ONE'S 
 WMETslKpIND
 
 8, P, McLeAN, OQKI*U, 
 
 H M. BROADWAY,
 

 
 One's Womankind
 
 By the Same Author 
 
 A DRAMA IN DUTCH 
 THE WORLD AND A MAN 
 THE BEAUTIFUL Miss BROOKE 
 A NINETEENTH CENTURY MIRACLE 
 CLEO THE MAGNIFICENT 
 THE SYREN FROM BATH
 
 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 Louis ZANGWILL 
 
 Author of 
 A DRAMA IN DUTCH," "THE WORLD AND A MAN," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 A. S. BARNES fcf COMPANY 
 1902
 
 COPYRIGHT 1902 BY 
 A. S. BARNES & COMPANY 
 
 Published November 1902
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 BOOK PAGE 
 
 I. The Bachelor ..... i 
 
 II. The Guardian . , . . . 91 
 
 III. The Wooer 155 
 
 IV. The Benedict 193 
 
 V. The Husband . . . . .235 
 
 2139039
 
 Book I 
 The Bachelor
 
 r HOUGH they had already loitered on their 
 way home from school, the two sisters could 
 not help pausing once more to gaze at the 
 sweet-stuffs ranged in great heaps behind 
 the shining plate glass window. 
 
 " Have you ever tasted those pink-and-white things ? " 
 asked the six-year-old May, as her arm went round 
 Gwenny and her big grey eyes shone with longing. 
 
 " No," replied the elder sister, sorrowfully mindful 
 of the sweeping maternal ban on sweet-stuffs, though it 
 was only almond-rock which was supposed to have last 
 upset them ; " but the yellow-and-white are nicer." 
 
 " You silly old Gwenny ! How can you know if 
 you've never tasted them? " A laughing sparkle illu- 
 mined the dimpled little face. 
 
 " The yellow-and-white are lemony," protested 
 Gwenny indignantly ; " and you always like lemon flavour 
 best, you know you do." 
 
 " One can't go on liking the same thing the whole 
 time," retorted May. 
 
 " You can if it's nice." 
 
 " You can, Gwenny. Never knew such a slow-coach." 
 
 Such criticism from a junior by a full twelve-month 
 savoured of presumption. Gwenny was annoyed. 
 
 " All the same I can walk quicker than you," she 
 said. " See ! " And she began to move away briskly. 
 
 Gwenny was not much taller than her sister, having 
 little to show for her extra twelve-month. Indeed, as 
 both wore neat green frocks and white pinafores, there 
 seemed at first sight little outward difference between 
 them. Their features, however, offered a certain con-
 
 2 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 trast. Gwenny was habitually grave and thoughtful, 
 yet her face was very sweet with its soft, perfect con- 
 tours. Her hair was several degrees darker than May's, 
 and her eyes were brown: not a common every-day 
 brown, but a subtle beautiful brown that flashed into 
 amber. 
 
 May, on the other hand, gave no hint of a meditative 
 temperament. Her face was usually alight with fun, 
 and, if for a moment she fell into thought, absurd 
 wrinkles showed themselves on the tiny brow. She 
 loved her sister, but she the younger prided herself 
 on being the more wide-awake of the two. But the 
 quieter Gwenny did not always submit to her patronage. 
 To-day, indeed, she was stung into reading May a 
 pretty lecture as they went along. 
 
 " I'm sure you don't know what you like. You're 
 always wishing for new things and wanting to be rich 
 and have servants to wait upon you. You know we're 
 poor, and how can we ever get rich without a father? " 
 
 " Of course I shall be rich one day," said the younger 
 sister confidently. " It's horrid to be always poor." A 
 deep red spot burnt on either cheek. 
 
 " Don't be silly, May," said Gwenny. " You know 
 mother has only what uncle gives her ... I did so 
 love father," she added after a slight pause, her eyes 
 shining tearfully. " I can't believe he's really dead 
 it is so puzzling." 
 
 " You can't see any more, and you can't taste any 
 more, and you can't talk any more, and then they bury 
 you," said May, her face grown suddenly white. " And 
 teacher says we must all die one day. Isn't it horrible ? " 
 
 " But it's only father's body that died ; his soul is 
 still alive," put in Gwenny meditatively. 
 
 They walked on in silence. " I know ! " cried May 
 presently, with an air of announcing an inspiration. 
 " Of course it's father's soul that's going to make us 
 rich."
 
 THE BACHELOR 3 
 
 " Nonsense ! There's no such thing as money in 
 heaven ! " pronounced Gwenny dogmatically. 
 
 " A soul can do anything," insisted May. " It can 
 turn anything it likes into gold. Why, if a magician 
 only touches the commonest substance with his wand, it 
 changes into gold at once, and a magician isn't as high 
 as a soul. But I forgot. I can show you what heaven 
 looks like. There are such beautiful colours." 
 
 She fumbled in her pinafore pocket and brought out 
 a long glass prism. Gwenny stared at it suspiciously. 
 Then, in a burst of recognition, " Where did you get 
 that from ? " she cried, horrified. 
 
 " I took it off one of the lustres," explained May 
 calmly. " I turned that side towards the wall, so that 
 mother won't miss it before I fix it on again. What a 
 lovely spy-glass it makes! Just have a spy through 
 it!" 
 
 " No, I will not," said Gwenny. " You had no right 
 to touch it. Put it away ! " 
 
 But May ignored the injunction, screwing up one 
 eye and holding the prism to the other. " A-a-a-h-h ! " 
 she exclaimed rapturously. 
 
 Presently she held the prism to her sister's eye, and 
 Gwenny was hypnotized into acceptance of the younger 
 one's audacity. 
 
 " A-a-a-h-h % ! " she exclaimed in her turn, taking hold 
 of it firmly. " Blue, green, yellow, red and the whole 
 street goes up like a hill . . . But suppose you should 
 break it." 
 
 " Don't look so frightened, Gwenny." 
 
 " I'm not frightened, but it isn't right ; and if it 
 should get smashed in two " 
 
 " Why, then there'd be a spy-glass for each of us 
 and a beating besides! Who cares for a beating? 
 Some girls are such cry-babies. You're not, Gwenny. 
 But then you're so good, you never get beaten." 
 
 " A-a-a-h-h ! " said Gwenny again, as they turned
 
 4 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 the corner of their own street. " How strange the 
 people look ! " 
 
 May held out her hand for the prism, and Gwenny 
 passed it to her; but, before May's fingers had grasped 
 it, Gwenny's had released their hold. As for the prism, 
 it was dashed into five jagged pieces, to say nothing of 
 the myriad irrecoverable fragments. 
 
 Gwenny looked rather solemn and was not in the 
 least reassured by the laughter with which May presently 
 greeted the catastrophe. Nor, indeed, was she at all 
 deceived, for May's cheeks were aflame and the ring in 
 her laughter was of bravado. 
 
 " How can you? " she exclaimed, stooping to pick up 
 the pieces. 
 
 " Oh, I don't care ! " retorted May, refusing to abate 
 one jot of her apparent unconcern. " Put them in my 
 pinafore pocket . . . here ! " And, Gwenny having 
 obeyed her bidding, she began to dance gaily onwards. 
 The elder sister followed conscience-stricken, and with 
 blanched face. 
 
 The neighbourhood the humbler side of a prosper- 
 ous district of Northern London was monotonous but 
 strictly respectable; a harmless background enough for 
 the growth of the two children. Besides, there was a 
 park within easy reach, agreeably varying for them the 
 topography of the quarter. Not that they were without 
 knowledge of a larger world, still more richly varied. 
 For, on occasion, they had been taken to have tea with 
 their uncle, Mr. Hubert Ruthven, at his chambers in the 
 Temple, and the omnibus ride down to the Strand was 
 an experience to be remembered. 
 
 And when you arrived ! What strange places had 
 to be traversed! You went down a funny passage, and 
 past a lovely romantic church, and then under such an 
 odd assemblage of arches and pillars to get into the 
 " playground " so they designated the oblong, paved 
 space of the venerable Pump Court where uncle lived.
 
 THE BACHELOR 5 
 
 Fancy trees growing down the middle out of the flag- 
 stones, and a pump right in the centre ! Then you went 
 up a few steps to a very dirty old doorway, with gen- 
 tlemen's names painted down the sides, and passed 
 through a dusty passage and up three dark flights of 
 bare stairs on to a landing where there was a gas-light 
 just like a street-lamp, only without the post. They 
 did not at all approve of these last stages of the journey ; 
 they religiously believed the dust and grime were a 
 " disgrace " that being one of their mother's oft-ex- 
 pressed and most ardent convictions. It had always 
 thrilled them with indignation to hear that Mr. Ruthven 
 paid seven whole shillings a week extra to have his place 
 kept clean! They were, indeed, much concerned that 
 his health was going to break down one day (though 
 he never seemed to have the least idea of it himself) ; 
 but he was always so kind and friendly that they didn't 
 like to tell him about it. 
 
 Criticism, however, always ceased when his thick oak 
 door swung open on its queer, elongated hinges, that 
 were nailed right across it ; and, as they passed in, they 
 would cast a shy glance up at the three grotesque carved 
 heads surmounting the archway that gave variety to 
 the narrow corridor. Inside they would sit quiet as 
 mice, not in awe of their uncle, but overwhelmed by the 
 sense of " visiting " this important place. 
 
 Their mother, Mrs. Edward Ruthven, rented the 
 upper part of a small house, sharing the kitchen below 
 with the genteel person whose sub-tenant she was that 
 being the usual arrangement in the immediate district. 
 She was proud of her little nest; she, at least, had no 
 intention of putting up with dust and stuffiness, " as 
 grand gentlemen apparently could." To-day the chil- 
 dren found the front door on the jar, pushed it open, 
 and went up-stairs together, May anxious to meet the 
 coming storm and have it over, Gwenny with a sense 
 of accessoryship to the crime. They meant, of course,
 
 6 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 to confess their guilt at once, even should their mother's 
 keen eye not yet have detected the damage. Mrs. 
 Ruthven's regard for her household effects was religious. 
 Deterioration that was fair wear and tear was a horror 
 to her; wanton destruction unthinkable. Not of her 
 might it be said, in the words of Pope, she was mistress 
 of herself though china fell. On the lustres in par- 
 ticular she set a high value ; they represented the aesthe- 
 tic element in the home, and she would often pause 
 before them to admire their richly-gilded crowns and 
 their long, beautiful pendants. Gwenny and May had 
 therefore no illusions about what was to follow. 
 
 They entered the sitting-room quietly. Mrs. Ruth- 
 ven was not yet there, though a glance showed that 
 the misdeed had already been discovered. The lustre 
 in question had been turned again, and a yawning 
 emptiness, as of a great tooth extracted, showed as the 
 place of the missing pendant. 
 
 May took the broken pieces from her pocket and 
 threw them on to the table. Gwenny's arm stole round 
 her protectingly, the elder sister in her asserting 
 itself. 
 
 " Never mind, dear," she said, trying to suppress a 
 sob, the outcome, not of fear, but of the general emo- 
 tion of the moment. " It will be all the same to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 In a moment they recognized their mother's step as 
 she ascended from the kitchen. Presently she stood in 
 the doorway, a pot of scalded tea in one hand, a jug 
 of hot water in the other. She was a tall, half-faded 
 woman of thirty, though she looked fully five years 
 older. Brooding discontent with her lot had set its 
 mark on her, so that the faults of her face had come 
 to be over-accentuated. The forehead was too broad, 
 the chin too narrow, the cheek-bones a trifle pronounced. 
 Yet, in the first freshness of youth, with her fine grey 
 eyes and a really good neck which still rose gracefully
 
 THE BACHELOR 7 
 
 from her dark stuff dress she had been attractive 
 enough. 
 
 She set down the jug and teapot on the table. Her 
 hands were large and coarsened by household work, the 
 golden symbols of her progress from maidenhood to- 
 wards motherhood shining in marked contrast to the 
 red flesh. There was an ominous deliberateness about 
 her movements. 
 
 As the girls had lingered on their way home, her 
 accumulated anger had been feeling itself foiled. Which 
 made her even angrier. 
 
 " Oho ! " she cried, as her eye, catching sight of the 
 shapeless fragments, spat fire at both of them. 
 
 " I'm so sorry, mother," said Gwenny. " It's all my 
 fault. I did not mean to break it. It was an accident." 
 
 " I'll give you an accident ! " screamed Mrs. Ruthven, 
 smacking her face hard. " You little imp of mischief." 
 
 Gwenny trembled a little and her eyes grew sorrow- 
 fully big, but no tear showed itself. 
 
 " It wasn't Gwenny's fault at all," spoke up May. " I 
 took the spy-glass because it made such lovely colours 
 on the wall when the sun shone." 
 
 " Oh it was you, was it? " Mrs. Ruthven took a 
 menacing step forward. " You were always the mis- 
 chievous one. There is just a taste for you to go on 
 with, and, at bed-time, won't you just catch it, my 
 lady you'll see." 
 
 May received the blow meekly, conscious of deserving 
 the finger-marks on her cheek, though not at all relish- 
 ing the accompanying assurance of further punishment 
 to follow. 
 
 But Mrs. Ruthven's temper having found relief in 
 castigation, her resentment began to flow into words, the 
 while she proceeded to cut their bread-and-butter. The 
 children listened silently, feeling themselves monsters, 
 as their mother descanted on their constant roughness 
 towards the home in contrast with the loving care she
 
 8 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 always bestowed on it. The way they would keep 
 putting their feet on the bars of chairs, and scratching 
 and scraping them, was enough to make one's heart 
 bleed. Not infrequently, she asserted, she had caught 
 them standing on chairs, and she had a mournful pre- 
 vision of hollow places worn in the wood. She recalled 
 to them definite instances of their guilt (as if adequate 
 reproach had not been meted out as the occasions had 
 arisen). And now not even the lustres were safe from 
 their mischievous hands. Other mothers had pleasure 
 from their children, she had only heart-burn. And how 
 she was going to match the broken pendant, Heaven 
 alone knew. 
 
 " There is something in my money-box," suggested 
 Gwenny. " And if it isn't enough, you could keep back 
 my spending-money for some time." 
 
 " I'll think about it," said Mrs. Ruthven, in whom the 
 still visible marks on the children's faces now created 
 some remorse. " It would serve you right if I did," 
 she added, to maintain a show of severity. 
 
 A silence fell upon the room. May sipped her tea 
 with guilty remembrance of a neglected money-box 
 somewhere on a top shelf. Heroic resolutions to begin 
 saving from that moment were surging in her mind 
 despite the breakdown of past attempts though, to be 
 sure, a farthing a day had scarcely afforded much 
 margin for economies. 
 
 However, the storm had now blown over, and, before 
 very many minutes had passed, the mercurial May had 
 completely recovered her spirits, and did not even take 
 seriously the flogging that had been threatened for 
 bed-time. But Gwenny still sat with downcast face, 
 brooding over the sins of the past, and casting every 
 now and again a remorseful glance at the imperfect 
 lustre.
 
 n 
 
 TEA was well-nigh over when the little family 
 was surprised by a visitor. But, if his com- 
 ing that afternoon was unexpected, his rap 
 at the door was familiar enough, and the 
 children immediately jumped up with a joyous shout 
 of "Uncle!" 
 
 Mr. Hubert Ruthven entered, put his stick in a 
 corner, and his tall silk hat on a chair. He shook hands 
 with his sister-in-law, and kissed and fondled the chil- 
 dren. From the way in which they threw off all re- 
 pression, and danced and laughed with delight, it was 
 evident how much he stood for in their lives. A frown 
 stole over their mother's face. 
 
 " Don't make such a noise, children. You will give 
 Mr. Ruthven a headache." At the same time she was 
 nervous lest he should notice anything amiss with their 
 faces. 
 
 " The noisier the better, Agnes," said Hubert, laugh- 
 ing, and drawing the two little ones closer to him. He 
 caressed their hair, and patted their cheeks. 
 
 " A cup of tea," suggested Agnes. 
 
 " Thanks. I am really thirsty. It's a tedious journey 
 from the Temple." 
 
 He drew over a chair, and sat down near the table. 
 But he did not see the frown that again passed over the 
 mother's face as Gwenny and May came and stood one 
 on each side of him. At last, Agnes, impatient to hear 
 the wherefore of his appearance, bade the children go 
 into the next room. " I dare say your uncle has some- 
 thing to talk over with me," she added : " and you, 
 Gwenny, have your lessons to do." 
 
 9
 
 10 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 Hubert did not oppose the dismissal, so the girls rose 
 to obey ; May, who had not yet attained to the stage of 
 home-lessons, taking a volume of Grimm's Fairy Tales 
 with her. Nevertheless, they were loath to go, for a 
 conference between the elders had always a fascination 
 for them, and they were usually allowed to be present 
 the whole time during Hubert's visits. 
 
 Indeed, not only were they, as a rule, admitted to con- 
 ferences relating to the family affairs ; but their mother, 
 in her bitterer moods, would pour out to them her own 
 distorted vision of things the hardness of their lot in 
 the world, the harsh injustice of their father's mother, 
 who had never recognized her, and had always refused 
 to see her, saying she had entrapped her son and ruined 
 his life; whereas she called Heaven to witness she had 
 never encouraged him, and was only coerced into marry- 
 ing him by his threatening to shoot himself if she re- 
 fused. She would always curse the day when the young 
 gentleman came to lodge in her poor mother's house. 
 Such a confidential disquisition on her part was the usual 
 immediate sequel to Hubert's visits, which were thus 
 also associated in the children's minds with after-periods 
 of maternal gloom. 
 
 " I suppose you are wondering why I've come to- 
 day," he began for, in the ordinary course of events, 
 his regular visit and cheque would not be due for another 
 fortnight or so. 
 
 " You wouldn't have come unless you had a reason," 
 she returned, unwilling to be charmed into graciousness 
 by the fascination of his presence his dark, handsome 
 face with its deep-set black eyes, his gentle manner, 
 his soft polished voice, his stylish clothes. She 
 felt all this as marking the superiority of his clan 
 to hers. 
 
 " I admit I have a reason," he said, smiling. " But 
 come, you surely don't mean to complain of neglect on 
 my part."
 
 THE BACHELOR 11 
 
 " Complain ! " she said scornfully. " I never com- 
 plain." 
 
 " Of course you were not complaining," he conceded 
 good-naturedly, trying to soothe her out of her obvious 
 hostility. " I am so sorry, Agnes. Life hasn't exactly 
 been a bed of roses for you." 
 
 " No, that it hasn't," she agreed. 
 
 " I am so sorry," he repeated, sincerely full of pity 
 for her. He was too large-hearted to be vexed at her 
 general air of hostility, understanding her limitations, 
 and tolerating her troublesome pride at being dependent 
 on him. He, at least, had never borne her any ill-will 
 for marrying his younger brother, though that event 
 had undoubtedly proved the calamity of poor Edward's 
 early-closed life. From the beginning he had recog- 
 nized, in distinct opposition to his mother, that Agnes 
 was quite blameless. If a medical student of twenty 
 chooses to lose his head over his landlady's daughter, 
 it does not follow she is a designing person who has 
 entangled him in her net. Unfortunately the old Mrs. 
 Ruthven, entrenched far away in the country, would 
 not reason that way, and her hatred for her undesircd 
 daughter-in-law had depths which the latter alone di- 
 vined in her most morbid moments. Hubert's mother, in 
 fact, was one of those persons whose ardent prejudices 
 create new tragedy besides intensifying what already 
 exists ; and when, after Edward's death, she, already 
 wounded by Hubert's lenient attitude throughout, pas- 
 sionately declared he must leave Agnes and her " brats " 
 to their own devices or never come near her again, he 
 bowed his head to the necessity for such an estrange- 
 ment. To Agnes he had never said anything about the 
 quarrel. 
 
 Her reply to-day was characteristic. 
 
 " Don't you be unhappy on my account," she said. 
 " It's enough my own life is miserable, and, if it weren't 
 for the children "
 
 12 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 He knew from experience the sequence of plaintive 
 phrases of which her tongue had acquired the habit. 
 
 " Don't be a goose," he interrupted airily. " Things 
 are going to be different now. You and the children 
 must have a better time in future." 
 
 Now that he had come to the point, he stopped a 
 moment to collect his ideas. She did not betray any 
 impatience, but sat waiting with a studied indifference. 
 
 " I mean this," he resumed slowly, hoping she would 
 listen without interrupting. " As you know, I have 
 never had any fortune to help me. My mother, im- 
 poverished through various causes that I need not dwell 
 upon, had to pinch for years to give us boys a decent 
 education and a start in life. It took me years at the 
 bar before I could depend on the most modest income. 
 It is only during the last two or three that things have 
 at all shown any improvement. Of late, in fact, I have 
 been going up up up, all of a rush somehow. So I 
 mustn't complain. No doubt it is somewhat of an 
 achievement now-a-days for a man who wishes to live 
 honourably and shun intrigue and flattery and every 
 kind of mean trick to feel himself fairly afloat at my 
 age I am thirty-five, you know. To come then to my 
 point. You know how much I have always cared for 
 the children. Well, for years I have been exercised 
 about their future. Till now what I've been able to 
 spare has been little enough. Don't look so cross, please ! 
 I have always been grateful to you for not refusing me 
 the chance of doing what I could for them." 
 
 She needed careful handling. Often when he came 
 with the usual cheque she would make a show of refusal, 
 vowing she and her children must not be a burden on 
 him any longer. (Whilst the reluctance, which she per- 
 mitted him each time to override, was no doubt sincere 
 at the moment, she would next day proceed to lay out 
 the money quite cheerfully, regarding it as legitimate 
 income.)
 
 THE BACHELOR 13 
 
 Having warded off the threatened interruption, he 
 was able to explain himself further and impress upon 
 Agnes his anxiety that the children should at once 
 benefit by his modest prosperity, that they should get a 
 good education and refined surroundings. They prom- 
 ised to be beautiful, and they showed great intelligence. 
 Why should they not have their opportunities when it 
 was in his power to afford them such? " I want them 
 to live full and happy lives, and it would be a great 
 happiness to me to see their talents developed. Of course 
 just now I can only give you my ideas m the most 
 general way, but the beginning, at any rate, seems 
 clear. You must move to a pretty little house and get 
 some nice furniture. For a time the girls could be 
 educated at home. As for the future, we must feel 
 our way as time goes on." 
 
 The first flow of ideas exhausted, Hubert stopped, 
 ready for a certain amount of captious opposition; but 
 he counted, as usual, on getting his way. Agnes seemed 
 to be reflecting a moment. He noticed that she was 
 trembling as if from the effort of collecting and con- 
 centrating her thoughts preparatory to a great pouring- 
 forth. Her colour deepened, and the lines about her 
 mouth grew more distinctly marked. Her eyes were fev- 
 erishly alight. In that moment when all the life in her 
 seemed to be gathered in her face, Hubert felt the old 
 vanished prettiness behind a veil of something that was 
 hideous and twitching. He had a sense of the infinite 
 pathos of things, knowing now he had struck with all 
 his might on the chord of her being. 
 
 " I expected you would come to me like this one 
 day," she said at length ; " and that we'd have to find 
 out exactly how we meant to go on. There are things 
 that had better be said straight out, and that I always 
 knew would have to be said. Well, the principal thing 
 I want you to understand is that the children are my 
 children, and mine they are going to remain. It's all
 
 14 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 very fine talking so grand about their education and 
 their future, but I don't want them one day to look 
 down on their mother and be ashamed of her. I've suf- 
 fered enough already from grand people looking down 
 on me, and I'm not going to have my own children turn 
 against me. As for learning and surroundings, what 
 was good enough for me is good enough for them. 
 Their lives are quite safe in my hands, and I'd rather 
 die this minute than let anybody else get hold of them 
 and poison them against me." 
 
 Hubert protested the innocence of his intentions, but 
 she rose and faced him with folded arms. 
 
 " Don't you think I can't see through the dodge. If 
 you and your mother think you are going to dazzle me 
 with your pretty houses and furniture so as to do me 
 out of my children sooner or later, you are very much 
 mistaken. You belong to one world and we belong to 
 another, and I long ago learnt the mistake of having 
 anything to do with people different from those one 
 is born and bred among. It only leads to heart- 
 ache." 
 
 He had scarcely foreseen the line she had adopted. Of 
 course her suspicion that he deliberately meant to wean 
 her children away from her was ridiculous, but he had 
 to admit to himself that her perception of the possi- 
 bilities of the future was shrewd enough. His face fell. 
 
 " I shall certainly not sell my children," she resumed, 
 conscious of possessing what " the others " coveted, and 
 further fortified by the thought of the hoard, put to- 
 gether penny by penny, that was hidden in her chest- 
 of -drawers possible capital for a lodging-house of her 
 own. " If it wasn't out of consideration for your feel- 
 ings, I shouldn't accept a penny even now. I am still 
 strong and hearty, thank God, and there is always work 
 for a sober, respectable woman. I'm not ashamed to 
 do it, though, of course, a gentleman in your position 
 must not allow his sister-in-law to soil herself with honest
 
 THE BACHELOR 15 
 
 work to say nothing of the feelings of a certain high- 
 and-mighty lady." 
 
 " I am sorry you attribute such motives to me," he 
 began. Then, remembering that argument would only 
 be wasted on her, " Won't you tell me your own ideas 
 about the children? " he preferred to ask. 
 
 " They must earn their own livings, as I did. It 
 won't lose their souls for them if they serve behind 
 the counter. And when the time comes I want them 
 to marry respectable, hard-working mechanics. They'll 
 be happier with workmen than I was with a gentleman." 
 
 Agnes could not resist the chance of sarcasm. In 
 her heart she had higher dreams for her girls, aspiring 
 to shop-keepers. Hubert did not know that her sense 
 of social differences was deeper than his own, and that 
 she boasted to the neighbours of her high connections 
 through her husband. 
 
 " Besides," she continued, taking her seat again and 
 falling into a more conciliatory intonation, as if to 
 show that, though there might be differences between 
 them, she was a perfectly reasonable and pleasant person 
 to deal with ; " it isn't as if I can always go on expect- 
 ing you to provide for them. After all you'll be 
 wanting to get settled yourself one day. A man can't 
 always remain a bachelor." 
 
 She was unable to disguise her eagerness to draw 
 from him some statement. 
 
 Hubert was taken aback. It was clear that the sub- 
 ject had been occupying her thoughts and he felt 
 almost unreasonably resentful. What right had a person 
 like that for he, despite all his free-spirited tolerance, 
 was conscious of the great gap between their inner 
 selves to attempt to discuss his life with him! What 
 could her gross nature understand of his nature and 
 his needs? 
 
 But he would not be otherwise than gentle with her, 
 and contented himself with leaving her hint unnoticed.
 
 16 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " It will be always my business and my pleasure 
 to provide for the children, and you may take it for 
 granted that nothing would interfere with that." 
 
 " You think so now," she returned in a tone that 
 indicated an immense grasp of life. " The sort of 
 woman you'd be likely to marry would spend money 
 faster than you could earn it. You don't know what 
 it costs to keep a fine lady in dresses so that she may 
 always look like a picture. Do you think she would 
 continue to care for you if you couldn't keep up her 
 grand house and give her all the dresses she wanted! 
 Those women are all selfish and heartless they are 
 brought up to be selfish from the day of their birth. 
 She wouldn't consider you if she couldn't get her way. 
 They are sweet and nice so long as they do get their 
 way, but God help the man who marries one of them 
 if he has to work for his money." 
 
 " I have no intention of marrying ! " said Hubert 
 shortly. 
 
 " Ah, that's what you say now," persisted Agnes ; 
 " but a man always wants to settle down. You can't 
 go on living all alone in those rooms. I'm sure they 
 never get a proper turning-out from one year's end to 
 another, and that woman taking seven shillings a week! 
 Yes, Vd give her seven shillings a week I'd break her 
 neck out of the place! And as for that ragged felt 
 on the floor, why it hasn't been taken up and beaten 
 for a century, I lay. Faugh! I like everything sweet 
 and clean, I do. And what would you do if you were 
 suddenly taken ill, all alone there? Why, a man 
 might keep on calling out, and be dead before any- 
 body heard him ! " She paused only to shudder, then 
 resumed immediately : " And, as I say, you wouldn't 
 care about marrying in the way poor Edward did 
 a poor respectable girl, who had plenty of spirit and 
 good looks, too, and who knew how to make a shilling 
 go as far as anybody. You'd look for something
 
 THE BACHELOR 17 
 
 grander. And would your wife care about us? Would 
 she give up a single dress for our sake? Would she 
 deny herself the least trifle she'd set her heart on? 
 A nice thing, indeed, if the children had got used to 
 luxuries. Whereas, as things are now, I could always 
 earn my bit of bread." 
 
 Hubert had resigned himself to hearing her out, 
 steadfastly refraining from taking up the theme. He 
 wretty well understood the twists of her thoughts and 
 emotions, so perceived that the question of his marriage 
 must have been troubling her all along; despite her odd 
 pride, her dependence upon him in the eyes of het 
 world an independence had become so established a 
 fact, that, even whilst she rebelled against it, she 
 dreaded the loss of it. 
 
 He rose to bring the visit to and end. " Perhaps you 
 care to think it over," he suggested, glancing at his 
 watch. " I am sorry I must hurry away now. I know 
 you'll excuse my going so soon, but I have an en- 
 gagement." 
 
 She was rather taken aback at this announcement 
 as she was just beginning to warm to her disquisition, 
 and was prepared to continue indefinitely. But, of 
 course, she could only call the children to say good-bye. 
 
 " Did you enjoy your story, May? " he asked. 
 
 " Rather ! The walls of the witch's house were made 
 of barley-sugar and you could break lumps off the 
 window-sill and eat them ! Wasn't that fine ? "
 
 m 
 
 rHE engagement put forward by Hubert was 
 no imaginary one. He had been collecting a 
 few pounds from friends for an old law-clerk 
 out of employment, now reduced to a Bishops- 
 gate doss-house, and on the verge of going still lower. 
 He had come a little into relation with the man, who 
 had often had to call at his chambers with documents; 
 and Hubert, who never dismissed an appeal unconsid- 
 ered, had found the case sufficiently genuine to enlist his 
 good offices. The incident was one such among many, 
 and Hubert had quite a clientele who preferred to give 
 their half-crowns through him rather than at random. 
 He had told the poor man to call at his chambers at 
 eight, and, of course, he could not allow the temptation 
 of lingering with the children to lead him into inflicting 
 a disappointment. 
 
 In Pump Court he found the man already waiting 
 about for him. Soon he had handed over what he had 
 been able to get together, and dismissed the recipient 
 with a few sympathetic words. There were papers he 
 had to look through during the evening, but he felt too 
 depressed to touch them yet. So, abandoning the idea 
 of his club as a boredom, he went to seek consolation 
 by whiling away an hour at a bookseller's near by. As, 
 later on, it occurred to him he ought to eat something, 
 he carried off two tattered volumes that had tempted 
 him, and entered the nearest place of refreshment to 
 dine on a sandwich and a cup of coffee not because 
 there was any appetite to satisfy but just to feel he 
 was dining. 
 
 Frankly his conference with Agnes had disappointed 
 
 18
 
 THE BACHELOR 19 
 
 him keenly. He was not merely checked in the execution 
 of the plan on which he had set his heart ; it looked as if 
 he must abandon it altogether. There seemed nothing 
 but to drift on as at present. 
 
 He returned to the Temple, got his papers from his 
 business room on the ground floor, then gloomily climbed 
 the flights of stairs to the chambers he had occupied now 
 for several years. His sitting-room, the ancient wain- 
 scoting of which had been repainted over by his prede- 
 cessor in a sort of creamy white, was comfortable enough 
 in its rough-and-ready way, yet not without a certain 
 refinement. The books with which it was packed formed 
 its dominant feature; here and there they had accumu- 
 lated in disorderly heaps. A good-sized table, topped 
 with leather, arm-chairs that were more voluptuous than 
 beautiful, a large Dutch cabinet-escritoire, exuberantly 
 inlaid and bulging, and an old Frisian clock, made up 
 the principal furniture of the room, and were supple- 
 mented by a few sketches and prints and bibelots that 
 added agreeably to the feeling of the ensemble. There 
 was little specifically to suggest the lawyer. The greater 
 part of his legal library was below in his business room, 
 and the books here pointed rather to a wide general cul- 
 ture, the number of worm-eaten calf bindings indicat- 
 ing a habit of ferreting in old bookshops. 
 
 To the eye of his brethren Hubert cut a fairly in- 
 teresting figure. He was known not merely as an able 
 practitioner on the Chancery side, occupying himself 
 more with chamber than with Court work, and distinctly 
 on the rise, but likewise as one who had employed the 
 years of waiting to such good purpose that he had 
 made a reputation by much first-class work in the serious 
 magazines on social and political topics. In cultured 
 democratic circles for his creed was advanced liberalism 
 he was favourably known as a capable and enthusiastic 
 exponent of their ideals; and at that period it was in 
 the early eighties those ideals looked as if they might
 
 20 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 one day become respectable. He had the name of being 
 reserved in many respects, for few knew much about him 
 personally. It was taken for granted, however, that his 
 bachelor existence in the Temple was bound to come to 
 an end sooner or later, and that he would probably 
 blossom some day into a Queen's Counsel and a member 
 of Parliament. But Hubert was not deeply touched by 
 these conventional ambitions. He loved learning and 
 he loved philanthropy more than anything else in the 
 world; regretted his limited time for the one and his 
 limited power for the other. He knew well the darker 
 sides of London ; had explored its slums and its doss- 
 houses, had studied its problems of work and poverty 
 with passionate sympathy. Of all careers that of quiet 
 service to humanity touched him as the noblest. 
 
 Though unconcerned with caste, Hubert could trace 
 back his descent for many generations. His ancestors 
 had belonged to the yeoman class, sturdy of character 
 and endowed with serviceable every-day abilities; obtuse 
 in many directions, yet with a strong sense of justice; 
 oaken temperaments, austere taskmasters, that had 
 waxed hearty over their home-brewed ale. His grand- 
 father had held quite a respectable estate, and his father, 
 advancing still further in gentility with a university 
 education, had married the incumbent's daughter. The 
 university education, however, seemed to have proved 
 fatal. The estate did not prosper in his hands, and he 
 died when the boys were still young, having muddled 
 through practically the whole of it. Hubert and his 
 brother grew up in the belief that their mother had been 
 left in much reduced circumstances and was making 
 sacrifices to give them professions that counted. She 
 still occupied the same modest country house as of yore, 
 entirely immersed in local interests, and nursing a 
 bitterness that her early hopes for her sons had borne so 
 little fruit. She was over sixty now and her mind had 
 acquired an iron fixity. She had been brought up in a
 
 THE BACHELOR 21 
 
 rigid tory tradition, and her sons had broken her heart 
 between them; the younger by marrying beneath him, 
 the other by his outrageous democratic principles pub- 
 lished so openly. 
 
 Not that Mrs. Ruthven gave up Hubert immediately 
 as lost when she realized what he had developed into. 
 She was hurt and angry, but too masterful a spirit not 
 to attempt to reclaim him. She proceeded straight to 
 the attack as soon as she had him to herself, and there 
 was a crude attempt to thresh out first principles be- 
 tween them. How could any intelligent mind, he asked 
 (forced to turn at bay before her onslaught), continue 
 to believe that nature was to be imposed upon by the 
 social arrangements of feudalism, and, in its creation 
 of choice souls, was to be coerced into dumping them 
 down within certain assigned limits. A choice soul was 
 always better than a coarse one, whether within or with- 
 out the pale of caste. 
 
 " So you contend that all men are equal," she ex- 
 claimed, scandalized. 
 
 .- " No, indeed. All human beings are by no means 
 equal, only their inequalities do not find a true embodi- 
 ment in your feudalism. We want a thorough over- 
 hauling of the ranks. You, mother, should be a duchess 
 at the least." 
 
 But she was deaf to blandishment, and only put out 
 her bristles the more against this unfamiliar morality 
 of his. " How horribly vulgar ! " she exclaimed. " You'll 
 be wanting to abolish the throne next." 
 
 There followed many such passage-at-arms between 
 the two, for Mrs. Ruthven did not hesitate to pit herself 
 against Hubert, resentful that her maternal authority 
 had no control over his reason and convictions. The 
 relations between them would have been strained to 
 breaking-point even earlier had she not got the queer 
 idea into her head that Hubert had evolved these prin- 
 ciples in order to obscure the enormity of his brother's
 
 2% ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 marriage. So she had yet hopes he would alter his ways 
 of thinking. 
 
 Money relations between them had, of course, ceased 
 long before this. Hubert had been too much impressed 
 by her forced economies not to hasten his self-depend- 
 ence, and it was little enough he had had to subsist on 
 during his early days in London. He had not dared 
 to be a failure in life. He had worked terribly, burning 
 his lamp till the dawn shamed it. What wonder if he 
 had been blind to Edward's infatuation! He remem- 
 bered his dismay at hearing of the marriage a fortnight 
 after it had taken place. Of course he had felt bound 
 to help the couple as best he could till Edward could 
 find a minor post in a hospital at a small salary. The 
 years had gone by, Edward dying in his arms, weak- 
 ened by overwork and worry, an easy victim of pneu- 
 monia. Since then a permanent strain of sadness had 
 entered into his life, for he had always felt an almost 
 paternal responsibility towards his brother who had 
 depended on him much in boyhood, and he had loved 
 him with a deep and protecting affection. Edward's 
 family had at once become his care that was a duty 
 he assumed as a matter-of-course, though it was im- 
 mediately called into question by his mother who hence- 
 forth regarded poor Agnes as her son's murderer. Then 
 had come the regrettable break between mother and son. 
 
 Beyond the large vague floating acquaintanceship and 
 the one or two intimate friendships of an intelligent 
 barrister, thrown together with crowds of men by the 
 common accident of bachelorhood, Hubert had no very 
 definite social anchorage. His experience of London 
 life had been straggling and chaotic. In the earlier 
 days he had participated a little in the usual amuse- 
 ments about town, and he had found a welcome at all 
 sorts of houses at centres of artistic and intellectual 
 light; in pretentious nondescript drawing-rooms where 
 one moved in an atmosphere of pseudo-princesses and
 
 THE BACHELOR S3 
 
 marchese and palmists and vendors of complexion-tonics 
 and spiritualists and unknown singers who were to take 
 London by storm one day ; at " mansions " in Bays- 
 water or the suburbs where smart-looking young men 
 danced with girls who enjoyed themselves with ecstacy 
 and talked much of the season and going out to parties. 
 
 At this epoch, too, he had indulged in those eager 
 wanderings in the obscurer far-stretching quarters of 
 London, which, at first undertaken by way of mere 
 agreeable variation from these other distractions, had 
 ended by fascinating him altogether and exercising an 
 important influence on his whole mind. 
 
 To these wanderings he was still addicted when he 
 had the leisure, but he had long since forsworn dan- 
 cing, and, with social circles of any kind, he had, in 
 these latter years, been losing touch more and more; 
 his defection in this respect having really first begun at 
 the time of a disappointment in love. 
 
