confronted by 
 two men, engaged in eager conver- 
 sation. One was her acquaintance 
 of that afternoon. The other her 
 own husband.
 
 IV. 
 
 A BATTLE OF OPINIONS. 
 
 WHO is that lady ? " asked 
 Blake Beverley, arresting 
 his companion's attention. 
 Mr. Hex Rashleigh peered with 
 his short-sighted eyes and then 
 smiled amusedly. 
 
 "That is my wife." He ad- 
 vanced a few steps and spoke to her. 
 " I wish I had known you were com- 
 ing. We could have driven down 
 together," he remarked. " Are you 
 alone ? . Shall I find you a 
 
 seat ?" 
 
 "Thanks I'll stay here," she 
 said, sinking into one of the velvet 
 divans placed here and there. Then 
 in a lower key, " Who is your 
 friend ?" 
 
 48
 
 a f>usbano of "Wo importance 49 
 
 " Oh ! young Beverley. Don't 
 you know him ? Shall I introduce 
 him ! " 
 
 " Yes ; I met him this afternoon." 
 
 In another moment she had signi- 
 fied that the handsome Irishman 
 might take a seat beside her. In 
 two, she had intimated to her hus- 
 band that he was de trap. 
 
 He was far too admirably drilled 
 not to understand this hint, and he 
 drifted off to another part of the 
 galleries where these reunions took 
 place. 
 
 " Odd, our meeting again like 
 this," remarked the Irishman. " I 
 had no idea who you were this after- 
 noon. I 've known your husband 
 some time. Awfully clever, is n't 
 he?" 
 
 " Clever ? " Mrs. Rashleigh opened 
 her handsome eyes in genuine as- 
 tonishment. Then she remembered 
 degrees of comparison. Perhaps 
 Hex Rashleigh did seem clever to 
 an Irishman who had n't a soul 
 above Lever, and liked recitations. 
 
 "I'm glad you think so," she
 
 said. " He has n't given the world, 
 or myself, that opinion." 
 
 " No ? . . . Well, he 's one of 
 those quiet, retiring sort of fellows 
 who see and do a great deal more 
 than people suppose. But I forgot 
 you write books." 
 
 " Does that pre-suppose incapac- 
 ity of judgment ? " she asked sar- 
 castically. 
 
 " Oh dear no ! Only authors are 
 such a dreamy, preoccupied race. 
 They have so much to do with their 
 imaginary characters that they over- 
 look real ones close at hand." 
 
 " The Modern Man," said Mrs. 
 Rashleigh, incisively, " presents few 
 traits of character that are worth 
 writing about. He is an epitome of 
 folly and selfishness, the outcome of 
 a vicious past, the shame of a terrible 
 present ! If he ever has a future of 
 any worth, he will owe it to the re- 
 generating power of Woman." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Blake Beverley, his 
 eyes sparkling with delight. " Now 
 I know your vocation. You are one 
 of the New Women. Aren't you?
 
 a t>usban> of Ho importance 51 
 
 How jolly ! I 've longed to meet 
 one. Do let 's have it out. These 
 grievances of your sex against ours. 
 What 's the reason of it all, and what 
 do you all want ? " 
 
 " We want," said Mrs. Rashleigh, 
 " Men not brutes ; mental intelli- 
 gence properly applied. We want 
 equal freedom equal rights. We 
 want to abolish the slavish subjec- 
 tion of sex to sex, and stand alone 
 free untrammelled to make our 
 own laws and live our own lives." 
 
 " And how do you propose to do 
 that ? " he asked. 
 
 " It will be a work of time, and it 
 won't be easy," she answered. 
 " But we shall do it in the end. 
 The battle has begun ; it needs 
 courage, industry, and devotion, 
 and we have to fight against traitors 
 on our own side, and tyrants on 
 yours. Still . . . we shall win." 
 
 " I hope not," he said coolly. " I 
 think you 'd make an awful mess of 
 things if you did besides taking 
 away half of our burdens and most 
 of our fun ! "
 
 52 a IbusbanO of 1Ro Umportance 
 
 " Fun ! " exclaimed Mrs. Rash- 
 leigh, indignantly. " Yes, that is 
 your sole idea of life. Look at the 
 present-day youth ! Can anything 
 be more detestable ? Your very 
 press scoures him almost daily. His 
 morality is that of the monkey ; his 
 tastes that of the " Coster," on whom 
 he seems to mould himself ; his life 
 a living disgrace, and his death 
 usually a scandal ! I 'm not speak- 
 ing of types, but of the Creature 
 itself . . . the creature to whom 
 we are condemned to act as mothers 
 the wretched result of past ages of 
 man's immorality and our defence- 
 lessness ! " 
 
 " That 's very strong," said the 
 young Irishman. " It would n't 
 have occurred to me to look at it in 
 that light. Ibsenish, is n't it ? " 
 
 " It is the light of Common Sense 
 and Truth," flashed Mrs. Rashleigh, 
 angrily. 
 
 " No doubt ; but still, I can't see 
 the remedy. You can never make the 
 world of one pattern. There will 
 always be good and bad,virtuous, and
 
 U f>u0banJ> of flo Importance 53 
 
 vicious, rich and poor. Besides, 
 sinners are rather interesting. What 
 would the clergy do without them ? 
 And if we were all good, what would 
 there be to talk about ? " 
 
 " I am not jesting," said Mrs. 
 Rashleigh. " I consider this is a 
 serious and sacred subject." 
 
 " It is," he agreed " very. And 
 do you write on it, and lecture on it, 
 and all that ? No wonder you 
 have n't had time to find out whether 
 your husband is clever or not." 
 
 " We hold such different opinions," 
 said Mrs. Rashleigh, coldly, " that I 
 think we had better drop this dis- 
 cussion." 
 
 "With all my heart," he said 
 eagerly. " Let me tell you how 
 astonished I was to meet you here. 
 Are you a member, or a guest ? " 
 
 " The former. I was one of the 
 prime movers in its formation." 
 
 " Were you really ? Had it any 
 special purpose ? " 
 
 " It was intended as a meeting- 
 place for workers. Art and litera- 
 ture and science were alone eligible
 
 54 a 1>u8ban& of mo tFmportance 
 
 for membership. And look at it 
 now." 
 
 "Well," he said, laughing. "It's 
 a hotch-potch of all sorts, is n't it ? 
 But that 's the way with most 
 women's clubs and societies. Some- 
 how they never hang together, and 
 generally develop into rowdyism." 
 
 Mrs. Hex Rashleigh flushed 
 angrily. 
 
 " I really do think," she said, 
 " that you are the very rudest young 
 man " 
 
 " But I 'm only meeting you on 
 your own grounds," he said coolly. 
 " Talking to you and treating you as 
 I would a man. Is n't that what 
 you want ? " 
 
 She bit her lip in pure feminine 
 vexation. Twice to-day had this 
 impertinent Hibernian succeeded in 
 disturbing her usual serenity. No 
 man had ever spoken to her as he 
 did. Yet she could not say he was 
 discourteous. Only well, if a man 
 is remarkably good-looking, and a 
 woman feels an interest in him, it is
 
 a f>u8ban6 of 1fto ITmportancc 55 
 
 not quite pleasant to be treated as if 
 she were only a schoolgirl or a fool. 
 
 "Arejou a member?" she asked, 
 waiving the question of manly cour- 
 tesy. 
 
 " No ; I Ve often been asked to 
 join, but I can always get a guest 
 ticket, so I Ve not bothered about 
 it. Besides, I haven't too many 
 guineas to throw away." 
 
 " Then you do something ? " she 
 exclaimed eagerly. 
 
 " I 'm an actor. Are you inter- 
 ested in that line of business ? " 
 
 " I 'm interested in any profession 
 that is intellectual or useful. . . . 
 I don't seem to know your name 
 though. And yet I rarely miss a 
 first night." 
 
 " My first night has yet to ' come 
 off ' in London. I Ve only done the 
 provinces as yet. It 's a fine school 
 though. I look upon it as the best 
 friend and the best trainer of Am- 
 bitious Youth and aspiring Irvings." 
 
 " I thought you told me you were 
 a singer this afternoon ? "
 
 $6 & tmsbano of Ho importance 
 
 " No ; I only said Madam Rosen- 
 berg had heard me sing." 
 
 " How did things go on there, by 
 the way ? Was the Bird of Prey 
 rapacious ?" 
 
 " How hard you are on your sex. 
 She was very charming. She asked 
 me to meet her here to-night." 
 
 " Indeed. Am I detaining you ? " 
 
 " Not at all. I 'd rather talk to 
 you. You 're more interesting." 
 
 Again that silly feminine flush 
 coloured Mrs. Rashleigh's face. The 
 blue eyes looked with warm admira- 
 tion into the brown ones. She found 
 herself wondering if they were truth- 
 ful. 
 
 " How long have you known my 
 husband ? " she asked abruptly. 
 
 " How long ? . . . Well, I met 
 him first when I was on tour. We 
 were doing ' The Rivals.' He took 
 a fancy to my Captain Absolute. 
 We knocked up an acquaintance, and 
 since then we 've not lost sight of 
 each other." 
 
 "Oh! . . ." said Mrs. Rash- 
 leigh, " I should not have thought
 
 a f)u0ban& of tto importance 57 
 
 you would have much in common. 
 My husband takes little interest in 
 theatrical matters." 
 
 Blake Beverley stared at her a 
 moment. Then an odd expression 
 came into his face. " I suppose," he 
 said caustically, " the Modern Wife 
 does not take much interest in the 
 doings of the obsolete husband. He 
 is of no importance to her. I won- 
 der why she marries at all ? House- 
 hold affairs are beneath her notice. 
 Maternity is a distasteful obligation. 
 In her clamour for publicity she is 
 oblivious of the wide area of private 
 life where her influence and example 
 might really be of use. Well, my 
 remedy would be ' Give her her 
 head, and let her prove for herself 
 that she is making a vast mistake.' 
 The majority of women are created 
 feminine by nature. For God's sake 
 leave them so. They will be far 
 happier and of far greater use." 
 
 " You use a man's selfish argu- 
 ments," said Mrs. Rashleigh, con- 
 scious of a little prick of discomfort 
 under her panoply of assurance :
 
 " the arguments of generations of 
 your sex who have considered it 
 their duty to suppress and ill-use 
 ours." 
 
 " I think it is greatly your own 
 fault if you have been ill-used," he 
 said. " I can answer for my coun- 
 trymen, I know. They have far too 
 high an opinion of women to play 
 the part of brute, or tyrant. Of 
 course I 'm speaking of intelligent, 
 decent-minded men. I hope they're 
 not as rare as you seem to imagine." 
 
 " I fancy they are," said his op- 
 ponent, obstinately. " Judging from 
 what I have heard and seen . . 
 the unfortunate victims of marriage 
 and debauchery have certainly little 
 to thank your sex for. Your one 
 aim has been to keep women in 
 ignorance and then abuse her for 
 it." 
 
 " That 's such a stale old cry. Any 
 woman who had ability could always 
 use it, if she was determined to 
 learn. Even as far back as the days 
 of Lady Jane Grey, she could do so 
 without a man stopping her. The
 
 B f>usban& of Ho ITmportance 59 
 
 truth is the majority of women have 
 never possessed any great mental 
 gifts. The exceptions have been 
 small but, I grant you, remarkable. 
 It is not want of opportunity, but 
 want of ability, that has kept women 
 in the background. Even now, 
 among all the Screamers and Clam- 
 ourers, how rare it is to find a really 
 clever or rational one. If a woman 
 wants to do real good to her race, 
 and earn the thanks of future gene- 
 rations, let her undertake the guid- 
 ance of childhood, and teach her 
 sons truthfulness, honour, and self- 
 respect. She can do this better than 
 any man. It 's a pity she does n't 
 try." 
 
 " She has tried, and broken her 
 heart over failures, the result of ex- 
 ample and of tyrannical laws. The 
 rights of the father are alone re- 
 spected. His faults are condoned, 
 where her's are pilloried." 
 
 " Better so than the reverse side 
 of the picture. Even law-makers 
 have a high standard of Female "mo- 
 rality."
 
 " We are drifting back into an old 
 controversy. How is it you know so 
 much about this matter ? " 
 
 He laughed. " Oh, I 've learnt a 
 lot from your husband," he said. 
 
 " My husband ! " Mrs. Rashleigh 
 looked at him with polite incredulity. 
 " Do you really mean to say he talks 
 on the subject ? " 
 
 " I should say he had very good 
 cause to do so, considering he is one 
 of the sufferers." 
 
 She flushed to her temples. " I 
 have already had reason to remark 
 on your manners, Mr. Beverley. I 
 was not aware I had had the honour 
 of being discussed in my relative po- 
 sitions of wife and housekeeper, by 
 you and Mr. Rashleigh." 
 
 " You don't like the idea," he said, 
 coolly. " But, as I said before, if 
 you claim equal rights with man 
 you '11 have to put up with very dif- 
 ferent treatment. He won't make 
 you pretty speeches or show you any 
 particular attentions. You '11 have to 
 rough it like himself. I don't sup- 
 pose you '11 like it, but excuse my
 
 a 1ni6ban& of mo flmportance 61 
 
 saying so you will have brought it 
 on yourselves." 
 
 " I fancy," said Mrs. Rashleigh, 
 wrathfully, " that we will be able to 
 teach him what we expect and to 
 get it, too. . . . But there is 
 my friend Mrs. Despard, looking at 
 us. I promised to meet her here." 
 
 " Then," he said, rising at once, 
 " I must not usurp your society any 
 longer. I hope we '11 be none the 
 .worse friends because of this bat- 
 tle ? " 
 
 The voice was so coaxing, the blue 
 eyes so resistless, htr wrath melted 
 at once. 
 
 " Indeed, no," she said warmly. 
 " Come and see me whenever you 
 like. On Sundays I "m always at 
 home." 
 
 " I shall remember that," he said, 
 and with a courteous bow he moved 
 aside to make room for the pretty 
 little Fashion Plate who had ap- 
 proached.
 
 V. 
 
 THREE TYPES. 
 
 YOUR friend of this afternoon, 
 was n't it, Marion ?" asked, 
 Mrs. Despard, fluttering her 
 laces, flowers, and draperies in a per- 
 fumed cloud about the velvet divan. 
 " Yes. Odd we should meet again 
 so soon." 
 
 " Not a case of Affinities, I 
 hope ?" laughed the pretty Fashion 
 Plate, giving a touch to the balloon- 
 like expansion on either side her 
 corsage which la mode calls " sleeves." 
 Mrs. Rashleigh frowned. She 
 never permitted jests on moral sub- 
 jects. 
 
 " I find he knows my husband." 
 she said, " and that he is an actor." 
 " An actor, and a friend of Mr. 
 62
 
 B fjusbanD of flo ITmportance 63 
 
 Rashleigh's ? Why, I thought he 
 was always buried in pamphlets and 
 estimates of expenditure, and costs 
 of armaments, and things of that 
 sort ! " 
 
 " I suppose he has time to culti- 
 vate a stray friendship. Besides, he 
 belongs to a club." 
 
 " Oh, a Savage, I suppose ? That 
 would account for it." 
 
 " I really don't know, I never 
 asked. But it could n't be the Sav- 
 age. He has n't the qualifications." 
 
 " Well, look at this. Where do the 
 qualifications come in ? I confess I 
 don't see them." She glanced 
 around and rattled on. " There 's 
 the Scandalton group ! Did n't I 
 tell you they 'd be here ? And ob- 
 serve the Anglo-Indian contingent. 
 . . . That tall, stout woman, with 
 the suspiciously black hair, is one of 
 the most notorious scandal-mongers. 
 Nothing escapes her. I 'm always 
 expecting she '11 be brought to book 
 for libel. That 's a colonel's wife, 
 that little fair woman. She 's nearer 
 sixty than forty, and look at her !
 
 64 a twsbano of Bo Umportance 
 
 White satin and pearls. Is n't it 
 touching. . . . Oh, do you see 
 Mrs. Prancer ? There, in daffodil 
 satin. What a gown. She 's had 
 two husbands, and now she 's like 
 the Woman of Samaria. He whom 
 she has, is not her husband. But 
 he 's going to be. So that 's all 
 right." 
 
 " My dear Tina, your tongue runs 
 away with you," remonstrated Mrs. 
 Rashleigh. " Surely, she would n't 
 be here if . . . if that was true." 
 
 " Oh, yes, she could and is, you 
 see. It 's not generally known, and 
 she thinks it safe. Gracious ! how 
 do people speak to that dreadful 
 women, Zamoretti though she has 
 secured a husband at last ! Did you 
 ever see such a mountain of flesh ? 
 Looks as if she 'd been melted into 
 that gown and then let stand. Her 
 shoulders and arms wouldn't dis- 
 grace a skirt-dancer's limbs ! We 
 all say limbs, now, you know. It 
 sounds so much more modest. Do 
 you think ordinary cotton keeps those 
 seams together ? "
 
 21 tmsbanfc of 1Ro Umportance 65 
 
 " What a rattle you are, Tina," 
 said Mrs. Rashleigh, rebukingly. 
 