 For Hubert, too, had had his love affair. But he 
 had had the misfortune to fall among Philistines (or 
 perhaps good fortune rather, for, meeting the girl after- 
 wards when she was a wife of several years standing, 
 he could not at all make out why she had once fascin- 
 ated him). Be it as it may, the family had certainly 
 fought shy of a struggling barrister. They preferred 
 to abide by the good old chivalrous rule that a man 
 must not expect a woman to come into his life till his 
 struggle is over. His own far-off crown of success 
 shone with but a faint yellow gleam of gold across the 
 intervening dark spaces. So, under parental pressure, 
 the rosy daughter of the Philistines broke off the semi- 
 engagement. It was a commonplace affair and did 
 not matter now. The experience, nevertheless, had 
 helped his perception of the world. 
 
 And, brought every day face to face with the facts 
 of life, Hubert had schooled himself to a deep patience 
 and a large tolerance. Of course he was no visionary.
 
 24 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 To his sympathetic appreciation of the finer shades of 
 life was joined a practical acquaintance with its " com- 
 mon-sense " aspect. Impostors did not fare well at his 
 hands. And ardent democrat though he was, his philos- 
 ophy was no shallow optimism. He did not believe in a 
 millennium to be secured by the pressing of electric 
 buttons. He frankly perceived that, whereas moral 
 aspiration might be unlimited, moral performance must 
 be limited by natural facts and conditions; and he felt 
 it his clear duty to recognize those conditions and facts 
 with the hope that human life might improve up to the 
 utmost limits possible. 
 
 Meanwhile, apart from his professional advancement, 
 Hubert was not satisfied that he was making very much 
 out of his own life! It seemed to be just going on, 
 to be leading absolutely to nothing; and it was the 
 longing to feel in his existence something substantial 
 and human that had urged him towards the idea of a 
 closer personal relation with Edward's children. As 
 he had told Agnes, he did not himself think of marrying 
 now. Year after year (in which his annual surplus had 
 been of the slenderest after those ever-insistent tiresome 
 ends had been brought together) had had an unas- 
 suming way of slipping by, and the habit of not falling 
 in love, once acquired, is not easily broken. 
 
 In his case not only was there this habit to be reck- 
 oned with, but life now did not even foster the idea of 
 marriage by offering plausible possibilities ; so that, when 
 he thought about it at all, marriage seemed absurdly 
 difficult. He had indeed once or twice amused him- 
 self by reasoning the whole subject out half seriously, 
 half self-banteringly. The ideal girl for a man like 
 himself must be one with a soul above conventional 
 luxuries, with ability to manage on his moderate earn- 
 ings, and sufficient good sense to be satisfied with the 
 simple (though not sordid) mode of living thus involved. 
 He would prefer her to be beautiful, and she must be
 
 THE BACHELOR 25 
 
 highly cultivated and sufficiently clever for him to 
 admire and be proud of her. (Of course she must have 
 formed for herself democratic ideas.) She must be 
 sweet-natured and kind-hearted and patient to a fault; 
 not likely to forget duty in pursuing pleasure, and 
 neither letting the humble details of daily life gain 
 entire possession of her soul, nor unduly imagining her 
 soul to be entirely above them. 
 
 Now he would have wanted to marry such a woman 
 for love, and she must also be in love with him; and so 
 surprising a simultaneity of inclination appeared to 
 him highly improbable. Besides, in the limited op- 
 portunities afforded of studying this or that woman in 
 the ordinary social course, one could never be quite 
 sure that one had come across the sort of woman one 
 really wanted. Quite apart from the mutual falling-in- 
 love, the mutual pitching, in fact, on just the right 
 person would be nothing less than miraculous. But 
 even assuming this miraculous point to have been 
 reached, the immediate outlook might easily be most 
 fearful to contemplate; for, in reality, one married not 
 merely an individual but a whole environment, full of 
 traditions, religions, prejudices, troubles, dissensions and 
 people, with all of which one might be violently out of 
 harmony, and absorption into which one might have 
 to resist with one's whole might. But that was letting 
 one's thoughts run away with one, for how could one 
 ever get so far as that? How could a mature man put 
 himself in the impossibly ridiculous position of being 
 the marked wooer of a particular woman in a particular 
 family, with probably a pompous father with dogmatic 
 tendencies where he was most ignorant, and a pseudo- 
 fashionable mother with a monstrous interest in count- 
 esses and duchesses. Then, of course, there would be a 
 swarm of brothers and sisters, besides all sorts of strange 
 friends and relatives whom one would stumble up against 
 in the household amiable snobbish idiots to whom one
 
 26 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 would have to be cordial. Hubert's hair stood on end 
 as his imagination, assisted by his one experience, fig- 
 ured out all these likelihoods. 
 
 No, he could not face anything like that! And per- 
 haps it was just as well he couldn't, he argued, for 
 you could never really tell how any marriage would 
 turn out. The woman might hate you in the end for 
 not making enough money, however romantic the notions 
 with which she might be starting. Such cases had, 
 indeed, come under his own observation. Then there 
 was the danger of her developing into a shrew and 
 making your life miserable. Or she might possess a 
 tragic temperament and constantly threaten to take 
 poison, or want to go on the stage, or elope with some- 
 body else. 
 
 No doubt a suitable mate existed for him somewhere, 
 and the mating might even have been mentioned in 
 heaven; but he could not emulate the knights of medi- 
 aeval legend and fare forth in quest of her. As his 
 friend Preston put it: now-a-days to achieve marriage 
 required positive genius, whereas formerly it required 
 genius not to achieve it. Besides, marriage seemed to 
 involve a deliberate stopping and a recommencement of 
 life. Such a forcible applying of the brake gave him 
 much too violent a wrench, even as a mere idea. So one 
 day Hubert was much relieved to find he had become 
 permanently reconciled to bachelorhood. 
 
 To-night, when Hubert had gone through his papers 
 and put them aside, he was glad to lie back languidly in 
 his arm-chair. The hour's mental effort had taken him 
 out of himself but now his thoughts made free play 
 again. 
 
 He realized he was frightfully depressed. Evidently 
 it had shaken him more than he had thought this 
 determination of Agnes to stand between him and the 
 children. His affection for them astonished himself.
 
 THE BACHELOR 27 
 
 He felt their cheeks pressing against his, the touch of 
 their little hands, the freshness of their hair, the sweet- 
 ness of their voices that had in them something akin 
 to the sweetness of spring. 
 
 Again he was holding them to his heart, these children 
 of his brother ; May, so full of spirit, Gwenny, so grave 
 in her beautiful child's way ! 
 
 He longed for them with an infinite tenderness ! 
 
 The blank uniformity of lonely years to come thrust 
 a bleakness into the rooms. Agnes was right; but what 
 change could ever come in his life now? 
 
 Well, so let it be. He would think of nothing but his 
 labour from day to day. As well moulder here as else- 
 where ! 
 
 And with a spasm of the heart he thought again of 
 his mother and all the unnecessary bitterness she had 
 caused in his life and hers by her obdurate demand for 
 his implicit submission, and by her hatred of these chil- 
 dren, off-spring of a mesalliance that had ruined and 
 destroyed her son. 
 
 Hubert groaned. " If only Preston were to come to- 
 night to cheer me up ! " he murmured. 
 
 There was an irregular characteristic plying of his 
 knocker just then.
 
 IV 
 
 /T was Mr. Robert Preston himself. 
 " I hope you were thinking of me," he said, 
 as they shook hands. 
 
 " I was invoking you in my misery," Hubert 
 assured him. 
 
 " The devil ! " exclaimed Preston. " You haven't 
 taken advantage of my absence to fall in love behind 
 my back? " 
 
 " Oh, I've been in love for ever so long now." 
 " Delighted to learn you are so prosperous, but I'd 
 rather you had chosen some other way of informing 
 me." 
 
 " There are insuperable difficulties." 
 " You relieve me considerably ! " He fell into a chair. 
 Robert Preston was some three or four years younger 
 than Hubert, and his appearance defied every other 
 classification save that of smart man of the world. 
 He was the chief recreation of Hubert's life. His whim- 
 sical talk was always a tonic, for a more expert juggler 
 with ideas could scarcely haxe existed. He was splen- 
 didly built, yet slim and as perfectly tailored as any 
 dandy. His features were frank and pleasant, his eyes 
 keen-glancing, his teeth perfect; and he wore a close- 
 cropped brown beard that suited him remarkably. 
 Sprig of an important old family, the various branches 
 of which had seats all over the Western counties, he was 
 in the happy position of being a younger son with a 
 moderate fortune of his own; with every hereditary 
 advantage and no hereditary burdens. But he was not 
 in favour with his clan. He had gone his own way and 
 thought his own thoughts; had avoided universities and 
 
 28
 
 THE BACHELOR 29 
 
 degrees; had not entered either of the services, or de- 
 sired to follow a learned or any other kind of profession. 
 Nor had he manifested any political ambitions, or the 
 least flicker of interest in the affairs of his county. 
 He had never written a book or a magazine article or 
 even a poem. He could fence and shoot and ride, but 
 he would not hunt, and he avoided the cricket and foot- 
 ball fields. He puzzled the family though they had 
 long given up the puzzle. So far as they had any 
 definite ideas about him, they had somehow formed the 
 conception that he was a bizarre personality, weirdly 
 clever if only one could get to know him; and that he 
 was somewhat of a renegade, though he had never been 
 known to express any social or political convictions, or 
 to throw himself into any movement. But he had prac- 
 tically cut them all, despite the unimpeachability of 
 their honourable standing; and they more or less re- 
 sented his existence, and even more than his existence 
 the strange mental superiority which they could not help 
 attributing to him, and which they morbidly felt to be 
 holding them in unrighteous contempt. It was no 
 wonder that his attitude made them a little restive; it 
 was the first insinuation for centuries that they might 
 not be so absolutely of the salt of the universe. So, not 
 quite sure that he wasn't a disgrace to the family, they, 
 with well-bred discretion, evaded the perplexity by dis- 
 missing him as " eccentric." 
 
 In town the Preston clan, punctiliously fashionable in 
 its arrivals and departures, was in evidence everywhere. 
 It had contributed, from its endless ramifications, per- 
 manent officials to the Government offices, colonels and 
 majors to the army, captains to the navy, secretaries to 
 the legations, and incumbents to the Church; nay, 
 though of the usual undistinguished yet unexceptionable 
 sort characteristic of the blood, even one or two ministers 
 to Cabinets. Brothers and sisters of Preston's, all mar- 
 ried for he was the celibate of the family all urbane
 
 30 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 and prosperous, bloomed in large conventional establish- 
 ments all over Mayfair and Kensington. All the bearded 
 brothers seemed alike (stouter and ruddier than the 
 renegade) whether strolling up Piccadilly, or out driv- 
 ing with their sleek, well-dressed wives in faultless shin- 
 ing equipages, or as endlessly reduplicated in the large 
 maroon arm-chairs of the club- windows ; and all the 
 discreetly married sisters seemed alike, whether emerging 
 into the sunshine from the cool gloom of charming in- 
 teriors, between rows of servants, to go a round of 
 visiting, or graciously acknowledging from their car- 
 riages the salutes of speckless club-men lounging smartly 
 along the Bond-street pavement, or presiding in large 
 dim drawing-rooms at whispered conversation over tea- 
 cups under soft silk lamp-shades. 
 
 One of the sisters, however, who lived far off in North 
 Wales, had some affinity with Robert, and there was a 
 strange sympathy and affection between the two. He 
 would often stop with her at all sorts of odd times when 
 he desired to slip away from London. From such a 
 trip, in fact, he had just returned, for his sister had 
 not come up to town that season, being too interested 
 in certain pet dairy schemes she had initiated on her 
 estate to be drawn away from them at a critical mo- 
 ment. 
 
 He looked sceptical at Hubert's confession though im- 
 pressed by his obvious languor. 
 
 " I came here to indulge in the luxury of getting 
 pitied myself," he grumbled. " I go down to Flintshire 
 for an agreeable fortnight, and I find Marian all bacteri- 
 ology and butter. ... I stood out against the bacteri- 
 ology but I couldn't get let off the butter anyhow. I 
 had to keep tasting and making ecstatic faces the whole 
 time, to say nothing of the quarts of curds and whey 
 forced down my gullet. Marian is delightful if one is 
 lucky enough to catch her in between two enthusiasms. 
 Ultimately I fled to you for refuge."
 
 THE BACHELOR 31 
 
 " You know where the whisky is," said Hubert 
 promptly. " And please give me some as well." 
 
 Preston readily complied. " My sister sends you a 
 message, by the way. You are to let me bring you 
 down to spend the vacation with her. I promised to 
 come myself if I could induce you to. The butter will 
 probably have quieted down a little by then. I hope 
 your insuperably difficult love affair won't stand in the 
 way." 
 
 " Not at all. I am delighted at the idea." 
 
 " Bravo ! Flintshire will cure you. There's nothing 
 more melancholy save perhaps an overdose of curds 
 and whey than hanging about the skirts of a woman 
 who doesn't care for you. A woman either turns her 
 back on you or falls into your arms; it is only with an 
 effort she can be civil to a man she feels indifferent 
 about." 
 
 " Let us not talk about women. Did we not agree 
 ever so long ago that the subject palled?" 
 
 " Don't forget the only other thing in the universe 
 about which we have ever agreed that matrimony is 
 too risky for contemplation. The only positive advan- 
 tage about it I could ever see is the opportunity it 
 affords for discarding one's old dressing-bag." 
 
 " As symbolic, I suppose, of the disreputable trap- 
 pings of bachelorhood," said Hubert, smiling. He had 
 a vision of the veteran portmanteau battered and 
 scarred by a hundred campaigns that went forwards 
 and backwards between Jermyn-street and Flintshire. 
 " But I don't contemplate any such extravagant pro- 
 ceeding. There are only two little girls." 
 
 " So that's the insuperable difficulty bigamy ! " 
 
 " I only want to be a sort of father to them." 
 
 Preston looked puzzled again and then guessed. 
 " Ah ! You want to adopt your brother's kids." 
 
 Hubert smiled. " Well, pretty nearly. I want them 
 at any rate to have a chance in life. But the mother
 
 32 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 stands in the way. She fears it might lead to her ulti- 
 mately losing them." 
 
 " Poor devil ! " said Preston. " I suppose she wants 
 them to grow up to be of her sort. Better let them 
 alone." 
 
 " There's scarcely anything else to do," said Hubert 
 ruefully. " But I rather set my heart on seeing more of 
 them and educating them properly. To tell the truth 
 I've been planning the thing out rather elaborately. 
 They are beautiful children, with nice soft little cheeks 
 and bright hair and pretty ways, and I'm terribly dis- 
 gusted at having the idea knocked on the head. The 
 mother was simply great she rose to the occasion." 
 
 Preston reflected. " From what you've told me about 
 her, I should say she is one of those persons who are 
 great on great occasions and a nuisance at all other 
 times." 
 
 " Oh, I can't reasonably complain, only I was so set 
 on the idea." 
 
 " In imagination you were already teaching them the 
 multiplication table," said Preston good-humouredly. 
 " And now life with the multiplication table left out 
 seems a barren and futile thing." 
 
 Hubert laughed. " Seriously the outlook is bleak. I 
 feel very gloomy. I should be happier if I could only 
 feel things were going to be all right for the children. 
 You know I am reasonably philosophic, but this is the 
 first thing for years I really wanted wanted with that 
 ridiculous intensity with which the average person 
 usually wants things." 
 
 " Poor chap ! Let me give you some more whisky. 
 Don't look so awful drink, sing anything ! You said 
 you were invoking me, and, now that the devil has ap- 
 peared, you won't sell your soul to him. You know I've 
 always had designs on your soul." 
 
 " You know I can't sing," said Hubert ; " but I'll 
 whistle instead."
 
 THE BACHELOR 33 
 
 He screwed up his mouth and chirrupped feebly. 
 
 " Stop, stop ! " cried Preston ; " that's doesn't sound 
 at all natural. You are evidently in a bad way." 
 
 " I am. I wish I were dead." Hubert lay back in 
 his chair apathetically. 
 
 " What an awful mess your books are in ! " exclaimed 
 Preston with a sudden sly inspiration. He rose and 
 pretended to be interested in the book-shelves. 
 
 " There's really nothing to fill up life with," said 
 Hubert, ignoring the remark. 
 
 " Well, if I, who have nothing to do, get through life 
 very comfortably, you ought to get along pretty well. 
 It's like hearing a man with a million a year complain 
 he can't make ends meet, whilst my own humble three 
 thousand afford a surplus. But I really can't stand this 
 awful mess ; I'm going to arrange your books for you." 
 
 He took off his coat and set to work methodically. 
 
 " There's scarcely an attempt at classification," he 
 remarked. " Suppose I clear these three shelves and 
 start by putting all the history together." 
 
 He cleared the space carefully, depositing the books 
 on the floor in neat columns. Hubert sat eyeing the 
 process with almost immediate interest. When Pres- 
 ton next began picking out the far-scattered volumes 
 of history, and arranging them beautifully, the gloom 
 on Hubert's face lightened, and, in spite of his languor, 
 he soon found himself giving an occasional instruction. 
 In about an hour which seemed to Hubert to fly 
 some two hundred volumes had been neatly placed. 
 Preston then proceeded to clear more shelves and to 
 get together all works on political economy. Hubert, 
 who had sat bolt upright long ago, and whose occasional 
 remark had passed into a constant fusillade of sugges- 
 tions, was at last fascinated into action. Off went his 
 coat, too, his face shone eagerly, and soon he was work- 
 ing shoulder to shoulder with Preston, the two whistling 
 in chorus ; his own note now soaring mellow and sonorous.
 
 34 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 The time sped, and suddenly Preston, on whose face 
 a sly smile had appeared at intervals, announced it was 
 midnight, and suggested it would do Hubert good to 
 stroll with him in the direction of Jermyn-street. 
 
 Much cheered up by these agreeable labours, and 
 without a suspicion that Preston had deliberately lured 
 him out of his lethargy, Hubert willingly fell in with 
 the suggestion. 
 
 " I'll come in again in a day or two to help you finish 
 off the job. And you really oughtn't to let them get 
 into such a state again. We're both as black as niggers. 
 Let's wash." 
 
 So they adjourned to the next room to get clean 
 again. Hubert explained that, as his principal solace 
 was the bookshops, and fresh piles accumulated every 
 week, he had to stow them away as best he could. 
 Preston, who by now was rather bored by books, cau- 
 tiously led the topic away from them, and spoke of 
 their proposed visit to his sister. He was getting rest- 
 less in London now, he confessed. He had forgotten 
 that, on the day before leaving town, he had changed 
 his Jermyn-street quarters from the first to the fourth 
 floor of the same house, and was rather astonished to-day 
 to find he had to go up so many stairs to get home 
 again. He had made the change, he explained whim- 
 sically, to annoy his valet-landlord, who had got the 
 lease of the upper part of four floors pretty cheaply, 
 and sublet them extortionately as chambers, blacking the 
 boots himself. Preston had been paying him three hun- 
 dred pounds a year for the common-place rooms on the 
 first floor. The top rooms were less than half that, but 
 then they were further off from this wretched scamp who 
 constantly reeked of alcohol, and it would be punishing 
 him for his greed by making him tramp up so many 
 flights of steps in response to the bell. He frankly re- 
 joiced in the man's woes, and rubbed his hands glee- 
 fully at the thought of the many months it would take
 
 THE BACHELOR 35 
 
 to relet the first floor at that absurd rent, even though 
 " clubland was round the corner " as the auctioneers 
 had it and new batches of gilded youth might be com- 
 ing up daily for their first taste of London life on a 
 basis of independent bachelorhood. 
 
 " You must come and see these new diggings of mine 
 to-morrow I won't keep you out of your bed to-night. 
 We'll have a house-warming all to ourselves and then go 
 off to dine." 
 
 Hubert suddenly remembered he had an engagement 
 for the afternoon, and could not turn up till half-past 
 seven. 
 
 " Going to see some actress, I suppose," said Preston 
 rallyingly. 
 
 " Precisely ! " said Hubert, much to his friend's 
 astonishment. " Thank you for reminding me. Now 
 I come to think of it, you introduced me to her three 
 years ago." 
 
 " I? " exclaimed Preston. 
 
 " I don't wonder you've forgotten. You were only 
 introduced to her the moment before. It was at Mar- 
 vin's studio on a show Sunday and you passed her on 
 to me. I don't suppose you've ever seen her since. But 
 perhaps you remember a fair-haired, bright-faced 
 creature, with shining aspiring eyes, and she had such a 
 cheerful, friendly manner." 
 
 " Not in the least. All the same I'm interested. Please 
 proceed." 
 
 ' You need not look so suspicious. I have scarcely 
 seen her half-a-dozen times in all, and this is the first 
 time I have heard from her since November. All the 
 same I seem to know her very well indeed, though I 
 can't quite make out how." 
 
 By some accident Hubert's first conversation with 
 Miss Powers had been " serious," and so the thread of 
 acquaintanceship had been carried forward. Constance 
 Powers was mostly away " on tour " (though she cher-
 
 36 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 ished the hope of a London engagement some day), but 
 at long intervals she would write to him to announce 
 her presence in town and ask him to tea at her lodgings. 
 As she figured so little in his thoughts that he practically 
 forgot her existence for weeks at a time, her letter gener- 
 ally came upon him as a surprise. Yet he was always 
 pleased to renew the acquaintance. He felt she had 
 compelled his respect, and he was sure she was a very 
 good creature. Moreover, lie sympathized with her in 
 her professional struggles, knowing she worked hard 
 and earned little. After an unusually long silence on 
 her part he had heard from her only the day before, 
 but the interview with his sister-in-law had put her 
 and most other things out of his head. 
 
 He told Preston what he knew of her. She was one 
 of a large family there were five sisters and three 
 brothers. The father was a civil servant, of good ex- 
 traction, and he had inherited the sole relics of past 
 grandeur the family plate. His substantial emolu- 
 ment was, however, insufficient to keep up his house in 
 South Kensington and dress his daughters becomingly; 
 so that, when the necessary concessions had been made to 
 appearance, there was scarcely enough left to garnish 
 the silver plate with bread and butter. They had been 
 frightfully pinched, and Constance had at last rebelled 
 and gone on the stage. She had dreamed of helping her 
 sisters by some fabulous success on her part, but her 
 father was so put out that he had never forgiven her. 
 So now, to avoid unpleasantness, she preferred to live 
 in lodgings whenever she came back to London. 
 
 " Poor devil ! " said Preston. 
 
 " Yes, I fancy she has given up her fabulous dreams 
 by now." 
 
 " Oh, I wasn't thinking of her," corrected Preston. 
 " It was the father that elicited my pity. She must 
 annoy him as much as I annoy my brothers, so I can 
 feel for him."
 
 THE BACHELOR 37 
 
 " As usual we take opposite sides. Our friendship is 
 built up on non-agreement." 
 
 " Well," pronounced Preston after a moment's pause ; 
 " I suppose I shall have to let you run after the shining, 
 aspiring eyes to-morrow. My own are less attractive 
 and so must wait till half-past seven." 
 
 The appointment was definitely arranged. 
 
 " And now I want you to give me some money," sug- 
 gested Hubert just as they were about to go out. " I 
 have another case on hand." 
 
 " Oh, all right," said Preston cheerfully. He took 
 out his purse and emptied it on to the table. " There 
 are a couple of guineas at least, only you pay for re- 
 freshments if we happen to get hungry." 
 
 Hubert counted the money methodically. " Three 
 pounds one and ninepence halfpenny," he announced. 
 " With the five guineas promised me by Lady Wycliffe, 
 I shall have more than the twenty pounds needed." 
 
 " Another case of shining, aspiring eyes, and, I sup- 
 pose, another tete-a-tete soon." 
 
 " I have promised to call for her cheque the day 
 after to-morrow." 
 
 " Though you disapprove of aristocracy, you make 
 the best possible use of it," laughed Preston. " After 
 the pitched battle between you, she wanted me to bring 
 you to St. James's Square, but I told her I wasn't going 
 to take the responsibility of presenting you to hereditary 
 nobility. So, being strong-minded, she wrote to you 
 herself." 
 
 Preston went on to ask if he had seen her during 
 his absence. Hubert had not repeated his first visit, 
 though he had taken Lady Wycliffe at her word that he 
 might use her purse occasionally for his charities. He 
 had found her, he said, a charming and gentle-mannered 
 old lady who frankly regretted she had had the temerity 
 to enter the lists against him, not because she hadn't a 
 good case, but that she was not its worthy exponent.
 
 38 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 As to her reputation for being intellectual, her conver- 
 sation certainly showed a wide range of reflection; but 
 she was swayed too much by sentiment and personal 
 preference to be able to think coolly, though her pleasant 
 humility struck him as not insincere. Hubert added 
 that she had made him suspect she did not at heart 
 believe in the reality of his democracy, despite the al- 
 most passionate vigour of his reply to her sentimental 
 defence of caste in The Red Review. 
 
 " That is probably the truth," said Preston. " She 
 was delighted when she found I knew you, for, in spite 
 of all your hard blows, she felt you were a gentleman, 
 she said. And she simply cannot understand any one 
 she likes holding ideas that are ' not nice.' Not that she 
 minds your putting forward theories that are not to her 
 taste; but, if she likes you, she doesn't like to feel that 
 they represent convictions, that they are rooted in the 
 blood. She is, in fact, a woman with whom you may 
 talk intimately every day for a whole year, compli- 
 menting yourself on her sympathetic comprehension ; 
 yet, at the end of that time, you will discover, to your 
 surprise, that, to build up her conception of you, she has 
 only chosen such aspects of you as pleased her. She 
 will not have heard a word, apparently, of your most 
 cherished convictions no matter how you may have 
 insisted on them unless she fancies they suit you. Try 
 as you may to undeceive her, she will go her own way 
 and believe about you only what she finds it agreeable 
 to believe. I'm afraid she's a hopeless sentimentalist, 
 though wonderfully kind-hearted. She will live up to 
 her shining, aspiring eyes to the end of the chapter." 
 
 " Nevertheless one can't help respecting her," said 
 Hubert, " if only her sincerity of intention." 
 
 " I respect her for other reasons, too," said Preston. 
 " She is one of the very few people who have a great 
 admiration for Robert Preston. There must be more in 
 her than I myself think. I first swam into her favour
 
 THE BACHELOR 39 
 
 by explaining, apropos of flirtation, that the word 
 ' coquet ' etymologically meant ' to strut about like a 
 cock on a dunghill.' That seemed to please her. I may 
 warn you that, though she's a grandmother now, she 
 sometimes gives herself quite flirtatious airs." 
 
 " I think I shall like her tremendously all the same," 
 said Hubert. " And I dare say she has a real intuitive 
 appreciation of you. Nobody could of course under- 
 stand you." 
 
 " I am not a very great mystery. I am merely a 
 wise person, who, regularly, as bedtime approaches, 
 feels himself full of splendid energy, and begins to doubt 
 whether there may not be something in ambition after 
 all." 
 
 " And what happens in the morning? " asked Hubert. 
 
 " Splendid energy only comes on at bedtime, happily. 
 In the morning I meditate affectionately on my fortune, 
 and repeat to myself the allegory of the three men, 
 who, like myself, perceived the world to be pure folly. 
 The first became a hermit and botanized; the second, 
 laughing in his heart, put on a grave face and a long 
 beard, watched the seething, foolish spectacle, and 
 adroitly extracted millions from its madness with 
 branch offices in every capital; whilst the third, poor 
 fellow, committed suicide. All three made donkeys of 
 themselves, but then they hadn't three thousand a year 
 to begin with like me ! And now, old man, I think I've 
 dragged you far enough. Please lend me a shilling for 
 a cab-fare."
 
 HOUGH such a long interval had elapsed since 
 he had last heard from Miss Powers, Hubert, 
 whenever he had chanced to think of her, had 
 nevertheless felt sure she would turn up 
 again. In a universe of unpredictable contingencies here 
 was at least one certainty. " Won't you come for your 
 annual cup of tea ? " was the present humourous re- 
 minder of her existence, written from an address some- 
 where in Pimlico. 
 
 He found her in a ground-floor sitting-room, which 
 contrived to look furnished, yet did not violently suggest 
 " lodgings." There were basket-chairs and quiet cre- 
 tonne curtains; but the walls held neither paper fans 
 nor gaudy plates nor horrible pictures, while neat matting 
 took the place of the usual dingy carpet. He noticed 
 at once that Miss Powers had strangely altered. She 
 looked certainly older, what with the suspicion of lines 
 at the corners of her mouth, but that was not the chief 
 thing. There was, in fact, something about her that 
 puzzled him. In one light she seemed repressed and 
 sobered, and her large eyes shone with a sort of gentle 
 pathos as if beseeching kindness. And yet an unmis- 
 takable contentment radiated from her, quiet and deep 
 and strong. Her greeting was, as usual, enthusiastic. 
 
 " I know what you are thinking," she exclaimed, as, 
 at her bidding, he took his seat on a chintz-covered sofa ; 
 " that I'm looking so much more angelic than ever 
 before." 
 
 " True," he laughed. " All your bitterness must 
 have got transmuted, in the crucible of your nature, into 
 pure sweetness." 
 
 40
 
 THE BACHELOR 41 
 
 " All my bitterness ! Oh, yes, I remember. What 
 a born grumbler you must think me ! I'm disgusted 
 with myself, always reserving my lamentations for you." 
 
 " Oh, no," he protested ; " I take that as a compli- 
 ment." 
 
 " I hope you're not expecting more of that kind of 
 compliment." 
 
 " No, indeed," he assured her. " I do not take so 
 pessimistic a view of your existence." 
 
 " Thank you," she said gravely, as she set a small 
 kettle over a spirit-lamp. There was a touch of mystic 
 softness in her voice, an undertone of self-caress, which 
 Hubert had heard in the voices of happy women. 
 
 " I am in hopes, indeed, that you have been having 
 much more agreeable times of late," he continued. 
 
 " Perfectly delightful times ! " she assured him ; " but 
 why do you look so astonished? " 
 
 " You seem so extraordinarily contented with ex- 
 istence." 
 
 " Existence is worth it ! " she flaunted. 
 
 He had in the past been wont to indulge before her 
 in a little playful cynicism, to which she, on her part, 
 had always listened with sad approval. But to-day her 
 attitude seemed to have reversed itself entirely. Half 
 to tease her, half to discover what good fortune was 
 hers, he set about regaling her with one or two mournful 
 generalizations. 
 
 " Your liver's out of order, and I'm not going to 
 argue with you," she returned calmly. 
 
 She continued to stand over her kettle, dividing her 
 attentions between that and the conversation. And 
 persistently she refused to take him seriously, till at 
 last, unable to check him otherwise, she caught up a 
 ball of twine that lay near at hand and threw it at him. 
 He caught it neatly, and it seemed to bring illumination. 
 
 " Who has been falling in love with you? " he asked. 
 
 She laughed and reddened. " How clever of you to
 
 42 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 guess ! And now I suppose you'd like to hear all 
 about it." 
 
 They looked at each other and both laughed. 
 
 " Certainly if you care to tell me," he said. 
 
 From his previous talks with her he knew she was 
 on good terms with ever so many men, all more or less 
 connected with her own profession. Hubert bunched 
 them all together they formed rather a phantasmal 
 crowd in his mind; though, when one of them had once 
 appeared unexpectedly, he proved to be substantial 
 enough a stout, cleanshaven, somewhat Napoleonic 
 person, whom Miss Powers introduced as Mr. Richard 
 Plantagenet. He wore " locks " instead of hair, pos- 
 sessed a smooth, vigorous tongue and anti-democratic 
 opinions, and suggested lessons in elocution, recitations 
 at evening parties, and, somewhere in the universe, a 
 wife living separated from him. 
 
 " Of course I want to tell you," she exclaimed. " You 
 are such a lovely Father Confessor. That's why I liked 
 you at first sight." 
 
 " So that's the role I've been playing ! " 
 
 " Oh, you're a dear old Father, you never lecture 
 severely. . . . I'm flattering you, because otherwise 
 one couldn't be sure of your clemency. You're not suf- 
 ficiently susceptible to pretty women." 
 
 She threw out the last words with conviction, as if 
 she had been secretly annoyed all along at his never 
 having fallen in love with her, and as if, even in her 
 happiness, she could not forgive him for having failed 
 to pay her this supreme compliment. 
 
 " The pretty women have scarcely shown themselves 
 susceptible to me." 
 
 " How stupid of them ! " She could be bolder now 
 that she could not be suspected of setting her cap at 
 him. " But let us get on to the confession." 
 
 His name was William, she explained, and he was 
 a young actor into whose society she had been thrown
 
 THE BACHELOR 43 
 
 on the tour that had just ended. He was really a clever 
 fellow, much too good for the Provinces, as his acting 
 had shown the other men up as a set of amateurs. 
 Moreover, he was a gentleman through and through 
 in his every thought and feeling, in his preferences and 
 repugnances, in what he tolerated and what he dis- 
 dained. His face was the face of a god, she declared; 
 his eyes were sweet and full of mystery. Such a won- 
 derful boy had at once fascinated her, and it was quite 
 incomprehensible that he should ever have thought of 
 caring for her and caring with all his heart and soul 
 and might ! 
 
 She paused to brood greedily over this miraculous 
 fact. Just then the kettle boiled noisily. 
 
 She laughed with a child's eager gaiety. " I was 
 almost forgetting about that." She bustled about on 
 he tips of her toes, humming softly to herself. Soon 
 she had scalded the leaves. 
 
 " Your tea is most excellent," pronounced Hubert 
 presently. " William is really a lucky fellow." 
 
 " I can cook as well," she proclaimed proudly. " And 
 I'm a careful housekeeper. On tour one learns the 
 value of every penny." 
 
 " It is not generally suspected that touring affords 
 so domestic a training." 
 
 " That depends upon the individual," she explained, 
 overlooking his smile. " If one has the gift of domes- 
 ticity one can manage to exercise it." 
 
 " This, I presume, is a preliminary experiment in 
 housekeeping? " he inquired, indicating the room gen- 
 erally. 
 
 " Not exactly an experiment." Her face saddened 
 a little. " It is more of a speculation. . . . Of course 
 you don't understand. Well, I made a great fool of 
 myself soon after I last saw you. In short, I threw 
 up a rather nice engagement to take out a company of 
 my own."
 
 44 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 He raised his eyebrows. " As a capitalist ? " 
 
 " I hadn't five pounds of my own, but a girl who had 
 a hundred put the idea into my head and persuaded 
 me to borrow her money. She was anxious to get into 
 the profession, and she was to share the profits. I ended 
 by booking a tour, giving her a part, and losing all the 
 money. . . . And then there were debts! . . . My 
 heart was crushed. I nearly went mad with worry. 
 I have been paying instalments ever since, and, of course, 
 I mean to pay every penny. But the girl was horrid ! 
 Luckily I got work, though only after a terrible interval. 
 Her abusive letters kept following me all over the 
 country." 
 
 " The homage of William was a consolation, no 
 doubt!" 
 
 " Those letters hurt me more than I can tell you. 
 But I wouldn't breathe a word to William about all 
 these troubles. You may think that was wrong of me, 
 but I felt it would be a crime to sadden him he is 
 always so cheerful and happy. However, to explain 
 my speculation. I lived in this very house immediately 
 after the breakdown. I starved in fact for several 
 weeks in a back-room upstairs." 
 
 " You horrify me ! " exclaimed Hubert. 
 
 " I had to pawn everything to pay the rent, and I 
 don't think I spent sixpence a day on food. Worse 
 than all, that horrible girl kept calling and making my 
 life miserable. She could see quite well that I wasn't 
 able to get a proper meal, whereas she had a comfortable 
 home." 
 
 " Why not have gone back to your family? " 
 
 " And confessed myself beaten ! I would rather have 
 died!" 
 
 " Why did you not think of writing to me? " he asked 
 meaningly. 
 
 Tears came into her eyes. " But I was already in
 
 THE BACHELOR 45 
 
 debt quite enough," she cried ; " and I would have taken 
 poison sooner than borrow another penny." 
 
 " How you must have suffered ! " 
 
 " How awful of me always to be harrowing your 
 feelings ! But, as I told you just now, my luck changed. 
 I got a fairly good part and " 
 
 " You got William." 
 
 " I got William," she repeated, smiling. " And when 
 I came back to London last week I went in for this 
 domestic speculation. Four rooms were to be had here 
 a bargain. With a little thought and a very small out- 
 lay I managed to make them quite presentable. Already 
 I have let the floor up-stairs to a married couple, friends 
 of mine, and I have another tenant for this floor ready 
 to come in as soon as I am off again. Willie and I are 
 trying to keep together this coming tour, and I hope 
 to clear my debts from the profits of the speculation." 
 
 " So all promises to end like a fairy tale." 
 
 " I am happy," she murmured dreamily. 
 
 *' It's really quite refreshing to find the course of 
 true love run smooth," he observed. 
 
 " The course of true love never runs smooth," she 
 declared with amusing sudden lugubriousness. 
 
 " What ! more troubles ! " He could not help laugh- 
 ing aloud, and she joined in with him. 
 
 " First there's Willie's family," she explained ; " and 
 then there's my family. When my mother first heard 
 of the engagement she exclaimed : ' What ! my daughter 
 marry an actor ! ' and when Willie's mother was in- 
 formed of the same event she called out : ' What my son 
 marry an actress ! ' Willie's father is a solid West India 
 merchant, and has a solid Philistine stronghold in North 
 Kensington. Though Willie went on the stage against 
 his people's wishes, he still lives at home when in London. 
 He does it to please his mother, who hopes to influence 
 him against all things theatrical, including myself.
 
 46 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 Their feeling against me is very strong, in fact ; but, as 
 Willie was always a bit of a darling, they do not display 
 it in any noisy fashion. All the same they try to make 
 him understand its reality. If he marries me, he will 
 not be helped ' to support me,' as they say. I went 
 there to tea last Sunday (he insisted on their asking 
 me) and they were just frigidly pleasant to me. They 
 believe in their hearts that his ' fancy ' for me, as they 
 call it, will soon pass with the help of a little judicious 
 managing on their part. But, of course, Willie will 
 never give me up never, never ! " 
 
 Constance went on to speak of their plans. They 
 would probably be marrying about the end of the year, 
 by which time she expected to be clear of debt. She 
 referred to the modest future before them with quiet 
 enthusiasm. Neither Willie nor she cared about any 
 other aspect of the case than the purest and truest. 
 They had found each other helpful single, and they 
 believed they would find each other still more helpful 
 if they joined their lives together. Willie preferred 
 not to be receiving anything from his family they were 
 both satisfied to face the world hand-in-hand, and work 
 together. They would need very little; for would not 
 their real happiness depend on what he was to her and 
 she to him? Of their material prospects she was thus 
 taking a strictly common-sense view. Now that she was 
 twenty-six, she had more sense than when she had left 
 home some seven years ago. Then she was conceited, 
 had thought her talents could achieve anything. But 
 that had long since been knocked out of her. Her own 
 demands on the world had been steadily reduced. If 
 ever she got her lucky chance and did make some 
 money, she would, of course, be glad if only for the 
 sake of her sisters, who were boring themselves to 
 death. 
 
 " I wish you happiness with all my heart ! " exclaimed
 
 THE BACHELOR 47 
 
 Hubert at parting. " You are a brave girl, and life 
 ought to be kind to you." 
 
 Her eyes glistened tearfully. " One cannot be happy 
 till one has learned how, and for that one must suffer. 
 So I do not regret my experiences. It has done me 
 good to tell you everything, and I know you did not 
 mind listening. Of course you forgive me for throwing 
 that at you," she added smilingly, as she caught sight 
 just then of the ball of twine. 
 
 " Provided you ask me to the wedding," he stipulated.
 
 VI 
 
 JT yUBERT appreciated his evening at Preston's 
 t m rooms even more than usual. Despite the 
 jf_ _M few things in the universe about which they 
 were in agreement, he was always touched 
 by his friend's affection, and unfailingly entertained 
 by his whimsical dartings-about between convoluted 
 philosophy (when he was head-splitting) and bare-faced 
 scandal (when he became side-splitting). Hubert felt, 
 in fact, that Preston was a boundless resource; and, if 
 life would not go as one wanted, here, at least, was a 
 pleasant alleviation by the way. To look forward to the 
 quiet weeks in Flintshire raised his spirits immensely. 
 The stimulation of Preston's companionship lasted 
 well over the next day, and Hubert was perfectly cheer- 
 ful, when, at St. James's Square, he was ushered through 
 a perspective of drawing-rooms, past a veritable museum 
 of art treasures, to a charming habitable nest at the very 
 end. Lady Wycliffe was quite alone, as she had prom- 
 ised him in her letter, and he could not doubt that the 
 pleasure she expressed at seeing him again was entirely 
 sincere. She was wonderfully fresh despite her fifty- 
 six years, but her hair was altogether white, crowning 
 the high forehead with a stately ridge. Her features 
 were firm and clear, with a style and character of their 
 own, and her rather deep-set eyes shone out with a be- 
 witching suggestion of her far-off youth. Her voice, 
 too, was soft and charming, and she spoke on serious 
 topics in so winsome a manner that it was no wonder 
 Hubert (though not without amusement) had felt him- 
 self at a disadvantage at their first encounter in person. 
 It was all very well her considerately insisting he must 
 
 48
 
 THE BACHELOR 49 
 
 put chivalrous feeling aside, and meet her only on 
 grounds of pure reason, that the gallantry she appre- 
 ciated most was to be treated as an intelligent person; 
 but how strike ruthlessly at what was dear to this gentle, 
 sympathetic woman (who had so evidently conceived 
 an immediate liking for him), and calmly make her 
 wince, or watch the pained or horrified expression sweep 
 across her face each moment! This was not at all the 
 same thing as their previous antagonism at a distance 
 in the pages of The Red Review, when he could sharpen 
 his quill pen remorselessly, and, even on the proof-sheets, 
 add point to his thrusts. He had smiled inwardly, feel- 
 ing it was impossible to get her to face cool analysis; 
 though, in her way, she was undoubtedly clever, ready 
 to smile at a jest, and possessing a humour of her own. 
 Happily the conversation had at length moved away 
 from controversy, and soon she had been warmed back 
 from what had been perilously near annoyance into an 
 almost overflowing friendliness. 
 
 To-day he found her in a complimentary mood. She 
 liked to feel herself thinking after a conversation, she 
 said, and he had made her think a great deal most 
 of all about the ideas he had thrown out lightly. 
 " There were things that only made me smile at the 
 time, but afterwards I saw there were really depths. 
 And you were never in the least cross at my seeing only 
 the humour." 
 
 " A man often puts laughingly that about which he 
 doesn't laugh at all in his own heart," suggested Hubert, 
 a little shamefaced at this sudden caressing admiration 
 of hers, implied even more by tone than by words. 
 " There is some instinct which urges us to turn every- 
 thing off with a smile. Perhaps it is only good breed- 
 ing insisting on a pleasant covering." 
 
 Lady Wycliffe considered. " It is true there is some 
 instinct which makes us ashamed of our serious emo- 
 tions. But is not the real reason that we shrink, even
 
 50 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 in thought, from the sneers of people we ought to de- 
 spise, and so grow into accepting their standard? " 
 
 " Or is it not rather that we think those emotions too 
 sacred to be displayed at all," he suggested, not yet 
 perceiving her subtle drift. 
 
 " Whatever the cause, we certainly get into a bad 
 habit of restraint even with those exceptionally ap- 
 preciative." 
 
 He felt now this was a direct shot at him, the more 
 so as he had an almost guilty remembrance that, on 
 the last occasion, he had been guardedly impersonal in 
 his conversation. All the same he preferred to remain 
 so to-day. 
 
 " The theatre may be also responsible, at least to 
 some extent," he suggested further. He found himself 
 clutching desperately at the first train of thought that 
 occurred to him. Anything apropos would serve to 
 ward off her threatened too intimate interest in him. 
 
 His remark, being so unexpected, made her laugh. 
 
 Hubert explained. The human drama, as displayed 
 on the stage, had made people uneasily self-conscious. 
 Emotions and actions in real life beyond a certain 
 strength had come to be considered " theatrical." Peo- 
 ple became imbued with a horror of any " scene " in 
 real life, and thus real life having receded from stage 
 level, the stage had been left bare of reality. " A few 
 modern playwrights have been pursuing us in their 
 efforts after true presentation, but we keep shrinking 
 away from them. Thus their work, in the attempt to 
 catch us up, has become so subtle and attenuated that 
 plain folk have to go back to melodrama for their 
 amusement." 
 
 This fanciful exposition was more in Preston's vein 
 than his own, as he was smilingly aware the whole time. 
 
 " How ingenious ! " she exclaimed. " But are there 
 any such modern playwrights subtle and attenuated? " 
 
 " If there aren't, there ought to be," he declared.
 
 THE BACHELOR 61 
 
 " What right have playwrights not to fit in with my 
 argument ? " 
 
 " Now you're making fun of me." She pretended to 
 look distressed. " But even that's better than the 
 shameful way you treated me in your reply to my 
 article," she added in half-playful reproach, as if to 
 say, " Do I look as if I deserve it? " 
 
 " But I'm less afraid of you now," she resumed ; " for 
 I don't believe now that you know me you would ever 
 try to prove me a fraud again. How can a clever man 
 like you believe that the aristocracy are all humbugs ! 
 It's too awful ! " . 
 
 "But I don't believe that," began Hubert; where- 
 upon, with great joy, she swooped down quickly on that 
 denial, uninterested in any explanation that might 
 modify its apparent absoluteness. 
 
 " I am much relieved," she exclaimed. " I confess I 
 made up my mind to draw you out really, and I'm so 
 glad now." She clapped her hands with all the fresh 
 glee of a young girl. 
 
 She looked quite happy, and Hubert knew, both from 
 his own former experience and from what Preston had 
 told him, that it would be perfectly useless to attempt 
 to make her grasp his real views, already more than 
 adequately presented in the article that had vexed her. 
 He was forced, indeed, to listen to the repetition of a 
 great part of her own article; for, to follow up her 
 advantage, she descanted at full length on what the 
 aristocracy meant to the country, on its high standard 
 of honour and bravery, on its unflinching devotion to 
 duty. She spoke charmingly, with conviction and elo- 
 quence, her face afire with seriousness and high purpose. 
 He let the glow burn itself out. " Well," was her chal- 
 lenge, as, breathless, she came to a halt at last ; " what 
 can possibly be said against all that ? " 
 
 " What I have already said," he was constrained to 
 remind her.
 
 52 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " I spoke from my heart ; you only from your brain. 
 Thought is not everything. We are human beings first 
 and thinkers after. I want to know you as a human 
 being, not merely as a mind. I am sure a man like you 
 must be unhappy, if only because you think too much 
 and give too little heed to your heart." 
 
 She evidently meant to persist in " drawing him out " 
 in spite of his constant evasion. His ever- watchful 
 instinct of reserve was inclined for a moment to assert 
 itself in even stronger opposition. He must make her 
 perceive that this ground was distasteful to him. She 
 saw some change in his face. 
 
 " Forgive me," she murmured. " Perhaps I was too 
 impulsive, but I did not mean to be imprudent or in- 
 quisitive." 
 
 He was touched by her concern, and annoyed at 
 having to fence with her to keep her from coming to 
 too close quarters. She was truly an admirable woman, 
 he told himself, full of refined sensibilities. If she had 
 sought to strike the intimate note, her desire had been 
 only to strengthen their friendliness. 
 
 He disclaimed any dissatisfaction with her. " I was 
 thinking how far your surmise was from the truth. 
 Indeed it is ! " 
 
 " I repeat my impulsiveness came from my heart. 
 Grant that my surmise was wrong though you must 
 forgive me if I still believe you don't appreciate the 
 point sufficiently. For instance, you never seem to speak 
 of yourself. I want to know you better really 
 to know you. Explain yourself ! " she commanded 
 laughingly. 
 
 With such a direct attack poor Hubert began to find 
 the defence difficult. 
 
 " There is very little to explain. I don't know I am 
 precisely the unhappy person you surmise me to be; 
 if I am, I accept the fact as good-humouredly as pos- 
 sible. You see I lead a studious life in my leisure, and I
 
 THE BACHELOR 53 
 
 think that as good a way of getting through one's days 
 as any other." 
 
 " Getting through one's days ! What a hideous 
 phrase! One ought not to feel one's life in that way. 
 It shows there is something wrong. You live alone in 
 those dreadful chambers in the Temple. How desolate ! 
 The thought makes me shudder." She spoke with real 
 maternal solicitude. 
 
 " The Temple's not such a bad place," he protested. 
 
 " It's a bad place for you," she retorted. " A man like 
 you ought to have married. I may talk to you like this 
 I am an old woman. No gallantry please, I repeat 
 I am an old woman, and you are a man to whom one 
 may talk. Either something has happened in your life 
 to sadden you of course you take it good-naturedly 
 or you are wilfully spoiling your existence. In either 
 case you ought to reconsider matters. You are in the 
 prime of life you ought certainly to marry at once, to 
 have children. There! I've said it all, and now I am 
 breathlessly awaiting your anger at my presumption." 
 
 He smiled reassuringly, so far won over as to be 
 debating within himself whether it was possible to reveal 
 the unhappy circumstances with which he had to wrestle. 
 He was tempted, but he resisted. To what good drag 
 up the story of those dead times, of his brother's mar- 
 riage, of his own struggles, of his estrangement from 
 his mother ! The impulse to pour himself out died away, 
 and he again found himself evading her with general- 
 ities. 
 
 ' You recommend marriage so warmly, because the 
 idea of marriage is full of charm to the on-looker. It is, 
 in fact, hard to avoid conceiving it save with all its 
 aesthetic and romantic associations ; and, for the moment, 
 we are deceived into imagining the beauty and romance 
 which is in our own conception to be really in the actual 
 fact. The colour of history is a good example of such a 
 purely aesthetic synthesis, for it exists only for the eye
 
 54 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 of the on-looker. In the same way a cathedral choir 
 may be divine as felt by a reverent listener; the boys 
 within it may be bickering over surreptitious stick-jaw, 
 or speculating about the coming fisticuffs between two 
 of them. A humourist often gets his opportunities by 
 digging into the internal reality of some of our fine 
 cherished syntheses. He takes us by surprise, and we 
 laugh. Thus it is with marriage. The reality takes us 
 by surprise and we weep ! " 
 
 " Ah, I see what it is ! " she exclaimed, shaking a 
 coquettish finger at him ; " Your friend leads you astray ; 
 he has certainly a bad influence over you. Believe me, 
 marriage may be as beautiful a fact as it is an idea, 
 and you are a man who can make it so you who are 
 able to choose wisely." 
 
 Tempted to play with the subject, Hubert asked what 
 kind of a woman she would consider a wise choice. 
 
 Lady Wycliffe reflected, and then they set themselves 
 to elaborate the point together, she in terrible earnest, 
 he secretly amused. A marvellous creature was evolved 
 as the result of their concerted efforts, a combination of 
 beauty, charm, goodness, honour, intellect, and refine- 
 ment; whereupon Hubert was able to prove with ease 
 that to secure such a wife was for him a wholly im- 
 practicable matter. It depended on luck rather than on 
 searching and endeavour. For the latter process life 
 was too short ; so that if one wished to avoid a marriage 
 of convenience as he did there was nothing else, in 
 actual life, than a haphazard romance, due to the acci- 
 dent of proximity or meeting. This absolutely ex- 
 hausted the alternatives, and the requisite accident had 
 not yet happened to him. By good fortune the requisite 
 accident might likewise prove to be the lucky accident, 
 and he might marry just the ideal person; but in any 
 case there was distinctly a lottery. He could only 
 wait for marriage to happen; it was useless for him to 
 move with the deliberate idea of attaining that end.
 
 THE BACHELOR 55 
 
 And this was considering the question purely in its own 
 aspects, whereas in life there were endless possible ac- 
 companying circumstances which might spoil even the 
 most favourable case. Nothing existed apart, but every- 
 thing was rooted in the world in some definite way ; and, 
 given the most suitable couple and the deepest mutual 
 attachment, there might still be no marriage. As Hu- 
 bert had the theme at his fingers' ends, he took a wicked 
 pleasure in enlarging on it for all it was worth, and 
 indulging in every plausible exaggeration. Lady Wy- 
 cliffe's face grew sadder and sadder. She held up her 
 hands at last. 
 
 " Enough ! " she cried. " You have absolutely con- 
 vinced me of the impossibility of marriage. Still I am 
 illogical enough to wish that the requisite accident and 
 the lucky accident had happened to you ten years ago. 
 ... I should have loved your children," she added 
 softly. 
 
 He was conquered for the moment. " You are good," 
 he replied with some emotion, " but the world is the 
 world. Ten years ago marriage was the one social 
 purpose for which I was not eligible." 
 
 Lady Wycliffe's face lighted up with indignation. 
 " But surely no woman worthy of the name would refuse 
 a man simply because she might have to forego luxury." 
 
 " One must submit to the facts as one finds them," 
 he said. 
 
 " It is perfectly horrible how life is bound up at every 
 point with money," she exclaimed. " When one is rich 
 one is in danger of forgetting that the money ma- 
 chinery is made to do its work so quietly. I saw the 
 last of my daughters married years ago all three mar- 
 ried wealthy men, but there was no thought about the 
 money on either side." 
 
 " You will understand then how a bachelor like my- 
 self who has to work gives up the idea of marriage 
 altogether."
 
 56 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " I hope you are not embittered ; but of course not 
 you take everything good-humouredly," she added, 
 smiling. 
 
 He was quick to seize the chance of turning the 
 conversation into a lighter key. " If I could go to sleep 
 for awhile after the manner of Adam and wake up 
 ready married, well, I should take that with equal good- 
 humour; provided the original rib was still there, of 
 course. Getting married means a frigktful amount of 
 energy, and one shrinks from the idea through sheer 
 laziness." 
 
 " Ah, so that's the real truth ! You take a load off my 
 mind. You bachelors are lazy, and therefore invent all 
 sorts of ingenious reasons to prove marriage impossible ! " 
 
 They both laughed, and the conversation somehow 
 passed on to less personal ground. Lady Wycliffe was 
 evidently enjoying herself immensely. She was inter- 
 ested in all sorts of speculations that did not involve her 
 social and political bias, and, once on neutral ground, 
 she displayed a keen and ready understanding. 
 
 Nor, indeed, did she forget the pretext on which she 
 had invited him to call to-day. She had the cheque 
 ready in an envelope, and her passing it to him naturally 
 led them, apropos of his beneficiaries, to discuss the 
 personal factor in success and failure. 
 
 At that moment her husband happened to come wan- 
 dering along into the room absent-mindedly. Hubert 
 had been pointing out that the mere march of life 
 created forces overwhelmingly larger than the efforts of 
 any individual, though there were plenty of individuals 
 who were fortunate enough to have these forces co- 
 operate with them. Such people were (if not unduly 
 conceited) naturally much impressed by Providence, 
 whereas those who were overborne through no fault of 
 their own were inclined to disbelieve in Providence alto- 
 gether. In either case the basis of conviction was equally 
 coarse.
 
 THE BACHELOR 57 
 
 Lord Wycliffe was a sturdy, white-bearded figure of 
 sixty-eight, with shining, hearty features, bluffly cordial, 
 with laughter lurking always in his throat. He had 
 obviously never known a moment's melancholy in his 
 life. He had advanced well into the room before he was 
 aware his wife was entertaining a visitor, and he caught 
 only Hubert's last sentence. He smiled a little uncom- 
 fortably. " Janet has got in a devilish clever-looking 
 chap to talk metaphysics to her. I'd better get out of 
 this boat as soon as possible," was his thought. 
 
 However, he recognized Hubert's name as soon as it 
 was mentioned, apologized for his intrusion on their 
 conversation, and chatted for a moment with charming 
 amiability. Then he stood about uneasily, coughed once 
 or twice, and was thankful when his wife gave him a cup 
 of tea, which, however, he took with a show of hesitation, 
 alleging he was just on the point of hastening to a club 
 appointment. His acceptance of the tea inspired him to 
 remark that the beverage was always refreshing in such 
 close weather. Hadn't Mr. Ruthven found it stuffy in 
 the courts? He talked pleasantly for an instant about 
 the wonderful old judge before whom Hubert had argued 
 that day, and who had been a great friend of his father's. 
 Then with a breezy " You won't think me rude," he 
 shook hands and took his leave. 
 
 " You will like my husband," declared Lady Wycliffe. 
 " He is so fond of clever men, and I want you both to be 
 much better acquainted." She hesitated a moment as if 
 fearing she might be about to challenge a rebuff, then 
 asked him to come and dine on the Thursday in the 
 following week. Under the impression she wished to 
 accord him a quiet opportunity of cultivating Lord 
 Wycliffe, and knowing that his acceptance would give 
 her pleasure, he readily expressed his willingness. 
 
 He was rewarded by the way her face lighted up, 
 then presently was puzzled by some quick succession of 
 thoughts which he saw suggested in her expression, and
 
 58 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 which, he was sure, concerned himself. However, when 
 she spoke again, she merely went back to the point they 
 had been at when her husband had interrupted them, 
 and it was only at the end when Hubert had risen that 
 she reverted to the intimate note. 
 
 " I feel so sorry that your life is not happier," she 
 said, holding his hand affectionately and wistfully. 
 " You must really rid yourself of your laziness," she 
 added more lightly ; " and you will soon find somebody 
 who is worthy of you. Why, if I were a young girl, I 
 should marry you myself." 
 
 She stepped over to the bell briskly and touched it. 
 " I am so glad you don't think me a fraud after all," 
 she called to him laughingly as he smiled his adieu.
 
 vn 
 
 T" IT IS visit to Lady Wycliffe left in Hubert's 
 a m mind a sense as of another contest waged 
 __M M between them (though of a very different 
 sort from their previous encounter in The 
 Red Review). Yet those instants of their conversation 
 which he had striven most to evade had made on him 
 the deepest impress. He was touched by the feeling 
 she had displayed, the more so as he was sure that she 
 had had no suspicion he was trying to keep her at 
 arm's length. Her very unconsciousness of the bout 
 had carried her almost to conquering-point. Time 
 and again she had listened to his desperate diva- 
 gations with patient interest, only to return with 
 surprising naturalness to the insistent pursuit of her 
 own theme. 
 
 When he came to look back, what rang most in his 
 ears was her note of earnest intention, vibrating now 
 with meanings, which he, intent on his half-hearted 
 parrying of her eager advances, had failed then to 
 catch. But in his after-reflection his perception seemed 
 to quicken; and ultimately, recalling the whole unre- 
 lenting drift of her argument, and remembering, more- 
 over, those significant flashes across her face at that 
 moment of swift consideration after he had accepted her 
 invitation, he could not help suspecting that she must 
 have conceived the idea of finding a wife for him in so 
 nice a way, of course, that he should never suppose she 
 had planned it. No doubt, indeed, she had some par- 
 ticular person in mind for him, and he amused himself 
 trying to imagine what this person was like. Possibly 
 after all and this seemed to explain that sudden illu- 
 
 59
 
 60 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 mination of her features she would be having other 
 guests on the evening she had named, and this very 
 parti was to be included among them. 
 
 " Poor Lady Wy cliff e just like her charming, senti- 
 mental self ! " he could not help smiling, for he seemed 
 to know her very well now. How impracticable of her 
 to suppose that she could promote a marriage between 
 people in two different worlds ! the different disposi- 
 tions of existence this mere fact involved would alone 
 create insuperable difficulties. The London season was 
 running to a close, and he was not likely, what with the 
 weeks in Flintshire and his immediate return after that 
 to his duties, to see anything of Lady Wycliffe again 
 for many months to come; for the Wycliffes were wont 
 to spend an unusually great part of the year at their 
 Yorkshire seat. 
 
 Her scheme could thus scarcely survive its inception; 
 but the circumstances were just such as it would be 
 characteristic of Lady Wycliffe to overlook with her 
 inveterate habit of seeing things, as in a romance, 
 divorced from actual conditions. So altogether Hubert 
 did not exercise himself too seriously about this threat 
 to his bachelorhood. 
 
 Not unnaturally the theme led his thoughts back to 
 his mother. He had been keeping himself informed of 
 her health and even of her local activities, though she 
 would not now permit any direct communication between 
 them. He knew she had quite enough to live upon, and 
 he even assumed she must be saving a little, for there 
 had been no outside call upon her for years. She had 
 always had ambitious ideas about her sons' marriages, 
 and, since she had been so grievously stricken in the 
 case of the younger one, Hubert was sure his own mar- 
 riage into a " good family " (which at the same time 
 should be wealthy, for the old Mrs. Ruthven did not 
 despise a solid fortune, nor even a modest one so long 
 as it was a fortune) would, in spite of the estrangement,
 
 THE BACHELOR 61 
 
 yield her intense pleasure. True, her bliss would not 
 be perfect unless the wife were of her own choosing, 
 but, with regard to that point, he might count on her 
 generous forbearance. 
 
 She had been a good, though stern mother to her 
 boys, and, if Hubert's love had survived undiminished 
 his more recent experiences of the imperious woman, 
 deep-eyed, furrowed, and silver-haired, who had well- 
 nigh reduced him to despair, it was because he cherished 
 the memory of what she had been in the distant past. 
 Her grievances against him had been endless, the last 
 time he had attempted to come to an understanding 
 with her. His continued writings had scandalized the 
 neighbourhood, and she had been ashamed to show her 
 face anywhere for months. Moreover, Edward was dug 
 up from his grave to be murdered over again; whilst 
 Agnes and the children were torn limb from limb for 
 their bare-faced subsistence on the family revenues. Hu- 
 bert perceived that nothing short of converting him 
 into a puppet would satisfy her. Taking her autocratic 
 stand on the unanswerable fact of her maternity, she 
 would not have allowed him an idea or a desire of his 
 own. She would have prescribed his convictions, dic- 
 tated his actions, ordered his meals and his recreations, 
 selected his house, his wife, his friends, planned his 
 honeymoon and his holidays, controlled his expenditure, 
 and even allotted him pocket-money shilling by shilling. 
 On his unwillingness to have so much unpleasant dis- 
 cussion forced upon him, she had indulged in a great 
 outbreak of sobbing. She did not suppose she would 
 last much longer now. She was an old woman and 
 God knew she had done her duty. Now she was de- 
 serted by her only child poor forlorn creature that 
 she was ! Soon it would be too late and then he would 
 think more gently of his mother. " Oh my God ! " she 
 had cried hysterically, with a swaying of her body: 
 " Why did you not take away my life before my poor
 
 62 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 Edward was stolen from me! Oh, that I should have 
 lived to see my first-born turn against me ! " 
 
 Such was the painful scene with which that futile 
 interview had ended. The bitterness with which he had 
 journeyed back to London had never wholly left him 
 his mother's iron had entered too deeply into his soul. 
 Even to-day the mere memory of that stormy afternoon 
 was able to give him an extremely unpleasant sensation, 
 causing him to shrink back into himself and desire to 
 have done with everybody and everything. 
 
 However, this dejection was only of momentary dura- 
 tion, and he brightened again with the thought of the 
 coming vacation. Nor did he forget that school would 
 now be breaking up, and that it would be nice for the 
 children to have a real holiday too. They had never 
 yet in their lives been to the seaside, and the very sug- 
 gestion of such a trip would open out paradise to 
 them. 
 
 His ordinary visit to Agnes was not due for another 
 week or so, but on the day he was to dine at St. James's 
 Square, he was impelled to go at once and arrange their 
 departure. Even Agnes would find it difficult to dis- 
 cover some insidious motive behind his desire to give 
 her and the children, say, six weeks at Margate or some 
 such other place. 
 
 For once, however, he was destined to come upon 
 her in an unprecedentedly affable humour. She had 
 a festive, well-dressed appearance, as if she had just 
 returned from Sunday morning church, and she dis- 
 tinctly beamed on him in welcome. Nor did she seem 
 in the least depressed by the notion of the holiday. 
 
 "Girls!" she cried joyously, summoning them from 
 the adjoining room. " We're going to the sea-side for 
 six weeks ! " 
 
 They came scampering in eagerly, and their mother 
 did not frown as Hubert caressed them. 
 
 School had already broken up, she explained to him,
 
 THE BACHELOR 63 
 
 and, on the previous afternoon, she had taken the girls 
 in their best frocks down to Hyde Park. Her mind 
 was chock-full of the excursion, and evidently the radi- 
 ance of her enjoyment had brightened the whole of 
 this following day. The household was still sporting 
 its best attire, as if to live up to some new brilliant 
 standard. Agnes's face shone as she recalled the glori- 
 ous vision of Park Lane and the Row on which she 
 had feasted so greedily, and which she was now digest- 
 ing with not less pleasure. She described it all in a 
 breathless swirl of words the beautiful houses, the 
 immense crowds of people, the lords and ladies driving 
 in elegant carriages, the prancing horses, the dashing 
 riders, the haughty young ladies with their grooms ! 
 Occasionally she dashed in a little criticism, even mock- 
 ery, as at one old frumpy-looking lady who had dyed 
 her hair brown when you could see it was grey at the 
 roots. " And as for her dress, why everybody was 
 laughing at her. Such a fright I never saw in all my 
 born days. I flatter myself I should cut as good a 
 figure in a carriage as some of them any day." 
 
 She appealed to the girls for corroboration, and 
 they, imbued with their mother's scorn, laughed at the 
 remembrance. 
 
 "And did you enjoy it all, little girls? " asked Hu- 
 bert. 
 
 " Rather ! " said May. " I should like to go every 
 day." 
 
 " Mother says," put in Gwenny, " that the people in 
 the carriages and on the horses go out every after- 
 noon and enjoy themselves. They never have any work 
 to do." 
 
 " Perhaps they are not enjoying themselves so much 
 as they appear to be," suggested Hubert. 
 
 " Oh, uncle, I'm quite sure they were enjoying them- 
 selves," said May confidently. " I should, if I had a 
 carriage of my own."
 
 64 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " Don't be so foolish, May," said Gwenny. " Only 
 rich people have carriages." 
 
 " My little May is going to grow up one day and 
 marry a rich young handsome lord," interposed their 
 mother. " And my Gwenny, too, of course." 
 
 Yesterday's gay sights had evidently unsettled her 
 ideas, for this was soaring high with a vengeance. 
 Hubert, however, did not disturb her mood, for he 
 would not at present revert to the subject of their last 
 discussion, and there were only agreeable matters to talk 
 over this time. To complete the joyous excitement of 
 the family, he now proceeded to open certain little 
 packages which he had put down on entering, and 
 over which he had placed his tall silk hat, so that they 
 had seemed quite unrelated to his visit. Boxes of sweet- 
 meats and story-books for the children, and a gold 
 brooch for their mother, were revealed in turn amid 
 expressions of surprised delight; and even the produc- 
 tion of an envelope containing a cheque for a much 
 larger amount than usual did not evoke in Agnes the 
 usual antagonism. He always gave her a cheque, be- 
 cause she liked the excitement of the journey to the 
 West-end bank on which it was drawn and the important 
 feeling of going about high business. 
 
 When he expressed his anxiety that they should leave 
 London at once, Agnes smiled indulgently. Just like a 
 man! How were they to go off without preparations? 
 There were endless little things to be bought, and there 
 were frocks to be made, and everything had to be 
 packed. However, she would do her best and try hard 
 for Saturday morning. He explained he himself had 
 accepted an invitation to pass his vacation with friends, 
 but he would probably be able to pay them a day's visit 
 at Margate before he went off to Wales, and there was 
 the possibility of perhaps a longer visit from him near 
 the end of their stay. 
 
 The children's faces were uplifted in ecstasy.
 
 THE BACHELOR 65 
 
 " Yes, uncle, do come," they chimed together. 
 
 Hubert went away in a lighter mood, pleased that the 
 children were happy and that he had been able to 
 create for them so entrancing a prospect.
 
 VIII 
 
 rHE gratification, in fact, he had afforded the 
 little family was sufficient compensation for 
 his having to hurry unduly in order to arrive 
 at St. James's Square with the barest punctu- 
 ality. 
 
 It was not a formal party as, on learning that Preston 
 had been asked for the same evening, he had begun to 
 think it might be; but still he found some dozen guests 
 assembled in the drawing-room. The bluff, happy- 
 looking host was talking with a tall, thin iron-grey man, 
 who held his hands behind him, was most severe of 
 mien, and, as a listener, almost comicaUy attentive. 
 This was a neighbour of the Wycliffes, Sir Robert 
 Hardynge by name, to whose daughter, Miss Cissie 
 Hardynge, Hubert was presently introduced as well. 
 She was a fresh, pretty girl, of markedly Saxon type, 
 with a nice voice and a subdued manner, but, at the 
 moment, his impression of her was of the vaguest. 
 That was because the big-chested figure in the prime of 
 life, who was just then discoursing to her on torpedoes, 
 flashed at him a keen, proud glance. " Who the devil 
 are you? " it seemed to demand at the very least. 
 Hubert could not flash back a similar challenge; he 
 knew very well that Lord William Hannerley was the 
 hero of a far-famed naval exploit a few years back. 
 Per contra, a gnarled, stern-looking earl who had with 
 him a young son fresh from Eton was as markedly 
 gracious to him as the hostess herself. The boy who 
 had hooked himself on to Preston as looking the nearest 
 to his sort seemed to be extremely pleased at the progress 
 he was making.
 
 THE BACHELOR 67 
 
 Very soon Hubert was eating his soup with Miss 
 Hardynge on his right, and an old, stately, though 
 somewhat powdered woman (who had arrived even later 
 than he, and whom he afterwards discovered was Lord 
 William's mother) on his left. As he had no reason for 
 assuming that his hostess's desire to see him married had 
 already died away, he glanced round the table with some 
 curiosity. Upstairs he had somehow taken notice of the 
 men more than of the women; perhaps because a vague 
 group of the latter, whose names he had scarcely caught, 
 offered to his eye few outward points of distinction. 
 Now, so far as he could make out, Miss Hardynge was 
 the only unmarried person of her sex in the room ; 
 unless, indeed, he were to count the aged yet brisk-looking 
 maiden lady of the Early Victorian school her first 
 governess, Lady Wycliffe had smilingly whispered him 
 who, in her prime, had travelled over the beaten tracks 
 of Europe, and subsequently published (through the 
 eminent house of John Murray, and with a view to 
 the improvement of young gentlewomen's minds) two 
 volumes of her valuable observations and experiences, 
 including a lengthy chapter about landing at Calais and 
 passing through the Custom House. Hubert had often 
 come across odd copies a-mouldering in the " twopenny 
 box." He was at least sure that she could not be the 
 person to whom his hostess desired him to pay his ad- 
 dresses; though he smiled as he imagined Preston 
 gravely hinting that Lady Wycliffe was by no means 
 incapable of fancying this the appropriate match for 
 him. 
 
 He was not, however, getting along very well even 
 with Miss Hardynge. Indeed, he began to think at 
 length she must be finding him a great bore. But then 
 he had never felt himself capable of entertaining that 
 sort of girl, who blossomed in her healthy tens of 
 thousands over the length and breadth of the land. He 
 was relieved when they stumbled at last on " hockey,"
 
 68 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 for that elicited some gleam of interest from her, and set 
 her enlarging on the merits of the game which she much 
 preferred to lawn-tennis. He gathered more from what 
 she said than from any flash of manner that she was 
 deeply enthusiastic about it. After that, talk flowed 
 more easily; though her enjoyments appeared to obsess 
 her mind completely. At the same time he could not 
 help seeing that she was assuming that he was a man of 
 fashion who moved in the same sort of world as herself, 
 for she seemed taken aback at the stream of negatives 
 that met her presumptions that he had assisted at this, 
 that, or the other society function. He thought it time 
 to enlighten her at last. 
 
 " I dare say I am a queer sort of person from your 
 point of view," he added smilingly. 
 
 " Oh, no," she disclaimed, smiling back at him. " I 
 do not think that at all. But you are more difficult than 
 most men." 
 
 For the first time he was conscious of being charmed 
 a little, for there was a sudden touch of animation in her 
 voice, hinting at some individual girlish spirit beneath 
 her typical personality. 
 
 " I am sorry you find me difficult though I don't 
 quite know what manner of shortcoming that is. I 
 hope not anything very dreadful." 
 
 " It's not a shortcoming," she assured him. " I mean 
 that most men are easy to see through." 
 
 " To see through them ! " he exclaimed. " That's 
 just the way to see nothing of them. The point is to 
 see into them." 
 
 She laughed. " I tried to read one of your articles 
 the other day, Mr. Ruthven. It was as difficult as you 
 are I couldn't follow the argument a bit. It was like 
 being in the school-room again and I wanted a governess 
 to explain things." 
 
 " I am sorry to have worried you ! " 
 
 " No, indeed. You are quite innocent. Besides, I
 
 THE BACHELOR 69 
 
 never would let anything worry me. When things aren't 
 quite to my liking, I sit down and just laugh at them." 
 
 " Then I have already had the honour of being 
 laughed at by you ! " 
 
 She blushed suddenly as if in confusion. " I took 
 you I mean the article much too seriously for that," 
 she stammered. Then, after a moment of smiling hesi- 
 tation, she added : " Lady Wycliffe told me that I should 
 have to talk to you to-day, and she said I had better 
 read something of yours beforehand. In fact she lent 
 me the magazine herself." 
 
 She gave a quick, laughing glance in the direction of 
 their hostess, so did not see into what a look this last 
 piece of information had startled him. But he was able 
 to meet her smilingly as she turned her face again to- 
 wards him, her eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. 
 Evidently she had made the confession from a pure 
 sense of fun. He naturally saw more fun in the situ- 
 ation than she; and more still presently when he learnt 
 that the pages with which his neighbour had tried to 
 wrestle were the least heretical of all his writings. 
 
 " It is quite nice now to find myself understanding 
 every word you say," she assured him. " I was fearfully 
 afraid of you at first." She was still frankly enjoying 
 the whole experience. 
 
 Though they had made great advance since their 
 somewhat inauspicious beginning, and though he had 
 modified his first impression as to the precise type of 
 girl she was, he was still not observing her very closely, 
 and his notions of her appearance her dress and her 
 features were of the vaguest. Meanwhile her talk had 
 quickened into chatter, and soon he had heard a great 
 deal about her Yorkshire home, and more particularly 
 about her own life in the country. Her father was 
 very strict. He hated novels, and was always angry at 
 seeing the latest batch from the circulating library lying 
 about the house, though her mother insisted on having
 
 70 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 them, and there were the visitors to provide for. If by 
 any chance he happened to find her reading one, 
 " Really, Cissie," he would say : " cannot you find some 
 wiser way of employing your time? " All the same she 
 contrived to get through a goodly number of them. 
 
 Hubert found, too, she had formed for herself a dis- 
 tinct philosophy of life. She had made up her mind 
 always to be happy, and she would " never, never, 
 never " allow anything to make her miserable. 
 
 " Not even other people's troubles ? " he could not 
 resist asking. 
 
 " It is foolish to be unhappy about other people's 
 troubles. One doesn't lessen their worry, one only makes 
 more in the world than there was before." 
 
 Any controversy this might have led to was prevented 
 by the hostess's rising just then, and the astonished 
 Hubert was left meditating on the Pagan doctrine. 
 
 Not for long, however; one must be sociable after 
 dinner. Yet he scarcely achieved what Lady Wycliffe 
 had ostensibly desired him to come for the further cul- 
 tivation of her husband. Lord Wycliffe was, indeed, 
 attentive to him, was near him at times with his bluff, 
 hearty laughter, addressing him often and including 
 him in an implied intimacy. But his lordship certainly 
 evaded any opportunity for self-revelation. Of Miss 
 Hardynge's father, Hubert was, however, able to ob- 
 tain better knowledge. That gravely-courteous and at- 
 tentively-listening baronet told him frankly that he 
 hated his views, though he admired his abilities. With 
 the manner of a friendly older man lecturing an indis- 
 creet younger one for the good of the latter's soul, he 
 warmly lauded the staunch old ordering of things. He 
 believed firmly in the worth and dignity of his own 
 worldly position. The world was an excellent place, 
 England was the pick of the world, and Yorkshire was 
 the pick of England. Pessimists were ungrateful to 
 their Creator (for he was an earnest Christian), and
 
 THE BACHELOR 71 
 
 reformers were, as a rule, actuated by mere vanity, and 
 understood nothing of that with which they were bent 
 on meddling. Happily Sir Robert, as it came out pres- 
 ently, was as enthusiastic an angler as he was a feudalist ; 
 and, once his imagination had travelled off to the banks 
 of meandering streams, he had so many pleasant remi- 
 niscences to retail, so many technical points to dogma- 
 tize about, that there was no fear of dangerous re- 
 versions on his part. And altogether he found Hubert 
 so sympathetic a person that he trusted he would honour 
 him some day with a visit in the North.
 
 IX 
 
 f T"UBERT strolled with Preston the short dis- 
 m m tance from St. James's Square to Jermyn- 
 JL JL street, and, at the moment of adieu, was 
 tempted up the many stairs for a quiet, rest- 
 ful chat, which, however, insidiously prolonged itself, 
 to an accompaniment of cigarettes, till two o'clock in 
 the morning. Preston, though he spoke a little about 
 Miss Hardynge, apparently did not attribute to Lady 
 Wycliffe any design with regard to his friend, and Hu- 
 bert at one moment vacillated in his own mind as to 
 the accuracy of his previous assumptions. Still, on 
 further reflection, he grew more than ever inclined to 
 believe that, in Lady Wycliffe's opinion, Miss Hardynge 
 offered the prospect of a suitable marriage for him. 
 True, she could scarcely be more than twenty three or 
 twenty-four, but then in society a difference of a dozen 
 years was scarcely considered. 
 
 " You no doubt observed I had the very honourable 
 place on Lady Wycliffe's left," had volunteered Preston ; 
 " and she favoured me with a great deal of her con- 
 versation. She seemed mostly to be praising up every- 
 body round her board, and it gave me a distinct thrill 
 to be feeding with such a unique saintly collection. 
 Had you known, by the way, that the powdered person 
 who sat on your left is the most devoted mother in the 
 kingdom, you might perhaps have been a little more 
 amiable to her." 
 
 " I plead guilty. I can only cling to the hope that 
 my amiability towards the other side was at least not 
 misplaced." 
 