 " I know. I 'rn only shallow, and 
 so I must make a noise somehow. 
 Really this place gets funnier and 
 funnier. It '11 be a show to bring 
 country cousins to, soon. What a 
 crowd. Let 's sit here and criticise." 
 
 " You mean scandalise, and that 's 
 not in my line." 
 
 " No, but it 's in mine. So be dear, 
 and let me enjoy myself. There 's 
 material here for three vol. novels, 
 is n't there ? Those two men are 
 talking theosophy, and wondering 
 what the society will do without ' H. 
 P. B.' That little man is Mediocre, 
 the artist. He and his wife are 
 always here Jewish, I fancy, judging 
 from the nose. What is the sign 
 manual of Israel ? I can never be 
 quite sure if it 's eyes or nose, or a 
 combination of both. Anyhow one 
 can't mistake. . . . There 's the 
 little woman who recited this after- 
 noon. What a pity some one does n't 
 do her hair for her ! . . . That 's 
 an Irishman with her he is awful 
 
 5
 
 66 a DusbanD of flo importance 
 
 fun, and sings rather well. Those 
 three old maids are always here. 
 Cotton-back velvets and fakes. 
 . . . They come by omnibus and 
 
 leave hats in the cloak room 
 
 It 's funny, is n't it ? ... Farce, 
 Tragedy, Comedy, and Common 
 Sense. You represent Common Sense, 
 Marion." 
 
 " And you ? " 
 
 " Oh, I 'm Farce, I suppose. I never 
 was sensible. I only look on and 
 enjoy and frivol. After all, some 
 one must frivol. We can't all be 
 sensible.' 
 
 " It 's women like you, Tina, who 
 are at once the despair and ruination 
 of our movement." 
 
 " Yes, dear ; I know. You 've told 
 me that before. I 'm sorry but how 
 can I help it ? As Topsy says, ' I 
 'spects I growed so.' There are 
 always the bees and the butterflies, 
 you know. One has to put up with 
 them. They can't amalgamate ; but 
 each has their use. When I write 
 my book I shall divide my characters 
 into classes, and they can be comic
 
 a 'fcusbanD of Ho Umportance 67 
 
 or dramatic, as they please. I believe 
 in contrasts, as I told you to-day. 
 The more bizarre the better. Fate 
 has been awfully kind to me. I 've 
 never had any real trouble. . . . 
 Even when poor dear Despard died, 
 he did it so nicely -away from home, 
 and all arrangements by telegram. 
 I know it sounds heartless but he 
 was nearly eighty ; and if one be- 
 lieves one thing in the Bible, one 
 must believe all. So he had rather 
 over-fulfilled his regulation period. 
 It is really nice to be rich and free, 
 and do exactly what you please. Of 
 course, if I was a grave, sensible 
 person like you, I "d have a mission. 
 But then I 'm not sensible, and 
 missions would only bore me. How 
 do you like my gown ? " 
 
 Mrs. Rashleigh's lip took an added 
 curl of contempt. 
 
 "It's ridiculous, and I should 
 think uncomfortable ; but you look 
 very pretty." 
 
 " How sweet of you to say so ! 
 Yes ... I confess I 'd like half 
 an inch more breathing space ;
 
 68 a Dusbanfc of Ho ITmportance 
 
 but how would I look with a waist 
 of twenty ; I 'm not a grand, fine 
 creature like you ! You big women 
 will never understand what your 
 small-built sisters have to under- 
 go. You can wear anything, and 
 we well, very little. I don't mean 
 in covering, . . . but in length, 
 breadth, and general contour. Even 
 high heels don't help us much. 
 And now, tell me, what 's 
 your new friend like ? Was it 
 ' shop ' ? " 
 
 " My ' shop,' if any. He favoured 
 me with his opinions respecting the 
 Modern Woman and her efforts at 
 progress." 
 
 Veloutine laughed. 
 
 " How funny ! And you put on 
 the gloves, of course. I wish I had 
 been there as bottle-holder " 
 
 " My dear Tina, I can stand 
 slander, but spare me slang ! " 
 
 " Milles pardonnes . . . I forgot. 
 
 But you don't mean to say an actor 
 
 talked Emancipation. . . . No 
 
 wonder he 's off to Mrs. Loosely. 
 
 . Look at them."
 
 & IbusbanD of tto Umportance 69 
 
 Mrs. Rashleigh did look. Indeed, 
 her eyes had wandered already to 
 that divan where a prominent bust, 
 crossed legs, and Louis Quatorze 
 shoes were points of interest to male 
 passers-by. Mrs. Loosely was in great 
 form. She wore black velvet cut en- 
 cceur and en " spine." Her towsled 
 hair was fresh from the touch-up of 
 peroxide and the judicious wave of 
 curling irons. Her small eyes were 
 carefully darkened ; her strident 
 voice and jingling laughter struck 
 sharply on the ear. 
 
 But she was quite happy. She 
 flattered herself she had made a new 
 conquest ; and she dearly loved 
 Hibernians. She had known several 
 in her time, and they had carried out 
 the legend of the Blarney Stone de- 
 lightfully. 
 
 No one discerns feminine weak- 
 ness so quickly as an Irishman. On 
 the other hand, no one plays up to it 
 so successfully. 
 
 Blake Beverley was allowing him- 
 self to be made love to in the most 
 appreciative fashion, out of sheer
 
 70 a f>usban& of Ho importance 
 
 mischief and a little curiosity to see 
 how far the modesty of the Modern 
 Englishwoman allows her to go. 
 
 He had had a varied experience 
 of it. Mrs. Loosely was inclined to 
 offer him another instalment. 
 
 She was one of those women who 
 are of no particular age after thirty. 
 She had an insignificant husband, a 
 daughter at a boarding-school, and a 
 son in Germany. She also possessed 
 ample means, and a desire towards 
 youthful conquests. She generally 
 annexed some young man and kept 
 him in her train for a period, varying 
 with his patience or her liberality. 
 
 While the " annexation " lasted the 
 favourite was supposed to dance con- 
 stant attendance on the lady ; to be 
 her escort to every place, or, as she 
 termed it, " show," where she elected 
 to display her gowns and scandalise 
 her hostess ; and hint illnatured 
 things of every woman prettier 
 or more popular than herself. Few 
 people liked her all distrusted her 
 and yet she was received and in- 
 vited into the shadow of respec-
 
 fl twsbanb of Ho importance 71 
 
 lability because she had not yet 
 committed the glaring indiscretion 
 of being " found out." 
 
 In that curious section of society 
 which hovers on the confines of the 
 Real Thing and the " Unknowable," 
 Mrs. Loosely frisked and capered to 
 her heart's content. Her husband 
 was complaisant, and indeed really 
 grateful sometimes to the callow idiot 
 who thought it " life " to be playing 
 amateur Lovelace, little fancying he 
 was conferring an obligation as well 
 as incurring a risk. 
 
 The last annexation had just 
 developed " temper." He was sick 
 of the business, and said so. He 
 called it " rot," which was vulgar, if 
 truthful. A month before it had 
 been " ripping " equally vulgar, but 
 not so truthful. Mrs. Loosely was 
 therefore in that frame of mind 
 which enables wounded vanity to ac- 
 cept balm in the shape of new con- 
 solation. 
 
 It did not occur to her that the 
 person she selected for the office of 
 Consoler might have an objection to
 
 72 B twsbanD of 1Ro Ifmportance 
 
 fulfil that duty ; as a rule, she gave 
 the hint more or less broadly and 
 the annexation was soon effected. 
 
 Her conversation was somewhat 
 different to that of Mrs. Rashleigh. 
 It consisted in second-rate witticisms, 
 sneers, and scandals, interlarded with 
 descriptions of her gowns and la- 
 ments over the dressmaker's failings. 
 
 " I like a man's work so much 
 better," she was saying, " but they 're 
 so horribly expensive." 
 
 " Are they? " said Blake Beverley, 
 vaguely. He was not yet initiated 
 into the mysteries of " man " mil- 
 liners and millinery. Neither was 
 he aware that his predecessor had 
 absolutely declined to pay a bill to 
 one of these individuals, although he 
 had introduced Mrs. Loosely to their 
 favourable notice. She was still smart- 
 ing under this trial, and tingling with 
 a vivid remembrance of " home- 
 truths " uttered in the row-royal 
 that the bill had occasioned. 
 
 She wondered what young Bev- 
 erley's income was. He looked such 
 good style . . . Guards, or some-
 
 thing of that sort. He had not told 
 her his particular profession or call- 
 ing only complimented her on " per- 
 spicuity " when she had said, " I 'm 
 sure you 're in the army." 
 
 " I saw you talking to that extra- 
 ordinary creature, Mrs. Hex Rash- 
 leigh," she remarked at length. 
 
 " Do you know her ? " asked 
 Blake Beverley. 
 
 " Oh ! good gracious no ! " she 
 cried, with animation. "I couldn't, 
 you know. She 's too utterly dread- 
 ful ! Goes about lecturing, and rails 
 against men and society, and all 
 that. One of the New Women, 
 you know." 
 
 " I am surprised she comes to a 
 place like this," said the Irishman. 
 
 " Why, what 's the matter with 
 the place?" asked his companion, 
 sharply. " The very best people 
 come here, I can tell you. I 've 
 met quite the smart set at times." 
 
 " No doubt ; but Mrs. Rashleigh 
 seems rather above, that sort of 
 thing." 
 
 " Oh ! the best people would n't
 
 74 S tmsbanS of Ifto Importance 
 
 take her up. She 's impossible. Al- 
 ways slanging women for what they 
 do, and men for what they don't. 
 I pity her husband." 
 
 " Oh ! he only shares the com- 
 mon lot of the modern husband. 
 They '11 soon die out, or go to 
 Turkey. Do you possess such an 
 appendage ? " 
 
 She laughed airily. 
 
 " Of course ; you did n't fancy I 
 was unappropriated, did you ? " 
 
 " It 's difficult to know what wo- 
 men are, or are not, in the present 
 day," he said coolly. " I 'm always 
 coming upon surprises." 
 
 " Well, I 'm not hard to under- 
 stand," she said, with a killing glance. 
 " I 've no vocation. I like to enjoy 
 life and see others enjoy it. I get 
 plenty of fun out of it, and I don't 
 ask more." 
 
 " Ah ! that 's kind of you to in- 
 terpret for me. The other night a 
 woman told me one had to be ' not 
 too bad, but just bad enough,' in 
 order to be a success. I 'm getting 
 enlightened by degrees."
 
 H t>usban& of tto flmportance 75 
 
 " As if men ever needed enlight- 
 enment," said Mrs. Loosely. " They 
 take our measure very correctly, 
 I 'm sure." 
 
 " Literature seems well represented 
 to-night," he said irrelevantly. " I 've 
 seen three of our leading novelists 
 already." 
 
 "Oh, I hate literary people," 
 she exclaimed pettishly, annoyed 
 that the conversation should drift 
 from personalities. " They 're so 
 horribly conceited and self-con- 
 scious, and expect you to remember 
 all the books they 've written. And 
 their conversation is sure to be 
 larded with quotations or references 
 to things one has never heard of. 
 They ought to keep to themselves, 
 and not mix with society at all." 
 
 " I have heard," he said drily, 
 " that they started this club with 
 that intention, but society insisted 
 on intruding. I came here to-night 
 feeling quite an interloper." 
 
 " The idea ! . . . I 'm sure you 
 would be welcome anywhere. When 
 will you come and see me ? Don't
 
 76 a twsbano of Ifto Importance 
 
 say it is too far. A hansom will 
 bring you in fifteen minutes." 
 
 " Not from where I live," he said 
 gravely. 
 
 " Why ? . . . Where is that ? " 
 
 " Bloomsbury," he answered. 
 
 " Nonsense. ... I thought you 
 were in the Guards." 
 
 He laughed aloud. " No, I 'm 
 only ' Captain Absolute ' of the 
 ' Sheridan Co.," . . . recently pro- 
 moted to the London stage." 
 
 "An "actor! . . . How delightful. 
 But what a sad tease you are. You 
 quite mystified me. Oh, I love your 
 profession above all things ! I 've 
 done a little in that line myself. I 
 delight in getting up theatricals. 
 You '11 come and help me next time, 
 won't you ? " 
 
 " Delighted, if I can spare the 
 time. But a struggling actor's life is 
 not his own, you know. He is at 
 the beck and call of managers, and 
 they are apt to be exacting." 
 
 " Are you in any special show 
 now ? " 
 
 " No, only rehearsing a new piece.
 
 a twsbanD of Ho importance 77 
 
 Charley Wilton has taken a fancy to 
 bring it out. I call it splendid, 
 though the author is quite unknown. 
 I expect it will take London by 
 storm." 
 
 " What is the name of it ? " 
 
 " A secret, like that of the author. 
 He is mbdest and distrustful. If a 
 woman had written anything half as 
 good it would have been town talk 
 by this time." 
 
 " And have you a good part ? " 
 
 " Splendid. I feel grateful to the 
 writer every time I rehearse." 
 
 " You might give me a hint who 
 it is," insinuated Mrs. Loosely, with 
 the look that she believed to be 
 irresistible. " I promise to keep it 
 a secret." 
 
 He laughed. '' Don't you know 
 a secret shared by a third person 
 ceases to be a secret. . . . Women 
 may not think so, but men know it." 
 
 " You are rather hard on our sex," 
 said Mrs. Loosely, with a pout. 
 "Surely they can't have taught you 
 to distrust them. I fancy you could 
 be irresistible if you chose."
 
 78 a f>u0bano of "Wo importance 
 
 "No doubt," he answered, with 
 equanimity. " But, you see, women 
 nowadays don't care to be made love 
 to. They prefer to smoke cigarettes 
 and talk of ' equality of the sexes.' " 
 He half rose then. " If you will 
 pardon my desertion I must rejoin 
 the friend who brought me here. . . . 
 He is looking so forlorn." 
 
 " Het" inquired Mrs. Loosely, 
 archly. 
 
 " Yes ; I mean Mr. Hex Rash- 
 leigh," he said.
 
 VI. 
 
 SOME REFLECTIONS, AND A RESULT. 
 
 MRS. HEX RASHLEIGH went 
 home to her flat in a very dis- 
 satisfied frame of mind. 
 For the first time in her married 
 life her husband had been presented 
 to her as a being possessed of facul- 
 ties and ideas, . . . even opinions. 
 She saw him in the light of another 
 man's eyes ; caught, as it were, a 
 reflection of his individuality in the 
 mirror of another man's attractions, 
 and the vision had seriously discom- 
 posed her. 
 
 She had lived with him all these 
 years, and yet she remembered now 
 she really knew very little of him. 
 He had only seemed to her a mild, 
 inoffensive person who read a great 
 79
 
 8o a tmsbanD of 1fto importance 
 
 deal, and liked a good dinner, and 
 preferred a theatre to any other form 
 of entertainment. 
 
 Then, to-night, she had met him 
 at the Circle, and found him on 
 terms of intimate acquaintance with 
 an actor. It was certainly odd. 
 
 True to her peculiar tenets, she 
 had not interfered with him or his 
 pursuits during the evening, nor in- 
 formed him when she was going 
 home. 
 
 Having wasted a couple of hours 
 at the Circle, satirised the over- 
 dressed idlers who came out of curi- 
 osity, exchanged opinions with a few 
 of the workers, and generally ignored 
 the rest of the " crew," as she termed 
 them, she had taken herself off in a 
 very bad temper. 
 
 Once at home, she had put on her 
 " working-gown," and shut herself 
 into her own special den. But not 
 even the soothing effect of a cigarette 
 calmed her nerves, or enabled her to 
 settle down to work. She sat, pen in 
 hand, idly tracing lines on the paper 
 before her. She had determined
 
 a 1busban& of flo flmportance 81 
 
 upon completing a chapter of her 
 new novel before going to bed, but 
 somehow her thoughts would not 
 flow in a given channel. Always 
 always they drifted off to that dis- 
 cussion on the burning question of 
 the day : the question that she 
 had taken up with hot enthusiasm, 
 lashing right and left unsparing sar- 
 casm, yet dimly conscious all the 
 time that it was useless and one- 
 sided. 
 
 Do what one would, women would 
 always be their own worst enemies, 
 and men knew it, and only laughed 
 at the spurts of indignation which 
 from time to time marked their 
 crusade against the tyranny of 
 custom. 
 
 " You think so much of imagi- 
 nary characters that you overlook 
 the real ones, close at hand." 
 
 That was what he had said . 
 that was what she found herself 
 writing on the lines before her, until 
 the bold, clear words seemed to live 
 and sound in her ears, and bring up 
 again that bright, laughing face 
 
 6
 
 with its changeful expressions and 
 its good-humoured mockery of her- 
 self. 
 
 He knew her, he had discussed 
 her, and with her own husband. 
 
 It was a humiliation and surpris- 
 ing experience. Her husband ! 
 Why, she had never condescended 
 to enlighten him on her views. 
 She had simply classed him in that 
 catalogue of degraded beings for 
 whom the name of " Man " said 
 all that was necessary to say. 
 
 Her face grew hot now as she 
 thought of it. That a stranger, a 
 person whom she had only met 
 twice, should be able to accuse her 
 of neglect of her first duty the 
 duty of a wife, that he should be 
 able to show her that this same hus- 
 band was a complete stranger to 
 her when he might have been an 
 adviser and a friend ! 
 
 With all Mrs. Rashleigh's eccen- 
 tricity and enthusiasm she had a 
 strong code of honour. She was 
 passionless and cold by nature. 
 Many women are that who cultivate
 
 21 f)U8bano of 1Ro importance 83 
 
 their brains at the expense of their 
 sex. She had seen other women 
 fall in love, and make fools of them- 
 selves, as the case might be, and she 
 had only stood aloof, on a pinnacle 
 of lofty contempt, and wondered at 
 them. 
 
 Life seemed to her to mean so 
 much more than just, this Love. 
 Love that modern-day sensual- 
 ism had turned into a travesty of 
 what was once pure and ennobling ! 
 Love that only meant a faux-pas 
 at which society smirked, and whose 
 real degradation it condoned, so 
 long as the offenders were discreet 
 and rich. Love that was the jar- 
 gon of novelists who centred the 
 real meaning of life in a wedding- 
 ring ! Love that even the tepid 
 masher laughed to scorn, and the 
 Church had ceased to sanctify ! 
 
 If Marion Rashleigh could have 
 descended to any weakness it would 
 have been a reverent adoration for 
 genius . . . and a very noble 
 constancy to a verified ideal. But 
 her experience had taught her to
 
 84 a f)U8ban& of "Wo importance 
 
 look down rather than " up," and 
 men had only become to her what 
 her impulsive words had termed 
 them in her recent discussion. 
 
 It was a pity. For there was an 
 element of nobility in her nature 
 that was capable of great things, 
 but now had been warped and 
 strained in a wrong direction. 
 
 If Fate had been kind to her, if 
 circumstances had only left her free 
 in her calm, clear-sighted youth for 
 a space of time, she might have made 
 a wiser choice. 
 
 Decidedly Life is hard on women. 
 
 Between Servitude and Marriage 
 they have little to choose, and youth 
 is short and blind and impetuous. 
 They are hustled into a choice, while 
 man can wait and parley as he 
 pleases. Then a day comes when 
 the senses revolt the mind leaps 
 into action ; when Existence ripens, 
 and demands a wider field for 
 thought and feeling than the beaten 
 track worn hollow by feet of pa- 
 tient slaves. 
 
 Marion Rashleigh could have
 
 S f>u0ban& of tlo Importance 85 
 
 stood alone had she possessed means 
 of subsistence a profession, or em- 
 ployment. But she was penniless, 
 hampered by family ties, handcuffed 
 by prejudice, and she saw but one 
 mode of escape. 
 
 She took it. Now she looked 
 back, and scorned herself for her 
 weakness. 
 
 " I should have worked . . . 
 I ought to have been brave enough 
 to face the world myself," she 
 thought. ..." After all, what is 
 the use of preaching to other women. 
 I am no better. ... I did the 
 same thing they have done, and are 
 doing, and will do, till the Day of 
 Judgment solves this awful prob- 
 lem ! " 
 
 Her cigarette had gone out un- 
 noticed. The glass of iced water 
 by her side was untasted. She felt 
 weary and depressed. The zest had 
 gone out of work. The spur of en- 
 thusiasm seemed blunted. 
 
 Impatiently she locked away her 
 papers, and extinguished the lamp. 
 
 As she walked down the passage
 
 86 a twsbanO of "Mo Ifmportance 
 
 she saw a light gleaming under the 
 dining-room door. She opened it 
 and looked in. 
 
 Mr. Hex Rashleigh was sitting by 
 the table, his head bent over a heap of 
 " typing," a pencil in his hand. 
 
 He wore a shabby old jacket, his 
 hair was rough and crumpled as if in 
 the frenzy of lapsed ideas or puzzling 
 calculations. 
 
 Mrs. Rashleigh remembered Ve- 
 loutine Despard's summary of his 
 employment " Armaments, or war 
 estimates, or things ! " 
 
 She smiled compassionately. 
 
 " I had no idea you worked so 
 late," she said. " Do you know it 
 is nearly two o'clock ? " 
 
 He hustled away his papers in a 
 shamefaced manner. 
 
 " Is it ? . . . I had no idea. 
 Do you want the lights put out ? " 
 
 She looked at him, wondering why 
 he seemed so confused. 
 
 Then she entered the room, shut 
 the door, and drew a chair up oppo- 
 site to him. 
 
 " No," she said, " I want to talk
 
 a f)iisbanJ) of Ho importance $7 
 
 to you for a few moments, if you can 
 afford the time ? " 
 
 He looked more astonished than 
 she could have imagined possible, 
 though no one knew better than her- 
 self how very unprecedented a re- 
 quest she had made. 
 
 " My time is always at your dis- 
 posal, Marion," he said courteously. 
 " You certainly put in but little 
 claim to it." 
 
 The pile of typed MSS. was pushed 
 aside, but he leant one arm on it. 
 She could form no opinion as to its 
 nature. 
 
 " I want to know," she said, in her 
 usual downright manner, " how you 
 made the acquaintance of that young 
 actor. You seemed on such very 
 friendly terms ? " 
 
 " I met him at Scarborough last 
 summer." 
 
 Mrs. Rashleigh cast her memory 
 back a memory of emancipated 
 visits taken at her own sweet will, 
 and giving her husband equal free- 
 dom of movement. 
 
 " Oh ! . . . " she said, push-
 
 ing the thick, soft hair up from her 
 forehead in a perturbed and restless 
 fashion. " At Scarborough. How 
 does he act ? " 
 
 " He is the most perfect Captain 
 Absolute I ever saw. And his Tony 
 Lumpkin is a creation to be remem- 
 bered ! " 
 
 " I did n't know," she said, " that 
 you cared for dramatic art so much. 
 You would never come to First 
 Nights with me ? " 
 
 He looked surprised. 
 
 " I fancy," he said, " you have 
 very rarely asked me or if so, only 
 to pieces I did not care to see. The 
 modern drama is often more revolt- 
 ing to one's taste than improving to 
 one's morals." 
 
 " Bad taste is the distinguishing 
 mark of the end of the century. One 
 sees it in everything in morals, 
 manners, entertainments, books, art. 
 . . . It drives one to despair. 
 We can no longer plead Ignorance 
 and look at the use we have made 
 of Knowledge." 
 
 " Perhaps," he said, " Ignorance is
 
 a tmsbano of tto importance 89 
 
 only another name for baulked curi- 
 osity. Female ignorance, at least. 
 Once gratified, it is content with the 
 knowledge of evil only." 
 
 " That," she said sarcastically, 
 " is almost worthy of Oscar Wilde ! 
 When men think it worth their while 
 to study women instead of scoffing 
 at them, they may learn a great deal 
 more than they imagine." 
 
 " I am sure " he said, gently, " that 
 no man really worth the name ever 
 scoffs at Woman. He owes her too 
 much. We can always remember 
 our mothers." 
 
 " Even if you despise your wives. 
 True ! But what a man accepts in 
 his mother he has learnt in the age 
 of dependence and compelled sup- 
 pression. What he accepts from his 
 wife is only what he allows hef to 
 offer." 
 
 " I know," he said, " that you hold 
 very strong opinions on these matters. 
 Of course I have read your books 
 . . . although you have not seemed 
 to desire it. If I might presume to 
 offer any criticism
 
 go a twebanfc of "Wo flmportance 
 
 " My dear Hesketh, don't fancy 
 I am so thin-skinned as to fear that." 
 
 " Well, I should say they are 
 marred by that peculiarly one-sided 
 view Woman will persist in taking 
 of these matters. You say men 
 made the laws. True. But you 
 cannot say that they made them 
 without the best intentions and the 
 strictest impartiality. Both sides 
 have patient hearing, and equal 
 justice. Woman in the present day 
 are volcanic and irrational. The 
 first taste of liberty has excited 
 their enthusiasm to the exclusion of 
 their judgment. They abuse with- 
 out inquiry, and forfeit individual 
 benefit for sake of general animad- 
 version. ' All men are bad. All 
 women victims.' That is the cry, I 
 fancy. Even your voice has raised 
 it/Marion." 
 
 She nodded. She was curious to 
 hear what he really had to say upon 
 a subject she had never yet deigned 
 to discuss with him. 
 
 " Well," he said, " all thinking, 
 sensible men are prepared to grant
 
 a 1>u0ban& of flo flmportance 9 1 
 
 that women have suffered a great 
 deal, and have been excluded from 
 many professions for which they are 
 capable. But you must remember 
 that this has been done more from 
 motives of consideration than of in- 
 justice. We have considered your 
 sexual infirmities a great deal more 
 than you imagine. We have given 
 you the life of Home, its rule and 
 management. We have withheld 
 from you nothing in the shape of 
 artistic education for which you had 
 any talent. The literary woman and 
 the artist woman may not be the 
 most suitable of wives, but no man 
 would deny the advantages of their 
 gifts. It is my humble opinion as 
 an onlooker at all this strife, that, 
 like every other important movement, 
 the Time and the Hour had to come, 
 and to be led up to by varying cir- 
 cumstances till you were ripe for 
 action. You have sounded your 
 battle note ; with you now rests the 
 chance of victory or the shame of 
 defeat. We will give you a hearing 
 indeed we will give you whatever
 
 you desire if you go the right way 
 about it ; but we don't want you to 
 be men, and we will prevent it if we 
 can." 
 
 She rose from her seat. Her face 
 wa.s very pale ; her eyes had a strange 
 glow in their dark depth. She 
 stretched out her hand involuntarily. 
 " I am glad I have spoken to you," 
 she said, "and I almost believe you 
 are right."
 
 VII. 
 
 MISGIVINGS. 
 
 FOR the rest of the week Mrs. 
 Hex Rashleigh went about her 
 various duties with stern reso- 
 lution imprinted on her face, and 
 a quaking heart. 
 
 There seemed to be a drag on the 
 wheels of Progress. They neither 
 raced as swiftly nor as smoothly as 
 of yore. Her fellow members of the 
 Reconstitution thought her decid- 
 edly " grumpy," though they were 
 too much in awe of her to say so. 
 If anything, she worked harder and 
 read more than was her wont. She 
 also talked less. 
 
 'Mrs. Despard called in at the Club 
 two consecutive afternoons to induce 
 her to stray into the flowery paths 
 93
 
 94 B fjusbanO of IRo Umportance 
 
 of society, as exemplified by the Row 
 alive with a new Royalty, and a polo 
 match at Hurlingham ; but she re- 
 fused attendance. She only said 
 contemptuous things of society, and 
 told Veloutine she looked like a 
 French doll. 
 
 Mrs. Despard laughed. All wo- 
 men were occasionally out of temper. 
 She recognised Mrs. Rashleigh's 
 pettishness as a bond of weakness, 
 and told her her liver was out of 
 order. 
 
 Then she took herself and her 
 perfumed flounces off to some other 
 of her hundred and one dear friends, 
 and " frivolled " to her heart's con- 
 tent. 
 
 She was very fond of Marion, but 
 also she was a little bit afraid of her. 
 It was only her passion for contrasts, 
 her love of light and shade, that had 
 occasioned her persistent cultivation 
 of a woman so totally different to 
 herself, and whose life gave so per- 
 petual a rebuke to her own world. 
 Mrs. Hex Rashleigh's books had 
 made her celebrated, but she was
 
 21 DusbanO of IRo Umportance 95 
 
 not popular. However, it is no bad 
 plan to make people afraid of you, 
 if you do not particularly wish for 
 their liking. Good-nature is really 
 a sign of weakness, and is invariably 
 taken advantage of. The barometer 
 of public feeling has a special weak- 
 ness for fair weather and smiles. 
 Very few women, or men either, are 
 content with limited appreciation. 
 To be so, means unusual strength of 
 mind and personal approbation. But 
 Mrs. Hex Rashleigh had said, " What 
 I choose to do, or think right to do, 
 that I shall do." She was strong- 
 minded, and those about her soon 
 felt her power. 
 
 That faculty of dominating others 
 is a gift of nature. It cannot be 
 acquired, or bought, or learnt. It is 
 largely made up of personal magne- 
 tism, to which culture and observa- 
 tion contribute. It differs from 
 fascination, being almost indepen- 
 dent of beauty ; but it is of greater 
 worth, and its influence more 
 lasting. 
 
 Nearly every one knew Mrs. Hex
 
 96 a fjusbanD of Ho Importance 
 
 Rashleigh by name, but her circle of 
 personal friends was limited. It was 
 her own fault, or rather her own de- 
 sire. She had no time to spare for 
 cultivating inanities, and though she 
 put up with Mrs. Despard, and was 
 indeed fond of her in a pitying, pro- 
 tective fashion, she drew the line at 
 Mrs. Despard's friends. Perhaps 
 this was wise, for their name was 
 Legion, and their morals very fin de 
 siecle indeed. They were people 
 who lived for enjoyment ... to whom 
 Right and Wrong meant only what 
 was desirable or what was not. If a 
 temptation came in their way they 
 never dreamt of resistance. Such 
 resistance as is disturbing and makes 
 one uncomfortable. They yielded, 
 and then analysed the peculiarities 
 of human nature and the complex 
 working of temperment. That made 
 their peccadilloes so interesting that 
 they became almost virtues. 
 
 To say that a woman of Mrs. 
 Hex Rashleigh's type despised this 
 class of moralisers is to say very 
 little. She loathed them, and she
 
 n 1bu8ban& of IRo Umportance 97 
 
 never spared them in her writings or 
 her lectures. 
 
 A great passion, however unfortu- 
 nate, has some element of nobility 
 and self-sacrifice in it. It is nature 
 at its highest state of exaltation 
 speaking through the heart to the 
 soul ; but the countless intrigues and 
 flirtations with which society women 
 soil their lives are at once the de- 
 spair and disgrace of the world they 
 rule. The woman who can stand 
 aloof and let men woo her for her 
 own worth is the only woman who 
 can claim his respect, and if he loves 
 her without such reverence his pas- 
 sion is only effervescent. 
 
 When Sunday came round, Mrs. 
 Hex Rashleigh was conscious for the 
 first time in her life that a " day " 
 might possess an element of interest 
 apart from mere callers. 
 
 In plain words, she hoped for one 
 special visitor, and felt a thrill of 
 genuine pleasure when he came. 
 
 This was odd, considering that the
 
 g8 S 1bu8ban& of 1Ro Umportance 
 
 room held several quite learned and 
 celebrated people, including a Swed- 
 ish dramatist and an American fe- 
 male lecturer, who had come over 
 armed with special letters of intro- 
 duction from the Emancipated Sis- 
 terhood at Chicago. 
 
 Perhaps Mrs. Hex Rashleigh was 
 a little tired of the lecturer. She 
 was so very loud, and she had such 
 a marvellous flow of speech. In any 
 case, she handed her over to the 
 Swede, and drew Blake Beverley away 
 from their noisy neighbourhood to a 
 cosy corner where stood two basket- 
 chairs and a tea-table. 
 
 "You did remember, then?" she 
 said, handing him a cup of tea, and 
 signifying that he might occupy the 
 other chair. 
 
 " Of course. You surely did not 
 fancy that I should forego such a 
 pleasure ? " 
 
 She looked at him keenly. He 
 was handsomer than ever, she 
 thought. 
 
 " That sounds very conventional, 
 but you owe it to your nationality.
 
 a twsbanD of flo Umportance 99 
 
 By the way, how is it that you have 
 so completely dropped the brogue 
 with which you favoured me for the 
 first ten minutes of our acquaint- 
 ance ? " 
 
 He coloured slightly. " I 'm 
 afraid," he said, " I was rather rude 
 to you that afternoon. I only put it 
 on for fun." 
 
 " I thought so. I wondered why 
 you thought it necessary." 
 
 Her voice was rather languid, and 
 her face paler than he had ever seen 
 it. For a moment he looked at her 
 with the interest of a man for a wo- 
 man not the half-critical animosity 
 she had hitherto aroused. 
 
 " I must ask for forgiveness on the 
 plea of that very nationality," he said, 
 with genuine regret in his voice. 
 " We so often let impulse run away 
 with discretion. But I might have 
 known you were different to most 
 women." 
 
 " I wonder if that is an advantage, 
 or a reproach," she said, with a faint 
 smile. 
 
 " An advantage, I should say.
 
 ioo 21 ibusbaiifc of 1Ro importance 
 
 May I remark that your rooms are 
 charming. What a lovely idea that 
 is." 
 
 " You mean those shelves running 
 round the room. Yes, I had that 
 done for convenience, and the result 
 is rather good. I like, wherever I 
 am, to stretch .out my hand and have 
 a book beside me. So I had those 
 shelves made, and gradually they 
 have lent themselves to many uses." 
 