 " On the same authority a bundle of beauty and 
 
 72
 
 THE BACHELOR 73 
 
 intellect, sympathy and self-sacrifice! wrapped to- 
 gether in a sixty-guinea dinner gown ! " 
 
 When Hubert got back to Pump Court he was con- 
 fronted again by the motley spectacle of his book- 
 shelves, and vowed for the fifth time at least he must 
 complete the rearrangement which Preston had inaugur- 
 ated but showed no further disposition to continue. 
 
 But the habit of gaiety growing on poor Hubert, he 
 permitted Preston on the evenings immediately follow- 
 ing to seduce him from books altogether, and they 
 fleeted the hours at theatres and club smoking-rooms. 
 
 Meantime the figure of Miss Hardynge was perhaps 
 the most shadowy of all in Hubert's remembrance of 
 his fellow-guests that evening. He could recall Miss 
 Hardynge's father, he could recall the gnarled-looking 
 earl with his seventeen-year-old Etonian, the naval hero 
 and his mother all clearly and vividly almost to their 
 every feature. Yet they seemed very much further 
 from him than his irritatingly vague image of the girl 
 whose parting doctrine was still in his ears. He found 
 himself dwelling on her at all sorts of odd times in an 
 ever-foiled attempt to reconstruct her more solidly in 
 his mind's eye. Her figure would float up for a mo- 
 ment, indistinct and elusive. But he could recall no 
 trait of hers neither the colour of her eyes or hair, nor 
 the height of her forehead, nor the curve of her cheek, 
 nor the movement of lip, nor the gleam of teeth. He 
 had only the general feeling of her fresh young person- 
 ality that was in him like the echo of a clear, sweet 
 note. 
 
 On the Monday morning he had a line from Agnes to 
 say she was now able to fix the following morning for 
 their departure for the seaside. The thought of the 
 happy pitch the children's excitement must have reached 
 by this time made him smile broadly. He was sorry he 
 could not go to see them before they left, as important 
 work had come in which would occupy all his evening,
 
 74 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 but he made up his mind to surprise them by meeting 
 them at the station and seeing them off. The train 
 mentioned by Agnes was a very early one, but by 
 rising an hour or so before his usual time he could say 
 good-bye to them and be home again for breakfast. 
 
 He was in good spirits all day, and after dinner he 
 settled down to work right up to midnight. The docu- 
 ments with which he was occupied were of unusual inter- 
 est, and he became eagerly absorbed in them. Appear- 
 ances in court were for him the exception rather than 
 the rule, and he was grateful his legal practice had been 
 able to shape itself in a way that harmonized with his 
 scholar's temperament. When he had finished he sat 
 about a little to compose his mind before retiring. His 
 thoughts naturally flew to the children and their holi- 
 day. Just then they would be sleeping feverishly, 
 dreaming of the sea they were to behold on the morrow 
 for the first time. No doubt Agnes had amply expati- 
 ated to them on the poetry of the golden sands and the 
 mystery of bathing-machines, on the joys of digging 
 and paddling and donkey-rides; perhaps had even 
 entertained them with witty scraps from the dialogues 
 of ventriloquists and minstrels cherished memories of 
 her honeymoon days. They would be out of bed long 
 before it was necessary, and they would certainly have 
 no appetite for breakfast! He pictured them as he 
 should find them at the end of the week when, he 
 calculated, he would be able to pay them the promised 
 visit sun-browned, barefoot, and as familiar with sands 
 and sea-weed as if they had been occupied with such 
 things their whole lives. 
 
 And presently he found himself trying to recall Miss 
 Hardynge's features again. And amid this idle pas- 
 time he could not help remembering Lady Wycliffe's 
 overflowing estimation of the girl as poured into the 
 ear of Preston. He had formed for himself a sufficient 
 idea of Miss Hardynge to be able to agree with his
 
 THE BACHELOR 75 
 
 friend as to the extent of Lady Wycliffe's impulsive 
 exaggeration, but, of course, that did not imply any 
 reflection on the girl whose charm and breeding were 
 unquestionable. He could not imagine her as the inti- 
 mate companion of his existence, but still 
 
 Hubert found a fascination in letting his tired brain 
 play with this train of ideas. And yet he played with 
 a pretence at seriousness that would have deceived 
 himself were he not at bottom smiling the whole time. 
 
 First of all he considered whether his worldly posi- 
 tion (viewed as it might be, for example, by some of his 
 dry-as-dust fellow-lawyers who dined out a great deal, 
 and had a great respect for the established solidities) 
 gave him the right to think of such a marriage, and he 
 came to the conclusion he ought to think highly of his 
 standing. Well, was there anything better before him 
 than to become a part of those established solidities? 
 He was no longer in his youth, and if the exigencies of 
 life had been such as to deny him romance at the proper 
 season, then he must even do without romance. The 
 next few years would soon have gone by in their sly, 
 quick-shuffling fashion, and he would find himself forty 
 years old, and, in all likelihood, a melancholy recluse, 
 permanently embittered. If he were ever going to 
 attach any value to the social anchorage, why not now 
 rather than later? 
 
 He had always felt that, if he ever married at all, it 
 could only be for love, but, at his age, one must wake 
 up and face things as they are. He must recognize that 
 he had retained the ideas and fancies of adolescence on 
 the subject of marriage, although he had in reality out- 
 grown them. Surely they ought to be swept away. 
 
 Towards forty one must marry sensibly. One knows 
 what real women are human beings with so much 
 sterling worth and so many shortcomings. Useless either 
 to idealize the first or exaggerate the second. 
 
 But he had not the slightest idea whether Miss
 
 76 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 Hardynge had, since their meeting, given him another 
 thought. She was a unit in a special thickly-populated 
 little world, whose air she breathed, whose faiths she 
 accepted, whose pleasures she enjoyed. She saw from 
 its standpoint, and neither thought, knew, nor cared 
 about humanity in the way he thought, knew, and 
 cared. Everything had been ready-made for her except 
 her dresses. Her interests, her imagination, her very 
 life were all within a carefully-drawn circle though 
 evidently that had never struck her. And a network 
 of bands that pleasantly linked her to a thousand 
 other people all similarly interlinked determined her 
 thoughts, desires, and activities. 
 
 His own life had been lived outside the barriers of 
 her world; his own thoughts, desires, and activities had 
 been determined, in so far as they were for material 
 ends, by the force of circumstances, in so far as they 
 were for noble ends, by the force of his own character. 
 How grotesquely contrasting their respective vision of 
 the world ! Was a successful social partnership possible 
 between them? 
 
 He believed it was, though his vision could never 
 become hers. And the idea, moreover, was singularly 
 attractive. There was something refreshing and restful 
 about this pretty young person who unquestioningly 
 partook of what the fates had spread before her. Why 
 should he ever disturb the simple serenity of her mind, 
 her large naive faith in her feudal traditions, why vex 
 her brain, busy only with the concrete points of a York- 
 shire seat or a London season? She was bright enough 
 in her limited way, with a sharp eye for things within 
 her own small outlook. As a figure at the head of his 
 household she pleased him immensely, and, in imagina- 
 tion, he already felt proud of her. He might even train 
 her in a plain, broad way to share his philanthropic 
 aspirations ; though, of course, he could never surrender 
 to her the fortress of his innermost soul. But he would
 
 THE BACHELOR 77 
 
 always be conscious of the restful calm of hers. She 
 would be as fresh, as absolute, and as untroubled as an 
 undying flower. 
 
 Of the innumerable yet subtly-guarded doors that 
 led to her world several were now open to him, and, 
 if he so desired, he could pass through at will. Why 
 then not pass through, bent on carrying her off? 
 
 The adventure pleased him. When at last he retired, 
 he had almost come to believe in the serious purpose of 
 his long meditation.
 
 rHAT same Monday May and Gwenny rose as 
 early as if it were already the next day and 
 they were to be off immediately. Everything 
 to-day was to be make-shift, and they in- 
 stinctively put on their shabbiest frocks by way of ac- 
 centuating the brilliant time to follow. Gwenny's atti- 
 tude was one of acceptance of all the joy to come, and 
 she was content to be thrilled by the general sensation 
 of the occasion; whereas May's brain was busy with 
 thousands of plans and she was eagerly enjoying her 
 joy beforehand. But both Lad that strange, nice feel- 
 ing that came whenever they moved to new rooms 
 (Agnes was fond of changing their quarters) before 
 things had been put in order; when impromptu meals 
 had to be eaten under charming difficulties amid a 
 jumble of furniture. 
 
 It was about seven o'clock when they entered the 
 sitting-room, and there was no indication as yet that 
 their mother was astir. The sunshine came pouring in 
 as they drew up the blinds, revealing a fascinating dis- 
 order. The big box and the little one stood side by 
 side ready to be filled, but nearly everything to go into 
 them encumbered the sofa and table, and overflowed on 
 to odd chairs. Tin pails (in each of which reposed a 
 gaudy indiarubber ball) and rather formidable-looking 
 spades were ranged near the boxes. The spades had 
 indeed been veritably extorted from Agnes ; they having 
 turned up their noses at the tiny wooden ones she had at 
 first selected, the rebellious May even petulantly declar- 
 ing her indifference to " the sea-side " and her desire 
 to stay at home. " The sea-side " associated with so 
 
 78
 
 THE BACHELOR 79 
 
 amateurish an instrument seemed a bleak and uninterest- 
 ing place indeed. Even larger specimens in wood failed 
 to seduce them from their attitude of " no compromise," 
 for Gwenny, too, had been stung into resistance by the 
 insult their mother's choice implied. Did she think they 
 were babies of three? Agnes yielded at last, flinching 
 under the eye of the bazaar-keeper, who might think her 
 a harsh mother. (Agnes's sensitiveness to public opinion 
 was in its way quite remarkable). 
 
 The children stole round the room, gazing at all the 
 finery that lay about, but scarcely daring to touch any- 
 thing. The few articles yet to be finished, and in the 
 sewing of which they were to help, had been put to- 
 gether on the table, of which only a single flap was left 
 free. After feasting their eyes for awhile on all these 
 treasures, they drew chairs over to the window and sat 
 talking, quietly enough, for fear of disturbing their 
 mother. They liked the feeling of the early morning 
 and the silent street, and they enjoyed being at the top 
 of the house and having it all to themselves. The last 
 time they had moved Agnes had thought of taking a 
 lower floor. But the children had demurred strongly. 
 They invested top floors with a certain amount of 
 mystery ; " you were so close to the roof," and there 
 were wonderful secrets between them about the strange 
 regions that lay above it. And then there was the stair- 
 way which it would have pleased them to be able to 
 draw up after them like a ladder, so as to feel in a house 
 of their own built at the top of a giant tree. 
 
 " I wonder where the sands lead to? " said May 
 musingly. 
 
 " Nobody knows," explained Gwenny ; " because if 
 you go too far the tide comes in and you get drowned, 
 unless you can climb up the high white cliffs. There 
 is a story in our reading-book of a boy who 
 disobeyed his mother and nearly did get drowned that 
 way."
 
 80 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " But where do the high cliffs lead to? " insisted May, 
 who had not yet begun geography. 
 
 " If you were to go for hundreds and hundreds of 
 miles to the North, you would come to Scotland," said 
 the elder and more learned sister. 
 
 " Scotland ! That is where St. Andrew came from in 
 ' The Seven Knights of Christendom,' " returned May, 
 humiliated at her sister's superior knowledge and anxious 
 to display her own. 
 
 " I should like to sail over the sea to distant coun- 
 tries," said Gwenny irrelevantly. She was now occupied 
 with imaginings of her own. 
 
 " Oh," said May ; " that would be splendid. To stand 
 on the deck of a ship and see the white sails fill out in 
 the breeze and nothing but water as far as the eye can 
 reach ! " 
 
 " And what if a storm came," supposed Gwenny. 
 
 " I should love to see a storm at sea," returned May 
 ecstatically. 
 
 " Only the sailors are allowed on deck, because the 
 waves break over the ship," explained Gwenny ; " and 
 then you might be sea-sick." 
 
 " Not everybody's sea-sick," returned May indig- 
 nantly. " Besides, I could see the storm through the 
 little windows." 
 
 " The ship would toss up and down too much. Per- 
 haps we may see a storm from the shore, if we're lucky. 
 I should like, too, to see what a ship is like inside. 
 Shouldn't you like to see a really big ship, May ? " 
 
 " Perhaps uncle will row us out in a boat when he 
 comes, and take us on board one as it sails by." 
 
 " The captain wouldn't stop, you silly," said 
 Gwenny. 
 
 " He would for uncle," insisted May, who had intense 
 faith in Hubert. 
 
 Gwenny was silent. It seemed disrespectful and even 
 arrogant on her part to attempt to assign a limit to
 
 THE BACHELOR 81 
 
 Hubert's influence, and so May had the appearance of 
 carrying off a victory. 
 
 Agnes did not appear till eight o'clock. At the first 
 glance the children noticed she looked rather cross, and 
 they at once formed disagreeable anticipations for the 
 day. This first glance was habitual with them, for the 
 capricious Agnes had a much-varying temper. One 
 day affectionate, smiling, and confidential, the next she 
 would be distinctly stand-offish and authoritative; and 
 if she began the morning snappishly and irritably, there 
 were usually squalls before bedtime. But all this was 
 for the children only part of the natural order of things, 
 and they did not know that all mothers were not the 
 same as theirs. 
 
 " I declare I haven't had five minutes' sleep the whole 
 night," she complained. " I felt all broken in bits 
 what with slaving all the week for your pleasure, my 
 ladies." 
 
 They breakfasted at a tiny corner of the table. May 
 got into trouble for making too many crumbs, and 
 Gwenny for having no appetite. Moreover the damaged 
 lustre happened to catch their mother's eye which had 
 been wandering round in search of something to annoy 
 it. The still absent prism inspired her to many severe 
 observations. 
 
 However, after breakfast, all three got to work with 
 needle and scissors, and when they stopped at midday 
 there were only the finishing touches to be put. The 
 afternoon went in packing, an operation scoldingly car- 
 ried through by Agnes, who more than once succeeded 
 in making the children cry. 
 
 At supper she sat silently at table with an air of 
 fatigue and sadness. She sipped her cocoa languidly, 
 her eye-lids downcast as though she had a strong in- 
 clination to weep. 
 
 " It's not much pleasure I shall get out of it," she 
 began at length. " If it weren't that you can't go alone
 
 82 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 I'd much rather stay at home," she said at last brokenly. 
 
 " But the seaside isn't only for children," argued May 
 daringly. 
 
 " Oh, it's all right when you've your own money to 
 pay for things, but it isn't very sweet spending other 
 people's." 
 
 " We can't help being poor," said Gwenny. " I'm 
 sure uncle wants us to enjoy ourselves." 
 
 " Little fool ! " said Agnes witheringly. " Why do 
 you think Mr. Ruthven gives us a seaside holiday? It 
 is to satisfy his own pride. Why do you think he gives 
 us any money at all? Because he is a grand gentleman 
 and he wouldn't like anybody connected with him to be 
 doing low work, as he calls it." 
 
 " Oh no, mother," expostulated the children. 
 
 " A lot you know about the world ! " exclaimed 
 Agnes angrily. " But one day you'll find out I was 
 right. He's a single gentleman now, but before long 
 he'll be wanting to marry a lady one of your ex- 
 travagant sort. She'll ruin him sooner than he thinks." 
 
 They looked frightened, but Agnes was too self- 
 centred to notice the effect she was producing. She did 
 not usually tell them things to make them feel as miser- 
 able as she felt, but simply from the need of voicing her 
 thoughts her fears and her resentments in the hear- 
 ing of somebody. And these two little ones were the 
 only bodies to whom she could pour herself out. For 
 her cronies she reserved quite another version of the 
 family position, Hubert figuring as a great and gen- 
 erous man, and her mother-in-law as a county lady of 
 the highest standing. They both loved and respected 
 her and would do anything for her and the children, but 
 of course, her self-respect would only allow her to accept 
 from them as much as would suffice to bring up the 
 children, who were their own flesh and blood. 
 
 " After all, it wouldn't do to let the world know my 
 bitter situation," she would afterwards explain to the
 
 THE BACHELOR 83 
 
 children, should they have happened to overhear her 
 entertaining some neighbour with such amiable con- 
 fidences. " I'm much too proud, I am, to have every- 
 body pitying me. Oh, no, I don't want anybody's 
 pity!" 
 
 So, heedless that she had wantonly dashed their 
 spirits, she rose from the table and went moodily to her 
 bedroom. Her withdrawal, however, had merely a prac- 
 tical motive. She wished to transfer to her purse from 
 her private hoard enough money to pay their initial 
 expenses. The hoard, swollen at one blow by the pro- 
 ceeds of Hubert's cheque from fifty to eighty pounds 
 (more than ever the potentiality of a lodging-house of 
 her own, should Hubert fail them), was entirely in gold, 
 and was disposed in a small linen bag enswathed amid 
 wadding in a pretty glove-box, the whole kept locked in 
 the chest of drawers. She had no intention, of course, 
 of leaving the main treasure behind her when departing 
 from home. 
 
 She unlocked the drawer, pulled it open, and her 
 morose look gave place to one of satisfaction as she 
 drew out the long, narrow glove-box. She even paused 
 for a moment to admire the picture of the red-coated 
 hunting-man and the pack of hounds on the lid. At 
 last she opened it and plunged her fingers amid the 
 wadding. Presently her expression changed, and she 
 tore out the wadding frantically. Then she gave a 
 great scream. 
 
 The children came running in, white and scared. 
 
 " What is it, mother, what it is ? " 
 
 " My God ! oh, my God ! " she moaned. 
 
 They stood by in helpless bewilderment. 
 
 "Little fools, little fools, don't you see that every 
 farthing has gone? My God, to be robbed of every 
 farthing ! " She stood trembling, masses of wadding in 
 her clenched hands, then fell a-muttering and a-moaning 
 like a maniac.
 
 84 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 The children stole over to her, but she sank on to the 
 floor and covered her face with her hands. Save the 
 death of her husband, it was the greatest catastrophe of 
 her life! 
 
 For some moments there was a terrifying silence; 
 then came an hysteric outburst of scream after 
 scream. 
 
 Their landlady soon came hurrying up, in almost as 
 great a fright as the children. What in Heaven's name 
 had happened? 
 
 " If you please, ma'am," said May, not forgetting 
 her manners even at such a crisis, " mother's been 
 robbed." 
 
 After some trouble the landlady, who was already 
 trembling at the possibility of an accusation against her 
 family, managed to elicit from Agnes the extent of the 
 calamity. 
 
 " All my savings of years," declared Agries piteously. 
 " I toiled and moiled and wore my fingers to the bone 
 and blinded myself sewing nothing was too hard for 
 me, if I could save a penny by it. It's enough to make 
 a body kill herself. Oh, my God ! oh, my God ! " And 
 she began sobbing again broken-heartedly. 
 
 The landlady, in neighbourly fashion, did her best for 
 poor Agnes, and, when she had succeeded in soothing 
 her a little, helped her to search the room with a result 
 which, by justifying Agnes's want of faith in the pro- 
 cess, gave the latter a slightly mitigating sensation of 
 triumph. To the relief of the landlady, she had little 
 doubt as to the culprit. The charwoman whom, on ac- 
 count of her busy week of preparation, she had had in 
 every day must have got some knowledge of the treasure, 
 and have found a key to fit the lock of the drawer, 
 As the woman's address was known to both, the land- 
 lady suggested they should go there immediately. Agnes 
 shook her head. By this time the woman was probably 
 in New Zealand! Nevertheless, she was ultimately in-
 
 THE BACHELOR 85 
 
 duced to put on her bonnet and totter out on the other's 
 arm. 
 
 The children returned to the sitting-room, where they 
 waited in suspense, scarcely daring to interchange a 
 word. Occasionally they let their eyes rest mournfully 
 on the packed boxes, on the pails, the spades, the gaudy 
 indiarubber balls ; for somehow they felt " the seaside " 
 had moved off to an infinite distance. 
 
 When eventually they heard the two women enter the 
 house again they could not help feeling vaguely hope- 
 ful. But the tears that were running down their mother's 
 cheeks pointed only too clearly to failure. The char- 
 woman, a vague widow who had been occupying a 
 furnished room in a poor back street, had altogether 
 disappeared. 
 
 The calamity was irretrievable. 
 
 The landlady sat with them for awhile, but had to go 
 down at last to put her own children to bed. Agnes 
 cried quietly for a long time, and then sat as one 
 stunned. 
 
 Long into the night the children lay awake listening 
 to the dulled sound of her moaning and sobbing.
 
 XI 
 
 f f UBERT jumped out of bed with the fear that 
 
 m m he had overslept himself, and was relieved to 
 
 Jl M find it was only a few minutes after seven. 
 
 By half-past seven he had dressed; then, 
 
 swallowing a cup of coffee, which he had boiled over a 
 
 spirit-lamp, he took up his hat with the intention of 
 
 proceeding at once to the railway station. 
 
 But at that moment an unexpected visitor came 
 knocking a respectable-looking, bonneted young woman 
 whose features were vaguely familiar to him, though he 
 could not definitely recall her. She was quite breathless 
 and evidently much agitated, despite her attempt to 
 give him a calm " Good-morning, sir," as she followed 
 him into his study in response to his invitation. 
 
 " I've come from 27, Lissold-street," she explained, 
 observing he was waiting for her to speak. " I am Mrs. 
 Carter." 
 
 Agnes's landlady, he recollected now! He had once 
 or twice caught sight of her on his visits to the house. 
 
 " You bring me some message from Mrs. Ruthven, I 
 presume." 
 
 He saw her lips twitch nervously and her eyes gleam 
 at him strangely. 
 
 " I'm afraid I've bad news for you, sir," she breathed 
 at last. 
 
 They faced each other for an intense moment, then 
 with abrupt determination she let him have the worst 
 at once. 
 
 " Mrs. Ruthven cut her throat in the night. Tliis 
 morning we found her stone dead." 
 
 Hubert was at first merely aware that the woman had 
 
 86
 
 THE BACHELOR 87 
 
 said something ; there was an appreciable interval before 
 he found he had grasped what. He noted almost grate- 
 fully that he was calm and collected. 
 
 " I had better come at once," he said quietly. 
 
 " If you will, sir," said the young woman. 
 
 They went off in a cab, Mrs. Carter enlightening him 
 on the journey about the whole affair. How pitifully 
 unnecessary this crowning act of Agnes seemed to him. 
 Why, he would merely have smiled at the catastrophe 
 that had depressed her mind to insanity, and would have 
 replaced the lost hoard twice over! 
 
 But he could not think too much, for his companion, 
 who had expended all her powers of directness in con- 
 veying the news to him, had now yielded to a natural 
 volubility that was scarcely characterized by orderliness 
 and precision. Sometimes, disturbed by her proximity 
 to so deep a drama and so fine a gentleman, she lost 
 herself altogether, and her excited tongue floundered 
 into incoherence. He helped and guided her as far as 
 possible, eliciting that the children had cried for him, 
 and that she had taken them down to her own parlour, 
 where she had left them in the company of her own 
 little girl. 
 
 The cab drew up outside the little house. A crowd 
 of neighbours and children were gathered round the 
 garden gate. A burly sergeant of police stood in the 
 doorway. 
 
 After a brief conversation with the officer, Hubert 
 accompanied Mrs. Carter into the house. He would not 
 go up-stairs now, but thought it best to take the chil- 
 dren away at once. 
 
 He found them cowed and silent, their eye-lids red 
 and their faces tear-stained. The landlady's little girl 
 sat eyeing them stiffly, quite unequal to the task of 
 administering comfort. At sight of Hubert they 
 jumped up eagerly and came to him. He kissed them 
 gently.
 
 88 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " What are we to do without mother? " asked May, 
 bursting into tears again. " It will be so lonely upstairs 
 all by ourselves, and, besides, we can't cook." 
 
 " Oh, I've come to fetch you away, little girls," said 
 Hubert huskily. " I want you to come and live with 
 me if you'll let me take you." 
 
 " Oh, yes," they cried. " Take us, uncle ; please take 
 us."
 
 Book II 
 The Guardian
 
 y TT UBERT had much to do during the next week 
 m m or two, though dazed by the sudden tragedy, 
 M M. and, despite all the bustle, only half believ- 
 ing in it. Yet the inquest on poor Agnes, 
 the funeral, and the dispersion of her little home were 
 saddening realities, alleviated only by the kindness of 
 his friends towards the children. Hubert had been un- 
 willing to place them under the care of a stranger, and 
 he was more than grateful when Marvin, an artist friend 
 of his own and Preston's, who lived in Tite-street, with 
 a sister to keep house for him, offered to take charge 
 of them till Hubert could carry out what he had in con- 
 templation, to wit, to establish himself in the country 
 within the hour's journey from town. 
 
 Though the shock the children had sustained was 
 too great to be thrown off at once, the change of life, 
 delighted in itself, helped greatly to distract them. 
 Marvin, a great bearded figure in an ancient velvet 
 jacket, with a thick black head of hair, enormous fea- 
 tures, and a laugh that had in it something of the 
 power of an organ roll, seemed to them one of those 
 friendly giants that make such faithful henchmen to 
 handsome little princes. Being a childless widower, he 
 was as pleased with them as they were with him, and 
 gave them the free run of his studio, an apartment of 
 generous spaces and full of objects to wonder over. 
 Marvin happened to be working just then with an 
 Italian model dressed as a cardinal, and the children 
 would sit in half-awed, shy silence, following with their 
 eyes the luscious strokes of the painter's brush, or watch- 
 
 91
 
 92 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 ing the intent expression of his large features, as every 
 now and again he stood away from the canvas to scruti- 
 nize it, or level the brush at the model in mysterious 
 measurement. 
 
 At intervals, and all while working, Marvin would 
 relate to them the most wonderful things including 
 legends about the strange figures carved on his crumb- 
 ling oak cabinets, and eye-opening explanations of the 
 pictures on the strange old screens or on the seats and 
 backs of some of the chairs. And, when they were not 
 in the studio, there was Miss Marvin the sister to 
 see they were contentedly occupied. She was a gentle 
 lady, and bestowed endless attention on them. Besides, 
 Preston, who had now made their acquaintance, came 
 to see them every day, and often when Hubert arrived 
 in the late afternoon he would find his friend had 
 decamped with one or other of them. 
 
 For the first time the children had the sensation of 
 never being scolded. Miss Marvin, indeed, appeared 
 to them an extraordinarily confiding person, who neither 
 screamed at them, nor threatened, nor wept, and who 
 had, somehow, not yet discovered they were inherently 
 wicked with the wickedness of their father's family. So 
 well, in fact, did they stand in her good graces that 
 they trembled lest she should find them out. 
 
 Hubert's new arrangements were meanwhile pro- 
 gressing. His new duties and interests so possessed him, 
 indeed, that he never once caught himself puzzling 
 again about Miss Hardynge's features. That charm- 
 ing young person had, in fact, got totally banished from 
 his mind. And as for his engagement to visit Pres- 
 ton's sister in Flintshire, he had preferred to break that 
 off now ; likewise thinking it best to refuse her friendly 
 suggestion (for which he was nevertheless deeply grate- 
 ful) that the children should be included in the invita- 
 tion, or, at least, be sent down to stay with her till 
 his own new home was ready. He did not wish to lose
 
 THE GUARDIAN 93 
 
 any time now, and the children were too shy to wel- 
 come the idea of going away from him entirely. 
 
 And when, after some inquiry and searching, he 
 finally took possession of a small old-world house, ready 
 furnished, that stood in some few acres of ground amid 
 undulating landscape, the prospect would have seemed 
 of the pleasantest were it not for the shadow cast by 
 the tragedy that alone had made it possible. 
 
 The world, somehow, seemed all changed now as if 
 some mighty hand had seized it and given it a twist; 
 Hubert, indeed, never having rid himself of his first 
 bewilderment at the change. So great was his sense of 
 responsibility for the two precious lives committed to 
 his care that he went about hushed and solemn, with 
 the feeling as of a whole planet dependent on him.
 
 n 
 
 rHE children's new-found friends were loath to 
 part with them, but the time to say " good- 
 bye " had at last arrived. It was a beautiful 
 morning when May and Gwenny drove off 
 with Hubert to catch an early train for Lynford the 
 quaint little town within easy reach of which their new 
 home was situated. 
 
 August was only just drawing to an end, and the best 
 of Hubert's vacation was still before him; so that he 
 would be able to spend all his time with the children 
 in order to start them off in their new life with a delight- 
 ful holiday. In the weeks that had elapsed since the 
 tragedy, they had, to a large extent, been able to throw 
 off the cloud thanks to the efforts of their big friends ; 
 and he was, above all, anxious to keep them forgetful 
 of their grief. Terribly as Agnes had plagued them, 
 her love for them, as he knew, had had primitive depths, 
 and they certainly had loved her in return as little chil- 
 dren always love their mother. And thus, whenever the 
 thought of her thrust itself into their minds, they would 
 begin to cry almost hysterically. But that, happily, 
 was only at moments; for grief cannot prevail against 
 the swift blood of tender years. 
 
 The great Waterloo terminus proved an exciting and 
 absorbing wonder what with its mighty iron pillars 
 and marvellous network of a roof, and great jostling 
 crowds, and porters a-wheeling trolleys piled high with 
 holiday luggage, and mysterious doors on all sides lead- 
 ing to strange interiors, and equally puzzling windows 
 that had a provoking air of refusing to explain them- 
 
 94
 
 THE GUARDIAN 95 
 
 selves. Then they were half-dazed by all the fearful 
 noises the stir of myriad comings and goings, the 
 clanking of steel, the hissing of steam, the sudden 
 screech of engines that set their hearts a-thumping. 
 
 At last they were seated in their carriage. But even 
 before the train began to move there were many delect- 
 able objects within reach of vision of which they eagerly 
 sought explanation the stands full of big lamps, the 
 signal boxes, the odd poles with coloured cross-pieces 
 at the summit that raised and depressed themselves, the 
 assemblage of signals that stretched athwart the sky 
 like a complicated bar of music in mid-air, and last, 
 but not least, they were fascinated by the empty space 
 between them and the other platform, into which an 
 incoming train came presently gliding, the pistons work- 
 ing in and out of the cylinders so smoothly, the strange 
 grooved wheels taking the rails so easily. 
 
 Then came the last spurt of activity on the platform, 
 the hurrying of belated passengers, the slamming of 
 doors, and great delicious moment ! off they went 
 slowly, slowly, quicker, quicker 
 
 It was an enchanted hour as they sped through the 
 summer landscapes. The panorama of the country, ripe 
 under the autumn sun, unrolled itself before them in 
 splendid stretches of field and common and wooded hill- 
 side, with scattered cattle, and thatched houses, and 
 gleaming spires in the distance, and grey church towers ; 
 with lovely wayside pools and winding rivers that re- 
 flected the laughing skies and the overhanging willows. 
 Sometimes a slow goods-train would come dragging itself 
 along, picturesquely laden with gravel, sand, coal, 
 mould, and nice-looking machinery, to say nothing of 
 the endless trucks of all shapes and sizes, from the win- 
 dows of some of which meek-eyed horses would thrust 
 out their patient heads. And sometimes everything 
 would tantalizingly disappear, hidden from the view 
 by high chalky embankments, exciting harbingers
 
 96 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 false harbingers sometimes! of a sudden plunge into 
 darkness. 
 
 Hubert caught the eagerness of the children, feeling 
 his jaded senses reviving and freshening. Things took 
 on a new sharpness of outline, a new interest and 
 beauty. Something of the far-off feeling of his own 
 childhood came back to him, of the immeasurable joy 
 of the first years of life in mere existence, in breathing, 
 moving, in the exercise of the senses. He was seeing 
 as they saw, and was almost tremulously happy as he 
 watched their deep delight, now repressed, now breaking 
 out in excited exclamation. 
 
 " How wonderful it is to see all the things we have 
 read about in books ! " said Gwenny almost breathlessly, 
 as they flew past a farmstead with thatched out-buildings 
 and hayricks, and horses, cows and poultry a-feeding. 
 
 " Oh, but look this side ! " exclaimed May, who was 
 stationed at the opposite window. 
 
 They had the carriage to themselves, and the children 
 kept passing from one side to the other, distracted by 
 the double panorama from fidelity to the charms of 
 either. 
 
 Lynford came all too soon, but their envy of the 
 other people in the train who were going on further 
 was quickly displaced by their eager curiosity as to the 
 experiences that were immediately to follow. 
 
 Soon, to their surprise, they found they were to be 
 driven to their new home by their own man in their 
 own trap ! for Hubert had engaged the very respect- 
 able and trustworthy couple who had been at the house 
 for several years past, as they were willing to under- 
 take the entire work, and the man had had the garden 
 under his special care. 
 
 In a few minutes they were clear of the sleepy town 
 and cutting along through the pretty countryside be- 
 tween cornfields and rich common, with hills in the dis- 
 tance on either hand. Eventually they turned off the
 
 THE GUARDIAN 97 
 
 main road into an old lane that wound its way between 
 high hedgerows ; and presently it began to descend and 
 ran through a wood of pine-trees that scented the air 
 deliciously. A little later on they were passing between 
 a long cobble-stone garden wall on their right and a 
 pine-covered slope that rose sharply on their left and 
 stretched away as far as the eye could reach. Here- 
 abouts lay some score of houses, all delightfully scattered 
 and hidden. And surely their own house was the most 
 hidden of all. For though the children from their seat 
 in the vehicle could command a view of two or three of 
 the houses and of bits of some others, they were much 
 astonished when the trap pulled up, a moment or two 
 later, apparently in the middle of an avenue over-roofed 
 by boughs from both sides. 
 
 They got down and Hubert took them through a little 
 rusty wooden gate, and along a path that wound steeply 
 upwards and lost itself in the thick of the plantation. 
 The empty trap had driven off at once. 
 
 " Is this the way to the house? " they asked. 
 
 " Yes, the back way," he chuckled." " The trap has 
 gone round to the front." 
 
 He had done this purposely to let them get a be- 
 wildering glimpse of their whole domain, of which here 
 was the extreme boundary. They followed the tortuous 
 path through their own little forest, then emerged into 
 a splendid field, prettily hedged in and all grown wild 
 with tangled grass and oats knee-deep. But, keeping 
 to their path, they skirted round it, and eventually passed 
 through another little gate in full sight of the house 
 standing at the end of a beautiful lawn. And all along 
 the sides were lovely flower-beds, and here and there 
 large glass-houses; and beyond everything again were 
 more thick plantations. The house itself was built on 
 three floors, with many gables, and with a verandah all 
 round it. There were also several outbuildings sheds 
 and stabling and coach-house.
 
 98 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 They crossed the lawn and passed round the verandah 
 to the front of the house. Here was another beautiful 
 lawn with a great cluster of bushes in the centre, and 
 many flower-beds and thick shrubberies all round. On 
 the other side of the hedgerow that bounded this smaller 
 garden ran the main roadway, and a broad gravel drive 
 led from the barred carriage-gate right up to the quaint 
 trellised porch of the front door. Across the road some 
 neighbour's plantation shot up behind a high wall, so 
 that altogether they were perfectly secluded. 
 
 The children ran to the gate to wait for the expected 
 trap, and, sure enough, it came along after a few min- 
 utes, for it had had to go a long distance round. They 
 were quite pleased to see it again, though they had 
 a delightfully vague feeling about the geography of 
 this enchanted region, and the way the reappearance 
 of the trap had been effected.
 
 Ill 
 
 y^FTER looking over the house, full of unex- 
 
 ZJ pected and often mysterious nooks and corners, 
 
 ^ M. the children were installed in their own room 
 
 by Mrs. Armstrong, a motherly body whom 
 
 they liked at once. They had an outlook sideways over 
 
 the tops of the trees and right away across rich country 
 
 that was dotted with old black mills. Moreover, the 
 
 room had actually five sides, besides a deep alcove and a 
 
 great ancient hearth and fireplace; so that they could 
 
 not make up their minds whether it would be jollier to 
 
 stop there most of the time or to play in the grounds, 
 
 to say nothing of the temptation of the strange lofts 
 
 and garrets. 
 
 Hubert himself had taken possession of the drawing- 
 room and converted it into a study. It was a pleasant 
 chamber at the back of the house, opening on the 
 verandah through two French windows. There was also 
 a fine bay window at the side that looked out through 
 a slight break in the plantation on a splendid view of 
 distant hills. Here was massed together everything that 
 had come up from Pump Court (including the Dutch 
 escritoire and the old Frisian clock) ; and the shelves, 
 newly fitted up, were ready to receive the heaps and 
 heaps of volumes. Gwenny and May, stealing down 
 from above, found Hubert already busily at work, and 
 were mightily pleased at being allowed to help him. 
 
 They were thus happily occupied till lunch-time, when 
 they sat down to the most delicious meal they had ever 
 eaten. In the afternoon Hubert had letters to write, 
 so the children went wandering into the garden, intent 
 on exploration. But they could not at all make up their 
 
 99
 
 100 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 minds where to begin. They kept passing round the 
 verandah from the front to the back, and from the back 
 to the front, lingering, of course, under the drawing- 
 room side window where the break in the trees revealed 
 the big landscape. At last they made for the wood 
 right at the end, retracing the long, complicated way 
 to the little rusty gate by which they had entered in 
 the morning. Then the exploration began in earnest. 
 
 In the course of the afternoon they made several 
 delightful discoveries. One they were particularly 
 pleased with was of a secret path running behind a 
 shrubbery that was parallel with the lawn, and leading 
 eventually past the kitchen windows and right to the 
 front of the house, where they were surprised to find 
 themselves again. They peeped into the vinery and 
 glass-houses, and they found many splendid hiding- 
 places through dipping at random into the dim depths 
 of the plantations that skirted the garden everywhere 
 though always to find themselves stopped in the end by 
 some overgrown fence or cobble-stone wall that sternly 
 bounded the domain. Finally, for a change they chased 
 each other through the wild-grown field, their little 
 bodies sometimes completely lost to view where the 
 tangles were thickest. London was already forgotten. 
 
 They came back at tea-time with glowing cheeks and 
 sparkling eyes, happy, laughing, and full of their dis- 
 coveries. 
 
 Meantime Hubert had finished his correspondence. 
 Most important of all these letters was the one to his 
 mother the first he had addressed to her for over two 
 years. Once or twice before he had sat down to inform 
 her of all that had happened, but he had never carried 
 out the intention. He did not know what view she 
 might take of the position, or, if she took any notice 
 of the communication at all, in what way she might 
 attempt to hamper him. To avoid trying emotions for 
 both, he had decided to wait till he had taken his house
 
 THE GUARDIAN 101 
 
 and got everything settled. Even now it had been a 
 difficult letter for him to write, and, after much con- 
 sideration he had thought it best to limit himself to a 
 statement of the facts, to make no reference to old 
 hostilities, and to assume by implication it was natural 
 for him to write to her and for her to be interested 
 in what concerned him so deeply. Indeed, he ended 
 by taking her into his confidence, telling her how con- 
 tent he was now in this little place of his own, and 
 how he looked forward to supervising the education of 
 the children and making them as happy as possible. 
 He concluded with the hope that he might bring them 
 one day to see her, and remained her affectionate son.
 
 IV 
 Mrs. Ruthven replied almost immediately. 
 