 " You are devoted to books, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " Indeed, yes. I often say I could 
 do without people and be very con- 
 tent, but I can't live without books." 
 
 " Rough on the people, though. 
 But I should fancy you were very 
 critical. Since I last saw you I have 
 been reading Gillian. It is wonder- 
 fully clever." 
 
 " Why don't you say ' But ' ? A 
 woman's work is always qualified by 
 a man, just as a woman's looks are 
 always qualified by a woman." 
 
 He laughed. " Well, to be candid, 
 I felt inclined to say ' but.' I thought 
 you were hard on that poor woman
 
 a f>u8ban& of Ifto Umportance 101 
 
 Margot. You did not make allow- 
 ance for hereditary instincts, and for 
 vicious surroundings." 
 
 " Perhaps not. I often let my own 
 feelings carry me too far either for 
 or against a case. I should remem- 
 ber my favourite Hegel ' Nature is 
 for man only the starting point which 
 he must transform to something better' " 
 
 ' That 's hardly logical, is it ? 
 How can one transform a starting 
 point into anything else ? It must 
 continue to be the beginning." 
 
 " He means nature, of course. I 
 was translating." 
 
 " Oh ! those German metaphysi- 
 cians would split a hair and then 
 argue about its component parts. 
 Don't you think it 's a pity to spoil 
 this jolly life with all this analysing 
 and prying into what it means, or 
 why it is?" 
 
 "A pity? ... Oh ! no. The pity 
 is not to try and understand it, and 
 make it better worth living." 
 
 " I find it very well worth living," 
 he said, putting down his cup. 
 
 " But you have an object a
 
 102 a tmsbano of Ho Importance 
 
 career. That gives it interest. An 
 existence without interest is impos- 
 sible. It tends to moral destruction. 
 Life is only stimulating when one 
 can do something not passively ac- 
 cept what other people have done." 
 
 " Undoubtedly that is so. But few 
 can do what they wish. Life is lim- 
 ited by circumstances, which in nine 
 cases out of every ten are too strong 
 to resist, or to break down." 
 
 " Not if one has courage and de- 
 termination. Difficulties, like tempta- 
 tions, exist to be overcome." 
 
 " By the strong. But confess the 
 majority of men are not strong. 
 They need excuse more than con- 
 demnation a helping hand, not a 
 rod of chastisement." 
 
 She was silent. It seemed strange 
 to have to confess she was wrong on 
 so many points points which, up to 
 a week before, she would have up- 
 held to the death. She found herself 
 wondering at the change, as well as 
 disturbed by it. And it was all the 
 outcome of one chance afternoon 
 spent in unpalatable society an
 
 fc twsbanD of "too tfmportance 103 
 
 afternoon which she had declared 
 " wasted." 
 
 " I hope my plain-speaking has n't 
 offended you ? " he said at last, sur- 
 prised by her long silence. 
 
 She lifted her head, and the big, 
 honest brown eyes looked at him 
 with something of distress and ap- 
 peal. 
 
 " Oh ! no. Only there are times 
 when the failure of effort and the ut- 
 ter misapprehension with which it is 
 met, makes one rather hopeless." 
 
 " Still, effort is better than inan- 
 ity. It is the symbol of strength. 
 People are weak ; but they learn to 
 love what helps them. You must 
 have done a good deal in that way." 
 
 " The sort of help that is like the 
 stone of Sisyphus ! " she said, with 
 sudden bitterness " rolling back as 
 fast as one moves it forward." 
 
 " Oh, I don't think so ! Your hus- 
 band says you have been of incalcu- 
 lable benefit to him, as well as to the 
 mission you have taken up. By the 
 way, where is he ? ... I wanted to 
 talk to him about "
 
 104 B IbusbanD of IRo 1t mportance 
 
 He stopped abruptly. He remem- 
 bered a caution he had received. 
 She noted the hesitation, and won- 
 dered. 
 
 " He never comes in on my day," 
 she said coldly. " I don't think his 
 nature is a sociable one." 
 
 " If you saw him at the club ! " 
 exclaimed Blake Beverley. 
 
 " You see, I have n't that privi- 
 lege. I don't even know what club 
 he goes to." 
 
 " I should ask him, if I were you," 
 said the young Irishman, laughing. 
 " It would surprise you to hear Ah ! 
 is n't that your friend Mrs. Despard ? 
 I "ve so often wanted to know her." 
 
 He rose as the little, gay, exquis- 
 itely dressed figure advanced towards 
 the table. 
 
 Mrs. Hex Rashleigh rose too. 
 
 Of course she must introduce 
 them. The thing was unavoidable, 
 and Tina was such a desperate flirt 
 and so pretty !
 
 VIII. 
 
 AN "ARTICLE" DEFINITE AND DE- 
 FINED. 
 
 BY five o'clock Mrs. Hex Rash- 
 leigh's rooms were crowded. 
 
 She herself moved from group 
 to group, encouraging or entering into 
 a discussion always graceful, always 
 ready with some trenchant criticism 
 or a propos remark. 
 
 A pair of blue eyes watched her 
 with keen interest. 
 
 It was quite possible for Blake 
 Beverley to talk to one woman and 
 observe another. 
 
 A woman of Mrs. Despard's type, 
 too, did most of the talking her- 
 self, and laid no great claim upon 
 her entertainer, if he was good- 
 looking. 
 
 105
 
 io6 B Ibusbanfc of Ho importance 
 
 Blake Beverley found himself 
 wondering how a woman like 
 Marion Rashleigh could make a 
 friend of such a frivolous little so- 
 ciety doll as Tina Despard. Yet, in 
 their different way, both women were 
 interesting types of different worlds 
 where each played a part, and had a 
 vocation. 
 
 People who go in for violent re- 
 form rarely pause to think how ex- 
 cessively bored they would be if 
 every one thought, spoke, and acted 
 on exactly the same lines. 
 
 It is the very diversity of opinions 
 and the very variation of actions that 
 give life any sensation or interest. 
 A dead level must be dull, even if 
 the levellers have had the best mo- 
 tives in rolling and smoothing down 
 all obstructions. 
 
 Blake Beverley enjoyed " types " 
 immensely. He had been favoured 
 with three of the most varied and 
 opposite lately in the persons of 
 Marion Rashleigh, L/aura Loosely, 
 and Veloutine Despard. 
 
 The first was decidedly the most
 
 a fcusban& of 1Ro Umportance 107 
 
 interesting the last the most amus- 
 ing. 
 
 Mrs. Loosely he had " placed " in 
 his own mind as a woman with the 
 most elastic code of morality a 
 woman who would never permit 
 modesty to stand in the way of any 
 "fancy," and whose dresses and 
 whose passions made up the sum of 
 life's interests. 
 
 A dangerous woman a woman to 
 be avoided a woman whom no man 
 could help distrusting and despising 
 even while she flattered his vanity 
 and played Delilah to his lower in- 
 stincts. 
 
 Even as he sat now in this room, 
 with its quiet and homelike grace, its 
 perfect tones of colour, its absence 
 of all the fripperies and follies of 
 modern drawing-room decorations, 
 he remembered the note in his coat- 
 pocket requesting, almost command- 
 ing, his presence, at this same hour, 
 in a very different place. 
 
 The very scent of it seemed to 
 desecrate this room of Marion Rash- 
 leigh's its noble proportions so care-
 
 fully utilised, its sense of studious 
 peace, its artistic colouring and care- 
 fully chosen draperies. The in- 
 stincts of women speak out very 
 strongly in their homes. It should 
 never be difficult to judge them from 
 exclusively personal surroundings. 
 
 Blake Beverley observed and 
 noted, and from time to time his ear 
 listened for that clear, full-toned 
 voice, with its modulated expression 
 and its well-chosen words. 
 
 From time to time, too, he found 
 himself noting the grand lines of that 
 splendid figure in its robe of dull 
 velvet and quaint oxidised girdle. 
 How well she looked in this style 
 of dress, and how wise she was to 
 adopt and keep to it in an age when 
 Fashion had vulgarised everything 
 artistic, and a woman's shoulders 
 seem the only portion of her frame 
 worthy to command notice ! 
 
 Meanwhile Tina Despard chat- 
 tered like a pert parrot, scandalising 
 every one she knew, and telling risky 
 little stories with the most babyish 
 innocence.
 
 B fjusbanD of "Wo importance 109 
 
 But he noticed that she always 
 spoke affectionately, almost reve- 
 rently, of Marion Rashleigh. 
 
 " She is the one woman I have 
 ever known who has not a bit of the 
 'cat' in her," she chirped. "We 
 most of us have it, you know, more 
 or less. I 've never discovered any 
 about her. If anything, she is too 
 good. . . . She makes all other 
 women seem small and foolish and 
 trivial. They abuse her dreadfully ; 
 I never do. I have the most intense 
 appreciation of her. I have always 
 considered it an honour to be her 
 friend." 
 
 " I can quite understand that," 
 said Blake Beverley, with a feeble 
 attempt to stem the torrent of chat- 
 ter. 
 
 " It's a pity, though, she goes in 
 for this Emancipation business. . . . 
 Women won't be made different, and 
 that's the truth. Half of us are 
 bound to be foolish, and to like dress 
 and society, and the world as it is. 
 We don't want it altered. We know 
 we 're bad by comparison, but we
 
 no a f)U8ban& of "Mo ITmportance 
 
 : * 
 
 rather like it. There 's more fun out 
 of the naughty side of life than the 
 good. Marion is built on grand 
 lines. She can't help being good, 
 but she 's an exceptional person. 
 There 's a . . . what on earth 's 
 the word ? a preponderance about 
 her. She 's terribly in earnest, and 
 she has done a lot of really useful 
 work. I can only help her with 
 money. I always considered money 
 the most important thing in the world 
 till I knew her. Now I 've learnt 
 that it 's Work . . . with a capi- 
 tal W, you know. I call this the 
 twenty-third letter age. All the im- 
 portant things begin with W. Have 
 you noticed? Women Working- 
 man Wages Work. I made out a 
 heap of others, but I 've forgotten 
 them. I hate work myself. I always 
 did. That 's why I married money. 
 I know it sounds very dreadful, but 
 it 's perfectly true. After all, one 
 has to marry something, has n't 
 one ? " 
 
 " Usually a man ; but of course 
 he 's very insignificant nowadays."
 
 " Only to people like Marion," she 
 said, with a pretty glance that was 
 flattery itself. " Do you know I 
 used to be awfully afraid of her 
 once." 
 
 " I can quite believe it. What de- 
 stroyed that wholesome awe ? " 
 
 " I suppose it was wholesome. 
 Sounds like wholemeal bread and 
 Chipp's cocoa, and all those nutritious 
 and unpalatable things ! Oh, it 's 
 not destroyed. She can be very 
 terrible sometimes, but she 's good to 
 me, and makes excuses. I do my 
 little best to please her, and she 
 accepts. Sometimes I fancy she 
 finds me refreshing after the Heavy 
 Contingent. The women, you know. 
 I 'm only a woman, an indefinite 
 creature in the scale of creation. 
 You note the difference ? " 
 
 " I do," he said, laughing despite 
 himself. " But you might particu- 
 larise it." 
 
 " Well, the woman is stern, stolid, 
 denunciatory. She never flirts she 
 never frivols. She has a mission, 
 and she lets you know it. She wants
 
 n2 a Ibu0ban& of TFlo Umportance 
 
 to reform everything, to get us into 
 colleges and universities and pro- 
 fessions. She invents hideous gar- 
 ments and calls them Rational. She 
 makes athletic exercises her sole 
 excuse for recreation. She eats and 
 drinks on hygienic principles. She 
 wears Jaeger clothing, and takes 
 cold baths in the winter. She has 
 views, and airs them everywhere, at 
 home and abroad. She is down- 
 right and dominant. ... I think 
 that 's about all. Now for the other 
 side, . . . indefinite but not in- 
 definable. She 's only subtle. It 
 may n't sound much, but it means a 
 lot. It means she '11 get all she wants 
 without any trouble, while the other 
 woman will have a world of trouble 
 and never get it ! " 
 
 She stopped, probably from want 
 of breath certainly not for want of 
 words. 
 
 " I '11 tell you," she went on, 
 presently, " another point on which 
 we differ. ' The woman ' is not 
 emotional. No one, I believe, has 
 ever seen her cry. Now the insig-
 
 a tmsbanfr of flo flmportance 113 
 
 nificant ones are always in floods at 
 the least thing. It 's childish, but 
 we can't help it. The other seems 
 to have corked up her tear-bottle 
 with her emotions. She is always 
 strong, and always hard. No one is 
 really so hard as an unemotional 
 women. On the other hand, no 
 man is so strong. If she throws 
 feeling overboard she can do any- 
 thing. That 's where you ought to 
 come in as a sex I mean. Man 
 alone could teach her to feel, and 
 make her unfreeze herself. That 's 
 one of my own coinage. Don't you 
 think we ought to invent new words 
 now and then ? " 
 
 Blake Beverley felt as if his brain 
 was going. He rose abruptly. 
 
 " I 've been here an unconscion- 
 able time," he exclaimed. " And 
 for a first visit ! " 
 
 "Oh, you needn't mind points of 
 etiquette here," said Mrs. Despard. 
 " Marion would never notice. She 's 
 too far above such trivialities. Do 
 you know she never calls on people 
 is n't it funny ? Ah ! there she is.
 
 ii4 S TbusbanD of TWO flmportancc 
 
 . . . Marion, your ears ought to be 
 on fire. We 've been discussing you 
 upside down." 
 
 Blake Beverley held out his hand. 
 
 " I must really be going," he said. 
 " I came for ten minutes and I 've 
 stayed an hour." 
 
 Mrs. Despard had also risen. 
 
 " There 's no chance of a word 
 with you, Marion, in this crowd. 
 So I '11 take myself off too. By-bye, 
 dear." 
 
 Marion Rashleigh shook hands 
 with both in her usual composed, 
 queenly fashion. Certainly it looked 
 very like a flirtation. Probably Tina 
 had offered him a seat in her victoria. 
 Whenever she came upon a particu- 
 larly nice man she always found that 
 they were going in the same direc- 
 tion, and was good-natured about 
 that seat. 
 
 Mrs. Hex Rashleigh was wrong, 
 however, in this instance. 
 
 As they left the room and moved 
 down the passage a door was quietly 
 opened. 
 
 " Ah, Beverley, I thought I heard
 
 a twebano of flo Importance 115 
 
 your voice," said Mr. Hex Rashleigh. 
 " Can you give me a few minutes in 
 my study ? " 
 
 He retreated in a sort of Jack- 
 in-the-box fashion. Mrs. Despard 
 laughed. But she had lost her escort 
 for that afternoon.
 
 IX. 
 
 A WHOLESOME DESPAIR. 
 
 "JV/IY dear boy, it will never do. 
 I VI . . . I 'm sure it will never 
 do ! " exclaimed Mr. Hex 
 Rashleigh, despondently. 
 
 He was sitting in a small, close 
 room, the smallest and worst room 
 in the flat. It was dark and ill- 
 lighted. It smelt of smoke and was 
 littered over with books and papers. 
 The owner of it was seated at a 
 shabby, old-fashioned writing-table, 
 a thing of drawers and pigeon-holes 
 and ink splashes. His hair was ruf- 
 fled, his brow drawn and lined, his 
 eyes anxious. 
 
 He had the look of the author in 
 that frame of mind best described as 
 reactionary. It is a frame we all 
 116
 
 B tmsband of Ho Importance 117 
 
 know the result of self-confidence, 
 of self-appreciation, of a little pleas- 
 ant content which a lurking Demon ~~\ 
 called " Dissatisfaction " is always at J 
 hand to overthrow. 
 
 The Demon had made an after- 
 noon call on Mr. Hex Rashleigh. 
 He had ingeniously disparaged his 
 best lines, mocked at his witticisms, 
 and suggested his pathos was forced. 
 
 The Demon, in fact, had had a "N 
 good time of it, and the poor victim J 
 a bad one. He needed sympathy. ^ 
 Blake Beverley saw that at a glance 
 and proceeded to offer all the con- 
 solation he could command. 
 
 " She would despise me so utterly 
 if I failed," lamented the poor man. 
 " It 's extraordinary how hard a 
 clever woman is on a failure. . . . 
 I really feel inclined to draw back 
 even now." 
 
 " Good heavens, man ! Don't be 
 such a fool ! " exclaimed the Irish- 
 man, impetuously. " Why, you 've 
 got a chance that other fellows would 
 give their right hand almost to get ! 
 The very fact of the play being
 
 n8 a ibusbanfc of TRo flmportance 
 
 accepted proves it's good stuff. 
 Though Wilton likes novelty, he 
 won't take up a piece on that ground 
 alone. Besides, you forget me. This 
 is to be my chance also." 
 
 "You might find another part 
 easily, and much better suited to 
 you." 
 
 " I might, but I don't intend to 
 look for it. I 'm quite content with 
 Captain O'Connor. Shall I run 
 through a bit to give you confidence 
 in yourself once more ? " 
 
 " Oh, if you would ! I do feel a 
 gleam of hope when you 're on. It 's 
 the actress I fear. She does n't seem 
 to grasp the part." 
 