 " MY DEAR HUBERT 
 
 " How foolish of you with your inexperience to at- 
 tempt to set up house for yourself. From your de- 
 scription of the place I feel sure you have been finely 
 imposed upon. It seems to be a mere barn, and it will 
 certainly come tumbling about your ears long before 
 the end of the term for which you were rash enough 
 to take it at so exorbitant a rental. Two hundred 
 pounds, too, for a few shabby sticks, when so much 
 furniture just now is to be picked up for a mere song! 
 I cannot rest in peace while you are throwing away 
 money that has been so hard-earned. It makes my 
 heart bleed to think of the years I pinched and pinched, 
 and now the fruits of my self-denial are to be squandered 
 without a thought. Of course what has been done 
 cannot be undone, but I should be failing in my duty 
 if I did not warn you against these wasteful courses for 
 the future. I cannot tell you how alarmed I am at the 
 idea of your entrusting the whole management of your 
 household to a servant who is quite a stranger to you, and 
 who will be tempted to take advantage of you at every 
 point especially as you are perfectly ignorant of the 
 details of keeping house. It would be different if you 
 were married to a nice domesticated girl of good family, 
 with some fortune of her own ! But without such a 
 mistress to control expenditure and check waste it was 
 nothing less than madness to do what you have done. 
 The best I can think of for you is to send you my own 
 Martha Chapman. She has been with me over twenty 
 
 102
 
 THE GUARDIAN 103 
 
 years, I have trained her perfectly, and she is trust- 
 worthy and capable. She will make you an efficient 
 housekeeper, and although it is a great hardship for me 
 to part with her, I will yet suffer the inconvenience for 
 your sake. Indeed, I have no idea what I shall do 
 without her. I need hardly say she is most economical 
 and will put her foot down most firmly against all waste- 
 fulness. She will certainly save her cost five times over, 
 and if your present servants make any nonsense about 
 her, send them packing. 
 
 " Your affectionate mother, 
 
 " HELEN RUTHVEN." 
 
 Whereat Hubert laughed and rubbed his hands in 
 high good humour, even though she had, as yet, said 
 not a word about the children. He at once wrote again, 
 saying he was quite certain Martha Chapman would be 
 an invaluable acquisition to any household, and he did 
 not know how to thank her enough for her kindness 
 in being so ready to surrender so indispensable a servant. 
 It would, however, be selfish of him to accept such a 
 sacrifice from her, so that he thought he had best try 
 to rub along as well as he could. He managed to ex- 
 press these sentiments without any touch of sarcasm. 
 
 A morning or two later he received his mother's final 
 mandate. " It is my wish that Martha Chapman goes 
 to you at once. For Heaven's sake don't begin to 
 show consideration for me at this eleventh hour. You've 
 shown precious little all your life, so I certainly don't 
 want you to begin to think about my convenience and 
 talk about my sacrifices now. May the Almighty for- 
 give that poor creature for the wrong she did to my 
 Edward." 
 
 Immediately after lunch on the same day, when Hu- 
 bert had sat down at his desk and was on the point 
 of assuring his mother that he desired nothing better 
 than the prompt arrival of Martha Chapman, he heard
 
 104 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 a vehicle driving up to the porch, and, in a minute, 
 to his great astonishment, his mother herself stood in 
 the doorway of his study. There was an appreciable 
 interval before he had presence of mind enough to 
 throw down his pen and rise. 
 
 His mother had scarcely changed in the last couple of 
 years. Dressed simply in black, she was of middle 
 height and rather squarely built, though with no inclina- 
 tion to stoutness. Her silvery hair seemed to set off 
 the more the strength of her virile features; her eyes 
 were black and piercing and deep-set under a high 
 forehead. She came stamping into the room with a dig- 
 nified stiffness that suggested rheumatism and good- 
 breeding. 
 
 " I thought so," were her first words. " The paving 
 outside the porch is all cracked and broken, and the 
 carriage-gate hasn't had a coat of paint for years. 
 Where were your wits, clever Hubert, when you agreed 
 to give a hundred a year for this tumble-down place." 
 
 " Is there any paving outside the porch? " he asked 
 himself under his breath, cursing his masculine un- 
 observant eye. " But you must have been travelling for 
 hours," he exclaimed. " You must be fagged out, and 
 I'm sure you've had no lunch to-day." 
 
 " Oh, we had a biscuit and some lemonade horrible 
 grassy stuff ! " grumbled Mrs. Ruthven. She permitted 
 him to kiss her, though apparently she displayed no 
 enthusiasm about it. " But come, I don't like the looks 
 of you any more than I like the looks of your house. 
 You've not been taking proper care of yourself." De- 
 spite her sedulous heed to exhibit no sign of propitiation 
 there was a distinct shade of anxiety in her voice. 
 
 " It was so stuffy in town, and I dare say I over- 
 worked a bit, but I'll soon pull round again. You've 
 brought Chapman with you ? " 
 
 " Certainly. And I dare say you can give me a bed 
 to-night. I'll look over the place and just talk over
 
 THE GUARDIAN 105 
 
 things with her; after which I must leave you to do the 
 best you can between you. She's in the fly at the door 
 with her boxes, but I think it was high time she got 
 down and came into the house. Which reminds me 
 I must go and pay the man." 
 
 " Be seated, mother, please. I'll see to everything." 
 
 " Two shillings not a penny more," she called after 
 him. " That was the bargain. And you might tell the 
 servant to give poor Martha a bite of something. She 
 must be quite faint." 
 
 " I hope you didn't give the man a penny more than 
 his two shillings," said Mrs. Ruthven when Hubert en- 
 tered the room again. " He misrepresented the distance, 
 the impertinent fellow! And now I think I'll look over 
 the house. No, no, don't disturb yourself I can find 
 my way about." 
 
 " They've put your bag in the front room just above," 
 said Hubert, giving his mother her head, and almost 
 smiling at the volley of sharp criticism she was certain 
 to fire at him on her return from her expedition. 
 
 While she was away upstairs, he had some lunch pre- 
 pared for her, then spent the time before her reappear- 
 ance in amused reflection. Evidently she had taken pos- 
 session of the place, and he had but little doubt it would 
 now remain under her sovereignty. She would hold 
 the personal representative she was now installing di- 
 rectly responsible to her for the conduct of affairs, and 
 elaborate inquiries, instructions and counsel would from 
 time to time issue from head-quarters. All this he did 
 not mind, so long as she took the children into her good 
 graces. 
 
 In paying him this visit, he argued, she must have 
 come prepared to see them. But he thought it would be 
 a pity to call them in at once and make them submit to 
 the ordeal of a formal presentation to so terribly critical 
 a person, who had certainly no bias in their favour to 
 begin with. Better, he decided, for her to come across
 
 106 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 them as they chased each other through the tangled field 
 he supposed they were just then engaged in that en- 
 chanting diversion when any untidiness resulting from 
 the romp could scarcely be counted against them. 
 
 When Mrs. Ruthven descended again Hubert was able 
 to coax her into eating some lunch. 
 
 " The view isn't at all bad from the window," she 
 admitted ; " and the air is quite good. But the house 
 is dear very ! " 
 
 Hubert explained it was the garden had attracted 
 him he had fallen in love with that at first sight, so 
 that he had scarcely considered the house. 
 
 " It's a pity," said his mother vaguely, and she went 
 on to entertain him with details of houses and rental 
 values in her own neighbourhood. She also commented 
 unfavourably on his distance from town and the expense 
 of the daily journeys. But of course, the mischief had 
 been done and he understood his own business best. She, 
 of course, would not be led into offering him advice ; she 
 had long since learnt he must be allowed to go his own 
 way, even to the extent of misconducting his whole life. 
 It was really ridiculous for a man to make up his mind 
 to be an old bachelor with so many nice girls in the 
 world, too. But, of course, she wasn't going to say 
 another word about that. Even if he had taken poor 
 Edward's two little girls, that was no reason why he 
 should give up the idea of marrying. On the contrary, 
 he ought to look about him all the more, especially as 
 he was settled in a house of his own. Besides, who was 
 there to look after the children? Did he mean them to 
 run wild whilst he was doing his work miles away? 
 
 Hubert set forth his ideas, how he intended to find 
 some nice governess in the neighbourhood to spend the 
 mornings with them; for he meant they should work as 
 well as play. 
 
 " You ought to get some elderly person, to my think- 
 ing," said Mrs. Ruthven.
 
 THE GUARDIAN 107 
 
 " Oh, I shan't fall in love with the young person," 
 Hubert assured her laughingly. 
 
 But his mother didn't like that kind of jest and took 
 him up rather sharply. " You may fall in love with 
 whom you please. I have long since ceased to interest 
 myself in the subject. I wash my hands of the whole 
 matter." 
 
 This, however, was only an interjection on her part, 
 and did not really interrupt the conversation. Hubert 
 let her go fully into the question of his household ex- 
 penditure; and, afterwards, as they became more 
 friendly, he related, at her own request, the history of 
 the weeks immediately preceding, in greater minuteness 
 than he had been able to do in his letter. 
 
 Meanwhile she had finished her lunch, and now at his 
 suggestion she accompanied him into the garden. She 
 had already supposed that Gwenny and May were at 
 play, and he had confirmed the supposition. But when 
 they came to the field, which the children, for the time 
 being, had annexed as their favourite place of recreation, 
 they did not at first catch sight of the pair. It was 
 only after some searching that the little ones were dis- 
 covered hidden amid the tall wild oats and grass, and 
 reading a fairy story out of the same book. The few 
 days of country air had done wonders for them. They 
 were beautiful sylph-like children, and their fresh little 
 eager faces sparkled with life under their nut-brown 
 hair that showed soft and fine-spun in the full afternoon 
 sunlight. So engrossed were they in their story that 
 they did not stir till Mrs. Ruthven and Hubert had 
 ploughed their way quite close to them. They both rose 
 to their feet shamefacedly. 
 
 " Were you looking for us, uncle, please ? " asked. 
 Gwenny, with a marked politeness that was quite nice 
 and pretty, though she was blushing timidly in the 
 presence of the strange, stern old lady. 
 
 " Yes, little girl," said Hubert. " Your "
 
 108 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " You don't know me, do you ? " asked Mrs. Ruthven, 
 interrupting him. 
 
 They looked at her hard, but, as they could not 
 remember her, they kept silent. They had an idea it 
 would be impolite to admit they didn't know her. 
 
 " Of course you don't you've never seen me before, 
 little geese ! And yet you've heard a great deal about 
 me, I'll be bound." 
 
 They were puzzled and vaguely ashamed. They hung 
 their heads guiltily. 
 
 " No, we haven't seen you before, if you please," said 
 May, plucking up courage. 
 
 " You are distant relations of mine," explained the 
 old woman, chuckling. 
 
 " Oh," they exclaimed, looking suddenly interested. 
 
 " If you would kindly tell us your name, we should, 
 of course, remember," suggested Gwenny. 
 
 " I am the old ogre, the cruel, unforgiving, hard- 
 hearted mother-in-law, the black, the stuck-up, the the 
 everything that's bad. Come, come, who is the old 
 woman you were taught to hate? " 
 
 Gwenny flushed and agitatedly dropped her book 
 which she had been holding wide open. 
 
 " Ah you are poor Edward's mother," cried May in 
 triumphant identification. 
 
 " Oh, May ! " said Gwenny reproachfully, colouring 
 still more deeply. 
 
 " Poor Edward's mother," repeated Mrs. Ruthven. 
 " I should think it was poor Edward ! And what were 
 you told about me? " 
 
 They were silent, looking much distressed and very 
 self-conscious indeed. 
 
 " Of course you hate me. But come now, do I look 
 so hateful?" 
 
 " Oh, no, indeed," said poor Gwenny, with the in- 
 stinct of good-breeding. " You look very nice." 
 
 Mrs. Ruthven laughed heartily, though there were
 
 THE GUARDIAN 109 
 
 tears beneath the laughter. " You little flatterer ! Come, 
 tell me now, what did your mother teach you to believe 
 about me? " 
 
 At this May began suddenly to cry, and Gwenny's 
 eyes, too, filled with tears. 
 
 " Dear me ! " exclaimed Mrs. Ruthven. " You mustn't 
 cry, little girl, you really mustn't. I am quite as nice 
 as I look, I assure you." 
 
 She was quite sorry she had so awkwardly reminded 
 them of their loss. She drew May close to her and dried 
 her tears. 
 
 " No, no, my dear," she went on, fondling the child's 
 hair and cheek. " You must forget all the evil things 
 you've heard about your grandmother. She is a very, 
 very gentle and loving grandmother, and she will love 
 you always if you will promise to love her. Now prom- 
 ise me." 
 
 " Yes, I will love yoa always," sobbed May. 
 
 " And you, Gwenny ? " said Mrs. Ruthven, drawing 
 her over with one hand, while she encircled May's neck 
 with the other. 
 
 " Yes, grandmother, I will love you," said Gwenny. 
 
 "Always?" 
 
 " Yes, always, grandmother." 
 
 " Then kiss me ! " 
 
 One after the other she lifted them up, kissing them 
 again and again hysterically. 
 
 In this way was sealed the reconciliation between 
 Hubert and his mother. 
 
 When the next day, he saw her to the station, she 
 broached a point she had on her mind. 
 
 " There is just one question I should like to ask 
 you, Hubert, before we say good-bye ; and that is what 
 provision is it your intention to make for the religious 
 instruction of the children? I suppose, of course, that 
 that poor creature did not entirely neglect her duties
 
 110 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 but instilled into them some notion at least of religious 
 principles. You have, of course, considered this sub- 
 ject." 
 
 " Yes, I have considered it," he answered, sorry the 
 question should have been raised just at this last mo- 
 ment though her anxiety in this respect was certainly 
 a token of the absoluteness with which she now regarded 
 them as of the family. " I am afraid you'll not think 
 my reply very satisfactory, but you know my free ideas. 
 They have been to school, where they have received the 
 usual religious teaching. But so far as it is possible 
 to do so now, I want to leave their minds absolutely free. 
 They shall always have before them the highest ideals 
 of right, justice, and good- will, which they shall learn 
 to love from the purest impulses. And when they grow 
 up they shall be free to choose if they wish for any 
 formal religion. You need ^ >Tr e no fear that they will 
 be taught irreverence. On th. ^ .ntrary, they shall learn 
 to look on true religion with the greatest respect. When 
 they are old enough to judge for themselves, and they 
 elect for the formal religion, I shall respect their choice, 
 which, at least, is bound to be sincere." 
 
 " I am sorry, Hubert : I am much concerned indeed," 
 said Mrs. Ruthven. " But I shall pray to the Almighty 
 that He may turn their hearts to Him ... I should 
 have wished that you yourself might have grown up 
 otherwise. Ah, well, I must bear my pain, since my 
 hopes were not to be realized. Ah, Hubert, you little 
 know how you have hurt me. Good-bye, dear." 
 
 She gave him the warmest kiss he had had from her 
 for many years; and, a moment later, he waved his 
 hand to her as the train moved off.
 
 y^S Hubert had foreseen, Lady Wycliffe and her 
 ZJ world had already passed far away from him ; 
 ^ M and that quite irrespective of the change in 
 his own life. As time went by he found him- 
 self approving more and more his having withheld his 
 confidence from her, and he certainly did not deem 
 it essential now voluntarily to inform her of his move 
 to the country and what had led up to it. If she ever 
 wished to communicate with him, his address at the 
 Temple was as heretofore; certainly she had yet to show 
 that her interest in him had been more than ephemeral, 
 a mere caprice of her sentimental disposition a possi- 
 bility he, with his pride, was not prepared to appreciate. 
 And so he preferred to remain silent until she should, 
 of herself evince her desire to maintain their acquaint- 
 anceship on as cordial a basis as at the beginning. 
 
 In other ways, too, his life narrowed perceptibly 
 though only for a surer concentration on his own home. 
 After the recess, town became only the scene of his daily 
 work. Each afternoon he hurried away from the Temple 
 at the earliest moment, so that clubs and political circles 
 knew less and less of him, and many acquaintanceships 
 languished. Preston for the present had settled down 
 for a long sojourn in Wales, but any desire on even 
 his part for more than a few hurried minutes of Hu- 
 bert's society could only be gratified by his coming to 
 Lynford at week-ends. 
 
 Meanwhile, Hubert was living in perfect contentment. 
 In the past he had, at the best of times, scarcely ventured 
 to look forward to as much as this. Despite his 
 mother's disapproval of his bachelorhood, he had now 
 
 111
 
 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 once more relegated the idea of marrying to the vague- 
 nesses of the distant future. If the thought of Miss 
 Hardynge ever crossed his mind, it was only to raise 
 a smile. Marriage in his career must now be a mere 
 accident, the crowning act of some quick drama that 
 should take him by surprise. 
 
 The little family soon learnt to find its way about the 
 countryside, and adjusted itself harmoniously to the 
 conditions of life in that particular corner of civiliza- 
 tion. An accomplished girl of about sixteen (the 
 daughter of a local doctor who resided in the town) was 
 engaged to continue their school work with the children, 
 and to initiate them in music and drawing. When the 
 new routine came into force the children accordingly 
 studied with Miss Williams in the mornings, and were 
 free to play or read for the rest of the day, provided 
 they had got through the lessons set them. On Satur- 
 day afternoons Hubert would often take them for a 
 long drive, with a halt for tea at some picturesque 
 farmhouse. Moreover, there was a never-ending story 
 he was inventing for them, of which he was always ready 
 with an instalment on demand; and in more serious 
 moments he had many a confidential little chat with 
 them. For their own recreation they had a swing in the 
 garden, and quantities of ingenious toys, and boxes of 
 water colours, and endless picture-books ; each, besides, 
 having her corner of ground to cultivate at her pleasure. 
 But in addition to their own territory there was another 
 wonderful place they loved to visit a large market- 
 garden some twenty minutes' walk from the house. It 
 was hidden by high hedges, and stretched from the road- 
 way towards the hills. The children were allowed to 
 wander among the gooseberry bushes and pick the fruit 
 at will, for the owner, Mr. Hutchings, a fascinating, 
 gnarled, sun-burnt figure, supplied the house with milk, 
 butter, honey, fruit, and poultry. Moreover, the further 
 end of the market-garden was bounded by a shallow
 
 THE GUARDIAN 113 
 
 brook, whose knobby, mossy bottom was clearly visible 
 in all its strange details. Willows overhung the opposite 
 bank, and weeds grew thick at the sides. Here and 
 there water-lilies gleamed in the sun, and carp, tench, 
 and dace swarmed in astonishing multitudes. At one 
 point was a little rickety landing-stage, alongside of 
 which an old leaky punt, fastened to an iron ring, half 
 floated in the water, half lay on the muddy ground with 
 its head among the weeds. The children would follow 
 the thread-like path along the water's edge ever so far, 
 till at last it turned off sharply to the left and took 
 them to all sorts of mysterious pits and greenhouses. 
 Further on was a whole city of bee-hives, though the 
 terrific swarms with their formidable humming used to 
 frighten them back at first. 
 
 Altogether Gwenny and May were as delighted with 
 this country life as children could be, and, as Hubert's 
 knowledge of his little charges grew, he caught more 
 and more of their spirit and buoyancy. The world 
 seemed to him infinitely fresher, infinitely more vivid. 
 He was conscious of emotional changes in himself of 
 a softening and a deepening, and a broadening as his 
 nature responded to the perfect surrender of these tiny 
 souls, for whom the world rested on his shoulders. For 
 he was the repository of all their thoughts, imaginings 
 and secrets; his brain, they conceived, contained all 
 the knowledge and wisdom in the universe, and they 
 loved and trusted and worshipped him with all the rich- 
 ness and abandon that child-nature is capable of. 
 
 He was happy, indeed, that the world should rest upon 
 his shoulders, and he rejoiced in their sense of security. 
 And they, too, were so happy now, that it seemed im- 
 possible to make them more so. They had been taken 
 and set down in a fairy-land, of an extent of which 
 they had never dreamed. Its boundaries on all sides 
 seemed to them an infinite distance off on those en- 
 chanted afternoons when Hubert drove them for miles
 
 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 through the surrounding landscapes. Though they 
 had read about the country with accompanying vivid 
 imaginings, their little suburban park had formed the 
 raw material for embellishment, and they had never pic- 
 tured to themselves anything so beautiful as this real 
 country, with its soft, sweet, undulating expanses. They 
 were, moreover, even on ordinary days, quite over- 
 whelmed by the choice of delightful occupations, from 
 feeding the horse with sugar to watching Armstrong at 
 his gardening, or even emulating his highly-interesting 
 labours. Since to read or to play, to be here or there, 
 were all equally joys, and all equally claiming them at 
 once, they enjoyed life as with great gluttonous gulps. 
 But when Hubert was at home their supreme happiness 
 was to be near him, whether, indoors, they handed down 
 or handed up books to him, or, out of doors, he criticised 
 their gardening or joined them at cricket or catch-ball. 
 
 But they were not spoilt children. Hubert had told 
 them very clearly that they would be expected to work 
 and to take pains in the hours set apart for that pur- 
 pose; so that they took their lessons with an immense 
 solemnity, and were conscientious almost to a fault. Be- 
 sides, they were pathetically anxious not to appear 
 dunces in Hubert's eyes (than which they could have 
 imagined no greater degradation), and they desired to 
 show themselves deserving of all the nice things that 
 were at their disposal. 
 
 Though they were necessarily being educated together 
 by their common companionship with Hubert, still, in 
 the formal work done with Miss Williams, Gwenny's 
 lessons were kept separate from May's. It would have 
 been humiliating to the elder sister to be put back to 
 the lower stage of May's attainments, for though the 
 latter considered herself fully Gwenny's equal in matters 
 of the world she accepted Gwenny's supremacy at les- 
 sons as the natural order of things. Soon throwing 
 aside their first timidity, both became fired by ambition
 
 THE GUARDIAN 115 
 
 to stride ahead rapidly, to perform prodigies of in- 
 tellectuality. Yet even this did not lead to anything in 
 the nature of rivalry. May's ambition, in fact, was a 
 perfectly general emotion, and that she might eventually 
 get in front of Gwenny was by far too mature an idea 
 to occur to her. Such a state of affairs would, in fact, 
 have appeared to her as abnormal as trees growing 
 with their roots in the air. Yet an outsider might well 
 have supposed that May would soon be taking the lead. 
 For she had a quick eye that observed everything and 
 could not help observing everything. Achieving results 
 without much pondering, she had the appearance of 
 scarcely thinking at all. With her bright way of dash- 
 ing at things, she was able to get through every task 
 without the least apparent effort. Gwenny on the other 
 hand was perceptibly painstaking. She would calmly 
 and carefully consider every point put to her, and never 
 answer hastily. She was neater, too, than her sister, 
 carefully ruling every line ; whereas May had a 
 tendency only to rule the important ones. Then, too, 
 Gwenny excelled in ornamental capitals and head-lines, 
 elaborately engrossed with inks of all colours. The out- 
 sider, nevertheless, would have proved a false prophet. 
 Gwenny was perfectly able to maintain her lead. There 
 was no real difference in solid ability between the two 
 children, but only a rather striking one of temperament 
 and of method. Hubert's own judgment was that 
 Gwenny was fundamentally the more serious character 
 of the two, for she very obviously took life in a more 
 staid and elderly fashion, and was far slower than 
 her sister to lose herself in the excitement of their pas- 
 times. 
 
 After they had gone to bed, Hubert, as a rule, would 
 apply himself with zest to his books unless he had 
 brought business papers home with him. Such work, 
 indeed, encroached frequently on his evening hours, yet 
 he was able to gratify his passion for study and read-
 
 116 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 ing, always one of the intensest pleasures of his life. In 
 his rummaging at his favourite book-shops, he was con- 
 stantly unearthing mouldy little volumes of forgotten 
 memoirs in worn calf bindings, and strange medleys of 
 pseudophilosophy, and queer old treatises on religion, 
 and collections of mystic meditations. All these he 
 would race through with feverish eagerness, placing, 
 classifying, reflecting, and getting many a clear ray 
 cast on the unending grotesquerie of human conviction 
 and action. Despite his overflowing library, he knew 
 and loved every individual book in it. Original work 
 he did not attempt now, though he dreamingly planned 
 out large treatises, and jotted down the fundamental 
 thoughts that occurred to him. 
 
 On the hot summer nights he would read with the 
 tall French windows open, and, after a long spell, he 
 would put down his book and stroll out into the garden. 
 Those were sweet moments when he stood in the wonder- 
 ful silence, broodingly aware of the vast landscape and 
 the soft-rolling hills that lay beneath the darkness, of 
 the immense life of past generations that had faded 
 into that same silence, and of the two little girls slumber- 
 ing deeply, worn out by their happy play on the lawn 
 in the lengthening afternoon shadows.
 
 VI 
 
 /T was not till the late autumn that Hubert heard 
 again from Lady Wycliffe. He found a letter 
 from her, on arriving at the Temple one morn- 
 ing, bulking amazingly among his other corre- 
 spondence. Not that the letter itself was very enormous 
 (though it covered six friendly pages) ; but the en- 
 velope was stuffed out with the proof sheets of a new 
 article of hers. She was rather shame-faced about hav- 
 ing indulged in it, half apologetic for its existence and 
 wholly apologetic for troubling him with it. She begged 
 him not to laugh at her too much (he was unchivalrous 
 enough to laugh notwithstanding) ; it was not like dram- 
 drinking, she assured him, and the sort of thing was 
 not going to grow on her. She went on to explain 
 how it had come about though all the time he knew 
 very well the task had afforded her the keenest grati- 
 fication, and that the result was now presented to him 
 with all the pride with which a cat brings its mouse 
 to be seen, and certainly not without a hope of sur- 
 prising him into admiration of its cleverness. " The 
 editor," she wrote, " seems to have been bent for some 
 time on exploiting the talent of women with titles, and 
 many have already yielded to his flattering solicitations 
 in most instances, I fear, with unfortunate results. 
 Evidently the pen is a dangerous weapon for those un- 
 accustomed to handle it. Somebody was needed to 
 redeem the reputation of the order for intelligence for 
 the writers are, as a rule, far more intelligent than 
 their effusions would lead one to suppose; and it was 
 in the hope of being that somebody that I could not 
 resist the editor's delightful invitation. This is the way 
 
 117
 
 118 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 he wrote to me. * Of course,' he said, ' I could not suggest 
 anything in the way of money return that would in any 
 sense represent the intrinsic value of a contribution from 
 your ladyship's pen, or indicate our appreciation of it, 
 but as a matter of routine we should like to send your 
 ladyship by way of honorarium a cheque for twenty- 
 five guineas.' ' Lady Wycliffe was childishly delighted 
 with the amount, which had deeply impressed her imag- 
 ination. A professional writer, she remarked, must be 
 able to earn quite a huge income, and she really had 
 had no idea of it. She then proceeded to devote as 
 much space again to a gossipy account of her own 
 doings, and concluded with a sympathetic inquiry as 
 to his own. 
 
 The article, Hubert was glad to find, was gracefully 
 written though not free from prejudice. He was thus 
 able, without violence to his own conscience, to mete out 
 a certain amount of praise. As he penned his reply he 
 felt it growing under his hand. Her own friendly letter, 
 following the long silence, had somehow done more to 
 draw him to her than, perhaps, would have many letters 
 in the interim. Her gentle nature, her beautiful sym- 
 pathy seemed once more to cast a spell over him, and 
 he even blamed himself for his previous doubts of her. 
 And so he wrote as if to a friend of long standing, 
 impelled by way of atonement to tell her briefly of his 
 adoption of his orphaned nieces and of the present 
 ordering of his life. He wound up by some reference 
 to his reading of late, touching on the old memoirs 
 which so delighted him because they always told so 
 much more than their writers, embedded in the atmo- 
 sphere of their own times, dreamed they were telling. 
 
 His letter was perfectly spontaneous throughout, and 
 as he sealed it he recalled how she had said to him, " I 
 should love your children." He could hear her softened 
 voice, and the words touched him now even more than 
 then. Perhaps, he thought wistfully, she might come
 
 THE GUARDIAN 119 
 
 to love even Gwenny and May; for were they not his 
 children now? 
 
 Following close on Lady Wycliffe's letter came a mes- 
 sage from Constance Powers. Since their last " annual 
 tea " she had passed out of his mind even more than 
 usual, what with all the additional demands on his at- 
 tention ; but he had occasionally wondered how her 
 affairs were progressing. The recognition of her writing 
 brought her back to him vividly, with her fair hair, her 
 large, wistful eyes, and her intelligent face. He re- 
 membered now all she had told him of her love affair, 
 and of her " speculation in lodgings." As he broke 
 open the envelope, he had the odd thought that she had 
 never mentioned to him her sweetheart's surname, while 
 he had never thought of asking for it; Willie had 
 seemed so natural and all-sufficing an appellation for a 
 sweetheart. This time, she explained, she was not ask- 
 ing him to an annual tea, but to something slightly 
 more substantial. She purposed, in fact, going to four 
 distinct kinds of sandwiches, to say nothing of fruit 
 and wine and cakes. If he thought it extravagant of 
 her, she could only plead that one didn't get married 
 every day; and her wedding was to take place sooner 
 than she had ever dreamed. The date had now been 
 fixed for a fortnight ahead. She had, as she had told 
 him, at first determined to keep the tale of her muddled 
 affairs from Willie, but she had found it quite impossible 
 to do so. At a certain intense and sympathetic moment 
 all had slipped out, and he had chided her for keeping 
 so great a burden for her own shoulders. He had 
 claimed the right of at least sharing equally since she 
 would not consent to let him take all. And in order 
 to seal the compact he had insisted on their marrying 
 almost immediately. She feared, however, their respec- 
 tive families were irreconcilable. South Kensington and 
 North Kensington each approved of the other's attitude, 
 each secretly pitying the other in that such a respectable
 
 120 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 family should be afflicted with such a scapegrace ; though, 
 as neither avowed to a scapegrace, they were at daggers 
 drawn when either's scapegrace was referred to as such. 
 
 And so now the scapegraces were taking matters into 
 their own hands. On the marriage-day they would be 
 receiving their few chosen friends at her old rooms in 
 Pimlico (by kind permission of her tenant-successor), 
 and she looked forward to Hubert's assisting at their 
 little Bohemian party. 
 
 Hubert was more than willing, for he found this little 
 social comedy highly diverting; though he was sorry to 
 feel that Constance would still be obliged to live a life 
 of vicissitudes and sordid cares. He certainly liked 
 and respected her, and he trusted that her new fund of 
 faith and hope would take her on to more auspicious 
 paths. She was really a clever girl, he believed, and 
 if she only got her chance she ought to do something. 
 
 On the wedding afternoon Hubert arrived at the 
 Pimlico address about five o'clock, which was as early 
 as he could get away. The party, however, was then 
 at its height, and he stepped into a packed room and 
 a deafening hubbub of conversation. Immediately 
 Constance came flitting across to him she managed to 
 " flit " in spite of the density with large manifesta- 
 tions of joy at his coming. She wore a gown of white 
 satin, with lilies in her hair and bosom. 
 
 " You may imagine how delighted I am," she ex- 
 claimed, shaking his hand with the nervous exuberance 
 of a wife of three hours' standing. Then her cheeks 
 suddenly flushed deeper. " Without your presence, I 
 should have been somewhat of my mother's opinion 
 about my marriage," she added in a lower tone. 
 
 " She looks on it as incomplete? " he hazarded, inter- 
 preting the compliment correctly, though passing away 
 from it immediately. 
 
 " She looks on it as no real wedding at all. No 
 bridesmaids, no crowds or pomp, no picturesque pro-
 
 THE GUARDIAN 121 
 
 cession down the aisle, and no joyous organ-roll ! With- 
 out such essential details a wedding must seem to her 
 of doubtful legality." 
 
 Her face was suddenly overcast. He could see that 
 there was bitterness in her words, and that she was 
 suffering. He inquired whether all her family had kept 
 away. 
 
 " They were strictly forbidden to come near me. My 
 father's mind works in a strange way. I had begged 
 that my sisters, at least, might be allowed to come, and 
 he wrote to say he could not possibly permit it, as that 
 would make it appear that this marriage had his sanc- 
 tion, whereas it was his desire to emphasize his dis- 
 approval. On this one day, therefore, not one member 
 of the family must come near me, though afterwards 
 we might be as friendly as before, provided he saw 
 nothing of my husband. He does not disown me, you 
 see; he simply wishes to stand aloof absolutely from my 
 marriage. Curious attitude, is it not? My sisters 
 have no spirit, and father is an autocrat. But I must 
 introduce you to my husband. That is he in the other 
 room talking to the girl in mauve." 
 
 The crowd divided before her, and she led the way 
 through the open folding-door, beyond which people 
 were standing in groups round a large table thickly 
 set out with good things to the full tune of extrava- 
 gance which she had pre-announced to him. Willie 
 proved to be a big fellow, massively built, with red hair 
 and heavily-freckled skin. His forehead was high and 
 knobby, the hazey eyes almost level with his face, the 
 nose well chiselled, the mouth large with thick lips, and 
 the chin unexpectedly weak. Altogether Hubert did not 
 like his expression, which struck him as that of a man 
 always on his guard. But he did not attach much 
 importance to this first feeling, especially as the man's 
 face presently lit up with a pleasant smile that had a 
 certain fascination about it.
 
 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " Mr. Barton Mr. Ruthven ! " 
 
 The two shook hands, exchanging a few banal re- 
 marks, while Constance smilingly put in a word or two 
 in the anxious endeavour to promote their conversation. 
 But somehow the two men seemed curiously out of sym- 
 pathy, and Hubert, instead, found himself, after a mo- 
 ment or two, sipping coffee and talking to the girl in 
 mauve. She was a Mrs. Rowland Grainger, the wife of 
 a comedian, a little man with a monocle and an ex- 
 cruciated expression, who was talking vigorously a few 
 feet away. Mrs. Grainger, plump and fair in her mauve 
 costume, had smiled graciously on Hubert, and had im- 
 mediately launched out into a philosophic disquisition 
 on marriage and happiness. She talked and talked 
 and talked, yet maintained her smile throughout. All 
 Constance's friends, she said, were immensely pleased 
 that she was now going to be so much happier than 
 before. If married people weren't happy, she rattled 
 on, it was their own fault. She herself had now been 
 married nine years, and although she and her husband 
 had begun without money, and had never had a pound 
 to spare since, still they had had a very good time 
 together. Her husband was really such a nice little 
 man. True, he always said that if he hadn't fallen in 
 love at twenty-one, he would never have been able to 
 make up his mind at thirty. It was only now that he 
 realized how great a piece of rashness their marriage 
 had then been. But they took life as it came, and 
 didn't allow themselves to be worried by things. They 
 had been practically all over the world and had enjoyed 
 themselves immensely; and everywhere they had met 
 people as happy as themselves. She was always lectur- 
 ing Constance about taking things too seriously she 
 had had the opportunity, for she and her husband were 
 Constance's tenants. 
 
 All this time Hubert's eye was wandering round sur- 
 veying the throng the clean-shaven oldish-youngish
 
 THE GUARDIAN 123 
 
 men with their facial muscles all in tension, the women 
 with the theatre unmistakably in their bones and atti- 
 tudes. There was an air about the assembly that told 
 of uncertain work and uncertain earnings, yet likewise 
 of an unfathomable affection for the Bohemian at- 
 mosphere and the professional life that weighed well 
 against all the chances and mischances. 
 
 At length Barton, observing that Hubert was restless, 
 sought again to come into the conversation, and as, a 
 moment later, some other man strolled over and ended 
 by monopolizing Mrs. Grainger's garrulous attention, 
 Hubert and Barton were again left to talk to each other. 
 But, as before, the attempt was a dismal failure. 
 
 " It's awfully good of you to have come, you know," 
 said Barton, who had a strangely soft voice and a some- 
 what mannered enunciation almost that of a foreigner. 
 It was the third repetition of the same sentiment, for 
 the third time evoked to fill an awkward pause. " Won't 
 you have something to drink? " he went on desperately. 
 
 " Thanks," said Hubert, but he was grateful when 
 Constance ultimately came to his rescue with the desire 
 to introduce him to " a very pretty girl," by name Miss 
 Queenie Wilson, who, however, proved to be more pic- 
 turesque than pretty. She had large eyes, preter- 
 naturally bright and piercing, dark, visibly-powdered 
 checks, a slim figure in a tight-fitting green dress, and 
 billowy hair under a big Gainsborough hat. She was 
 friendly and entertaining, and in turn introduced him 
 to other picturesque friends of hers Barbara Miles and 
 Gertrude Wyoming, both as fair and pink and fluffy 
 as she was dark and wavy. So that soon Hubert was 
 feeling more in touch with all these friends of Con- 
 stance, and an hour or so passed agreeably. 
 
 When the time came for him to depart, Barton wrung 
 his hand with exuberant warmth, and Constance's eyes 
 glistened at his farewell good wishes.
 
 rHAT first doubtful impression of Constance's 
 husband remained with Hubert. " Willie " 
 was frankly a disappointment his fascinat- 
 ing smile, beautiful teeth, and melodious voice 
 notwithstanding. The same marked expression about the 
 young man's eyes had struck Hubert disagreeably when- 
 ever he had been able to catch the face in repose, and 
 there was left in his mind a grave suspicion that Con- 
 stance had all along been idealizing an utterly unworthy 
 person. His misgivings, of course, might be irrational. 
 Indeed, it was a relief to think they were, and he hoped 
 devoutly that the marriage was destined to be a happy 
 one. 
 
 As the weeks went past he found that Constance did 
 not fade from his consciousness in the same way as 
 previously. Her figure literally haunted him, and he 
 was always wondering what she was doing and how she 
 was faring. At the same time she seemed to have re- 
 ceded further from him than ever before. He felt as 
 if he had sustained some personal loss. And yet he 
 retained his habitual conviction that she would turn up 
 again with her usual unexpectedness. Perhaps, too, she 
 would need his help some day. 
 
 Another marriage to which Hubert was shortly after 
 invited (and one in connection with which his emotions 
 were unreservedly enthusiastic) was that of Marvin the 
 artist, who had been so kind to the children. The 
 widower was about to lead to the altar an estimable 
 lady who had sat to him once or twice, and who was as 
 wealthy as she was amiable. Indeed, every feature of 
 the affair radiated with such satis factoriness that it really 
 
 124
 
 THE GUARDIAN 125 
 
 came perilously near to affording no points of interest, 
 but merely presenting an occasion for eliciting one's 
 hearty good-will. Yet the wedding-day was destined 
 to be one of the most memorable for Hubert ; for Pres- 
 ton, who had only just returned from Wales, chose it 
 as the occasion for conveying to him a most momentous 
 announcement. 
 
 " The fact is," said Preston, after drawing Hubert 
 into a quiet corner (the reception was being held at the 
 bride's own house in Hans Place) ; " I've been thinking 
 over things seriously, and I've had a sort of big in- 
 spiration. These revolutions in the lives of our friends 
 are very disturbing. As long as they jog along in the 
 same old grooves, we are hypnotized into being content 
 to follow their example. Now Marvin's marriage is a 
 big moment in his life, and my soul has been stirred into 
 envy not of the marriage, please understand, but of 
 the big moment. My own life has been singularly 
 barren of big moments and so I am introducing one by 
 acting on the big inspiration I just mentioned. I have 
 made up my mind at last to alter my mode of taking 
 the noxious mixture of life. London is, in fact, in- 
 tolerable now that the one righteous man has fled from 
 it. I'm going to leave England, my dear fellow, and I 
 wish I could take you with me." 
 
 " Far? " asked Hubert. The question implied at least 
 ten others. 
 
 " For five years I think," said Preston, singling out 
 for reply another one of the ten. " That gives me one 
 year per continent. I shall begin with the Far East, 
 and follow my caprice. The Pacific archipelagoes, the 
 Antarctic seas, the Rocky Mountains, Brazil, the heart 
 of Africa, all entice me you see my imagination has 
 taken an immense flight. Of course I mean to be fairly 
 happy the whole time, but the principal thing is the 
 big moment. I'm in the thick of it now (it extends up 
 to my sailing) and I can't tell you how I'm enjoying it."
 
 126 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " I approve of your whim, but I shall miss you." 
 Hubert's mode of expressing himself, was, as usual, 
 strictly moderate, but he looked very, very solemn all 
 the same. 
 
 " Don't call it a whim, Hubert. * Inspiration ' was 
 my word. The odd bits of travelling I've indulged in at 
 times have not been enough to fill in and colour life 
 for me. But I ought not to talk of filling-in and 
 colouring when I've never had even the faintest of out- 
 lines. What a splendid outline you have now! Plenty 
 of work, beautiful kids, and beautiful ideals. I have 
 only had my belief that this planet is the idiot asylum 
 of the stellar system, and that a few sane people, un- 
 happily for them, find themselves in it by accident. I've 
 studied the lunatics within a certain radius of Charing 
 Cross now I want to get into touch with the others at 
 first hand." 
 
 " I see ! The rich variation of the lunacy tempts you." 
 
 " Exactly. You may, in fact, regard the world as a 
 vast home for incurables, beautifully divided into wards 
 in each of which the inmates are victims to the same set 
 of delusions. After all there is some evidence of design 
 in the world. But there is one symptom common to all 
 the wards a monstrous vanity ! For each flaunts itself 
 as immeasurably superior to all the others, and shows all 
 the idiot's cunning in covering its idiocy up with beauti- 
 ful phrases and gaudy flags. And how each pack 
 keeps on snarling at every other pack! But the wards 
 have really been fitted up with a humourous appropri- 
 ateness, each having been decorated just to suit its own 
 particular quarrelsome lot. Imagine, for instance, the 
 worshippers of Buddha without swamps, jungles, and 
 elephants. But really, you're looking white as a ghost 
 over my projected little study of humanity or insanity. 
 Let's come and get an ice." 
 
 " As you see I cannot dissimulate my grief, but an 
 ice by all means."
 
 THE GUARDIAN 
 
 They went down-stairs and stood amid a gaily chatter- 
 ing crowd, but, though bowing and smiling occasionally 
 as various faces smiled at them, they did not interrupt 
 their own conversation. 
 
 " There are, perhaps, some half-a-dozen people I shall 
 shake hands with. For everybody else * P.P.C.' cards 
 must serve. No one is to see me off at the last moment 
 I mean on board not even you ! But I want you to 
 put me up for a couple of days, if I may come home 
 with you at the week's end." 
 
 " How good of you ! " 
 
 " Thanks. I shall complete all arrangements in the 
 next few days. Can't bother to clear out my rooms, of 
 course, but the agents will keep on letting them fur- 
 nished, and I dare say I shall want to pop back into 
 them some day. Everything else is astonishingly easy. 
 I just give my sister Marian a Power of Attorney, you 
 see, and I've only to get enough outfit to start with." 
 
 When Hubert gave himself up to his thoughts that 
 same night he realized how deeply he had been shaken 
 by his friend's announcement. Yet, to tell the truth, he 
 had for a long time been expecting that Preston would, 
 sooner or later, launch something sensational on him, 
 and he recognized that altogether the present scheme 
 was as good as anything his friend could have devised. 
 Nay, on further reflection, he saw it was the only thing 
 in life that could yield Preston any real satisfaction. He 
 appreciated the idea with perfect sympathy. It was 
 not an amateur pleasure tour his friend contemplated. 
 Preston wished absolutely to lose himself in the various 
 non-civilizations, to disappear for the whole five years, 
 holding only the rarest communication with England. 
 
 Hubert now seemed to feel more clearly the nature 
 of the contrast between himself and Preston. He be- 
 lieved in good works and in progress, whereas Preston 
 loftily refused to identify himself with the world in
 
 128 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 any way. He understood his friend had turned away, 
 sickened, for the spectacle, and had absolutely refused 
 to be concerned in it. Men of his type were always 
 labelled heartless cynics, whereas their very dissatisfac- 
 tion with the world proved they were in reality idealists. 
 It needed a kind heart to be distressed by brutal sights, 
 and misanthropy had often its roots in love of man- 
 kind. Some such sentiment he had once, indeed, already 
 expressed to Preston, but the latter had characteristic- 
 ally protested against being dragged up to Hubert's 
 saintly level. " No, no," he had exclaimed laughingly. 
 " Let a man hug in peace the delusion that he's a 
 villain!" 
 
 At the end of the week Preston joined Hubert at 
 Pump Court and accompanied him down to Lynford.
 
 VIII 
 
 PRESTON rose at six, and went for a long 
 ramble through the fresh country. 
 " It's the easiest thing in the world to get 
 up early," he declared at breakfast ; " every- 
 where, in fact, save at Jermyn-street. My rooms must 
 be bewitched." 
 
 May and Gwenny, who had their places at table even 
 when there were visitors, pricked up their ears at this 
 surmise of Preston's. But he met their astonished stare 
 with the gravest of countenances. 
 
 " Yes, I'm quite sure they're bewitched," he resumed, 
 as if the slightest further reflection had brought con- 
 viction. " Why, now I come to remember, only the 
 other day I woke up in the middle of the night and 
 caught them at it." 
 
 " Were there any fairies, please ? " asked Gwenny. 
 
 " Not exactly," answered Preston. " Only the room 
 seemed enormous, and the window looked like a shining 
 patch a mile off, and everything was so still I could 
 hear my own heart beat. Then a voice seemed to ring 
 in my ears : ' You think you're going to get up at six 
 o'clock in the morning, at least, so you made up your 
 mind when you undressed. But not until the bells toll 
 their eleven strokes shall you be released ha, ha, ha ! ' 
 And when the morning came, I had to lie there spell- 
 bound, unable to move hand or foot despite tremendous 
 efforts. The feeling was simply terrible. At last eleven 
 o'clock began to strike, and in a moment I recovered the 
 use of my muscles and jumped out of bed. This sort of 
 thing only happens at Jermyn street. The demon with 
 his mysterious voice has no power over me anywhere 
 
 129
 
 130 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 else. And for years now he has had me in his 
 grip." 
 
 They shuddered. 
 
 " There's nothing to get alarmed about, little girls. 
 The nasty fellow's much too fond of Jermyn-street to 
 leave it, so there's scarcely any fear of his following 
 me here. Besides, he hates the country." 
 
 " If I were you," said Gwenny, " I should never live 
 there again." 
 
 " That's a good idea," said Preston. 
 
 " I'm sorry he hates the country," said May, with a 
 distinct tinge of scepticism, though pale, in spite of 
 herself, at her own daring ; " because I should like to see 
 him." 
 
 " I don't think you would," chimed in Hubert grimly. 
 
 " Really, I should," said May, put upon her mettle, 
 and far too proud to give way. 
 
 " He has never actually showed himself to me, but 
 he has branching horns and a hundred hideous clutch- 
 ing arms like a devil-fish, and he is covered all over 
 with eyes, at least, so I've read on the best authority," 
 said Preston. 
 
 May laughed incredulously, but she turned still paler. 
 
 " Very well then," said Preston. " When I get back 
 to Jermyn-street, and wake up next Monday in the 
 middle of the night, I shall make it a point to ask him 
 to pay a visit down here just to oblige you." 
 
 She laughed with forced boisterousness, but was now 
 as white as death. 
 
 All four spent a happy day together, driving in the 
 morning, and lounging in the garden the whole long 
 afternoon. Any very serious conversation between the 
 two men seemed to be postponed in favour of interests 
 all could share with equal pleasure. The children with 
 great pride showed Preston their private garden-plots, 
 relating the history of their favourite plants, and ex- 
 plaining their hopes as to the future career of some of
 
 THE GUARDIAN 131 
 
 the more promising ones. Becoming more and more 
 the big playmate, Preston learnt all the mysteries and 
 secrets of the various fairy territories into which they 
 had already parcelled out the Ruthven dominions. In 
 this part of the wood dwelt a good fairy, who was al- 
 ways kind to children and helped them to remember 
 their lessons; in that thicket lived an ogre, and for the 
 life of them they never dared penetrate it. Here danced 
 merry elves in the moonlight, and there lurked a witch 
 who waited till everybody was asleep to go a-riding on 
 her broom above the clouds. Beyond the high hedge 
 that confined their garden on the left stretched poisonous 
 marshes, in the midst of which an imprisoned king 
 passed his years in a marble, though invisible, palace. 
 The lawn in front of the house, with its central clump 
 of bushes, was rather shunned by them, especially its 
 further end. It was a sad region, haunted by invisible 
 spirits, and it gave you an eerie feeling, sometimes an 
 icy one. Whenever they had ventured to set foot on 
 it they had retired almost immediately, trembling and 
 with beating hearts. Then there were the hidden paths 
 that led out in all sorts of unexpected ways, and wound 
 about so delightfully amid the shrubbery and thickets. 
 And all these regions, connections, and dependencies 
 had formed the background for endless mystic and ex- 
 citing dramas sometimes with a dash of the grotesque 
 and humourous thrown in wherein figured knights, 
 maidens, children, kings and queens, swans, and wizards. 
 
 Which was all very delightful and refreshing for 
 friend Preston, who " got lost " after tea with his little 
 chums for over two hours, even submitting to being 
 blindfolded and floundering about helplessly, and search- 
 ing for hidden objects guided by " hot," " cold," 
 " freezing," " burning," and various other degrees of 
 temperature. 
 
 May had been almost madly gay all day, but towards 
 bed-time her animation was observed to dwindle, till at
 
 132 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 last she grew strangely silent. As this was so unusual 
 for her (she, as a rule, growing more and more frolic- 
 some as bed-time drew near, and savouring the last 
 moments of "staying up" with poignant intensity), 
 Hubert's attention was at once attracted. However, he 
 said nothing just yet, being content to watch her. He 
 fancied, too, she was pale, whereas after a long after- 
 noon's play her face was usually one bright glow, and, 
 as he quietly kept observing her, he saw her face take 
 on more and more a strange, uneasy expression. At 
 length Martha Chapman appeared, inexorably bent on 
 carrying off the children, but May seemed to linger 
 reluctantly even after kissing the elders " good-night." 
 Ultimately, with an effort, she managed to overcome this 
 hesitation, and got as far as the door. But by now 
 every drop of blood seemed to have left her face, and 
 as Martha tried to take her hand she shrank back into 
 the room and burst into tears. 
 
 Hubert and Preston stared wonderingly, whilst the 
 housekeeper, misunderstanding the cause of all this 
 emotion, stepped after her protestingly. 
 
 " But it's really past your time already, Miss May." 
 
 Again she attempted to take the child's hands, but 
 now May uttered a piercing cry and huddled against 
 the wall in terror. 
 
 Light broke on Preston just then. "Ah!" he ex- 
 claimed, considerately suppressing his desire to laugh. 
 " It's my Jermyn-street demon she's thinking of." 
 
 " Jermyn-street is a long way off," said Hubert ; 
 " and the scoundrel is too comfortable there to think 
 of leaving it." 
 
 " And, besides," added Preston, " it's possible I may 
 have exaggerated the number of his eyes and arms." 
 
 May had already calmed down a little, and Martha 
 began to dry the little face soothingly. 
 
 " But we can easily make sure about it," said Pres- 
 ton. " Any person who has expressed a wish for the
 
 THE GUARDIAN 133 
 
 demon to appear has only to retract it and to apologize 
 for having called on him in vain to be for ever safe 
 against his visits. Repeat these words after me, my 
 dear, and then you need have no further fear." 
 
 " Yes," chimed in Hubert, " and you'll be able to 
 sleep perfectly sound." 
 
 " I, May Winifred Ruthven," began Preston in a 
 slow, solemn voice. 
 
 " I, May Winifred Ruthven," repeated May tear- 
 fully. 
 
 " Do hereby confess " 
 
 " Do hereby confess " 
 
 " That I have not the slightest desire " 
 
 " That I have not the slightest desire " 
 
 " To make the acquaintance of Mr. Preston's Jermyn- 
 street demon." 
 
 But the humiliating part was to come, namely 
 
 " That I never meant what I said this morning, and 
 that I only said it out of brag and boast. I beg your 
 pardon, Mr. Demon, and I promise not to brag and 
 boast any more that I'm not afraid of you, because I'm 
 really very much afraid of you. So please forgive me, 
 and don't appear to me." 
 
 After which, tear-stained and shame-faced, she humbly 
 went off to bed.
 
 IX 
 
 the Monday morning, Preston, who was to 
 travel back to town with Hubert, was down- 
 stairs by eight o'clock. He found May already 
 at work at her garden-plot, and, after a min- 
 ute or two, she consented to stroll about with him in 
 the half hour before breakfast. She had turned red, 
 and lowered her eyes on first catching sight of him, 
 but he took care to have no remembrance of her hu- 
 miliation of the evening before. 
 
 " You know I'm leaving you immediately after break- 
 fast? " 
 
 " But you're coming back again before long." 
 
 " Would you like me to? " 
 
 " Yes, very much." 
 
 " And if I don't, will you be very sorry ? " 
 
 " Yes, because I like to play with you better than 
 with Francis," she explained. (Francis was the vicar's 
 little boy who sometimes came to romp about the 
 garden. ) 
 
 " Then you like me the better of the two? " 
 
 " Yes," whispered May, blushing and hanging her 
 head. 
 
 " Well, I'm ever so sorry, but I shan't be able to 
 come back here for an awful long time," said Preston 
 sadly. 
 
 " Truly ? " asked May, astonished. 
 
 " Truly," replied Preston. " I am going to leave 
 England in a day or two, and it is possible I may never 
 return at all. Of course I'll try to come back some 
 day, but you see I may get killed, as I'm going to live 
 in all sorts of strange countries." 
 
 134
 
 THE GUARDIAN 135 
 
 " I should like to go to strange countries," said May 
 musingly. 
 
 "With me?" 
 
 " Yes, with you. But I want uncle to come, too." 
 
 " You don't mean to say you'd care about leaving 
 your home here ! " 
 
 " Only for a time. Perhaps uncle will take me when 
 I'm older. But, of course, I should always like my 
 home here best. Oh, I do hope you won't get killed." 
 
 " I'll try my hardest because I want to come back 
 and play with you again. But by then you'll have 
 forgotten all about me ! " 
 
 " Oh, no ! I shall remember you truly." 
 
 He shook his head. " You'll very soon be liking 
 Francis instead of me." 
 
 " No. Francis never plays fair. He always peeps 
 out on the sly when it's his turn to shut his eyes." 
 
 " Let me see you're six now, little May ? " 
 
 " I shall be seven next month," she proclaimed 
 proudly. 
 
 " I shall not see you again for at least five years 
 just think, almost as long as you've been alive alto- 
 gether." 
 
 May considered, wrinkling her brow prettily in the 
 attempt to plumb the metaphysical depths of this com- 
 parison. 
 
 " Of course you don't remember when you first began 
 to be alive," Preston resumed, coming to her assistance; 
 " but you've felt alive now for a good long time, haven't 
 you? Well, just think, it will be almost as long again 
 before I return to England. You'll be nearly twelve, 
 and quite grown up; a haughty young lady, in fact, 
 who'll be giving herself airs, and who'll stare at me with- 
 out recognizing me." 
 
 " No, indeed," said May indignantly. 
 
 " Then you will be thinking of me sometimes." 
 
 " Oh, yes," she promised.
 
 136 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " And you'll continue to like me? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " Because, you know, I'm very jealous of Master 
 Francis." 
 
 " I teU you I don't like him at all." 
 
 " Will you always like me? " 
 
 " Yes, always," she whispered shyly, hanging her 
 head again. 
 
 " And I shall always like you," said Preston ; " better 
 than any other little girl in the world. And to prove 
 it, I have in my pocket a ring broken in halves. I'm 
 going to give you one half, the other I shall keep my- 
 self. You must take great care of yours as long as 
 you remember your promise to me. When I come back, 
 I shall show you my half, and then we shall see whether 
 you've forgotten or not." 
 
 He fumbled in his waistcoat pocket, and brought out 
 the two portions of a plain gold ring. 
 
 " It's all just as in a story-book," cried May, her eyes 
 sparkling with excitement. 
 
 " Now take your half," said Preston, " and say : ' I 
 promise faithfully to be your sweetheart true for al- 
 ways.' ' 
 
 " I promise faithfully to be your sweetheart true for 
 always," she breathed, red as a berry, and grasping her 
 half tight. 
 
 " Remember, you mustn't breathe a word to anybody 
 in the world. It's a secret only between us two." 
 
 " Yes, it's so much nicer to keep it a secret," she 
 agreed. 
 
 " You'll kiss me now ? " he asked. 
 
 She murmured her assent, and he stooped to bestow 
 the caress, taking her face between his hands. Then 
 hand-in-hand they made their way back to the house. 
 
 May loved her secret, but evidently she had yet to 
 get accustomed to it, for it was interfering a good deal 
 with her conversation. Preston, however, was perfectly
 
 THE GUARDIAN 137 
 
 at his ease, and spoke freely at breakfast of his coming 
 adventures. Now and again his eye caught May's, and 
 the swift look that passed between them was significant 
 of mutual trust and assurance. And when the moment 
 of final good-bye arrived, she broke down and sobbed; 
 a sorrow into which Gwenny, too, was caught up, so 
 that when their big friend at last disappeared, the two 
 little ladies were left lamenting.
 
 PRESTON accompanied Hubert up to his very 
 door-step in Pump Court, and there the two 
 men gripped hands for their last farewell. 
 Preston's ship he was beginning by a long 
 voyage on a sailing vessel was to be off with the tide 
 on Tuesday at midnight, but they agreed there was no 
 point in seeing each other again, the more especially as 
 Preston would be busily occupied up to the very last 
 moment. He had warned Hubert only to expect letters 
 at long and irregular intervals, and correspondence for 
 himself would have the best chance of reaching him if 
 sent through his sister Marian, though some of it was 
 fated to miss fire anyhow. 
 
 " There's one last thing I must mention," he said 
 smilingly, as they still held hands. " My bankers will 
 honour your signature at any time during my absence. 
 I have given them an authentic one cut from a small 
 cheque you once sent me." 
 
 " Oh, but I'm so prosperous now," Hubert assured 
 him, " that I blush for shame to think of it." 
 
 " You have responsibilities now," said Preston, with 
 such evident concern that Hubert could scarcely main- 
 tain his gravity. " And if the emergency arises, I shall 
 think it a most unfriendly act if you do not immediately 
 call on my bankers." 
 
 As his friend turned away, an intense sadness de- 
 scended on Hubert. The parting was an accomplished 
 fact! 
 
 Five years would go by the earth would roll round 
 the sun five times in indifference to the coming and 
 going of men on its surface and, if both were still 
 
 138
 
 THE GUARDIAN 139 
 
 alive, they might grasp hands again. What an eternity 
 life seemed, yet it slipped away like a shadow. With 
 a quick plunge into the world of memories, he seemed 
 to have lived and worked through an immense stretch 
 of time. And yet he was esteemed comparatively young ! 
 He had a line from Preston on board ship to say all 
 was well, and that they were sailing with the tide. In 
 imagination Hubert watched the vessel glide away into 
 the night till at last its lights were lost beyond some 
 strange distant horizon.
 
 XI 
 
 OKli afternoon late in the same week Armstrong, 
 as a special treat, had taken down the children 
 to the station to meet Hubert, and they all 
 drove back by an out-of-the-way circuitous 
 route from which the scenery appeared in new aspects. 
 A surprise awaited Hubert. In a narrow back lane an 
 open brougham, with a fat coachman and a lean groom 
 perched on the box, came rolling towards them, and as 
 it passed his own modest equipage there was scarcely 
 an inch to spare. From his comparatively high seat 
 Hubert looked down on its single occupant, a dignified, 
 white-haired lady, whose deep-set eyes shone out re- 
 markably. Then he noticed, in the necessary moment of 
 cautious slackening on both side, that her finely-cut 
 mouth had suddenly relaxed its firmness, and that she 
 was smiling at him. A half -moment of hesitating blank- 
 ness and then a flash of recognition. It was Lady Wy- 
 cliffe. Simultaneously the word was given, and they 
 drew up within twenty feet of each other. Hubert 
 descended and walked back to Lady Wycliffe's carriage. 
 She greeted him winningly. 
 
 " Naturally you are astonished much more so than 
 I," she said ; " but I have been looking forward for a 
 long time to my stay in this neighbourhood. I was 
 careful not to mention it when I wrote to you, as I 
 wanted to pay you a surprise visit one of these days. I 
 am having the most restful time with Mrs. Drummond 
 one of my oldest friends. It is not a house-party 
 we are quite alone. When she first suggested I should 
 come to her I admit I was tempted, but the remembrance 
 that you had set up your household gods in the very 
 
 140
 
 THE GUARDIAN 141 
 
 neighbourhood, vanquished my last hesitation. How- 
 ever, it appears now the pleasure of coming uninvited is 
 not to be mine. I take it for granted you will be kind- 
 hearted enough to wish me to come all the same." 
 
 " I do wish it," he replied smilingly. " I arrive home 
 somewhat late in the afternoon usually, so I suppose the 
 end of the week will be best for catching me at the 
 most flagrant worship of my Lares and Penates." 
 
 Her face lighted up with pleasure. 
 
 " Yes," she exclaimed eagerly ; " and I shall be want- 
 ing to see all those lovely musty books you wrote about." 
 Her enthusiasm, as usual, was almost girlish. " And 
 those are the children, I suppose," she went on after a 
 slight pause, as she looked back towards them. " May I 
 not make their acquaintance now? " 
 
 He was about to bring them to her, but she insisted 
 on leaving her carriage and walking over to them. 
 
 Gwenny and May now no longer felt so much em- 
 barrassment at meeting a new grown-up person espe- 
 cially when the person was so kind and gentle and 
 sweet-mannered as this one. Still they were not entirely 
 free from shyness, as was evident from their subdued 
 answers to her friendly questions about their lessons and 
 their games and the parts they liked best in the beau- 
 tiful country round about. She ended by kissing them, 
 telling them that she was coming to see them soon, 
 and that she hoped they would like her when they knew 
 her better. 
 
 " Such dear children ! " she said, as Hubert saw her 
 into her carriage again. " I wish I could help in some 
 way," she went on with a vagueness out of which, never- 
 theless, her good-will shone as pure gold. 
 
 Then Hubert, speaking on impulse, begged her friend- 
 ship for them. " As you may have supposed, there are 
 but few people with whom I have any deeper relation 
 any real bond. The years have brought me many ac- 
 quaintances, but beyond one or two men-friends there
 
 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 is nobody who really cares. My little girls would find 
 themselves alone, face to face with the world, if any of 
 the mischances of the world carried me away. The fear 
 weighs heavily on me. My dearest wish is that they 
 might have a sympathetic friend; it would mean so 
 much to them and to me." 
 
 " And to me," she added, with the kindest of smiles 
 at this earnest solicitude of his. " I cannot thank you 
 too much for your belief in me." 
 
 He spoke out his gratitude from his heart, but she 
 cut him short laughingly. When at last he said he 
 must not detain her just then, she would not hear of his 
 leaving her yet, but kept him to talk to her for some 
 minutes longer. She spoke of her husband, who was 
 now yachting among the fiords with Lord William, and 
 she narrated proudly how the doctor who had advised 
 the cruise had been struck by the remarkable condition 
 of Lord Wycliffe's heart, which was as good and sound 
 as that of a young man of thirty. On Hubert's inquiring 
 as to the welfare of the Hardynge's he observed a 
 change come over her face. There was a moment of 
 distinct embarrassment on her part as if she had been 
 taken unawares. But she was soon herself again, and 
 he heard with amused surprise that there had been a 
 storm in the Hardynge family, the daughter, Cissie, 
 having been engaged secretly for more than a year 
 before that fact became accidentally known to her 
 parents. They had altogether disapproved of her 
 choice, but the minx was as headstrong as she was sly 
 Lady Wycliffe had evidently been much disillusioned 
 about poor Miss Hardynge since that evening on which 
 she had enlarged so glowingly to Preston on the minx's 
 virtues and had carried her will against all opposition. 
 Lady Wycliffe shook her head sadly, and gave a mild 
 sigh in dismissal of the subject. 
 
 " I suppose you miss your friend very badly," she 
 went on immediately. " We were all so sorry to hear we
 
 THE GUARDIAN 143 
 
 were to lose him for so long, or rather that we had lost 
 him already ; for I really think he treated us all shame- 
 fully running off in that precipitate fashion. But, 
 as my husband observed, one never knows what to ex- 
 pect next from these clever young men now-a-days. Ah, 
 well, I suppose we must forgive him." 
 
 Hubert felt perceptibly happier during the remainder 
 of the homeward drive, and so immersed was he in 
 thought that he forgot to continue his expatiation on 
 the landscape, interrupted by the sudden encounter. 
 But that was of little consequence. For May, who had 
 gone about puffed up with pride since Preston's de- 
 parture, and who esteemed herself immeasurably in ad- 
 vance of Gwenny, was busy pondering on her big secret ; 
 whilst Gwenny herself, being naturally addicted to medi- 
 tation, had little difficulty in likewise occupying herself 
 with her own reflections.
 
 XII 
 
 y^S a matter of habit it was hard for Hubert ever 
 
 /J to conceive of Constance except as overtaken 
 
 ^4 M by some fresh calamity ; and so, when in the 
 
 following February (and some four months 
 
 after her wedding) he received one of her sudden letters, 
 
 his misgivings were so great that for a time he hesitated 
 
 to open it. 
 
 He was soon to find that his instinct was once again 
 only too amply justified. His blood grew hot as he read, 
 and when he threw down the sheet he could scarcely see 
 for the mist that swam before him. " Willie," the scape- 
 grace darling of the North Kensington stronghold of 
 respectability, had had to fly the country. In legal 
 parlance he had " feloniously intermarried with Con- 
 stance Powers, his wife, Cynthia Frances Barton being 
 still alive." Cynthia, it had now come out, had married 
 him quietly three years before at some out-of-the-way 
 place in the North. They had disagreed very shortly 
 after, and she had joined a theatrical company going 
 out for a tour in South Africa. At the Cape she had 
 followed her own caprices, till one day she was seized 
 with the whim to return to her husband. Barton, who 
 had thought himself well quit of her, and who attributed 
 to her similar sentiments with regard to himself, had 
 stupidly supposed that Cynthia especially with her 
 easy views of matrimony would never bother him again. 
 But she had turned up and made a terrific scene; and 
 Barton, mad with fright, had immediately disappeared. 
 The scandal had got abroad, North Kensington and 
 South Kensington were both paralyzed (though stonily 
 unsympathetic), and Constance was left in the lurch 
 
 144
 
 THE GUARDIAN 145 
 
 without a husband and without resources. She had 
 somewhat recovered from the first rude shock, but she 
 was still too prostrated to do anything but just He 
 dazed across her bed. 
 
 " I thought he looked a scoundrel ! " exclaimed Hu- 
 bert with conviction. " Poor Constance ! " He remem- 
 bered with a shudder all the wistful romantic emotion 
 the affair had afforded her in its earlier stages. 
 
 She had written from an address near Eccleston 
 Square, not far from her old rooms, and there Hubert 
 hastened the very next afternoon. It was a street of 
 narrow, two-storeyed houses with tiny doors standing 
 stiff at the top of flights of steps. The winter air was 
 raw and misty, night had already fallen, and the lamps 
 twinkled dismally down the wet, bleak perspective. Hu- 
 bert was glad when the door opened at last. 
 
 He was ushered up to the first floor and into a poky, 
 gas-lit room with a big round table in the middle, a 
 wheezy-looking piano across a corner, and a confused 
 assemblage of rep-covered chairs, whatnots, shells, photo- 
 graplis, and paper fans everywhere else, to say nothing 
 of the gilt-framed smudges and drab hangings the 
 effect of all of which was immediately to set his teeth 
 on edge. Constance was sitting languidly by the fire. 
 
 She was visibly a wreck. Her face was deathly pale 
 and her eyes were worn with weeping. She had scarcely 
 the strength to rise to welcome him, though she tried to 
 put a smiling face on her misery, jocularly referring to 
 her unlucky star, half with laughter, half with tears. 
 She was all but living on charity, he learnt; for, rather 
 than go back to her father's home, she had preferred 
 to accept the generous hospitality of a more prosperous 
 girl-friend whose lodgings these were. Not that her 
 father had extended any invitation to her, but she would 
 not make the first overtures, and even in that case sub- 
 mission would have been attended by intolerable condi- 
 tions. But for her friend, Queenie, she could scarcely
 
 146 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 have been able to pull through the present crisis. 
 Queenie didn't he remember the dark, slim girl in 
 green, with the big Gainsborough hat? was very fond 
 of her, and had been ever so good to her. She would be 
 home from rehearsal soon, and if he had a little time 
 to spare they might all have tea together. 
 
 He asked her where Barton was now, but she hadn't 
 the least idea. All she was sure of was that he had 
 left England. She was anxious not to use hard words 
 about him, but there was no doubt he was utterly selfish 
 and devoid of moral sense. She saw him in his true 
 light now. Certainly she herself had deteriorated under 
 his influence ; her conscience had slumbered whilst she had 
 assented to living quite beyond their means, so that so 
 far from their joint efforts having resulted in the wiping 
 out of her debts, all his fine sentiment and talk had 
 come to nothing, and she was now in a worse financial 
 plight than ever in her life. But this latter fact had, 
 at last, lost its power to trouble her mind, for in her 
 desperation she was callous of everything now; domi- 
 nated only by a frenzied impatience with the physical 
 weakness which hindered the one desire of her existence 
 work, work, work ! 
 
 It was painful for Hubert to listen to her, but he 
 let her talk almost without interruption, as he felt it 
 was good for her to have a vent for her excitement: 
 though once or twice, indeed, he had to try to calm 
 her, her emotion for the moment becoming almost uncon- 
 trollable. Meanwhile, he had taken up mechanically 
 a theatrical paper that happened to be lying on the 
 table, and his fingers were idly turning the pages. 
 Presently she directed his attention to the portrait of 
 a woman at the top of one of the columns. " Cynthia ! " 
 she exclaimed, trembling and catching her breath 
 hysterically. 
 
 Hubert looked at the portrait with interest. Cynthia 
 was a very pretty girl, and she seemed to flaunt her
 
 THE GUARDIAN 147 
 
 smile at him from the printed page. He could imagine 
 her kissing her finger-tips to a music-hall audience. 
 The picture was accompanied by a short biography 
 most judiciously selected; and she was credited with 
 having done brilliantly in South Africa. 
 
 " She is gifted, and will be at the top of the tree one 
 day. But she is absolutely without a soul, and takes 
 her experiences as they come. Nothing leaves any mark 
 on her. Her fancy for William was only a caprice, but 
 I suppose she has done me a service." 
 
 Hubert, who was revolving in his mind how he might 
 best induce Constance to permit him to be of help to 
 her, was impelled to ask, apropos of her finances, what 
 had become of her old rooms and her " speculation in 
 lodgings." 
 
 " It was a bad speculation," she admitted ruefully. 
 " I never got my rent from anybody. My upstairs 
 tenants, Mr. and Mrs. Roland Grainger you remember 
 them? found themselves unable to pay me a penny, 
 but I liked them because they were always so happy 
 and cheerful, and were constantly lecturing me for not 
 taking life more easily. As they were always going to 
 pay, and as, of course, I couldn't possibly ask such 
 friends to leave, I ended by being the victim of their 
 philosophy. Evidently I was never destined for a land- 
 lady. And poor Plantagenet who took my own rooms 
 on the ground floor was down on his luck and couldn't 
 pay either. You met him, too, once upon a time he 
 has a fine head of hair, and a weakness for the aristo- 
 cracy." 
 
 " I recall the young man most distinctly," said Hu- 
 bert smiling. 
 
 " And so in the end all my furniture was seized, and 
 my friends were turned out into the cold. But they 
 all seem to have taken it with their usual cheerfulness, 
 and are quite as comfortably fixed up somewhere else." 
 
 The disaster that had overtaken her could scarcely
 
 148 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 have been more complete, Hubert reflected. Yet, as 
 he was glad to see, she still looked forward to work, 
 so could not have lost hope in the future. He certainly 
 did not think that her whole life was to be looked 
 upon as spoiled because of what had happened terrible 
 though that was. He saw the case clearly. She needed 
 medical attention and proper nourishment, and a long 
 rest under some more genial sky. Thus reinvigorated, 
 she might take up her work again with renewed enthu- 
 siasm and even find enough in life to base her future 
 happiness upon. Surely misfortune would not dog her 
 always. He was on the point of setting before her 
 these thoughts of his, and urging her to accept his help 
 to the not very formidable extent necessary, but he 
 was prevented from proceeding further by the arrival, 
 just then, of Miss Queenie Wilson from rehearsal. 
 
 Hubert recognized her at once, especially as she wore 
 the same hat and the same green dress as on the last 
 occasion of their meeting. Yet, divested of the Gains- 
 borough hat, she seemed a homely creature enough, as 
 unaffectedly plain as she was kind-hearted. 
 
 And though his intimate conversation with Constance 
 had thus been interrupted, Hubert was at any rate 
 pleased to notice how she had brightened at the entry 
 of her friend. Miss Wilson, indeed, was a brisk, cheery 
 person who gave him a hearty hand-shake, and whose 
 voice seemed to ring life at once into the dull, drab 
 room. She ordered tea without more ado, then announced 
 she had good news. 
 
 " For me ! " exclaimed Constance, opening her eyes 
 wide. 
 
 " Yes, for you," Miss Wilson assured her, and the 
 " good news " was presently joyously welcomed both 
 by Hubert and Constance. Briefly, Miss Wilson was 
 to take the piece now under rehearsal into the provinces 
 during the summer for her London managers, and, as 
 there was an excellent part that was the very thing for
 
 THE GUARDIAN 149 
 
 Constance, she had at once seized the opportunity of 
 securing it for her. This certainly meant a considerable 
 alleviation in Constance's present situation, though 
 the intervening months were still to be provided for. 
 And here Hubert would have liked to put forward his 
 own suggestion for the solution of this remaining dif- 
 ficulty. But he felt it would not be right to say what 
 he had in mind even before Miss Wilson. 
 
 As tea was brought just then, he consented to stay 
 a little while longer, and he was gratified to see Con- 
 stance's spirits mounting each moment. Indeed, he felt 
 distinctly easier when, at last, he took his leave and 
 descended the narrow stairway into the dismal evening. 
 
 Though tired, he wrote to her that same night to 
 say that, as she had taken him so far into her confidence, 
 and as they were very good friends, he thought she 
 might let him know more exactly to whom she was 
 indebted, and to what extent since he understood she 
 was still being tormented by threats and demands. It 
 would certainly conduce to her peace of mind if some- 
 body were to see her creditors and persuade them to 
 cease harassing her for the present. There ought really 
 to be no difficulty in getting them to take a reasonable 
 view of the situation. Also, in order that she might 
 give herself a chance to get strong enough to undertake 
 any work at all, or at least to be ready for her summer's 
 engagement, it was necessary for her to go to some 
 sunnier clime he should recommend the Riviera him- 
 self and, for that purpose, she was to use him as her 
 banker for awhile. He phrased this desire of his rather 
 peremptorily, so as to hypnotize her into unresisting 
 obedience. Then, almost taking it for granted that she 
 would adopt the suggestion, he went on in a very 
 chatty way to recommend an hotel at which he had once 
 stayed, describing it in humourous detail, and recalling 
 some of the people who had assisted at table d'hote. He 
 also gave her a few impressions of the principality and
 
 150 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 gaily enjoined her not to be tempted by the tables to 
 retrieve her position. 
 
 To his surprise her reply gave the most despairing 
 note she had yet uttered. His goodness was over- 
 whelming, but life was over, and everything, therefore, 
 useless. Even Miss Wilson's good news had been an 
 irony, for she had been unable to bring herself to 
 whisper it to him the day before she was to become 
 a mother! She had wanted work immediately so as 
 to get a little money, but the offer for the summer was, 
 under the circumstances, a mockery. Yesterday she had 
 done her best to bear up in order not to sadden her 
 two friends. Her pleasure at Miss Wilson's announce- 
 ment was, in fact, a pure piece of acting, and to-day 
 she was suffering from a terrible depression. Besides 
 though she did not know why his letter had quite 
 unnerved her and set her crying bitterly. 
 
 Hubert laughed grimly. The case was as thoroughly 
 bad as it could be. Still he would not be discouraged; 
 he fully meant to see that this life, with which he was 
 now in such intimate touch, was not to make shipwreck 
 in so far, at least, as he was able to influence it. The 
 very depth of her despair made him only the more 
 resolute. She needed cool, firm handling, and a little 
 money would accomplish the rest. It would really be 
 absurd if he could not manage to reason her into a 
 more cheerful mood and make her see the perfectly 
 obvious fact that there was a future before her. 
 
 But, before he could make a further descent upon her, 
 she wrote to tell him that an offer of help had come 
 from an unexpected quarter. Willie's father had called 
 to see her, and she was now full of remorse for the 
 unjust conception, she had always had of him. True, 
 he had put on a chill formal manner; nevertheless, she 
 had felt he was really heart-broken. Although he had 
 never welcomed or even recognized her as his daughter- 
 in-law, he desired that she should not be left in want
 
 THE GUARDIAN 151 
 
 through his son's wicked folly, and he, therefore, was 
 anxious to place at her disposal the to her fabulous 
 sum of a thousand pounds. " I could not prevail upon 
 myself to accept it there and then I somehow did not 
 feel it was right for me to take anything from him. 
 But he said I could think the matter over, and that 
 I should find the money available at any time. If you 
 could spare a little time to come and see poor me again 
 I should be so grateful. My own poor head is too weak 
 to think, so I want you to think for me, and I shall 
 accept your counsel unreservedly." 
 
 This distinctly pleasanter turn of events was really 
 not surprising when Hubert came to think about it. 
 The West Indian merchant was a respectable, right- 
 minded man, who, though stiff, precise and despotic 
 so Hubert pictured him was bound to act on consid- 
 erations of humanity. Hubert never hesitated for a 
 moment as to the desirability of Constance's accepting 
 this offer. He would not allow himself to think there 
 was anything unworthy in the idea of her receiving 
 money from such a source. Indeed, he was highly 
 elated at her wish to follow his guidance. Should she 
 exhibit any sign of backsliding, he meant to be strong 
 with her to the point of highhandedness and override 
 her last scruples. 
 
 She was still listless and physically weak when he 
 saw her again, but she seemed to be ashamed of her 
 previous utter collapse, and anxious to put herself in a 
 better light before his eyes. He, therefore, found her 
 more responsive to his optimistic view of the future 
 than he had expected. Her remorse, too, for all her 
 former prejudiced thoughts of Mr. Barton was now 
 greater than ever. 
 