 "You mustn't judge her till the 
 last rehearsal. She is always like 
 that. Walks through the thing as if 
 she didn't care a hang how it went. 
 Then comes out in a burst. We 
 have n't a finer dramatic actress on 
 the stage now. You need have no 
 fear about her. Now listen. . . . 
 My cue, and then read Lady War- 
 render's part." 
 
 For the next twenty minutes the
 
 a "fcusbanO of flo flmportance 119 
 
 little study resounded with brilliant 
 repartee, trenchant arguments, spark- 
 ling witticisms. Blake Beverley was 
 a rollicking Irish soldier, patriot to 
 the core, gentleman to the backbone, 
 . . . a character that could not 
 fail to charm, and one that, to use 
 his own expression, fitted him like a 
 glove. 
 
 The Demon was fairly ousted now. 
 The merry thrusts, the rapid give- 
 and-take of the dialogue, the invol- 
 untary laughter even from the two 
 most concerned in criticism, soon 
 banished that obnoxious intruder. 
 
 Mr. Hex Rashleigh put down his 
 copy and wrung the young actor's 
 hands with enthusiasm. 
 
 " You 're simply perfect. Oh, if 
 Lady Warrender were half as good ! " 
 
 " My dear fellow, it 's lucky she 
 does n't hear you. She 'd never for- 
 give you. I assure you again and 
 again you need have no fear. Mind, 
 there are still three weeks before 
 the date. Wonders will be done in 
 that time. Now do be rational and 
 don't worry your head about it
 
 *2o a t>usban> of 1Ro importance 
 
 You 're in safe hands, and I prom- 
 ise that Mrs. Rashleigh will be 
 more than proud of you, as you 
 seem to care for her opinion above 
 everything else." 
 
 " I do, my boy. I 've often thought 
 she regrets our marriage. She 's so 
 ... so superior to me in every way, 
 and she has just that way of mak- 
 ing one feel a fool. ... I can't de- 
 scribe how but it 's effectual. If 
 this affair is a failure I tell you 
 plainly I '11 fly the country. I 
 could n't face her." 
 
 Again Blake Beverley laughed. 
 " What ! fly before a woman ! You 
 put me on my mettle for both our 
 sakes. I '11 pull your play through 
 against all odds now. And believe 
 me, an Irishman doesn't make that 
 vow for nothing ! " 
 
 Mr. Hex Rashleigh ran his long, 
 slender fingers through his hair once 
 more a trick of his when perturbed 
 or excited. It was pleasant to be 
 assured of success. Still 
 
 " You 're sure you have n't given 
 a hint, Beverley ? " he said presently.
 
 H tM0ban& of Ho flmportance 121 
 
 " On my honour no. Did n't I 
 promise ? The only question now is, 
 will she be present ? " 
 
 " Sometimes I hope not," said the 
 nervous author. " Better to hear 
 than to see if it turns out wrong." 
 
 " It 's not going to turn out wrong 
 for goodness sake don't take up 
 that idea. The best plan is to send 
 her a box. She 's fond of ' First 
 Nights,' and this will be well puffed 
 beforehand. What a grand woman 
 she is ! " he added, after a pause. 
 
 " Yes," agreed Mr. Rashleigh. " A 
 fine nature, but warped. If only she 
 would let this foolish business of 
 teaching men and women their rela- 
 tive duties alone, she would be wiser 
 and happier too. It 's a bit ridicu- 
 lous after all to tell us that we are to 
 go in leading strings to women -; that 
 we have mismanaged the whole social 
 system all these ages, and that now 
 we are discovered to be impostures 
 and ignoramuses with nothing to 
 qualify us for the task." 
 
 " These new writers have much 
 to answer for," said Beverley. " A
 
 122 B f>usban& of "Wo ffmportance 
 
 woman has an unfortunate experi- 
 ence, and forthwith she rushes into 
 print and abuses the whole sex as 
 vicious. She draws her characters 
 solely on one line the line of an 
 immoral and debased past and its 
 results on womanhood and issue. 
 But all men don't live immoral and 
 debased lives. Those who do, bear 
 the stamp very plainly, and it 's a 
 woman's own fault if she marries 
 them. Besides, these Denouncers 
 lose sight of one point. Man at a 
 very early age has two powerful 
 foes to combat his own nature and 
 the tempting of women. In almost 
 every case I have heard of, it is she 
 who first corrupts Youth, and sets 
 him spinning along the downward 
 path. The boy of seventeen is a 
 baby of bashfulness in comparison 
 with the girl of that age. If we 
 took the census of the ' First Fall ' 
 it would be his, at her tempting, 
 not hers at his." 
 
 Mr. Rashleigh lit his pipe and 
 began to smoke meditatively. 
 
 " I suppose so. It 's a puzzle al-
 
 a f)usban& of flo "(Importance 123 
 
 together. ... I must say our colleges 
 and universities don't rank female 
 morality very highly. I suppose, 
 too, they judge from experience." 
 
 " I don't believe Youth is vicious," 
 persisted Beverley. " It is only in- 
 quisitive, and it rarely gets its curi- 
 osity satisfied the right way. It needs 
 a strong moral nature to keep a man 
 virtuous. A woman has the help of 
 her own instincts and surroundings." 
 
 " Exactly. . . . They can hardly 
 go wrong if they wish. We can 
 hardly help erring even if we try." 
 
 " No man worth the name ever 
 cares to stoop too low. He also has 
 self-respect, though a woman may n't 
 believe it. I 'm not going to praise 
 myself, but I assure you, Rashleigh, 
 if you only knew how I 've been pes- 
 tered and run after by women, even 
 women of society and repute, you 'd 
 say they had n't much to boast of." 
 
 " And we don't give them away, 
 as they do us," said Mr. Rashleigh, 
 sadly. " With all a woman's boast- 
 ing a man's sense of honour is far 
 stronger than hers."
 
 t24 & tmsbanfc of flo Importance 
 
 " It need be," said Blake Beverley, 
 with a short, hard laugh. " They 
 talk of what they suffer at our 
 hands. Good Lord ! how many a 
 man has to lay the blame of ruined 
 health, honour, life, love, happiness, 
 at their door ! Take even marriage. 
 What man can really tell if a woman 
 accepts him because she cares, or 
 only because she wants to marry 
 some one ? It is sickening to read 
 the list of ' marriages arranged ' in 
 Society papers. Talk about the 
 French mariages de convenatices ! 
 What better are ours ? Only the 
 
 English are such d d hypocrites ! 
 
 Look at our Divorce Court. The 
 woman will rarely show up with one 
 co-respondent, and yet she abuses 
 us for immorality. If we have 
 strayed before marriage, by Jove ! 
 she makes up for it after ! " 
 
 " You speak as bitterly as if as 
 if your experience had not been 
 altogether pleasant." 
 
 "What man's is with a profes- 
 sion like mine ? I assure you when 
 Mrs. Rashleigh presented woman to
 
 a tmsbanD of Ho importance 125 
 
 me from her point of view I almost 
 laughed in her face. Is it possible 
 she believes all she says ? " 
 
 " I hardly . know. You see she 
 rarely discusses these matters with 
 me." 
 
 " You should insist upon it. After 
 all you are her husband, and you 
 have a right to give your opinion 
 of women just as much as she has 
 of men." 
 
 He paced the room, and waxed 
 indignant as he pursued the subject. 
 
 " Who so merciless to her own 
 sex? Who rejects the servant with- 
 out a character the poor governess 
 who has no reference but misfor- 
 tune, though she knows such refusal 
 may ruin a fellow sister's life ? Who 
 refuses aid to starving virtue if the 
 applicant is more beautiful than the 
 moralist ? Who keeps the shop-girl 
 on her feet for weary hours, and 
 the sempstress at her needle from 
 dawn till midnight to gratify her 
 vanity. Who has the dumb brutes 
 shot, the harmless birds snared, that 
 she may deck herself with furs and
 
 126 B TbusbanD of mo Umportance 
 
 feathers ? Who neglects the little 
 babe at the call of Fashion, and 
 relegates a mother's rights to stran- 
 gers ? Who is an epitome of self- 
 ishness when strong, and folly when 
 weak ? Woman ! " 
 
 " I Ve said things to that effect 
 here" observed Mr. Rashleigh, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 He pointed to the MSS. of the 
 play. Their eyes met. The old 
 spark of mischief crept into those 
 of the young Irishman. 
 
 " True, I forgot. Yes, there are 
 a few sledge-hammer blows there. 
 I always think the stage is our real 
 Popular Educator. People will go 
 to a theatre who would never read 
 a book, and the stage gives life to 
 a speech when the printed page 
 would only seem dull. I can't un- 
 derstand," continued Blake Beverley, 
 " why you and Mrs. Rashleigh have 
 never worked together. You should 
 assimilate perfectly. She has fine 
 dramatic instincts too." 
 
 " She would consider it waste of 
 time," said the unimportant hus-
 
 B ttwsbano of mo Umportance 127 
 
 band. " And I daresay she would 
 be right," he added, with a faint 
 sigh. 
 
 Blake Beverley rose. 
 
 " I must go," he said ; " I prom- 
 ised to dine at Wilton's. I wish you 
 were coming. All your ' play ' will 
 be there," 
 
 " Then / 'm best out of it," he 
 said, with a nervous laugh. 
 
 " Ah, now, don't be talking like 
 that," said Blake Beverley, with a 
 touch of " the brogue " and a warm 
 shake of the hand. " Have n't I 
 promised you success ? And though 
 I did once kiss the Blarney Stone, 
 shure it 's meself has the truthful 
 tongue and the 'cute eye for a 
 prophecy. I never made a fail- 
 ure in that line yet."
 
 X. 
 
 AND YET ANOTHER " TYPE." 
 
 MRS. LOOSELY was " at Home." 
 Whenever she specially de- 
 sired a new " annexation," or 
 had successfully accomplished one, 
 she celebrated it in this fashion. 
 
 She called all her friends and 
 neighbours around her and put up 
 the new conquest for exhibition. 
 It was always a platonic exhibition. 
 No one could say a word against 
 it at first. She was just sufficiently 
 in awe of Mrs. Grundy to toady her 
 a little, and set up occasional do- 
 mestic scenery on her stage of 
 morality. So she entertained her 
 lavishly on occasion, with Mr. 
 Loosely by her side, and the " an- 
 nexation " as a discreet background. 
 128
 
 a tmsbanO of Ho flmportance 129 
 
 He could only be distinguished by 
 the initiated, or the scandal-mongers, 
 who always would be nasty and re- 
 fused to believe in platonics even 
 at the instigation of a supper. 
 
 Mrs. Loosely gave very good 
 suppers, and her champagne did n't 
 absolutely require medical attend- 
 ance next morning. ' Mr. Loosely, 
 who did something in the bill-dis- 
 counting line, was supposed to get 
 it at sales, or take it as part payment 
 of usurious interest. 
 
 In any case it was always there, 
 and any one could see the gold foil, 
 even if the brand was unknown in 
 the market. 
 
 So Mrs. Loosely was " at Home " 
 this June night, and had sent out 
 cards three weeks before, stating the 
 fact. Northerton was not so over- 
 burdened with engagements that it 
 needed very long notice. Three 
 weeks was considered long enough. 
 At least Mrs. Loosely and Mrs. Col- 
 onel Sassepool never gave more, and 
 they represented the haut ton of the 
 district, and were supposed to live on
 
 130 B 1>u0banO of flo Umportance 
 
 the lines of the World, and Truth, 
 and the Morning Post. 
 
 So the drums beat and the 
 trumpets sounded, and Northerton 
 donned its best gowns, and the 
 Anglo-Indian contingent told each 
 other they were " pucca" or some- 
 thing to that effect, and brought out 
 wonderful stores of beetle trimming 
 and embroidery, and jewels that had 
 always been presents from rajahs, and 
 scarfs and laces that represented 
 " loot," and smelt of sandal or cam- 
 phor wood. They always crowded 
 together and talked very fast, as if to 
 compensate for years in Calcutta or 
 Bombay, where speech had only been 
 known as a necessity, and never de- 
 veloped into recreation, except in 
 very cold weather at hill stations. 
 
 They said doubtless Mrs. Loosely 
 considered herself a "hurra mem- 
 sahib" and then gave that little fat 
 chuckle which distinguishes the 
 Anglo-Indian, and is their sole idea 
 of mirthful expansion. Then they 
 compared the rooms and the enter- 
 tainment generally with their own
 
 rooms and their own entertainments 
 in Calcutta of course to their own 
 advantage and shook their heads 
 regretfully over past glories when the 
 rupee meant its currency value and 
 they had each had their own kitmutgar 
 to attend to their wants when they 
 went to a dinner party. 
 
 Mrs. Loosely hated the Anglo- 
 Indian contingent, but she was 
 obliged to ask it to her parties be- 
 cause it was impossible to avoid 
 knowing it. Besides, it was mostly 
 rich, and gave good dinners ! 
 
 Mrs. Loosely always professed to 
 be independent of the vox populi. 
 The dread words, " they say," had 
 no fears for her. But all the same 
 she had a wholesome awe of Mrs. 
 Grundy, who, in her way, represents 
 that voice, and knowing how she 
 secretly outraged that good lady's 
 code of morals she openly professed 
 the greatest regard for her. 
 
 A few choice spirits, with the same 
 instincts and the same code of mo- 
 rality as herself, understood her rea- 
 sons and agreed with them. . If they
 
 laughed, it was behind her back, and 
 she returned the compliment. 
 
 " Who is it, dear ? . . ."the choice 
 spirits asked each other to-night. 
 
 They had failed to recognise the 
 " annexation " by the usual signs. 
 He was not hovering in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Mrs. Loosely's gorgeous 
 train, which combined primrose satin 
 and real duchesse lace, and had cost 
 more money than she liked to remem- 
 ber, or intended to pay. Neither 
 was he discoverable in judiciously 
 screened corners of stairways and 
 balconies, detaining her for a whisper 
 or receiving a command. It was 
 very odd and very unusual, but they 
 tried in vain to " place " him. 
 
 Then a particularly dear friend 
 observed that there was an anxious 
 look in Mrs. Loosely's eye, a slight 
 frown on her brow as the rooms 
 filled and names were announced and 
 the hour grew late. 
 
 There was the usual music more 
 or less bad. Mrs. Loosely sang in 
 her shrill, tuneless soprano that she 
 was " Waiting," at which the choice
 
 B fousbanD of flo flmportance 133 
 
 spirits cackled and said " they 
 thought as much." The little baby- 
 faced woman in a grey gown to match 
 her curls, recited as she was always 
 expected to do, one of her pathetic 
 little pieces about precocious chil- 
 dren who die and go to angels and 
 gardens of eternal bloom, and every 
 one said it was " really charming," 
 and what a dear, clever little thing 
 she was, and how could she remem- 
 ber so many lovely pieces ! 
 
 Then a burly man thundered out 
 the " Charge of the Light Brigade," 
 and a dapper little military gentle- 
 man, who was, in fact, Colonel Sasse- 
 pool, sang an Irish song, which was 
 much applauded and badly accom- 
 panied. 
 
 Miss Eugenia Agra, a professional 
 lady who came without terms, and 
 was longing for supper, played a 
 noisy composition largely composed 
 of octaves. 
 
 Then every one talked, and Mrs. 
 Loosely got near the door and was 
 suddenly seen to start, and, yes, 
 absolutely to blush. The choice
 
 i34 21 twsbanO of 1Ro flmportance 
 
 spirits nodded to one another and 
 telegraphed, " He has come ! " and 
 then looked unconscious and only 
 saw the door through lowered eyelids. 
 They knew feminine ways, and even 
 determined not to give Mrs. Loosely 
 the satisfaction of even perceiving 
 the new arrival was young, good- 
 looking, and excellent style. 
 
 But nothing escaped them. Not 
 the confidential whisper, the up- 
 turned glance, the wave of the fan, 
 the flutter of a flower-petal on her 
 corsage, which was as de'collete'e as a 
 Greuze picture, and left little to the 
 imagination, and less to the material. 
 They knew every trick and its worth. 
 They had imitated a good many 
 themselves, but never, so they de- 
 clared in confidence, quite so un- 
 blushingly and boldly as Mrs. Loosely 
 proved herself capable of doing. 
 
 Meanwhile, under cover of the 
 Broadwood's thunder, Mrs. Loosely 
 held arch and seductive converse. 
 
 " So good of you to come, . . . 
 and as nice to hit it off just when all 
 the tiresome ' receiving' business is
 
 H twsbano of Ho Importance 135 
 
 over," she said. " I have n't had a 
 moment to myself, but now I can 
 afford a little treat, and give you ten 
 minutes. Let us sit out here. It is 
 cooler than the room." 
 
 "Out here " was a little corner of 
 the landing, dimly lit, delightfully 
 cushioned, and calculated not to 
 betray toilette secrets. Mrs. Loosely 
 had tested its convenience often. 
 