 " Of course he has his own views of life, and I ought 
 not to have resented their being different from mine. 
 Poor man ! I could see how crushed he was in spite 
 of all his gruff ness. I believe at bottom he is just as
 
 152 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 nice as he can be. He said he had already called once 
 before but missed me. But I never for a moment 
 imagined it was he, especially as he never left his name." 
 Hubert was already aware that it was one of Con- 
 stance's characteristics to be unable to speak adversely 
 of anybody without having it on her mind and retract- 
 ing on the first opportunity, with handsome appre- 
 ciation into the bargain of the good side of the person 
 she felt she had wronged. He was, therefore, cunningly 
 able to utilize her remorse by pointing out, as a further 
 argument for the acceptance of Mr. Barton's offer, 
 that a refusal on her part would probably inflict a 
 grievous hurt. It was not as if she were receiving mere 
 vulgar compensation; the act was one of real humanity 
 on the part of the father, and was wholly honourable 
 to him. She must accept the money in the same spirit 
 of good-will as it was offered. And to preclude any 
 possibility of her going back upon her present mood, he 
 judged it best to dictate to her at once a letter for Mr. 
 Barton, which he took care to bear away with him and 
 post on his homeward way. But before he left he was 
 amply satisfied, from the indications of her tone, 
 manner, and conversation, that her mind was accustom- 
 ing itself to the new outlook, and that she was on the 
 high road to recovery at least to the extent possible 
 for a soul that has lived through so gross an experience.
 
 Book III 
 The Wooer
 
 THOUGH Mrs. Ruthven had spent one of her 
 happy fortnights of high-handed speech and 
 deed in her son's house, she was yet fated to 
 return to her own home in a more perturbed 
 state of mind than when she had left it. Immediate 
 contact with Hubert's existence, over which, with ad- 
 vancing years, she had come to brood more and more, 
 invariably excited her imagination, and the danger of 
 his making an unsuitable marriage kept thrusting itself 
 into agitating prominence. The world seemed full of 
 horrible grimy webs for Hubert to flounder into. 
 
 Even that afternoon's visit of Miss Williams, who had 
 brought over her friend, Madame Bartolozzi, for tea 
 on the lawn, had made the danger seem vividly threaten- 
 ing. It annoyed her to think that, in the three years 
 that had slipped away since Hubert had settled here, 
 he had absolutely refrained from endeavouring to create 
 for himself a social position in his own neighbourhood. 
 The social system in which she had grown up was 
 inblent in her very soul, and she could no more think 
 outside of it than she could escape from the law of 
 gravitation. Therefore her son's mode of life was almost 
 inconceivable to her. She desired him to marry though 
 to marry well. In no eligible direction, so far as she 
 was aware, was he considering the possibility. And the 
 wisdom derived from so many decades of lynx-eyed 
 watching of other people's affairs told her that a bachelor 
 who avoids society may at any moment, by the awaken- 
 ing of a certain impulsive sentimentalism, find himself 
 possessed of a wife and one scandalously beneath him 
 too! 
 
 155
 
 156 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 But in all other respects the tea-party had been of 
 the pleasantest, and, as Mrs. Ruthven sat in the warm 
 sunshine of the beautiful August afternoon Hubert 
 having gone to accompany the visitors some little dis- 
 tance on their stroll back to Lynford, and the children 
 to take indoors and share a portfolio of music Miss 
 Williams had brought for them she was still conscious 
 of the charm the two callers had exercised over her. Miss 
 Williams was a very nice girl, indeed; what a pity she 
 was the penniless daughter of a humble country doctor ! 
 But the elder woman, in particular, had quite fascinated 
 her. There was something, in fact, about Madame 
 Bartolozzi's personality that touched some odd romantic 
 chord of her nature. Besides, Mrs. Ruthven rather en- 
 joyed the luxury of an occasional admiration. 
 
 Just passing beyond middle age, Madame Bartolozzi 
 was endowed with a pleasing distinction of feature, 
 appropriate to her years; the worthy sequel to earlier 
 beauty rather than its faded remnant. She had, too, a 
 charming way with her, easy and gracious, yet never 
 without a touch of dignity ; and she talked in the sweet- 
 est and softest of voices with a becoming soupfon of the 
 foreigner in her utterance. 
 
 Yet, as Mrs. Ruthven well knew for she had heard 
 from Hubert beforehand all about Madame Bartolozzi 
 this fascinating acquaintance of his was scarcely a 
 foreigner. Though born, educated and married abroad, 
 she was yet of English parentage. Early wedded and 
 early a widow, she had found consolation for the loss 
 of her husband she had been bred a strict Catholic 
 in the cultivation of an extraordinary devoutness. And, 
 possessed of high musical gifts, she had been able to 
 support herself and to achieve some reputation both as 
 a singer and a teacher, and in a minor degree as a com- 
 poser. She was an old friend of the Williams (with 
 whom she was staying at present), the mother having 
 been one of her first pupils; and Miss Williams had
 
 THE WOOER 157 
 
 first brought her to the house for the purpose of 
 testing Gwenny's voice, which was excitingly prom- 
 ising. 
 
 The tea-things had not yet been removed from the 
 little table at which Mrs. Ruthven had presided, on 
 behalf of her son, with such pride and satisfaction, and 
 the empty basket-chairs stood about in humourous testi- 
 mony to their recent sociable employment. Gwenny 
 had sat close to Madame Bartolozzi, listening with all 
 ears to the big people. And mixed with Mrs. Ruthven's 
 present reflection as to the rapid way in which Gwenny 
 had shot up the last year or two completely out- 
 stripping her younger sister, in fact was this new dis- 
 trust created by the appearance on the scene of so bril- 
 liant and therefore dangerous a person. Not that she 
 supposed that Madame Bartolozzi would set her own 
 cap at Hubert; but a clever woman like that who was 
 so obviously fond of Miss Williams must surely, she 
 argued, have conceived the idea of bringing about, by 
 every possible subtlety of manoeuvring, so ideal a mar- 
 riage for her young friend as the position naturally 
 suggested. For the moment, indeed, Madame Bartolozzi 
 loomed in Mrs. Ruthven's eyes as the embodied poten- 
 tiality of skilful manoeuvring. Hubert needed her ma- 
 ternal care for how could the boy cope with so mena- 
 cing a combination? 
 
 It was characteristic of Mrs. Ruthven that, however 
 busy her mind with contemplation, the intensity of her 
 inward vision interfered but little with the keenness of 
 her outward vision; and at the moment when her reflec- 
 tions were at their gloomiest she did not fail to observe 
 that the figure of a young woman had suddenly emerged 
 from amid the pines at the bottom of the long lawn. 
 This new visitor came forward a few steps, then halted 
 abruptly on seeing Mrs. Ruthven. For an instant she 
 hung back in evident embarrassment, then, with de- 
 cision, came straight to meet Mrs. Ruthven's inquiring
 
 158 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 gaze, which softened before the gentility that gleamed 
 from this apparent intruder. 
 
 " I am quite aware I have wandered on to private 
 property," said the " simply dressed, ladylike and quite 
 nice-looking person " as Mrs. Ruthven was at that 
 moment summing her up in a tone whose quiet, half- 
 humourous confidence impressed Hubert's mother still 
 further ; " but, as I happened to know the secret, I 
 thought I'd creep in through the back way in the hope 
 of surprising somebody or other on the lawn. Un- 
 fortunately I have intruded on a stranger." 
 
 " I am sorry you did not know the house had changed 
 occupants," said Mrs. Ruthven kindly, though mis- 
 taken in her conclusion. 
 
 " Oh, really," exclaimed the perplexed Constance 
 Powers, reddening a little. " I had no idea. You must 
 forgive me for disturbing you." 
 
 " Pray do not distress yourself in the least there is 
 no harm done," said Mrs. Ruthven suavely. 
 
 " It is very kind of you not to be annoyed," said 
 Constance. " I suppose I had better go back as I 
 came." 
 
 She smiled and bowed, receiving an affable " good 
 day " in return. There the little incident might have 
 ended if May had not just then caught sight of her and 
 hurried out to greet her. Constance, on the very point 
 of turning away, saw the child appear on the verandah 
 and stared in wonder, then presently laughed as it came 
 upon her that she had been addressing Hubert's mother, 
 who probably did not even know of her existence, and 
 who certainly would not approve of so unconventional 
 a proceeding as her visit here. 
 
 Mrs. Ruthven looked from one to the other, amazed at 
 their evident acquaintanceship. 
 
 " I fear it is all a mistake," explained Constance. " I 
 am in the neighbourhood for the first time for several 
 months, and naturally I wished to see my little friends.
 
 THE WOOER 159 
 
 You, I assume, are Mrs. Ruthven, and I am Miss 
 Powers." 
 
 Her easy certainty of tone and manner was effective 
 in allaying any renewed misgivings on Mrs. Ruthven's 
 part. 
 
 " Miss Powers Miss Powers ? " she repeated in an 
 effort to identify the name. 
 
 " Oh, I don't suppose you know my name," said 
 Constance, whose hand May had now taken caressingly. 
 *' I am only an obscure one of your son's many acquaint- 
 ances, but the little girls have taken a fancy to me and I 
 return their affection, so I try to see them when I can, 
 and that is seldom indeed. And where is Gwenny, my 
 dear ? " she went on, addressing May. 
 
 " Gwen will be here soon, and so, I expect, will uncle. 
 I'm so glad you've come to-day, because we're going to 
 Dieppe for our holiday and you might easily have 
 missed us." 
 
 " Pray be seated, Miss Powers," said Mrs. Ruthven, 
 and, anxious to atone for her too hasty assumption, she 
 hospitably went on to offer the visitor tea. 
 
 Soon they were joined by Gwenny, whose greeting to 
 the visitor was not less enthusiastic than her sister's. 
 But Mrs. Ruthven had again relapsed into thought. 
 " Powers Powers," she was muttering to herself. 
 
 " Pray excuse my question," she exclaimed, as her 
 face suddenly lighted up in indication that her mental 
 searching had been successful ; " but used there not to 
 be an old county family in Bedfordshire of the name 
 of Powers. Perhaps you are a connection." 
 
 " My father's family, no doubt," said Constance, sur- 
 prised at this accurate identification. 
 
 " I remember there was a John Powers who was 
 thrown from his horse and killed when I was a girl. 
 His two younger sons were in the navy, and the eldest 
 then went up to London and obtained, as I was told, 
 some civil appointment. The estate, you see, was
 
 160 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 heavily mortgaged and passed into other hands, and the 
 family practically disappeared from the society of the 
 neighbourhood . " 
 
 " The eldest son was my father." Constance had to 
 struggle to avoid a burst of merriment at the notion that 
 her family's antecedents should be so well known to 
 Hubert's mother. 
 
 " I was slightly acquainted with your father in those 
 days. We danced together once or twice," went on 
 Mrs. Ruthven, radiantly affable, for the Powers family 
 had been a " really excellent " one. 
 
 Very soon Mrs. Ruthven was in the full flood of en- 
 tertaining the visitor with reminiscences of those early 
 times, and of the doings of the powers in the county, 
 though at heart not quite free from perplexity as to the 
 status of Constance in relation to her son's household, 
 and as to how exactly her presence might be justified 
 according to the nuances of social custom. 
 
 When Hubert returned he was amazed to the point of 
 speechlessness to find Constance sipping tea and appar- 
 ently on the best of terms with his mother. However, 
 he shook hands with the visitor as if her presence were 
 a matter of course, hoped she was well, and said it was 
 very good of her to look them up all with a calmness 
 that left his mother as unenlightened as before; then, 
 entering adroitly into the conversation, he manifested a 
 well-bred interest in the county life amid which Mrs. 
 Ruthven had passed her girlhood. 
 
 After a further short stay, punctiliously correct in 
 point of duration, Constance rose to take her leave and 
 brought the unfortunate surprise visit to an end as com- 
 posedly as she had begun it by asking if it would be 
 too far for the children to come to Yominster the next 
 afternoon. She was leaving that place, she explained, 
 the first thing on Tuesday morning, so would have no 
 other opportunity of asking them to tea with her. 
 Yominster was five miles away, and in the opposite
 
 THE WOOER 161 
 
 direction from Lynford, so that Armstrong might easily 
 drive them across and bring them back again. But 
 Hubert had already arranged to take them up to London 
 in the morning on a little shopping expedition in prep- 
 aration for the trip to Dieppe on which they were to 
 start in a few days, and now some discussion arose as 
 to whether the children would not be too fatigued to 
 undertake a second expedition in the afternoon. Gwenny 
 and May were, however, quite indignant at the implied 
 aspersion on their powers of endurance. The shopping 
 was all to be done in one or two big places and could 
 not occupy more than a couple of hours. As they were 
 to be home for lunch, they would be able to have a good 
 rest before going out again. And they pleaded so hard 
 to be allowed to accept their invitation that even Mrs. 
 Ruthven was won over to their side. So Constance 
 scribbled her address for them on the back of one of 
 Hubert's cards, then, with a cheery smile for everybody, 
 she sailed away. 
 
 "Who is this Miss Powers?" asked Mrs. Ruthven 
 later, when the children had gone to their room. 
 
 " Why, mother," laughed Hubert ; " your knowledge 
 of her is already far more extensive than my own, since 
 I have learnt so much from you this afternoon that 
 I had no idea of before." 
 
 " Oh, I mean, of course," insisted his mother, " what 
 is she doing hereabouts ? " 
 
 " Enjoying the scenery, I suppose," said Hubert, who 
 naturally imagined Constance was taking a short rest, 
 choosing Yominster, as on several previous occasions, 
 for the facility with which she could run over to see the 
 children. 
 
 He turned the subject, but Mrs. Ruthven was not 
 quite satisfied.
 
 II 
 
 rHE next morning Mrs. Ruthven kissed Hubert 
 good-bye at the station and was borne off, 
 leaving him to whatever fate his injudicious 
 habit of life might bring upon him. She 
 was getting on in years, she mournfully reflected, and 
 had no longer the strength to war with circumstances. 
 Heaven would witness that she had done her best to 
 influence him, but it was not her fault that she had been 
 afflicted with a son, whose obstinacy could only be 
 matched by the crookedness of his notions. Thus Mrs. 
 Ruthven beguiled the long homeward journey, at mo- 
 ments barely restraining her tears. 
 
 Hubert waited at the station till the children came 
 to join him about half-an-hour later, and in good time 
 for the London train. Their first rudely dispelled dream 
 of the sea-side had since been realized more than once, 
 but the present variation of the prospect gave it an 
 added piquancy. The selection of Dieppe for their 
 holiday had set them studying the map of France 
 with remarkable zest, and they had often gazed at that 
 particular dot on the Northern coast with its name 
 sprawling out into the sea, wondering what the sur- 
 rounding yellow piece of territory would be like in 
 the reality. They thought of it all day, and dreamt 
 of it all night, and the excitement of the coming trip 
 mingled agreeably with the pleasure of their little ex- 
 pedition to town. They were through with their shop- 
 ping even sooner than they had calculated, and they 
 were able to catch an earlier train back to Lynford 
 and swifter to boot! than the one fixed upon. But 
 
 162
 
 THE WOOER 163 
 
 this was an advantage which neither Hubert nor the 
 children appreciated, for all three were remarkably 
 hungry, and lunch had been ordered for an hour later 
 than usual! 
 
 As Hubert had half anticipated, Constance had 
 written to him anent her surprise-visit as soon as she 
 had got back to Yominster. She explained that the 
 company with which she was touring had taken that 
 place en route just to fill in their time, though its possi- 
 bilities were likely to be exhausted by a single perform- 
 ance. It was the first time in her life that her work 
 had taken her there, and she had been looking forward 
 to descending on him unexpectedly. But now she was 
 very sorry indeed that she hadn't warned him before- 
 hand. Hubert, however, did not at all approve of the 
 tone of her letter, which somehow implied that he had 
 reason to feel ashamed of counting her among his ac- 
 quaintances, and that she felt she had been guilty of 
 something unspeakable in having obtruded herself on 
 him and his mother. Though she said she did not 
 expect to see him again this time, and ended by wishing 
 him the pleasantest of holidays, he resolved that, as it 
 was necessary for him to administer the severest of 
 lectures, he would run over to Yominster that very 
 evening and perhaps call on her at the theatre. 
 
 In the afternoon the children were driven off to pay 
 their visit, and were brought back safely, each bearing 
 a little gift from Constance Gwenny a tiny gold watch, 
 and May a heart-shaped brooch. The desire to thank 
 her for her thoughtf ulness afforded Hubert an additional 
 pretext for his meditated excursion. 
 
 So after dinner he strolled through the darkness to 
 Yominster, and through the dead outskirts of the town 
 into the central square, lighter, warmer, and noisier, 
 where the theatre flared its appeal at the stolid slumbrous 
 inhabitants. The performance was going on. He in- 
 terviewed the man at the box-office who directed him
 
 164 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 down a side alley to the rear of the building. The 
 second act, he had learnt, was just about to finish, so 
 that Constance was bound to be free for a few minutes 
 anyway. The curtain fell precisely as he was stumbling 
 over the irregular flagstones of the long alley, lighted 
 by the moon alone. He found a stable-like entry at 
 last, and passed first into a sort of yard, smelling of hay 
 and horses, then through a small doorway, brushing 
 past a shabby, portly gentleman in a ruffled silk hat 
 who was smoking a cigar on the threshold. Hubert 
 found himself in a musty sort of space, crowded with 
 carpentering devices and lighted by a huge naked jet 
 of gas. He was about to mount a rather ladder-like 
 stairway that rose steeply alongside the lime-washed wall, 
 when he became aware that the portly gentleman was 
 coming after him, so he turned to meet the challenge 
 (delivered just then with rude emphasis) of this " man- 
 ager behind," glad of the opportunity of getting new 
 directions as to the intricacies amid which was to be 
 found Constance's dressing-room. In a moment he was 
 pursuing his way with renewed alacrity, and, after losing 
 himself in spite of all instructions and almost flounder- 
 ing on to the stage itself, he at last, conscious of much 
 dust and cobwebs, turned down an uninviting corridor 
 at random and rapped speculatively at a primitive black 
 door. 
 
 " Is that you ? " said an unfamiliar feminine voice. 
 " Come in, dear how are you now? do let me send 
 the dresser for something." 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon," said Hubert, " but where 
 shall I find Miss Powers?" 
 
 " First door round the corner," called the feminine 
 voice with affable promptitude. 
 
 " Thanks," he called back. But presently he paused 
 again there were two first doors round the corner. The 
 one on the right proved to be the owner of another 
 feminine voice, equally unfamiliar.
 
 THE WOOER 165 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon," said Hubert again, " but 
 where shall I find Miss Powers? " 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon," returned the voice. " Just 
 opposite ! " 
 
 So he rapped at the remaining door with a delightful 
 sense of confidence. He heard Constance move, then 
 in a moment the door opened and he saw her face light 
 up with pleasure. She did not speak at once, and he 
 noticed she was catching her breath excitedly. He stood 
 smiling. 
 
 " And is this a special visit for me for me ? " she 
 breathed rapturously. 
 
 " A brilliant guess ! " he laughed. " You were so 
 near, and I did not like the idea of your carrying away 
 the mournful memory of yesterday's cup of tea. You 
 drank it heroically a full hour after it had been 
 scalded ! " 
 
 She bade him enter the tiny lime-washed room, bare 
 of everything save the necessaries of making-up and 
 a couple of broken chairs. A rickety rusty gas-bracket 
 supplied the illumination. 
 
 " But fancy coming all this distance when I've only 
 five minutes free at most ! " she exclaimed, offering him 
 one of the chairs with the parenthetical assurance that 
 it wasn't as decrepit as it looked. " Indeed, I shan't 
 have another moment now till the end of the next act, 
 when my work finishes for the evening." 
 
 " I took my chance," he explained. " It would have 
 been well worth taking, if only for five minutes reward 
 at the end." 
 
 She blushed, and thanked him for the compliment. 
 Except for a touch or two, she was ready to go on just 
 as she stood. She was a wicked young countess a 
 sham one and in chic bonnet and smart Parisian jacket 
 was just off to Marble Arch to keep her rendezvous with 
 a millionaire banker whom she had utterly fascinated, 
 and whom she was now certain of coaxing into marrying
 
 166 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 her. But the heroine, his daughter, duly coached and 
 supplied with documents by the hero, was to meet her 
 instead and call upon her to choose between exposure 
 and leaving the country of her own accord. She ex- 
 plained to him this destiny of hers with a gay abandon- 
 ment of spirit that he found charming. 
 
 " You are wondering why I seem so happy to-day," 
 she said suddenly. " But I am so easily made happy 
 by the right things." 
 
 " Ah, the right things ! They are usually very shy. 
 But you seem to have wooed them successfully." 
 
 She laughed with girlish merriment. " I am all in a 
 glow! Cannot you guess it was the pleasure of having 
 the children with me to-day. I can't thank you enough 
 for letting them come they are such sweet things and 
 with such characters of their own, too. And what an 
 enormous amount May has to say, and she does love 
 saying it ! " 
 
 " And you loved listening to her." 
 
 " For all too short a time," she half-sighed. " Gwenny, 
 too, is a picture. She is so deliciously grave. She sang 
 to me a little with the daintiest of voices. And then, 
 hey presto ! the two little princesses were whisked away, 
 and I was left rubbing my eyes as I shall be again 
 presently." 
 
 " Which reminds me that I came with the idea of ad- 
 ministering a lecture, but that had perhaps better be 
 postponed till I can administer it properly." 
 
 " A lecture ! " she exclaimed. " How delightful ! a 
 pity I have to be going on in a moment." She began 
 to busy herself before the mirror. 
 
 " Is that a dismissal ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, please don't put it that way. A friendly good- 
 night, let us call it." 
 
 " But may I not wait for you ? " he suggested. " You 
 say you will be free after this act, it will not be later
 
 THE WOOER 167 
 
 than ten o'clock, and then the lecture might have a 
 chance." 
 
 She willingly fell in with the idea, adding that per- 
 haps he might join her at her supper a salad and a 
 bottle of claret. But she did not care to ask him to 
 wait in such a stuffy little den, suggesting, instead, he 
 might perhaps witness the act from the front of the 
 house. The idea amused him for a moment, but some- 
 how he felt he wanted to think, so he said he preferred 
 to take a turn through the streets in the interim. 
 
 Then with a gay au revoir he stumbled down the 
 primitive stairway, across the dim stable-yard, and back 
 again through the long, dark alley, only realizing he 
 had traversed them as he emerged into the warmer fight 
 of the square. There were groups of people dotted 
 about it, young lads loafing in the evening air, and 
 men and women gossiping amid the smoke and odour of 
 clay pipes. They looked at him as he strolled past, and 
 wondered vaguely why. Then, as he turned a corner, 
 where a public-house with nickel reflectors cast a beery 
 glare across a narrow, crooked street, his thoughts went 
 sharply back to his own concerns. 
 
 No sensational events had broken the flow of these 
 last years. In his profession he had prospered con- 
 tinuously, but he had been kept to his work pretty 
 closely and had had time for few pleasures as men 
 reckon pleasures. Odd hours of book-hunting when he 
 could spare them in town, a further hour or two amid 
 his tomes at night, and a regular constitutional or 
 canter, exhausted all the diversion he claimed for himself. 
 He still continued to plan out ambitious works and to 
 make many notes for them, but his scholarship and his 
 tenets had found no further expression in print. 
 
 Though he was now on nodding terms with many of 
 his neighbours ( for his figure had come to be well known 
 to everybody) and had even taken part in one or two
 
 168 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 matters of public moment, he had not otherwise joined 
 in the life of the district. Nevertheless, people liked 
 him immensely, and he had no idea of the respect and 
 estimation in which he was held. As to the comparative 
 seclusion in which he lived, that was ultimately accepted 
 on the ground that a man addicted to much study could 
 not be expected to take kindly to the usual round of 
 visiting. He was, however, always ready to exchange a 
 cordial word with the larger and smaller gentry, as well 
 as with the tradespeople and the folk about the country- 
 side, invariably amused at the sharpness with which the 
 population fell into these divisions. 
 
 But in himself he was conscious of having changed to 
 a certain extent. His manner had stiffened a little; he 
 had a tendency to be a trifle formal even with intimates. 
 And at the same time his habit of reserve had grown 
 upon him. All of which was, perhaps, due to the break- 
 up of his own particular little group of associates, what 
 with Preston away and Marvin married and himself 
 more or less out of touch with various other men with 
 whom he had occasionally been wont to foregather. 
 
 As to Preston, he did not know even approximately 
 in what region that adventurer was rolling about just 
 then, nor, apparently, did anybody else. It was almost 
 a year since Hubert had last heard from him. But that 
 counted for nothing. For few, indeed, were the letters 
 that Hubert himself had troubled sister Marian to for- 
 ward. The serenity of his own existence offered little 
 for chronicling; and, even had Preston omitted to give 
 fair warning beforehand, Hubert would have sym- 
 pathized with his neglect of correspondence. 
 
 Nor had his friendship with Lady Wycliffe languished 
 and withered away, though there were necessarily long 
 intervals between their meetings, which generally took 
 place at her own house. But intimate as this friendship 
 was in one sense, in form at least it was characterized 
 by a marked degree of stateliness, almost of ceremonious-
 
 THE WOOER 169 
 
 ness, which was suited to a certain aspect of both their 
 characters. It was in fine a little too lofty and spiritual 
 for the needs of e very-day life, and afforded no corrective 
 for Hubert's present tendencies. 
 
 But with Constance Powers he was on quite a different 
 footing. Ever since the time of her great trouble his 
 influence over her had been complete. She looked up 
 to him with a naive trust that touched him, and she would 
 have obeyed his least suggestion unquestioningly. And 
 yet, despite this self-effacement before his superior 
 strength and wisdom, she managed to retain over him 
 an ascendency of her own. She was mistress of his at- 
 tention, knew that, at her bidding, all else would be 
 set aside, and that her concerns would immediately be his. 
 
 Ever since he had hastened to the rescue on that dark 
 winter day, he had assumed a sort of responsibility for 
 her well-being which had at length become an emotional 
 pleasure. Even after the reduction of her financial diffi- 
 culties, she had been fated to sustain the worst shock of 
 all. Her child had been born dead and many months 
 had gone by before she had been sufficiently convalescent 
 to take up her profession again. But he had taken care 
 never really to lose touch with her though, of course, 
 he could not help losing sight of her most of the time. 
 And he had ample reason to congratulate himself on the 
 result of his influence; for had she not admitted again 
 and again that she now found life well worth living! 
 
 Three whole years of such association had thrust back 
 to infinity the time when they had not known each other 
 at all, even the period of their first casual acquaintance- 
 ship. He was aware that she had entered deeply into 
 his consciousness, that, in fact, she was the only woman 
 in the world whose life was a vivid reality to him, 
 whereas all other women seemed to have receded so far 
 from him that they were scarcely more than a multitude 
 of shadows. And so, thinking frequently of late over 
 the respective positions of Constance and himself amid
 
 170 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 their fellow creatures, he could not avoid the I3ea of 
 possible closer association between them. 
 
 Unattached to any social clique, he felt perfectly free 
 to act according to his own judgment and to ignore con- 
 ventional criticism. Even apart from the question of 
 choice, there were the strongest reasons why he should 
 marry now. The children were growing up rapidly and 
 he felt he ought not to undertake any longer the sole 
 responsibility for them. And therefore, having to 
 choose, he preferred to seize the opportunity that sug- 
 gested itself to him spontaneously. 
 
 All things considered, a marriage with Constance 
 seemed to have much to recommend it. In personality 
 Constance was just such a partner as he might long have 
 searched for, a woman of heart and brain between whom 
 and himself no barriers existed. Of course the affair 
 would be a somewhat deliberate one on both sides, he 
 told himself, but it was foolish to look for romance. If 
 his feeling towards her was not that of a love-sick school- 
 boy, he was yet conscious of having been touched in 
 some deeper way, and there were aspects of such a union 
 that might well vie with the purely romantic. 
 
 They respected and believed in each other, they had 
 each suffered, they were each in a way solitary. It was 
 true the experiences she had borne had been of a more 
 brutal kind than his, but what she had lost thereby in 
 girlish free spirit she had gained, he argued, in char- 
 acter and depth of feeling. She was still young, and 
 to the more serious and admirable side of womanhood 
 she brought grace and freshness enough to symbolize its 
 aesthetic side. Her quick delight in trifles, the touch of 
 rapture and fresh enthusiasm that had survived all her 
 sorrows, pleased him greatly, and he was already con- 
 scious as of a new brightness in his home. Above all, 
 not only were the children attached to her, but she in 
 return displayed an affection for them not inferior to 
 his own.
 
 THE WOOER 171 
 
 The Idea had been in his mind for some time now. 
 She suited him absolutely, and he would not allow that 
 one essential fact to be obscured by considerations in 
 which he knew only too well the average person would 
 have indulged. She no fit wife for him because she 
 had been so cruelly imposed upon ! The thought of 
 what she had endured roused all the chivalry in him, 
 and his heart went out to her in infinite pity. It seemed 
 as if no tenderness could atone for her past suffering ! 
 
 If Constance would consent to join her life with his, 
 he felt there would be every prospect of happiness in 
 the union.
 
 m 
 
 Aj S Hubert was about to rap again, the door of 
 ZJ the dressing-room flew wide open and Con- 
 ^4 M. stance stood before him smiling and merry. 
 She was ready dressed to go home, so they 
 started off immediately. Once they had cleared the 
 square, she led the way briskly through the silent old 
 streets, talking gaily the while and unaffectedly de- 
 lighted at this unhoped-for companionship. 
 
 She turned at last down a narrow lane paved with 
 cobble-stones, and stopped before a little gabled house, 
 with a quaint bay window that projected overhead from 
 its upper story. The door opened with a latch, and 
 they passed along the corridor into a little sitting-room, 
 stuffy with the smell of the lamp which was burning 
 badly. The table was ready set out for her supper, and 
 the salad of which she had spoken lay conspicuously in 
 a dish of water. The landlady appeared just then and 
 Constance bade her put another cover. She was a curious 
 woman, thick-set, with strange, dark, heavy features, 
 brilliant black-eyes, and jet-black hair hanging in curls. 
 Her ears were weighted down with large gold rings. 
 The daughter of some ancient corsair, one might have 
 imagined; and Hubert was pleased with her as an inci- 
 dent in the evening's little adventure. 
 
 " I must proceed now with the task of drying the 
 salad," said Constance when they were alone again. 
 " Drying salads, in fact, seems, at least to me, to be 
 part of the professional life. . . . Strictly speaking," 
 she resumed, as she drained off the water from the dish 
 into the nearest flower-pot ; " my account of the menu 
 was not quite accurate. In addition to this salad a la 
 
 172
 
 THE WOOER 173 
 
 bath there's a cold chump chop, and a big tomato both 
 to be scrupulously halved between us and finally there 
 are pears and black coffee." 
 
 " A very charming menu," was his comment ; " but I 
 dined late, and you are dining later." 
 
 " Oh, please don't spoil my evening," she protested, 
 busily separating the crisp leaves of the salad. " You 
 accept my invitation and then rule out all the fun." 
 
 " The coffee and the salad, of course, I have al- 
 ready accepted. The chump chop and the big tomato 
 were not in the bargain, and, seriously you are a goose. 
 You are to consume both halves scrupulously ! " 
 
 " Ought I ? " she asked doubtfully, as if in perplexity 
 over the most important of issues. 
 
 It was a touch of unconscious coquetry, and he al- 
 lowed himself to be charmed by it. 
 
 So she ate her supper, whilst he administered the 
 lecture postponed from before, and called upon her 
 severely to explain how she had come fe> write to 
 him in that self-depreciatory fashion. 
 
 The light died out of her face, and he saw she was 
 taking him very seriously. " I wrote as J felt," she said 
 simply. 
 
 However, he continued his protest. Her absurd atti- 
 tude only showed that she did not really believe in the 
 absoluteness of his friendship; she had certainly hurt 
 him by her implication that it was a thing he might 
 well be ashamed of. 
 
 " I was imagining your lecture was going to be all 
 fun," she complained almost tearfully. " I did not 
 expect any seriousness this evening I wanted us both 
 just to be happy and light-hearted. It does one so 
 much good to laugh sometimes, and, as a rule, there isn't 
 very much to be merry about when one is alone as I 
 always am. But since you are bent on chopping logic 
 and getting me into a corner, I am going to turn at 
 bay at once. Well then, I did not wish to imply that
 
 174 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 you ought to be ashamed of knowing me, but rather 
 that I ought not to take advantage of the fact that you 
 were not since, in the eyes of the world, we are scarcely 
 on an equality." 
 
 " You are extremely subtle," he exclaimed. 
 
 " I am only trying to express my exact feeling at 
 the time I wrote." 
 
 " Oh, I'm sorry I misunderstood," said Hubert, 
 amused at her bristling resistance against his attack. 
 " Really, I don't think I can resist half the chump chop 
 after all ! " he added laughingly. 
 
 She caught up the note at once, joining in the laugh 
 as merrily as ever. " Too late ! " 
 
 " So typical of life," he sighed with mock doleful- 
 ness. " The irony of things pursues us even here." 
 
 " The irony of things ! I don't mind that, so long as 
 it takes no worse form thru my gobbling up your 
 share." 
 
 " Naturally ! You can afford to laugh at that." 
 
 " Oh, well, I have laughed when it has taken worse 
 forms and they were very much worse in the days 
 when I was still yearning for a fortune." 
 
 " I remember. I was the confidant of your sorrows 
 even in those early days. I must admit you used to 
 treat fate with dreadful levity." 
 
 " That is to say : when I couldn't get things to smile 
 at me, I used to find consolation in smiling at them." 
 
 " An admirable philosophy ! " 
 
 " It is said," she went on, " that fools may make 
 fortunes but that only wise people can keep them. 
 From my own experiences I am inclined to count myself 
 illogically, of course among the wisest of the wise." 
 
 " Ah, you are still yearning for your fortune ! " 
 
 " Whatever the gods send me I am satisfied with. All 
 the same a fortune would be an ecstasy." 
 
 "You'd run a theatre?" 
 
 " No, I would run away from it. I have had enough
 
 THE WOOER 175 
 
 of theatres, and I long since discovered I am not a genius. 
 I went on the stage, mainly because I wished for a life 
 of my own, but I confess I was conceited and had 
 the silliest inflated notions of what I was likely to do. 
 It makes me shudder to think what an insufferable little 
 brute I must have been! Of course there is nothing 
 else for me now but to struggle on in the profession. I 
 am wedded to the foot-lights, and so must tolerate them 
 cheerfully, even though my first ardent affection has 
 entirely evaporated. . . . And now I must measure 
 out the coffee," she laughed, jumping up from the table. 
 " You see," she explained ; " I carry my precious stores 
 about with me in my trunks, and dole them out as 
 needed. Please to pull that bell." 
 
 When the landlady had finally served the coffee and 
 retired again, Hubert thought he might as well seize 
 the opportunity and broach his big idea. It would be 
 nice to have the matter settled before taking the chil- 
 dren on their holiday. But he was surprised to find it 
 wasn't so easy to begin as he had supposed. Many in- 
 troductory sentences, all equally good, occurred to him 
 with an unfortunate simultaneity, so that they got 
 tangled together and stuck in his throat. This rather 
 annoyed him. He coughed frowingly. 
 
 " Isn't my coffee good? " she inquired anxiously. 
 
 " It's first rate," he assured her ; " only I feel as if 
 some had gone down the wrong way." 
 
 " It's a miracle it wasn't spoiled. Landladies gen- 
 erally manage to give it a fishy flavour." 
 
 " By way of slipping in a suggestion of an extra 
 course? " 
 
 " Yes, I suppose my frugality does invite sarcasm. 
 Look how soon we have arrived at this advanced item 
 of the menu." 
 
 He glanced at his watch. " Not so very soon," he 
 exclaimed in genuine surprise. " Time has been in- 
 dulging in his usual vice."
 
 176 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " You will be returning on foot ? " 
 
 " Through the darkness. I like it. It stimulates my 
 imagination. But I must not go without saying what 
 I came specially to say." 
 
 " More lecture ! " She made a wry face. " I thought 
 you had forgotten all about that by now and wouldn't 
 finish. Because your lecture to-night was not as en- 
 tertaining as usual." 
 
 " The lecture was only incidental. I hope the main 
 thing will prove less disagreeable to you than the 
 expression on your face seems to angur." He sipped 
 his coffee again, and leaned forward with one elbow on 
 the table. " The expression changes visibly," he 
 laughed. <k Now it is one of intense expectancy, and al- 
 together not unencouraging. Well, then, I wish to 
 express an opinion and a preference." 
 
 " An opinion and a preference ! " she echoed. 
 
 " Now the expression is one of mystification." 
 
 " Egotistic mystification," she corrected ; " for I am 
 assuming that they concern me personally. 
 
 " To a large extent. Since you always permit me to 
 talk freely of your intimate affairs the opinion is that 
 you ought to give up the stage and marry ! " 
 
 " Excellent idea," she admitted ; " but well, you 
 forget I am not exactly a marriageable person." 
 
 " A morbid notion inconceivably perverse ! The 
 sooner you awake to the sense of your proper worth, 
 the better. Why, my preference is that you should 
 do me the honour of choosing me as your hus- 
 band." 
 
 She looked at him, first white and then suddenly deep 
 red. She was trembling visibly. 
 
 " This is worse than folly ! " she exclaimed gaspingly. 
 " It is downright insanity." 
 
 " You are hard on me," he suggested. 
 
 " Not harder than you deserve." 
 
 " But why this sudden aspersion of my intelligence?
 
 THE WOOER 177 
 
 Isn't it rather a violent change from your usual atti- 
 tude? " 
 
 " You have been so much my friend," she replied more 
 gently, " that I wish to be your friend now. For your 
 own sake, I cannot permit you to perpetrate anything 
 so utterly ill-considered as to marry me. Marry me! " 
 She broke into laughter that rang with scorn and bitter- 
 ness. 
 
 " What am I asking you," he protested, " but to help 
 to make me happier than I have ever been and to en- 
 courage the hope that I, too, may try to smooth things 
 a little for you? I want to make up to you for all 
 you have suffered." 
 
 She appeared suddenly to be stricken with remorse. 
 
 " Forgive my roughness," she begged almost in tears. 
 " It makes my heart bleed to give you the slightest pain. 
 But nothing could have been further from my thoughts 
 than this possibility. You have known me so many years, 
 and I have always looked upon you, scarcely as a man 
 at all, but rather as a special being, valuing it as a 
 privilege that you should occasionally come out of your 
 sphere into mine. I have always been grateful for such 
 crumbs of your time as you could bestow on me such 
 moments were my one certainty of brightness amid my 
 wretchedness. I used to tell myself that I was saving 
 you up, so that, when you did appear, I might draw new 
 life and courage from your presence. That is the way 
 I always thought of you, but, if I had imagined that 
 this friendship was likely to lead to any such such 
 wish on your part as you have expressed to-night, I 
 should have considered it my duty to cut it short un- 
 flinchingly. But it has gone on so long, and I thought 
 it was absolutely safe. Now I fear it is spoiled for 
 good and always." 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind that at all," he returned, with a 
 not very successful attempt at cheerfulness, " so long 
 as the new arrangement takes its place."
 