 He took the seat. He could not 
 very well help doing so, and met a 
 glance of bold femininity that seemed 
 to suggest many possibilities. 
 
 " I 'm afraid I 'm very late," he 
 said, rather stupidly. " But I had a 
 rehearsal, and the hansom certainly 
 did n't attempt the distance in the 
 fifteen minutes you promised." 
 
 She felt an indefinable coldness 
 in the air, the same inscrutable some- 
 thing that had already warned her 
 that Blake Beverley was not inflam- 
 mable, though an Irishman, and less 
 ready to meet a woman half-way 
 than she had credited any man with 
 being. 
 
 " Perhaps," she said, giving him
 
 136 n Ibusband of 1fto flmportance 
 
 an available loophole," the way seemed 
 longer than it really is. You have 
 never been here before ? " 
 
 " No, but University Gardens is 
 further. Have you any of our mutual 
 friends here to-night ? " 
 
 " Do you mean the Rashleigh set ? 
 Certainly not. We don't hit it off. 
 ... I like women to be women. 
 Soft and pleasing, and all that, you 
 know. . . . I 'm not a bit strong- 
 minded myself." 
 
 Another glance. But he only 
 thought how small her eyes were, 
 and how obviously darkened, and 
 wished she would not sit quite so 
 close to him. He surveyed the tips 
 of his patent leather shoes, and won- 
 dered which is the bigger fool the 
 man who won't see what a woman is 
 driving at, or the man who sees it 
 and accepts consequences. He was 
 keen-sighted, but not at all inclined 
 for consequences. Mrs. Loosely had 
 fairly pestered him into coming to 
 her party, and he had yielded, but 
 he was annoyed with himself for 
 doing so now.
 
 a twsbanfc of tto Importance 137 
 
 " Oh," he said, at last, " I did n't 
 mean Mrs. Hex Rashleigh. I never 
 expected to find her here. I meant 
 the people we discussed at Madame 
 Rosenberg's the first time I met you." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I go to Jerusalem, but 
 I don't invite it to me. The worst 
 of giving a party is the 'weeding 
 out ' process. It 's impossible to ask 
 every one you know, and those you 
 don't ask get offended." 
 
 " Is that professional ? " he asked, 
 as a crash of chords thundered from 
 the adjoining room. 
 
 " The performer ? Yes. Do you 
 care about music ? " 
 
 " If it 's good. By the way, didn't 
 you tell me you sang?" 
 
 " I have sung to-night. I can't 
 give myself away too often.", 
 
 She spoke as if her singing had 
 been the thing of the evening. Prob- 
 ably she considered it so. She affect- 
 ed to know a great deal about music, 
 and had once received instruction 
 from an Italian professor. He gave 
 her twelve lessons and received three 
 guineas. He then advised her not
 
 138 B 1>usban& of "Wo Importance 
 
 to pursue the accomplishment. On 
 the strength of this she told every 
 one she had studied the pure Italian 
 method, and screeched arias and 
 bravuras with a vile pronunciation 
 and soul-felt confidence. 
 
 " Oh, you must sing again," en- 
 treated Blake Beverley, " As I 've 
 been so unfortunate as to miss it." 
 
 " I will sing to you some other 
 time," she said, dropping her eyes, 
 which was not an effective proceed- 
 ing owing to the shortness of the 
 lashes and the undeniable crow's 
 feet at the side. 
 
 " I like a sympathetic hearer, and 
 \feel you would be that. You are 
 young enough to be enthusiastic." 
 
 " I 'm sure that "s Rubenstein," he 
 said, affecting an interest in the 
 rattle of octaves " sounds like one 
 of his ' studies.' Wonderfully well 
 played, really." 
 
 He gave a sigh of relief. The 
 music was over. Surely Mrs. Loosely 
 would return to her guests, and he 
 might escape. He little knew the 
 tactics of that lady.
 
 a 1>usban& of 1Ro flmportance 139 
 
 They went into the room side by 
 side, and on one pretence or another 
 she kept him beside her. She in- 
 troduced him to one or two people, 
 then whisked him off again before 
 he could say half a dozen words. 
 She was intensely vain, and yet so 
 afraid of being the dupe of her own 
 vanity that she hated to introduce 
 one of her " annexations " to any 
 other woman. 
 
 She distrusted men, but she dis- 
 trusted her own sex more. 
 
 Blake Beverley watched her and 
 allowed himself to be paraded, 
 and was half amused and half dis- 
 gusted, and thought what was the 
 use of women standing up and laud- 
 ing their sex if this type were to 
 exist and be an ever-visible proof of 
 innate worthlessness and weakness ? 
 
 " By the way, I "ve not been intro- 
 duced to Mr. Loosely," he said at 
 length. " You told me you had a 
 husband, and though they 're not of 
 much account in these days, I should 
 like to see him." 
 
 Mrs. Loosely stared. Such a re-
 
 140 a tmsbano of mo flmportance 
 
 quest was altogether unusual, and 
 distasteful. 
 
 " Oh, he 's somewhere about," she 
 answered, with visible annoyance. 
 " He does n't care much for parties. 
 We 've very little in common." 
 
 She attempted a sigh, and the air 
 of the misunderstood wife. Blake 
 Beverley laughed. 
 
 " It 's rather odd," he said, " how 
 few of the present-day husbands 
 have anything in common with their 
 wives ! Do you think marriage be- 
 gins with Delusion and terminates 
 in Discovery ? From the way wo- 
 men speak of their lawful possessors, 
 it leaves one in doubt as to whether 
 a ' husband ' is a male creature or 
 only an appendage on which to hang 
 a name and throw off liabilities." 
 
 Mrs. Loosely bit her lip. 
 
 "Husbands are an awful nuisance," 
 she said. " A girl marries a man not 
 knowing what he 's like, and then has 
 to live her life repenting it." 
 
 " Well, most of them seem to find 
 the repentance rather amusing." 
 
 "We don't show our hearts,"
 
 a tmsbanD of Ho Importance 141 
 
 said Mrs. Loosely, pathetically. 
 " We keep a smile for the world, but 
 a tear for our hours of solitude." 
 
 " Point out Mr. Loosely, and I '11 
 tell you whether you 've shed many 
 tears on his account." 
 
 " How you do harp on that string ! " 
 she exclaimed, fairly losing her tem- 
 per. " He 's not in the room." 
 
 " Another failing of the modern 
 husband," remarked Blake Beverley ; 
 " or is it consideration ? He feels 
 in the way, and effaces himself. The 
 modern wife likes a platform to her- 
 self." 
 
 " That, I suppose, is an extract 
 from your dear Mrs. Rashleigh's 
 speeches ? " 
 
 " Why do you call her my dear 
 Mrs. Rashleigh ? " he asked coolly. 
 " It 's flattering, but not correct." 
 
 " You appear to have moulded 
 your views on hers," she said crossly. 
 " I thought Irishmen were not 
 straight-laced ? " 
 
 Her eyes flashed interrogation and 
 challenge. His were quite unread- 
 able.
 
 i42 a twsbano of Ho Importance 
 
 " I assure you," he said, " there is 
 no race so misunderstood. We are 
 really prejudiced in favour of that 
 present-day anomaly, the virtue of 
 women. It's one of our few pre- 
 rogatives, and we cling to it." 
 
 She gave one of her shrill laughs. 
 " We 're getting quite prosy, I de- 
 clare. It 's like Exeter Hall. Do 
 you know, I 'm quite sick of this 
 eternal talk of Woman. It bores 
 most of us, I think." 
 
 " That is flattering to the Wise Sis- 
 terhood who are working so hard in 
 your interests," he remarked. 
 
 " But," she said persuasively, with 
 another glance, " don't you think a 
 just ordinary woman soft, lovable, 
 and not too particular, you kaow 
 is much nicer than those lecturing, 
 strong-minded creatures ? " 
 
 " Of course I do. But they 're 
 rather rare nowadays." 
 
 " Ah ! " she said, with an arch 
 look. " You ought n't to say that. 
 J 'm sure women could never be 
 anything but nice to you. Oh, dear, 
 you 're making me forget my duties.
 
 B DusbanO of Ho flmportance 143 
 
 I have to send these people down to 
 supper. . . . No, not you. I want you 
 to take me later on." 
 
 " Then I '11 go and talk to my 
 little reciting friend." 
 
 Mrs. Loosely . nodded acquies- 
 cence. Grey hair in sausage rolls and 
 an affected manner could n't be very 
 dangerous. She allowed him to es- 
 cape. 
 
 Some ten minutes later she went 
 to look for him while the " Frumps " 
 and notabilities were busy feeding. 
 Little Miss Greenaway was sitting 
 in a corner with a forlorn expression 
 and a hungry interior. 
 
 " Your friend Mr. Beverley has 
 just gone," she said plaintively, in 
 answer to Mrs. Loosely's look of in- 
 quiry ; " he left me quite suddenly ; 
 he said he had a bad headache, and 
 I was to make his apologies to you." 
 
 Mrs. Loosely's pale lips tightened 
 and shut in a word expressive, but 
 
 not strictly feminine. It was " D 
 
 tion."
 
 XL 
 
 THROUGH A MAN*S EYES. 
 
 -- " Blake Beverley 
 drew a long, deep breath as 
 the door closed, and he felt 
 the cool night air upon his face. 
 " Well, if I ever go there again ! " he 
 added, as he turned up the hill lead- 
 ing from Arum Gardens towards the 
 open thoroughfare commanding the 
 district of Northerton proper. 
 
 He paused to light a cigarette, 
 
 glancing back at the square on which 
 
 a glow of light was falling from a 
 
 balcony hung with Chinese lanterns. 
 
 Some one was playing a waltz. 
 
 He could hear the air distinctly. It 
 
 was " After the Ball." He leaned his 
 
 arms on the low iron railings and 
 
 stood there listening and moralising. 
 
 144
 
 a tmsbanD of 1Ro importance 145 
 
 " Three types," he thought, " and 
 each so different. It is only a wo- 
 man like that " (he looked towards 
 the draped and lighted balcony, little 
 imagining that its decorations had 
 been carried out solely in his honour) 
 " who can make one feel the utter 
 hopelessness of efforts like Mrs. 
 Rashleigh's. How well they judge 
 each other, . . . and what a con- 
 trast ! . . . Bird of Prey, indeed ; 
 but there is something snake-like 
 and venomous about her too. A 
 dangerous friend, and a still more 
 dangerous enemy. . . . Well, I was 
 a fool to come, but, 'pon my word, 
 she fairly drove me into it. What 
 on earth possesses such a woman to 
 think I'm attracted by her ! She is 
 just the type I most dislike bold, 
 unfeminine, loud, overdressed, of- 
 fensive to taste and sight. I pity 
 her husband ! Good Lord ! how 
 many men say that of women nowa- 
 days ! Marriage will be out of the 
 question soon, and the married wo- 
 man is solely to blame for it. She 
 is the girl's worst foe. Was the
 
 146 & iDusbano of flo importance 
 
 Loosely woman ever a girl ever 
 that pure, soft thing of innocence 
 and malleability that a man longs to 
 love and cherish for himself ? " 
 
 Then he laughed, and tossed aside 
 the finished cigarette. 
 
 " Nowadays, when he marries the 
 innocence and malleability it is only 
 to benefit some other man, who hears 
 of a vie incomprise, and is offered the 
 office of consoler." 
 
 He turned away, the soft waltz- 
 music still floating on the still night 
 air, and haunting him persistently as 
 the hansom took him back to Wo- 
 burn Place. 
 
 The events of the evening had 
 annoyed him excessively. He could 
 not understand that curious logic of 
 the femme galante which appeared 
 to class men of any artistic profes- 
 sion as public game, to be shot at, 
 trapped, or openly fought for by 
 feminine sportsmen. 
 
 Singer, actor, painter, writer they 
 could all tell the same tale ! All did 
 honour not forbid publish records 
 of effrontery, indecency, bold, un-
 
 S IbusbanD of "Wo importance 147 
 
 blushing pursuit that called down 
 shame on the name of women, and 
 make their code of morality a thing 
 for contempt. 
 
 " I 've only spoken three times to 
 the woman," he thought disgustedly. 
 " And yet I Ve had about twenty let- 
 ters from her, half a dozen invitations 
 which were really appointments, and 
 two visits to my rooms on the most pal- 
 try excuse. A good thing I was n't 
 at home. . . . And yet women expect 
 men to respect them, and applaud 
 their cry for ' Rights.' Heaven 
 knows they 've taken most of our 
 provinces from us already. I don't 
 know where they '11 stop." 
 
 Then his brow clouded. " She 
 is so different, so straight, and 
 honest, and clean-minded. By Jove ! 
 that 's getting rare. Women take up 
 our lowest stories, point our jests, 
 and want to claim kinship of vice 
 with us ! No man would dare 
 tell a doubtful story to Mrs Rash- 
 leigh, and yet she 's so fearless. She 
 calls sin by its proper name, and 
 does n't spare the sinner. But
 
 i43 a f)U8ban& of flo Importance 
 
 faugh ! . . . What broom in Wo- 
 man's hands can ever sweep out the 
 Augean stables of Modern Immo- 
 rality ? What lash of tongue or 
 scourge of pen is strong enough to 
 flay that immodest sisterhood whom 
 Society has canonised ; who has 
 studied adultery as a fine art, and 
 woven moral ties and infamous 
 pleasures into a chain of honour ; 
 who parades her person, her desires, 
 her lovers with the impudent ef- 
 frontery of the harlot, and, unlike 
 that poor victim of our laws and 
 lawlessness, has neither excuse, nor 
 scruple." 
 
 " Why, that 's a bit of Rashleigh's 
 play again ! By Jove ! he does hit 
 hard. I wonder what his wife will 
 think of it ? It certainly shows her 
 the sex she is championing in a very 
 different light. The ' Smart Modern 
 Woman ' and the Emancipated vic- 
 tim are rather opposite types. . . . 
 Yet both are correct, I doubt not. 
 ... It 's very odd I should have 
 made the acquaintance of both, and 
 just at the very time when I 'm go-
 
 S tmsbano of Ho Importance 149 
 
 ing to act up to them. Lady War- 
 render and Mrs. Fred Golightly are 
 certainly contrasts, but decidedly 
 life-types ! " 
 
 He leaned back and half closed 
 his eyes, and began to murmur over 
 his part till the cab stopped. 
 
 It only wanted a week now of 
 the production. The scenery was 
 complete, and two dress rehearsals 
 would ensure the necessary smooth- 
 ness of the performance as a whole. 
 Manager and company were equally 
 delighted with the play, and equally 
 certain it would " run." 
 
 It was a comedy with just that 
 undercurrent of pathos that goes 
 home to the heart pathos expressed 
 rather than spoken ; a piece that 
 breathed life ; that was caustic to 
 the shams of the day, yet not too 
 bitter to the shammers ; that play- 
 fully satirised Society without abso- 
 lutely lecturing it on its incurable 
 idiocy ; that showed redeeming 
 points even in weak characters, and 
 noble instincts buried under the 
 dead-weight of worldly follies fol-
 
 iso B Ibusbano of IRo importance 
 
 lies which have been condemned and 
 condoned since the day that fig- 
 leaves ceased to be a fashionable 
 article of attire. 
 
 Blake Beverley enjoyed every 
 word of it, ... had thrown himself 
 heart and soul into the part, and by 
 his intense vitality and enthusiasm 
 awakened kindred feelings of enjoy- 
 ment in the other actors. 
 
 The piece lived from beginning to 
 end. 
 
 The brilliance of the dialogue, the 
 rapid cut and thrust, the familiar 
 allusions, the scathing satire, were 
 just what Society loves. The plot 
 was simple but ingenious. The 
 dramatist of the present day makes 
 no great demands on his audience. 
 He prefers to amuse rather than 
 mystify. The success of the Mod- 
 ern Play depends on light touches 
 and brilliant dialogue, and that 
 sense of realism which shows lit- 
 tle difference between the draw- 
 ing-room of Society and that of the 
 Stage, and is therefore so " delight- 
 fully true to life," that Society flocks
 
 a tmsbanfc of Ho flmportance 151 
 
 to see it, and the Great Public, to 
 whom Society is but an infinitesimal 
 proportion, follows on the heels of 
 its leaders, to criticise their doings, 
 and marvel at their dresses. 
 
 But underlying his enthusiasm re- 
 specting " The New Woman," which 
 was the title Mr. Hex Rashleigh had 
 bestowed on his " Comedy of Mod- 
 ern Errors," was a very serious and 
 earnest desire the desire to rec- 
 oncile two opposed yet noble na- 
 tures the desire to bring into 
 harmonious agreement opinions that 
 were at present arrayed in wilful 
 misapprehension. 
 
 Both had in them so much that 
 was admirable, so much that was 
 noble, lofty, high-minded, and yet 
 both struggled and suffered apart, 
 when they might have worked so 
 admirably and usefully together. 
 
 He knew the husband loved the 
 wife with an intense devotion, and 
 a reverent admiration for her gifts 
 of mind and her noble if mistaken 
 ideals. Of the wife's feelings he 
 could not so well judge. But he
 
 152 a fcusbanfc of mo Ifmportance 
 
 felt sure that to find she had 
 married a man who could lift him- 
 self above the common herd, who 
 also could think, work, and act in 
 consonance with such abilities, would 
 awaken her long-closed sympathies, 
 and open her heart to that one great 
 lesson Life had still to teach Love 
 Love of some sort the love that 
 can make a home, and bring even 
 personal failings and weakness into 
 the soft glow of human affections. 
 
 It seemed to him that Marion 
 Rashleigh had never lived a woman's 
 natural life. She appeared to have 
 held herself aloof from it, and then 
 learnt to despise it. 
 
 She lived in a difficult age an age 
 of communists and clamourers and 
 too-liberal thinkers. Their incessant 
 restlessness had affected her, and 
 she had adopted many of their the- 
 ories and armed herself with much 
 of their intolerance. Between this 
 region and that next strata where no 
 one even thinks at all, except it be 
 of the feeble excitement of pleasure, 
 she had placed herself on a foothold
 
 B l3usban& of Ho Importance 153 
 
 of Endeavour. As yet Endeavour 
 had been a thankless taskmaster who 
 bade her make bricks without straw, 
 and grumbled unceasingly at the 
 quality of her work. 
 
 Young as he was, Blake Beverley 
 was clear-sighted and a good judge 
 of character. He owed this in some 
 measure to his nationality, but in a 
 greater measure to his art. His life 
 had been varied full of contrasts, 
 difficulties, and opposition. Hard 
 work had alternated with delightful 
 gleams of leisure when he could sit 
 alone and contemplate Fame such 
 fame as the author and the actor and 
 the artist behold from afar a Prom- 
 ised Land whose glory looks all the 
 more beautiful because it seems im- 
 possible to obtain a nearer view. 
 
 No class is at once so hopeful and 
 hopeless, so quickly elated, so rap- 
 idly despondent. Yet to no class are 
 the ephemeral triumphs of the hour 
 so delightfully prophetic perhaps 
 because they are so dearly bought. 
 
 If Blake Beverley had not been 
 unselfish he would have been specu-
 
 154 B twsbanfc of 1fto flmpprtance 
 
 lating now on his own chance of suc- 
 cess. It is not given to every young 
 actor to have a thoroughly satisfac- 
 tory part for a first appearance on 
 the London boards. They have 
 been known to anticipate Fame from 
 a footman's livery and the handling 
 of a plated salver. 
 
 Blake Beverley was a little more 
 ambitious than this ; yet it was of 
 the author he thought, and rarely of 
 himself the author who was as 
 timorous as a school-girl over her 
 first essay of versification, and as 
 nervous as a race-horse owner with 
 an untried colt ; the author who for 
 years had submerged his own talents, 
 desires, ambitions, in deference to a 
 wife who scarcely noted his exist- 
 ence, who looked upon him as a 
 mere nonentity because he was only 
 patient, and troubled herself not one 
 whit over his idiosyncrasies. 
 
 So many go through life with a 
 stone wall of incomprehension be- 
 tween their respective natures a bar- 
 rier that, slight at first, grows higher 
 and stronger with every year they live.
 
 fcusbanfc of flo Importance 155 
 
 Sometimes Accident or Death 
 razes it to the ground, and lets in the 
 glad light of day; but very rarely does 
 such light shine while Time and Life 
 may atone for the long darkness or re- 
 joice in the sunshine of happiness. 
 
 Marion Rashleigh, going about the 
 labours she had set herself, striving 
 persistently for that ideal which 
 looked so glorious, and was, alas ! so 
 impossible, was becoming daily more 
 and more conscious of the " some- 
 thing" lacking in it all, and in her- 
 self. An element of warmth, of 
 tenderness, a longing to lean on an- 
 other's strength and say, " Guide 
 and I will follow." 
 
 It was treason to her preconceived 
 ideas, treason to the noble army of 
 Emancipators whose motto was, 
 " Follow, while I guide." 
 
 The sense of her own power had 
 grown less confident. An insight 
 into richer and more rational possi- 
 bilities had lessened her self-esteem 
 and awakened a curious feeling of 
 distrust in her mission. 
 
 It seemed to her that she had been
 
 156 a iMisbanD of Ifto flmportance 
 
 groping in a valley without ever lift- 
 ing her eyes to the noble hill-tops 
 that surrounded it. She wanted to 
 climb those hills at last, to escape 
 from the rank miasma of the lower 
 world and get into a purer, clearer, 
 and more spiritual atmosphere. The 
 despair that is inseparable from all 
 great aims had fastened on her soul, 
 and shown her the impossibility of 
 the task she had attempted. 
 
 Who can make one long straight 
 level road of Life, purge the unclean- 
 ness of Human Nature, crush out the 
 Beast and elevate the Angel ? 
 
 Not any Human Effort, however 
 strong, or however worthy. 
 
 A little we may do we who sorrow 
 not for sexual weakness, but for 
 Life's ordained martyrdom ; a little, 
 just to point to the error, to lament 
 the fall, to entreat and warm, but not 
 condemn. 
 
 The Greatest Human Example 
 that life has ever known preached 
 Pity and Pardon. Shall we, so far 
 below His virtues and His faith, do 
 less ?
 
 XII. 
 
 A " FIRST NIGHT." 
 
 Piccadilly was a charming 
 1 little theatre which had started 
 into life with a " silver spoon " 
 of success in its greedy little maw, 
 and flourished and prospered accord- 
 ingly. 
 
 Its owner and manager was also its 
 leading actor, and stood unrivalled 
 as an exponent of elegant comedy. 
 His name spelt popularity, and his 
 taste was a synonym for perfection. 
 
 Armed with a keen insight into 
 the virtues and vanities, uses and 
 abuses of Fashionable Life and nine- 
 teenth century morality, he rang the 
 changes on these with skill little 
 short of marvellous. A gentleman 
 au bout des angles, a wit and a scholar, 
 
 *
 
 158 21 1busban& of "Wo flmportancc 
 
 it is little wonder that his name 
 ranked high in the list of celebrities, 
 and that he was as welcome in the 
 drawing-rooms of Belgravia as in the 
 " outer " world of Bohemia. 
 
 Being clever and cultivated he 
 favoured both, but preferred the lat- 
 ter. He had a quick eye for talent, 
 and by happy chance it had lighted 
 on Blake Beverley. The latter was 
 just concluding a long provincial 
 engagement, and was only too de- 
 lighted to accept a part in anew play 
 which the manager was thinking of 
 producing. It had been brought to 
 his notice in course of conversation 
 at a very Bohemian Club indeed, 
 where the members drank " bitter " 
 or half-and-half, and ate nothing 
 more substantial than bread-and- 
 cheese. But in this atmosphere and 
 under this regime wit seemed to flow 
 apace, and there it was that " Char- 
 ley " Wilton, as his intimes called 
 him, found himself cheek by jowl 
 with a quiet, sober-looking individ- 
 ual whose quaint stories and caustic 
 speeches kept the " house " in a roar.
 
 a twsbano of Wo Importance 159 
 
 Said Charley, in a moment of ex- 
 pansion, " My dear fellow, that in a 
 play would bring all London." 
 
 Said the quiet individual, " Here 
 is the play " and produced Act I. 
 
 This was the beginning. Now 
 after long wrangles, delays, battles 
 with the company, and rows with the 
 scene-painters had dawned that curi- 
 ous electrical, indescribable occasion 
 when nerves are at a premium, and 
 excitement is the presiding god a 
 " First Night." 
 
 First nights at the Piccadilly were 
 always full of interest, and a credit 
 to the booking-office. Every box 
 and stall, every dress circle and up- 
 per circle were sold long before the 
 eventful evening. The dresses and 
 jewelswould not have disgraced a gala 
 night at Covent Garden, and the floral 
 decorations were a dream of beauty. 
 
 When the orchestra commenced 
 one of those little gems for which 
 the conductor was famous, and such 
 as no other theatrical orchestra ever 
 dreamt of attempting, the pretty little 
 house was quite full.
 
 Society often condescended to dine 
 an hour earlier in order to be pres- 
 ent at a First Night of " Charley 
 Wilton's." They were unique, and 
 things not to be missed or lightly re- 
 garded. 
 
 Besides, he was so original. Who 
 but this man of Luck and Enter- 
 prise would have dreamt of produc- 
 ing a new comedy by a new author 
 of whom no one had ever heard, and 
 whom no one could say anything 
 about ? 
 
 After judicious "puffs" in society 
 papers, and hints at the price of the 
 leading actress's gowns, society had 
 languidly inquired, " Who wrote the 
 piece ? " It found the question un- 
 answerable, and was faintly curious, 
 as is the manner of society, when it 
 really can't find out what it wants. 
 
 Belgravia laid traps for " Charley " 
 in the shape of exquisite luncheons, 
 but he was not to be won over. 
 
 " It 's a secret," he said. " The 
 man won't put his name to the play, 
 and I expect I '11 have to put him in 
 charge of a couple of policemen on
 
 H t>u0ban& of 1Flo Umpoctance 161 
 
 the night to get him there. He 's 
 sure to be called, and he well deserves 
 it ; but a more modest, nervous fool 
 it 's never been my lot to meet." 
 
 Pretty ladies felt more curious than 
 ever. " Perhaps," they suggested, 
 " a woman had written it. Women 
 did everything nowadays, from moun- 
 taineering to editing medical jour- 
 nals ! " 
 
 The manager shook his head. " No, 
 it 's no woman's work this, though 
 your sex gets it hot. However, you 
 must judge for yourselves." 
 
 And here they were to judge : all 
 the pretty, well-gowned, frivolous 
 throng who chirp and chatter through 
 life as if the " season " meant its be- 
 all and end-all. 
 
 The languid club dandies, the 
 Piccadilly fldneurs, the swells who 
 proclaimed themselves " stone broke " 
 and yet were faultlessly dressed, and 
 never dreamt of denying themselves 
 a half-guinea stall, a half-crown 
 buttonhole, or an almost priceless 
 Havannah. There, too, were the 
 well-known critics, that terrible body
 
 i62 & f3usban> of 1Ro Umportance 
 
 in whose power it lies to lift to fame 
 or dash into destruction the work on 
 which a fellow-creature's life and 
 bread may depend. There, too, the 
 pit, a critical and business-like mi- 
 nority who were not to be won or 
 bought over, but determined to show 
 if they liked the piece or not. 
 
 In fact, the audience was repre- 
 sentative, and offered its distinctive 
 types as a compliment of awakened 
 interest. 
 
 Mrs. Hex Rashleigh and Mrs. 
 Despard sat together in a small box 
 on the second tier, a better place for 
 seeing the stage than being seen of 
 the audience. Their gowns were as 
 usual distinctive of their respective 
 tastes. 
 
 Mrs. Despard's was a delicious 
 tone of pink, Mrs. Hex Rashleigh's 
 a sombre but rich-coloured harmony 
 of dead gold and terra cotta brocade, 
 It was cut slightly away at the throat 
 and bordered from there to the 
 shoulders with a falling collar of Ve- 
 netian point. She looked very hand- 
 some and very distinguished. Excite-
 
 a t>usban& of "Wo Umportance 163 
 
 ment had lent a slight flush to her 
 cheek and a wonderful glow to her 
 deep brown eyes. 
 
 From time to time she exchanged 
 bows with some notable or celebrated 
 person. Occasionally glasses were 
 turned to her, and people said, " Oh, 
 is that the Mrs. Hex Rashleigh ? 
 . . . Did n't she write Gillian ? 
 and has n't she very peculiar views ? " 
 
 And being informed that she was 
 the Mrs. Hex Rashleigh, and cer- 
 tainly did hold peculiar views, they 
 dropped their glasses and began to 
 criticise each other's dresses. 
 
 But at last the curtain rose, and 
 attention was claimed by the busi- 
 ness of the evening. 
 
 As the act proceeded, a curious 
 puzzled look came into. Mrs. Hex 
 Rashleigh's eyes. There seemed 
 something familiar about the speeches 
 something strangely like those she 
 had heard of late from Blake Bev- 
 erley, and once from her own hus- 
 band. 
 
 The stage husband, Lord War- 
 render, and his friend, Captain
 
 164 B IbusbanD of 1fto Umportance 
 
 Blarney O'Connor, were discussing 
 the position of the former in his 
 brief experience of married life. 
 Lady Warrender, it appeared, had 
 made the acquaintance of an Ameri- 
 can woman who was positively rabid 
 on points of Sexual Equality, and 
 the long-enacted tragedy of Woman's 
 Wrongs. This woman, Mrs. Cor- 
 nelius G. Dobbs, had acquired great 
 influence over the impulsive Lady 
 Warrender, and so worked upon her 
 feelings, and her purse, that she 
 made her husband's life wretched, 
 besides encroaching largely on his 
 means in order to support the various 
 " Guilds," " Missions," and " Or- 
 ganisations " of Mrs. Cornelius G. 
 Dobbs. 
 
 Lord Warrender a good-natured 
 if somewhat ordinary man was made 
 perfectly miserable, his house turned 
 into a "meeting place" for females 
 of strong minds and stronger voices. 
 Comforts he had none. Friends 
 were drifting rapidly away in terror of 
 the sex who denounced them on every 
 occasion. Such little pleasures as
 
 Zl twsbanO of mo Umportance 165 
 
 a smoke, a B. and S., or an occasional 
 late night at the club, were held up 
 as vices of the worst description. His 
 past was continually being brought 
 up, and his future predicted, but no 
 one thought of the martyrdom he 
 was enduring as his Present. 
 
 Into the mette. dropped, like a 
 bomb-shell of discord, a friend of his 
 youth just retired from active service, 
 a rollicking, jovial, fun-loving, dare- 
 devil Irishman, a man who described 
 himself as being " cared for by too 
 many women ever to find time to 
 care for one ; " a man who entered 
 his friend's beautiful town house sure 
 of a welcome, and anticipating pleas- 
 ant society, and found only a victim 
 cowed by infuriated females, and 
 totally ignored by the wife of a year. 
 
 Long and earnest was .the con- 
 sultation between the two men. The 
 Irishman put on his mettle, advised 
 a total " turning of tables," and drew 
 out a plot that commended itself to 
 every man in the audience and made 
 the women exchange glances. 
 
 A soft ripple of laughter escaped
 
 i66 a fjusbanD of Ho flmportance 
 
 Mrs. Despard's lips. " Do you know, 
 dear,"she said, " it 's rather like you." 
 
 Mrs. Hex Rashleigh frowned and 
 bit her lip. She saw the likeness 
 only too plainly. But vengeance 
 was at hand. Straightway swept onto 
 the stage, gorgeously gowned, pretty 
 as a picture and witty as a Parisienne, 
 the Woman of the Play a chattering, 
 frivolous, yet delightful creation ; a 
 Frou-Frou who dares all, and defies 
 all, who is naughty to her finger tips 
 in speech yet, despite the type, 
 straight enough in action ; a woman 
 who dissected her every feeling and 
 emotion with the most delicious 
 effrontery, and while offending every 
 canon of taste, yet made herself en- 
 chanting. 
 
 She had come to call on Lady 
 Warrender. Not finding her in the 
 drawing-room she had wandered into 
 the library and discovered there 
 an old friend in Captain Blarney 
 O'Connor. 
 
 In five minutes Mrs. Fred Go- 
 lightly seized the situation and 
 offered herself as part of the plot.
 
 " You tackle the women, O'Con- 
 nor," she said, " leave the men to 
 me." 
 
 " And where," asked Lord War- 
 render, " do I come in ? " 
 
 " You '11 make love to me," she 
 said coolly. " Real love, hot love, 
 mind ! No namby-pamby stuff. If 
 you can rouse up a spark of jealousy 
 in your wife you case is n't hopeless, 
 and if she gets cross so much the 
 better. Life 's too short to be un- 
 forgiving after thirty." 
 
 " Lady Warrender is only twenty- 
 three," said her husband. 
 
 " Oh ! so much the better. She 
 hasn't outlived ideals. You must 
 let Blarney there play up to her. No 
 woman can resist him in the moon- 
 light." 
 
 Lord Warrender looked alarmed. 
 " I I did n't bargain for that," he 
 said. 
 
 " Of course not That 's where 
 the fun comes in. We must all make 
 sacrifices in a good cause. I have to 
 keep my temper with Mrs. Cornelius 
 G. Dobbs. Hitherto we have only
 
 exchanged discourteous sniffs ! You 
 won't let her order me out of the 
 house, will you ? I love a man to be 
 masterful. All women do, though 
 they won't say so. You can't respect 
 a dummy, not that you 're a dum- 
 my, but you 're in a good way 
 to become one. Take courage, I 
 won't let you succeed." 
 
 It was Mrs. Hex Rashleigh's turn 
 to glance at Mrs. Despard. 
 
 " Do you know, dear," she said 
 softly, " it 's rather like you." 
 
 Their eyes met. Instinctively they 
 glanced at their programmes. 
 
 " Anonymous, I do declare ! " ex- 
 claimed Veloutine, savagely. " Some 
 one has been taking us off, Marion. 
 It 's as clear as daylight." 
 
 Mrs. Hex Rash'leigh was silent. 
 Her attention fled back to the stage, 
 now a scene of animation. 
 
 Lady Warrender and Mrs. Corne- 
 lius G. Dobbs had returned from the 
 meeting. They entered the library, 
 expecting to find it untenanted, and 
 discovered Lord Warrender and his 
 friend smoking, and Mrs. Fred
 
 a 1>usban& of flo IFmportance 169 
 
 Golightly perched on the .arm of a 
 chair, displaying faultless ankles and 
 wonderful boots. 
 
 The attempt to reconcile school- 
 girl friendship with her new principles 
 made Lady Warrender exquisitely 
 embarrassed. Stern, denunciatory, 
 condemning, sat Mrs. Cornelius G. 
 Dobbs, gazing at the group, and deaf 
 to the blandishments of the Irishman. 
 Mrs. Golightly asked for tea, and 
 annexed Lord Warrender. Her con- 
 versation was full of hints of " other 
 days," and the charms and chances 
 of widowhood. Lady Warrender 
 grew more and more uncomfortable. 
 
 In vain were freezing glances and 
 curt speeches. Mrs. Golightly rat- 
 tled on the more daringly. She 
 made fun of " views," and tore 
 Emancipation into shreds with her 
 satires. 
 
 Mrs. Cornelius G. Dobbs grew 
 furious, and was reminded that this 
 was not her house yet. 
 
 The curtain fell on an irate denun- 
 ciation, to which the only answer 
 was a peal of laughter, rich, riotous,
 
 1 70 a IbusbanD of IRo Umportance 
 
 infectious, that sent the house into 
 kindred mirth. Lord Warrender 
 entreated Mrs. Golightly and the 
 Irishman to come back to dinner. 
 
 " Not to-night," vetoed his wife, 
 " I 'm engaged." 
 
 " I 'm sorry, my dear," answered 
 the husband, " but I 'm not" 
 
 " Oh, of course I '11 come," said 
 the Woman. " We 're so indepen- 
 dent now we don't need chaperones, 
 and, as I 'm a host in myself, you, 
 Lord Warrender, can play hostess ! 
 Vive la liberte" ! " 
 
 CURTAIN.
 
 XIII. 
 
 THE MORAL OF THE PLAY. 
 
 THE comedy rattled along, pro- 
 ducing complications, tears, 
 griefs, laughter. The wife, her 
 heart racked by jealousy, saw the man 
 she loved drifting from her side, and 
 learnt, by the light of another woman's 
 eyes, to read a character whose 
 strength and patience and fidelity 
 she had ill rewarded, and never cared 
 to understand. 
 
 Very bitter was the learning 
 of the lesson ; very sharp the 
 thorns of outraged pride which 
 pierced her again and again ; very 
 cruel the awakening when Love tore 
 the bandage from her eyes and 
 showed her what she bad lost by the 
 contrast of what " might have been."
 
 Without being didactic the comedy 
 taught its own moral. That extremes 
 are to be avoided ; that a certain 
 amount of " give and take " is abso- 
 lutely necessary ; that life cannot be 
 all good or all bad, but has its lights 
 and shades, its degrees of excellence 
 and inferiority ; that woman may 
 and can help man, but more often 
 hinders him by going the wrong way 
 about it ; that to irritate and abuse 
 and circumvent him is not the way 
 to win a higher place in his opinions, 
 or advance her own ; that mutual 
 sympathy and mutual esteem can 
 work together for the good of both 
 sexes, while opposition and defiance 
 will improve neither. 
 
 " Good-natured men are not all 
 fools," said Mrs. Golightly, " any 
 more than people who take wine are 
 all drunkards ! All women are not 
 virtuous, but all men are not im- 
 moral ! To obliterate the contrasts 
 of good and bad lessens the charm 
 of one and the example of the other. 
 Nature is perplexing in its develop- 
 ments, but delightful in its variations.
 
 a fcusbanfc of flo importance 173 
 
 The difference between man and 
 woman is the sole law of their mutual 
 attraction. If you make them ex- 
 actly alike they '11 lose all interest 
 for each other. ... If they do 
 marry, for decency's sake it will be 
 as much a matter of course as pairing 
 your stables, or preserving your game. 
 
 The third act held the house 
 breathless. 
 
 Comedy had become almost trag- 
 edy. The flighty woman of the world, 
 the delightful Frou-Frou, with her 
 fastness and smartness and eccentric- 
 ity, had been caught in her own toils. 
 She had grown to care with all the 
 heart she possessed for the man 
 whose mock love for her was stabbing 
 his wife's soul through and through 
 with jealous pain. Then came an 
 admirable scene between the two 
 women the one accusing the other 
 of ruining her happiness, the other 
 with her glib tongue and aching 
 heart defending her wi j .es, and prov- 
 ing with feminine logic that what was
 
 174 a twsbanD of tto flmportance 
 
 unappreciated by one person was 
 quite justified in seeking the regard 
 of some one else. 
 
 " What good were you to your 
 husband?" she coolly inquired. 
 " Did you ever give him sympathy, 
 companionship, affection ? Did you 
 ever consult his tastes, or consider 
 his desires ? Did you ever deny 
 yourself a whim or a want in defer-, 
 ence to his wishes ? No, you neg- 
 lected home and duty, and took your- 
 self off with a set of ranting, irrational 
 beings those Hermaphrodites of 
 modern life who claim to be above 
 considerations of sex, and, while 
 denying its most sacred obligations, 
 take refuge under its banner of De- 
 fencelessness ! How dare you blame 
 me if I step into your place ! You 
 say I stole your husband's love ; I 
 maintain you offered it as the price 
 of your own freedom. Now you 
 may claim that freedom if you will. 
 He offers you his house for your 
 Woman's Guild, his fortune for the 
 propagation of your foolish doc- 
 trines ; but he takes from you what
 
 a tmsbanO of 1Ro flmportance 175 
 
 you never valued his own great, 
 loving heart." 
 
 There was not a sound in the 
 house except one low, heart-broken 
 cry from the young, unhappy wife. 
 
 Then she lifted her face, pale, 
 agonised, beautiful beyond all words. 
 
 " If I have lost his love," she said, 
 " have you gained it ? " 
 
 For a moment that terrible struggle 
 between good and evil in a woman's 
 nature, the tempting of passion, the 
 ignoble prompting of rivalry, swayed 
 the worldly woman's whole soul. 
 ... So easy it would be to say 
 " yes," to erect the barriers of pride 
 between the man's silent endurance 
 and the woman's crushed and humili- 
 ated heart. So easy, . . . and yet 
 at the crucial moment she failed. 
 
 " So like a woman," said the critics. 
 
 So like a woman ! But God be 
 praised that at such crises as these 
 she is more true to her sex than even 
 that sex would have her. That some- 
 thing noble and self-sacrificing 
 springs to life, a sp?.rk fanned to 
 flame, and though the flame burns
 
 and scorches till the tender flesh 
 cries out in agony, it rarely fails to 
 sanctify the very suffering it has 
 caused. 
 
 So ended the comedy. 
 
 The " new woman " is after all bat 
 fashioned on the old, old pattern. 
 Touch her heart, and all her caprices 
 and vagaries are cast to the winds. 
 Claim her nobility and endurance, 
 and rarely do they fail to respond to 
 that call. 
 
 The curtain fell on husband and 
 wife reconciled and understanding 
 one another as but for this lesson 
 they would never have done, while 
 Mrs. Cornelius G. Dobbs fingered a 
 large cheque in the background and 
 announced that English women had 
 no " grit," and that she should go 
 back to " Amurrca " the very next 
 packet and leave the guild to get on 
 as best it could. 
 
 " Marion, I believe you 're actually 
 crying ! " exclaimed Mrs. Despard, 
 under cover of the thunders of ap-
 
 B fcusbanfc ofWo Umportance 17? 
 
 plause which rang through the house 
 and brought actors and actresses 
 again and yet again before the cur- 
 tan. 
 
 "Hush! ..." said Mrs. Hex 
 Aashleigh, nervously, and laying a 
 strangely trembling hand on the bare 
 white arm. " They 're calling au- 
 thor. . . . Now we shall know ! " 
 
 For long it seemed as if no re- 
 sponse was intended to that call. 
 Louder, fiercer, more imperative the 
 cry swelled and roared, till even the 
 languid swells of the stalls took it 
 up, and insistence threatened to de- 
 velop into tumult. 
 
 Then at last the curtain was raised, 
 and the whole stage stood revealed. 
 The actors and actresses were 
 grouped in the background, and 
 there, literally supported by the grasp 
 of Charley Wilton and Blake Bev- 
 erley, was the shrinking figure and 
 dead-white face of Hex Rashleigh. 
 
 Mrs. Hex Rashleigh's face grew as 
 
 13
 
 i?s a f>usbano of IRo "Importance 
 
 white as that on which she gazed. 
 Her limbs failed. She sank back in 
 her seat. 
 
 " Gracious Heavens ! . . . My 
 husband ! " she faltered. 
 
 An hour later she sat in her own 
 room alone. 
 
 All the fruits of years of labour 
 were strewn around her. They lived 
 in the crowded book-shelves, they 
 faced her in pamphlets and journals ; 
 they were the very atmosphere of 
 this quiet, studious place where she 
 had lived and thought and worked 
 in that one groove which had sud- 
 denly been flashed before her as a 
 mistake ! 
 
 All her ideas were in confusion. 
 Her castle of ambition seemed only 
 a castle of cards, overthrown and 
 tumbling ignominiously about its 
 architect. 
 
 This man this being of no im- 
 portance, had at one stroke demol- 
 ished it. . She had thought him a 
 blind, foolish, witless creature, with 
 no opinions worth considering, and
 
 a tmsbano of mo Umportance 179 
 
 no gifts deserving credence, and all 
 the time he had been working, study- 
 ing, and finally accomplishing a suc- 
 cess that swept her own feeble efforts 
 into nothingness. He had reached a 
 higher platform than she could climb, 
 had spoken and been understood 
 while she had only been tolerated. 
 He had been able to call the world 
 of art and culture, society and work, 
 to hear him, and had not only won 
 their praise, but touched their hearts. 
 
 No effort of hers had ever done 
 that ; no tears of awakened sympa- 
 thy, no throb of answering feeling 
 had been the guerdon of her life's 
 endeavour. It had been all hard, 
 thankless, mistaken labour, and he, 
 the man whose name she bore, whose 
 claims she had ignored, had just 
 quietly bided his time, and studied 
 her as a doctor studies the progress 
 of a disease, until the time was ripe 
 for a blow. 
 
 The next day his name would be 
 all over London. Before a week 
 that same London would be crowd- 
 ing to see the piece, and those who
 
 i8o B Ibusbanb of 1Wo Ifmportance 
 
 knew her would recognise the cruel 
 fidelity of the portrait, and name it 
 too. 
 
 " The New Woman," . . . was that 
 her type ? The woman satirised so 
 mercilessly, and yet sketched so lov- 
 ingly, with the strong brain denying 
 the tender heart, and the heart com- 
 ing out conqueror in the end. 
 
 How those speeches rang in her 
 ears ! How strangely her first sense 
 of indignation had evaporated ! She 
 felt as one who, braced to deliver a 
 tremendous blow, strikes but the 
 empty air. 
 
 " Is he right ? . . . Am I wrong ? " 
 she cried piteously, and the woman- 
 hood within her cried out to the 
 forces of suppression like prisoners 
 long stifled for want of air. 
 
 What a coil it all was ! Right 
 Wrong. Which was which ? Turn 
 where one would, the same conflict, 
 the same difficulties had to be faced. 
 
 She felt suddenly weak. Was man 
 to be Ahasuerus after all, graciously 
 extending his sceptre, and Woman,
 
 a "fcusbanD of 1Ro Importance 181 
 
 only weak, loving Esther, thankful to 
 touch it, and live ? 
 
 The hot colour suffused her face 
 in angry waves. She felt outraged, 
 hurt, and something was it Instinct 
 or only Sex ? kept clamouring, " He 
 is right ! he is right ! The woman's 
 sphere begins with love, and by love 
 alone she reigns. . . . He the Head 
 and she the Heart. ... So may Life's 
 best work be done ! " 
 
 Gradually her wrath subsided. 
 She began to think of the disturbing 
 element in her house as an impor- 
 tant factor in its future. 
 
 It was impossible to put him aside 
 now, to regard him in that curious 
 impersonal fashion which relegates 
 the Unimportant Husband to the 
 limbo of garret or cellar. Here, al- 
 most at her side, he had lived, and 
 thought, and worked. That latter 
 fact alone claimed her respect, even 
 as the preceding ones only aroused 
 her wonder. 
 
 No voice of encouragement ; no 
 friendly help ; no mutual interest.
 
 182 a ibusbanO of "Wo Umportance 
 
 Nothing of that sweet sympathy so 
 dear to the author's heart, which soft- 
 ens the stony road of toil so kindly. 
 
 Then she started, and again the 
 hot colour sprang to her brow. 
 
 She remembered Blake Beverley. 
 
 This, then, was the meaning of 
 that strange friendship. They had 
 worked, talked, plotted together, and 
 the young actor had employed him- 
 self in studying her as one of the 
 types of woman so freely presented 
 by the play. 
 
 No wonder Northerton had 
 amused him. No wonder he had 
 flirted with Mrs. Despard, and 
 studied the wily tactics of the Bird 
 of Prey. 
 
 All these women had been sport 
 for him in their different fashions. 
 They had come opportunely on the 
 stage of his life, and been joyfully 
 sacrificed at the shrine of art. 
 
 And yet was he so much to 
 blame ? 
 
 They were true to life, and Blake 
 Beverley had represented life to-
 
 B DusbanD of mo importance 183 
 
 night. As he spoke to " Lady 
 Warrender," so he had spoken to 
 herself, and even as the stage 
 heroine had felt and acknowledged 
 the truth of his good-humoured 
 strictures, so she, the living type, 
 acknowledged them. 
 
 The chiming of the timepiece 
 struck sharply on her ear, and re- 
 minded her how late was the hour. 
 
 For the first time she wondered 
 if her husband had returned. For 
 the first time it struck her that of all 
 who had surrounded him, praised, 
 encouraged him to-night, his own 
 wife had stood aloof. He knew, in 
 his own heart, that she was a thing 
 apart from that Fame and all it 
 might mean. To her he would only 
 be as always the Husband of no 
 Importance. 
 
 " No doubt he is celebrating the 
 occasion as men do," she told her- 
 self, bitterly. " Even fame only 
 means to them an excuse for a 'big 
 feed,' and an extra allowance of 
 champagne or whisky."
 
 184 & tmsbanfc of Ho importance 
 
 But her conscience pricked her 
 as she said it. She knew him so 
 little, after all. 
 
 She turned out the light and 
 abruptly left the room. 
 
 Was it only curiosity or the mem- 
 ory of one other night when she 
 had sought this insignificant house- 
 hold appendage of hers, that turned 
 her footsteps in the direction of his 
 own dingy, lonely room ? 
 
 Perhaps she did not wait to think, 
 but only let Impulse lead her as it 
 might have led a quite ordinary 
 woman. 
 
 Her hand touched the door ; it 
 opened softly, and she stood silently 
 on the threshold looking at the 
 Unimportant Man whose name was 
 on a thousan'd lips to-night. 
 
 He was seated at the untidy, lit- 
 tered table. Genius has often a very 
 poor manger for its birthplace. 
 
 His arms were folded, his head 
 bowed down on them. 
 
 For a moment she wondered why 
 she had never noticed before those
 
 B InisbanD of IHo "(Importance 185 
 
 manifold streaks of grey in the dark, 
 ruffled hair. 
 
 He had not heard her entrance, 
 but quietly and slowly he lifted his 
 head, and then he saw her. 
 
 His eyes were full of tears. She 
 saw him in some foolish schoolboy 
 fashion draw the old, worn coat- 
 sleeve over his wet lids, and then 
 all the frozen hardness of her heart 
 seemed suddenly to break and fall 
 asunder, and warmth and pity the 
 pity so near akin to Love rushed 
 swift as summer's rain through every 
 pulse, and in her eyes too the hot 
 tears rose, looking at that worn, 
 tired face of his. 
 
 Half startled, half abashed, he 
 looked at her, the beautiful folds 
 of her theatre gown still falling 
 round the grand harmonious lines 
 of her figure. . . . He looked, and 
 his hands went out to her entreat- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Oh, my dear," he said, " for- 
 give me ! I forgot that it might 
 hurt you."
 
 i86 a fDusbano of Bo Umportance 
 
 Then she laughed ; but a sob 
 caught the laughter and hushed it, 
 and she was trembling like a child 
 in his arms. 
 
 " It is you," she cried, " who 
 must forgive. You have taught me 
 my lesson to-night." 
 
 THE END.
 
 THE AUTONYM LIBRARY. 
 
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