 178 ONE'S WOMEN KIND 
 
 " But since that cannot be, you have hit me hard 
 speaking, that is, from my own selfish point of view. 
 . . . Which sounds very terrible," she added quickly. 
 " But when one uses metaphors, reproaches and accusa- 
 tions seem to come up unintentionally." 
 
 " Come now," he urged, seeing her first excitement 
 had spent itself ; " why should we not both be perfectly 
 reasonable? We are two sensible people, possessed of 
 excellent understandings, very good friends moreover, 
 and a certain question arises between us affecting the 
 lives of us both. Well, why should we not tackle it, and 
 see what, with mutual good-will and in all sincerity, we 
 can make of it. Let me begin by speaking for myself. 
 That I should now wish to marry ought not to surprise 
 you. I have been settled with the children for some 
 time now, and, for the first time in my life, though I am 
 perilously near forty, I am sufficiently prosperous not to 
 feel any real anxiety about the future. I have a fine 
 practice now, and I shall do even better. But there were 
 many long years of depression and useless effort, which 
 have certainly left their mark on me. After my happy 
 experience with the children, I have at last come to 
 believe that there is nothing better in life than to follow 
 out the common human destiny. I am selfish enough to 
 wish to make my life complete, and therefore marriage 
 is the one outlook for me. That being so, it seems to 
 me the most natural thing in the world that I should 
 wish to marry you." 
 
 " Believe me, I appreciate the compliment," she re- 
 turned without a moment's hesitation ; " but please re- 
 member all I have already said. You must admit you 
 have entirely ignored it, yet it still holds good as a 
 reply to all you have just been saying. But, over and 
 above all, let me advise you as a friend who has your 
 ultimate happiness at heart, and who just now is the 
 more clear-headed of the two (as you were when my 
 affairs were in question), let me even implore you to
 
 THE WOOER 179 
 
 find a wife in a suitable station of life a woman who 
 will do credit to you and your position." 
 
 " And when precisely I seek to follow this advice you 
 refuse to help me ! " 
 
 " No more compliments, please, but, as you just now 
 suggested, let us be perfectly reasonable. I quite agree 
 that you should marry, and no one will rejoice more 
 than I in your happiness. Now just consider, cannot 
 you put me out of the question altogether? Ideas are, 
 of course, obstinate, but I am sure that, with a little 
 effort, you will be able to get rid of the one that is 
 bothering you or rather both of us. Then you'll be able 
 to do justice to the needs of the case. You know, really, 
 you aren't a bit in love with me ! " 
 
 " Oh, you know I have a great affection for you," he 
 assured her, staring hard into his coffee-cup. Then, 
 looking up and meeting her gaze square : " I respect 
 you and believe in you, and it is my sincere conviction 
 that our union would be as successful as any union 
 possibly could be. Of course I have left marriage 
 fairly late, as people usually reckon, and, at my age it 
 is naturally a more deliberate business than, say, at 
 twenty. Why should I not be frank with a person of 
 such good sense as yourself? You doubtless realize that 
 to a mature man love is not the same airy delightful 
 emotion as it is to sentimental boyhood. It is an emo- 
 tion, more complex in many ways and more deeply 
 rooted, felt moreover in relation to one's whole experi- 
 ence of life; on the other hand it is certainly less im- 
 pulsive, less of dreamland. There is no reason, indeed, 
 why I should make any pretence to the contrary con- 
 sidering the terms on which we have always been. We 
 both know life, and, with a deep regard as the basis of 
 our companionship, we may safely defy disillusion." 
 
 She had followed him eagerly, but she had now re- 
 gained control of herself, and her expression was in- 
 scrutable. She was ready with her reply at once.
 
 180 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " Your argument is all on my side," she declared 
 with a calm deliberateness, as if she were conscious of 
 holding victory in her palm. " It is just because of the 
 maturity of your sentiment that you ought to find it the 
 less difficult to put me out of your mind. Your ideas 
 are absolutely first-rate, but only try to let them centre 
 round some nice woman who is really suitable (and not 
 so merely as the result of your chivalrous sentiment) 
 and you will, perhaps, be surprised how well they will 
 harmonize with the new centre. You see, I am falling 
 in with your suggestion, and discussing the case in quite 
 cold blood, giving you my thoughts as they occur to 
 me." 
 
 " There is no other woman for me," he persisted. " I 
 cannot marry somebody of whom I know nothing, or 
 whom I know with a mere false superficiality. I should 
 have to begin to search all over again, and, in any case, 
 to take all sorts of risks. Then, as you know, I detest 
 frequenting the usual conventionally ordered circles, 
 under the usual conditions. I shrink away from that with 
 a shudder. Life has brought us together. I say we 
 are suited to each other. With you I am free to live 
 a noble, simple life ! " 
 
 " Perhaps you are unjust to the conventionally ordered 
 circles," she suggested. " They are open to you, and 
 there are good women everywhere." 
 
 " Ah good women are not exactly labelled," he ex- 
 claimed. " Besides, my personal ideal is the good woman 
 who is her own mistress and who knows and has faced the 
 realities of life. I have not the least desire to get 
 entangled in the comfortably ordered web in which your 
 supposed suitable person has her being I might flounder 
 about a good deal too much for my liking. I have, some- 
 how, never felt quite easy in my mind that things are 
 righteously ordered in this world, and, in the nice soft 
 warm web, there is so much smug self-satisfaction which 
 one comes into collision with the moment one sets foot
 
 THE WOOER 181 
 
 within it. ... I have never told you," he continued 
 smilingly after an almost imperceptible pause they 
 had by now settled down on an easy conversational foot- 
 ting " but I have already had an experience of it." 
 
 She looked very interested, taking up the hint sharply. 
 
 " You once had a disappointment ! " 
 
 " Well, naturally," he smiled ; " one doesn't live to 
 my age without passing through the various stages or- 
 dained to the species. Even if I were silent on the 
 point, you would, of course, take some such thing for 
 granted, but there is no reason why I should be silent. 
 Yes, I did not get through my youth without falling in 
 love head over heels, madly ! She was a daughter of 
 the Philistines, a graceful creature with large blue eyes, 
 and wonderful hair, and soft shimmering dresses. I see 
 now that the atmosphere in which she lived would have 
 stifled me, and that my punishment was a blessing in 
 disguise. She was not rich, but she had lived in the con- 
 ventional and correct luxury. My own prospects at 
 the time were none of the brightest but I was too im- 
 pulsive to conquer the infatuation, though it does seem 
 absurd now to think that I should have got as much 
 suffering out of the affair as out of the deepest sorrows 
 of my life." 
 
 " And how did it all end ? " asked Constance breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 " At first the girl herself was distinctly more than 
 friendly, always soft and fair and smiling ! Those were 
 my dancing days, and I used to meet her quite fre- 
 quently. However, since in the conventionally regu- 
 lated web, all wooing is virtually carried on in public, 
 her family got to know of the danger, and then hey, 
 presto! with a prestidigitator's address, she became 
 cold as marble. How vividly I remember it all! But I 
 had lost my head and would not give up. I insisted on 
 an appointment, which she evaded, and I found her 
 father instead a Philistine through and through.
 
 182 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 Socially I was beneath them, and my poverty was not 
 in my favour. I don't say the man wasn't right enough 
 in some ways, but the family had ambitions, was looking 
 socially upwards, and the girl, on account of her beauty, 
 was being reserved for a higher possibility I had almost 
 said for a higher bidder. Anyway, the man was need- 
 lessly insolent. I suffered terribly for months after- 
 wards." 
 
 " Poor Hubert," said Constance softly. There were 
 tears in her eyes. " And so you were really in love 
 then?" 
 
 He seemed to brood a moment, as if to recover the 
 long-lost emotion. She watched him closely. 
 
 " Yes, it was fine and full of poesie," he said slowly, 
 with absent eyes. " To think of it .brings back the 
 odour of violets." 
 
 " Poor Hubert," she breathed again. 
 
 He got up, drew a long breath, and made a stride 
 or two about the little room. 
 
 " But the memory of the way the thing ended is only 
 humiliating ! " he presently resumed in a matter-of-fact 
 tone. There was the nicker of a smile on his face, which 
 grew and grew until he broke into laughter alto- 
 gether. 
 
 " It seems to amuse you all the same," she observed. 
 
 " You perhaps slightly misunderstand my remark," 
 he explained. " What humiliates me is to have taken 
 part in so absolutely commonplace a story. Not even an 
 elopement and pursuit, only a bald, blunt, prosaic re- 
 jection." 
 
 " Still, your amusement to-day is pure gain." 
 
 " Yes, but how am I to apply that philosophy of 
 yours to my rejection now?" 
 
 She looked distressed. " I am sorry," she said ; " I 
 wish I could help you." 
 
 " Ah you can ! " he said eagerly. 
 
 " Please don't insist further. You hurt me."
 
 THE WOOER 183 
 
 He took up his hat. " Well, the hours are flying and 
 I must not stay." 
 
 She gave him her hand and they said good-night. 
 
 " I will find my way out," he said as she moved to 
 accompany him. Then, turning in the doorway 
 
 " No word of good cheer to take with me to Dieppe? " 
 he threw out on the last chance. 
 
 " No, Hubert, I refuse you," she said gently. 
 
 " But you love the children. If you cannot come for 
 my sake, come for theirs." 
 
 The unexpectedness of the shot found her at a dis- 
 advantage, but she recovered herself immediately. 
 
 " I would rather never see them again. Please under- 
 stand I refuse you absolutely." 
 
 Her words were steady and straight. They seemed 
 to sink into him and stir him in some way. 
 
 " We shall see," he launched back defiantly.
 
 IV 
 
 y^S Hubert walked home in the fine summer night 
 
 ZJ he hummed and whistled quite blithely. He 
 
 ^4 K was not in the least disconcerted by his rebuff. 
 
 Constance was going to marry him of that 
 
 he felt quite certain. 
 
 She had made very clear her ostensible reason for 
 refusing him; but it would be most unchivalrous, even 
 unmanly, to retire before an opposition based on such 
 absurd consideration however he might admire her 
 unselfish regard for what she conceived to be his in- 
 terests. Want of inclination on her own part she had 
 not alleged much less any positive distaste for the idea ; 
 she was merely convinced she would be doing him a wrong 
 by entertaining it. 
 
 Well, he should simply insist on an immediate en- 
 gagement between them, and refuse to argue about it. 
 He would no longer put it as a request; she must 
 submit to the pressure of his will. All further resistance 
 would be waste of force. Ridiculous that she should 
 esteem herself so meanly as a marriageable quantity ! 
 
 Hubert, in fact, began to consider himself as good 
 as married. And he meant her to realize that she was 
 as good as married. However, as he could not run 
 after her till his return from Dieppe, he decided for the 
 present to resort to a bombardment of letters. The 
 sooner she understood she already "was an indissoluble 
 part of his life, the sooner she could supersede Martha 
 Chapman ! 
 
 Fortunately she had enclosed in her last letter to him 
 a note of the itinerary of the theatrical company with 
 which she was playing, so that, as soon as he and the 
 
 184
 
 THE WOOER 185 
 
 children were settled in a suitable pension, he was able 
 to begin his campaign at once. And, indeed, he set 
 about prosecuting it with the greatest vigour, taking up 
 his pen each evening after the children had retired. 
 Dieppe, and the delight and interest of the girls in that 
 ancient port, furnished ample material for his epistles, 
 each of which included a minute account of the day's 
 doings. If she had only been with them, how perfect 
 would have been the holiday ! Poor Constance was 
 forced to write frequently in return it would have 
 needed superhuman strength to let his letters go un- 
 answered, even had there not been constant messages 
 and several separate letters from her little friends. 
 
 Hubert had begun by informing her that they were 
 going to marry in three months' time which would 
 allow her a full month of preparation after the end of 
 her tour and every now and again he repeated the 
 statement, duly modified according to the date. He 
 ignored all her disclaimers and reproofs, and would not 
 pay her oft-reiterated argument the compliment of even 
 a passing reference. He planned out their honeymoon 
 a tour through the south of Italy and the life they 
 were going to live afterwards with such vividness of 
 detail, that again and again she had to shut her dazzled 
 eyes against it. So steeped did Constance's mind be- 
 come in Dieppe (as actuality) and in the paradise he 
 kept setting before her (as phantasy), that her own 
 existence grew shadowy, and she moved through her 
 days like an automaton. This unforeseen campaign be- 
 wildered and discomfited her. As she passed from town 
 to town letters followed and preceded her with amazing 
 profusion, till she was at length driven to appeal for 
 mercy. But Hubert remained merciless. She must feel 
 that even at that distance his arm was round her, and 
 she could not escape. 
 
 In the meantime he had no doubt he was gaining 
 ground. Her resistance grew distressed tearful but
 
 186 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 he would not relax the attack. Nay, the month at 
 Dieppe having run its course, Hubert hastened to follow 
 up his advantage with the added pressure of his personal 
 presence, for on the very following day after their ar- 
 rival home he went off again and intercepted her at 
 Blackpool, where she found him on the platform await- 
 ing her train. 
 
 She was startled almost out of her wits, but she 
 separated quickly from her companions, who, naturally 
 assuming this was a purely chance meeting with an 
 acquaintance, went off their respective ways without 
 appearing to bestow any special attention on Hubert. 
 
 The advance-agent of the company, had, at Con- 
 stance's request, already retained rooms for her over a 
 tea-shop, which she now found happened to be quite 
 close by, and thither she invited him to accompany her. 
 The tea-shop naturally gave her an opportunity of 
 being hospitable, though she tried her hardest to make 
 him feel she was cross with him for coming. 
 
 " But as I am only waiting for the end of your present 
 engagement to claim you for a more permanent one, you 
 surely didn't suppose that I could do without seeing you 
 in the meanwhile." 
 
 His words seemed to shake her. 
 
 " You are becoming positively cruel," she said in a 
 tone that was full of reproach. " I wish I had the 
 strength to be abrupt with you, to call you all sorts of 
 horrible names you don't deserve, to go to any length of 
 rudeness, in fact, so as to make you wish never to see 
 me again. But how can I forget what you have been 
 for me? " 
 
 " Oh, you really mustn't think of breaking with me. 
 The children would begin to ask what had become of 
 you, and then I should be in a nice fix." 
 
 She smiled in spite of herself. 
 
 " I only wish I had the heart to break with you fix 
 or no fix! As it is, I have to resist as best I can,
 
 THE WOOER 187 
 
 whereas there is no end to your horrible unscrupulous- 
 ness. Now as soon as you have finished that cup of tea, 
 Hubert, you are to go straight back home. I have to 
 work to-night, and, as I'm mortally weary from travel- 
 ling all day, I must try to get a little sleep during the 
 next couple of hours." 
 
 " I'm going to stay in the town," he announced. " My 
 appetite for holidays has been whetted! And unless 
 you give me the answer I want I shall stop at every 
 town on your list. If you wish to get rid of me, I warn 
 you there's only one way." 
 
 As he foresaw, his victim could not hold out much 
 longer, though she would not give way till almost her 
 last moment at Blackpool. 
 
 The company was giving its final performance in the 
 town, and was to be off by an early train in the morn- 
 ing. Hubert called for her at the theatre, and, as soon 
 as she had come off in the third act, he took her for a 
 stroll on the crowded sea-front. She was fearing his 
 threat to keep up with the tour, and begged him 
 piteously to abandon the idea. Hard as adamant, 
 he was only willing to do so provided she capitu- 
 lated. 
 
 She maintained a long silence. Were she not so 
 obviously engaged in reflection, he might have fancied 
 she had at last been driven to meet him by a deliberate 
 refusal to speak. When pinned down again and again, 
 she had had nothing better to say than that she was 
 honestly of opinion he ought not to want to marry her, 
 and he had so often reduced her to reiteration of this 
 one argument that he might well entertain the suspicion 
 as to her present intention. 
 
 " What are you thinking ? " he asked, impatient at 
 her prolonged meditation. 
 
 " I am thinking of your mother," she answered, though 
 after some hesitation. " Forgive me for mentioning her, 
 but it is the first time I have dared. Would she approve
 
 188 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 of me as your affianced wife? No, you know she would 
 not, and she would be perfectly right." 
 
 " We are told in ' Genesis ' that ' a man shall leave his 
 father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife.' 
 Therefore I put you first." 
 
 " You ought not to choose a woman who has already 
 thrown herself away upon a scamp who has experi- 
 enced so much of the gross side of things. For you a 
 pure lily alone is fitting; I am discoloured and faded. 
 No, no, I have nothing to offer you." 
 
 " You do yourself wrong. I cannot allow even you 
 to disparage so dear a friend of mine." 
 
 " Well, it's only your opinion against mine, and I 
 stick to my own." 
 
 " I have never known you to treat mine with such 
 outrageous disrespect." 
 
 " But here a woman is concerned the proverbial case 
 in which the best of men are blind." 
 
 " Oh, well, let's throw opinions over ! Won't you go 
 by feeling ? " 
 
 " Feeling ! " she echoed. " Ought we not both to be 
 perfectly reasonable? Are we not two sensible people, 
 possessed of excellent understandings? At our age, you 
 know, things are different. Maturity mustn't have feel- 
 ings of that kind; it has its reputation for good sense 
 to maintain. We must both be guided by cold mental 
 judgment, and mine you are already acquainted with." 
 
 " If that's all the comfort I'm to get out of cold 
 mental judgment well, the sooner you cease to value 
 your reputation for good sense, the better. As not the 
 least of your admirers, I shall like you vastly better 
 without it." 
 
 " I throw it away then I've only a blind feeling. I 
 have struggled all I can, Hubert. I worship you ! " 
 
 " Dear Constance," he said softly. " Now you are 
 splendid ! " The sentiment of the moment was fine and 
 absorbing enough to take him forward rapturously.
 
 THE WOOER 189 
 
 Perhaps she detected something lacking in his voice, 
 for the next moment she said almost plaintively 
 
 " But I do wish you were a little in love with me, 
 Hubert. This mature business is not very inspiring." 
 
 " Confound the mature business ! " exclaimed Hubert, 
 with emphasis. " We are going to make a big thing of 
 our love." 
 
 She nestled closer to him. His enthusiasm began to 
 seize hold of her, to destroy her misgivings that she 
 had no right to the happiness she had accepted, and that 
 she might be doing him a grave wrong. X"et her doubts 
 found a last expression. 
 
 " You mustn't think me cold-blooded, Hubert ; but I 
 cannot easily rid myself of the honest opinion I've 
 maintained all along. Think it over again, please, and 
 remember you are free if you so wish." 
 
 " And now, please, let that be the end, dear," he said 
 as sternly as he could. 
 
 " I did not mean to hurt you, dear, so you'll forgive 
 me. My words were at least sincerely intended, for my 
 conscience is far from easy, and oh! the happiness is 
 too great for me to realize. I have suffered so much, 
 Hubert, that I cannot grasp all at once." 
 
 " Look forward, dear ! Turn your back to the past, 
 and then plunge full in." 
 
 " In? " she queried. 
 
 " In the sunshine, the joy of things. We both sur- 
 render ourselves utterly to the big current ! " 
 
 " Your strength will take me forward, dear," she 
 whispered. " I love it. I loved it when it surrounded 
 me and held me prisoner. And it is nice not to have 
 to be so sensible. I like the illusions best." 
 
 " But what illusions ? Are there not beautiful realities 
 now?" 
 
 " Ah, Hubert, you forget our talks together in the 
 past when I first knew you. How you used to make 
 me face truth and facts on the strength of my intelli-
 
 190 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 gence! When you invoked it that night at Yominster, 
 I had, of course, to look sensible and live up to the 
 invocation. But I wasn't a bit equal to the part. The 
 way you spoke of a marriage between us, and the 
 grounds of pure reason on which you put it forward, 
 were a horror to me. And do you know, dear," she 
 went on, her voice thrilling him with its half-laughing, 
 half -caressing intonation, " I was mortally jealous of 
 that fair, soft, shining thing of seventeen with the 
 shimmering dresses." 
 
 And, in truth, she was still. That old romance to 
 which Hubert had confessed rankled in her, though she 
 knew the sentiment was blind and unjustifiable, and was 
 thoroughly ashamed of it! And, in a corner of her 
 heart, she still qjierished her ancient grain of animosity 
 against Hubert for having been able to know her year 
 after year without manifesting any symptom of senti- 
 mental admiration; not because he had not desired to 
 marry her earlier, but because he had failed to pay 
 her so agreeable a tribute.
 
 Book IV 
 The Benedict
 
 /t TALL, sun-burnt man of distinguished bear- 
 /J ing and in the very prime of life, wearing 
 ^ M an easy-fitting grey suit and a straw hat, 
 
 pushed open the little wooden gate in the 
 hedge that bounded Mr. Hutchings' market-garden, de- 
 scended the three or four steps, and then stood irreso- 
 lute. Mr. Hutchings, however, appeared just then in 
 the doorway of his cottage, and the visitor explained 
 that he was in search of a very young lady, by name 
 Miss May Ruthven, who, he had been told, was most 
 likely to be found there. The market-gardener was able 
 to inform him that Miss Ruthven was sketching some- 
 where alongside the brook that ran at the bottom of 
 his grounds, and civilly offered to conduct him to her, 
 but the stranger would not put him to that trouble, and 
 pursued his way down the path indicated. 
 
 After a few minutes wandering he came upon the 
 shallow, weedy stream to which he had been directed. 
 The whole place was larger than he had expected, and 
 so wild at this point that it was difficult to remember 
 this was the mere picturesque fringe of high cultivation. 
 He paused for a moment to look about him, then began 
 to pick his way along a mossy footpath, glancing to 
 right and left for such likely nooks as a young girl 
 might love to lie hidden in. 
 
 He had gone a considerable distance before a gleam of 
 colour that caught his eye between some foliage told 
 him here at last was the little person he sought. In- 
 stinctively he quickened his step, and came upon her 
 seated in the ancient punt that lay, as it had lain for 
 
 193
 
 194 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 years, alongside the dilapidated landing-stage. She was 
 busily engaged with a small canvas that rested on her 
 knee, her right hand manipulating a brush jerkily, whilst 
 her left, holding out a much-besmeared palette, seemed 
 to have got abstracted and to be having deep thoughts 
 of its own. So much absorbed was she in her work that 
 the visitor stood watching her for a minute or two 
 without her becoming aware of his presence. 
 
 He had scarcely anticipated the sort of person she 
 turned out to be her unexpected completeness aston- 
 ished him. She might in fact have been seventeen, if 
 she hadn't been so obviously twelve. Her knitted brow, 
 her look of intense seriousness and preoccupation, were 
 highly becoming to the miniature face, with its clear 
 yet delicate features, fine grey eyes, and beautiful silken 
 hair that hung in a flowing mass under her simple 
 sailor's hat. 
 
 He ventured at last to step on to the landing-stage 
 and overlook her canvas. She was painting a bit of the 
 high bank opposite, gay with wild flowers, the sunlit 
 water filling the foreground. 
 
 The creaking of the rotten boards made her turn and 
 look up. Their eyes met, and he saw her face change 
 immediately it became calm, dignified, unapproach- 
 able! 
 
 He bowed her a good afternoon, without, however, 
 giving any sign that he had the least idea who she was, 
 and he went on to express the hope that he wasn't 
 disturbing her. But she merely gave him an almost 
 imperceptible nod and continued plying her brush. 
 Evidently she wasn't at all disposed to encourage a 
 conversation. Indeed, he felt most distinctly that he 
 was expected to continue his ramble, and could not help 
 admiring the easy, self-possessed fashion in which she 
 contrived that that desirability should suggest itself to 
 him. 
 
 But, so far from budging, he came a shade closer, and
 
 THE BENEDICT 195 
 
 sedulously kept examining the sketch, smiling as he 
 divined the frown which he could not see her face being 
 now turned away from him. 
 
 " Your method is certainly promising ! " He made 
 the pronouncement in a tone of decided patronage. 
 
 The frown deepened. His appearance had impressed 
 her, but she did not at all approve of his persistence. 
 
 " Is it ? " she asked with an indifferent air of astonish- 
 ment which likewise again suggested he might stroll on 
 further. But, with an affected thickheadedness, he pre- 
 ferred to construe her monosyllables as a literal question 
 instead of a mere expletive. 
 
 He set about criticizing in detail and with evident 
 interest for the sketch was well-nigh finished. She 
 soon perceived that he had the right to speak, though 
 she would just as well have done without his comments, 
 frank to the verge of severity. So she listened coldly 
 and unwillingly (at first she had indignantly tried hard 
 not to hear him at all), even while she was forced to 
 admit to herself that his remarks were quite clever, and 
 his voice and features of the pleasantest. 
 
 However, she let him finish without interrupting, and 
 then thanked him gravely. He felt it was Greek against 
 Greek, and was hugely amused. 
 
 " I think I have seen you before," he launched. 
 
 " Oh, I daresay," she returned carelessly. 
 
 " In fact I am sure of it." 
 
 " It's very possible." She was scrutinizing her work 
 and putting in touches. 
 
 " A very pretty place this ! " 
 
 " Very. But I hope I haven't interrupted your 
 walk." * 
 
 " Oh," he protested, gravely maintaining his pretence 
 of stupidity. " I assure you| my dear young lady, 
 you've not interrupted me in the least. On the contrary, 
 it has been a great pleasure to me to make your ac- 
 quaintance."
 
 196 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " You are very kind," she murmured, not without a 
 touch of impatience. 
 
 " Kind ! Not at all ! " he blurted. " It is you who 
 have been kind." 
 
 " Really ! " she exclaimed sarcastically. 
 
 " You listened with such charming patience to all the 
 savage things I said just now, but, being a candid sort 
 of character, I really could not help saying them." 
 
 " You are an artist," she exclaimed, relenting a little 
 and setting him down as a harmless enthusiast. 
 
 " No," he disclaimed ; " only an admirer ! " 
 
 "Of art?" 
 
 "And of you!" 
 
 " How interesting ! " She spoke with marked severity, 
 determined that the conversation should end there and 
 then. 
 
 He fumbled in his waistcoat pocket and brought out 
 something that shone as it caught the sunlight. She 
 could not help glancing at it curiously as he held it 
 towards her smilingly. It was the half of a plain gold 
 ring. 
 
 " Oh, this is very alarming," she gasped. 
 
 " * I promise faithfully to be your sweetheart true for 
 always ! ' " he reminded her. 
 
 She stared at him, then could scarce refrain from 
 laughter. 
 
 He looked sorrowful and dejected. 
 
 " Such is life," he declared plaintively. " I ought 
 not to have expected anything better. And to think of 
 your indignation when I predicted this would be the 
 very way you'd receive me." 
 
 She had no doubt now she had been accosted by a 
 lunatic. " Aren't you making a mistake ? " she sug- 
 gested, not altogether unalarmed, and trying to handle 
 him gently. 
 
 " We used to be such very good friends, Miss Ruth- 
 ven," he went on reproachfully. " Where is the other
 
 THE BENEDICT 197 
 
 half of my ring? I suppose you forgot all about it 
 years ago." 
 
 Her eyes were wide open now, and her brush lay in 
 the dust at the bottom of the punt. In her white, scared 
 face was clearly visible the struggle to recover memories 
 that just stirred evasively and rushed back through 
 the crowded years of childhood, each as long and busy 
 as a century. 
 
 " I remember you," she said suddenly, as the colour 
 flooded back to her cheeks. She sprang out of the punt. 
 " Only you were not so brown, nor so stout, and your 
 beard was shorter. But it suits you very well the way 
 you wear it now." 
 
 He took both her hands. " But why did you forget 
 everything like that? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, what nonsense ! " she said in her girlish, off-hand 
 way. " Uncle was talking about you only last night. 
 He said you were probably in Patagonia. You are his 
 best friend, aren't you ? " 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 " Well, I think you are a strange best friend." 
 
 " But tell me, what have you done with your half of 
 the ring? " 
 
 " Oh, I haven't seen it for years," she replied with the 
 same nonchalance as before. " I daresay it's lying about 
 somewhere. It's so very long ago since you gave it to 
 me I was only a tiny child then." 
 
 " And now you despise such things ! " 
 
 " Oh, how absurd ! I suppose you have already seen 
 uncle?" 
 
 " I only arrived yesterday late in the evening. I 
 had a great deal to do this morning, and so I thought 
 it better to run down here than to intercept him for a 
 minute in town. I knew, of course, he wouldn't have 
 got home yet, but I did not suppose I should find the 
 house absolutely deserted." 
 
 " Gwenny goes up to town on Tuesdays for her music
 
 198 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 lesson," she explained ; " and uncle brings her home 
 again. Dearie has gone to call on some people, and I 
 found it rather dull all by myself. But if you'll kindly 
 allow me the use of my hands, Mr. Preston, I'll gather 
 up my things, and take you back to tea. Do you know, 
 I rather enjoy being hostess." 
 
 " I should imagine you'd make a first-rate one," he 
 observed. " Well, the least I can offer in return for 
 your taking me back is to take your things back." 
 
 Soon they were moving along side by side, and 
 chatting away on the happiest of terms ; he charmingly 
 attentive and protective, she animated and gay, with a 
 big sense both of her resplendent cavalier and of the 
 eventfulness of his coming. Nevertheless he was notic- 
 ing her closely. And, indeed, she was showing herself 
 in all sorts of lights. She was the frank, open-hearted 
 girl-child, loving all that children love, full of enthu- 
 siasm, and with a naive, boundless joy in every pleasure; 
 she was shrewd, clear-sighted, a merciless mocker, a 
 clever manoeuvrer. She was the charming companion, 
 unaffectedly good-natured and comrade-like ; she was the 
 fine lady, proudly conscious of her superiority to com- 
 mon clay, and armed with a subtle finesse of manner that 
 made her quite equal to a role on the stage of life. Al- 
 together Preston perceived in her a great deal of origi- 
 nality, and he was vastly amused at her excellent stock of 
 well-bred conventional phrases which she brought out 
 prettily in the right places in connection with the more 
 dignified and grown-up side of her character. 
 
 Meantime she was confidential with him to the verge 
 of imprudence, which (seeing how clever a little person 
 she was) might have astonished him, had he not under- 
 stood he was to her a unique being suddenly descended 
 from the skies, and she was glad to tell everything to 
 one who was so new, yet so intimate and important. 
 He, of course, in the state of his ignorance about all 
 that appertained to Hubert's present life, welcomed the
 
 THE BENEDICT 199 
 
 chance of enlightenment for he was being enlightened 
 far more than she imagined ; though primarily the sweet 
 flood of her discourse was concerned with herself her 
 secrets, her occupations, her likes, and dislikes and 
 everything and everybody else only figured therein so 
 far as they affected that central and important con- 
 sciousness. As most things and persons imprinted 
 themselves very sharply thereon, her painting of the 
 neighbourhood became most vivid to him. The world 
 seemed to have been created specially for her enter- 
 tainment. Scarcely a soul but had characteristics that 
 afforded exercise for her ridicule. Yet she was in no 
 wise ill-natured, and was always lavish of enthusiasm 
 where her affections had been engaged. 
 
 And although, as she danced along, she overflowed 
 with all this eager rattle, she never for a moment forgot 
 the immediate present or failed to have a quick eye for 
 everything in the landscape. As she led him through 
 the pretty by-ways, she had something to say about 
 every house and farm and field always dashed in 
 parenthetically. 
 
 By the time they struck the main road, Preston was 
 in possession of the chief new facts in Hubert's life, and 
 that without any marked questioning on his part. He 
 manifested no surprise when it dawned upon him his 
 friend had a wife had had one, as he was able to make 
 out presently, for two years. That was the mysterious 
 person whom May was habitually referring to as 
 " Dearie." Ever since the marriage, he gathered, the 
 Ruthvens had had very many more people coming to 
 see them, and only three months before there had been 
 great doings in the house on the occasion when one of 
 Dearie's sisters had married a gentleman- farmer in this 
 very district. 
 
 " We have ever so many friends now," she told him in 
 a tone that implied an immense satisfaction. " So now 
 Dearie goes out visiting a great deal, and though she
 
 200 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 always complains to uncle that it makes her very tired, 
 I know she enjoys herself all the same. I only wish I 
 were old enough to go visiting." 
 
 She put quite a wistful intonation into her last 
 sentence. 
 
 Preston thought the taste somewhat unnatural, but 
 discreetly kept the opinion to himself. He hazarded, 
 however 
 
 " Perhaps you might not find it quite the joy you 
 imagined. I dare say your experience has taught you 
 by now that many things are disappointing in this 
 world." 
 
 She opened her eyes wide. Such a disparagement of 
 the world was astonishing to her. 
 
 " You mustn't think I've had no experience of visit- 
 ing," she exclaimed. " Why, Gwen and I go to all the 
 children's parties. And then we go out to tea quite 
 often, for we are special favourites. Everybody likes to 
 know us, and to come to the house, and don't they all 
 say sweet things to Dearie ! Dearie is always so pleased 
 and happy, and she swallows everything they tell her. 
 But I know why they make such a fuss over her. It's 
 because they know Lady Wycliffe is such a great friend 
 of uncle's, and her great chum, the Honourable Mrs. 
 Drummond, who is the big lady of the neighbourhood, 
 visits us regularly. Gwen and I are great favourites of 
 Mrs. Drummond's, and she often has us to pass the 
 afternoon. Whenever Lady Wycliffe com,es to stay 
 with her, she sends round the carriage to fetch us. They 
 are both such dear old ladies, and so kind ! I like them 
 much better than the other people round here. So you 
 see, Mr. Preston, that, though I am still a mere child, I 
 am quite in society. I mean to go out a great deal 
 when I'm grown up, as I'm very rich, or at least I shall 
 be when I'm twenty-one. . . . And rich people, you 
 know, are wanted everywhere," she wound up laugh- 
 ingly.
 
 THE BENEDICT 201 
 
 " Ah, your views of the world are distinctly tinged 
 with cynicism." 
 
 "What is that?" she asked. "It's much too mys- 
 terious a word for a mere child." She was evidently 
 fond of this playful mode of self-allusion. 
 
 " ' Cynicism ' is difficult to define. You may take it 
 that I was struck by your exactness of observation. 
 But I had no idea you were an heiress ! Has your 
 uncle discovered a gold-mine? " 
 
 " You are a strange best friend," she said again. 
 " Why, you don't seem to know anything about us." 
 
 " You must remember I've been in wild, out-of-the- 
 way places, often quite beyond the range of any post- 
 man, and it's almost three years now since I had a letter 
 from Hubert. One big batch of letters I know went 
 wrong, and a great sackful is waiting for me in Wales." 
 
 " Then you've never heard that poor granny died 
 eighteen months ago. It was of a broken heart she 
 didn't approve of uncle's marriage." 
 
 " Hubert's mother dead ! " exclaimed Preston. " How 
 he must have been cut up ! " 
 
 He walked on in silence. He had only just been 
 congratulating himself that his friend had apparently 
 been spared the more tragic griefs of existence, and he 
 was altogether unprepared for so painful an announce- 
 ment. Indeed, the shock for the moment obscured the 
 hint of accompanying dramatic circumstances. But he 
 had taken everything in, and presently found himself 
 wondering what manner of woman it was Hubert had 
 married, and why she had failed so signally to come 
 up to the old Mrs. Ruthven's expectations. That she 
 was a somewhat conventional person he had already 
 gathered, for he trusted the child's clear vision, on which 
 he could place his own more sophisticated and experi- 
 enced interpretation. Though he had his fears that 
 Hubert " had rather messed up things," and there was 
 a great deal about which he was eager for enlighten-
 
 202 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 ment, he could not, of course, pursue the subject with 
 his sprightly companion. 
 
 " I am sorry very sorry ! " was all he was impelled 
 to say when at last he spoke again. 
 
 She divined the depth of his feeling, slight as was its 
 manifestation. 
 
 " Granny was awfully nice," she resumed in a soberer 
 tone. " We were all very fond of her. But she had to 
 be humoured. After uncle's marriage, she never came 
 to see us again. (Of course Gwenny and I are sup- 
 posed not to understand anything of the whole matter. ) 
 And then one day we heard she had died quite sud- 
 denly. She hated Dearie though I could never make 
 out why myself. I believe it was only a whim, because 
 uncle didn't tell her everything beforehand." 
 
 " And I suppose your fortune came from her? " 
 
 " She left five thousand pounds to me, and the same 
 to Gwenny. Uncle was very much surprised. He 
 had no idea she had so much money. But here 
 we are ! " 
 
 She ordered his old room to be made ready, and, 
 when he had taken possession of it, went off herself to 
 effect a rapid change of toilette. When he came down 
 again, he found her already on the verandah, and busy 
 over a charming tea-table. He sank into the low- 
 cushioned chair she graciously allotted him, feeling very 
 much in awe of the grand little lady into which the 
 friendly artist of the simple stuff frock and old sailor's 
 hat had transmogrified herself. Consciously enacting 
 the hostess, and consciously doing it well, she was a 
 quaint mixture of dignified formality and delightful 
 unconstraint. He saw and not for the first time that 
 she had of graces many. Her most careless movement 
 was perfect in its way, whether she reclined back in her 
 chair, or bent forwards, or put out her hand to take up 
 her cup, or raised her face to his, and kept it in motion- 
 less attention as he spoke. Nor did she please his eye
 
 THE BENEDICT 203 
 
 the less when she suddenly sprang up in her girlish 
 impulsive fashion to refill his cup which she had neglected 
 for a moment or two after it was empty. 
 
 Naturally she still had a great deal to tell him. A 
 whole week could scarcely have exhausted all that was 
 ready to flow from her mind, nor, indeed, could provi- 
 dence have sent her a more willing listener. Of course, 
 her conversation remained, as before, for the most part 
 frankly egotistic. She had a pony of her own, a dear 
 thing which she must take him to see presently (some 
 day soon she would race him ) ; she played tennis and 
 challenged him; she gardened and would show him 
 what she had this year made of her own bit of ground ; 
 she painted and drew had enough sketches to enable 
 him to say savage things to his candid heart's content; 
 she played and sang though not the show musician of 
 the family; she was fond of reading she liked fairy- 
 tales and history best, and often browsed among the 
 dusty tomes in Hubert's library. She astonished him, 
 too, by confessing a liking for chemistry, a forlorn, 
 capricious inclination, which, alone of the sciences, had 
 somehow strayed in amid her eager accomplishments. 
 Most other formal studies she did not care for very 
 much. Miss Williams, who was now a bachelor of arts, 
 still superintended their studies, though it had been de- 
 cided she and Gwenny were to go to school in the 
 autumn, and they both liked the idea. 
 
 " But uncle can't quite make up his mind what kind 
 of a place to select. I think it must be very nice to go 
 to a good school for a couple of years. Of course not 
 a boarding-school, but a day-college where they treat 
 you in a sensible way. We should lodge with friends, 
 perhaps with Dearie's mother." 
 
 " Then you'll be going to London. I suppose you're 
 looking forward to it." 
 
 " Oh yes, indeed." 
 
 " You're very fond of London ? "
 
 204 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 Her eyes lit up with an ecstacy that spoke more 
 clearly than any words. 
 
 " London ! I never get enough of it. Gwenny is 
 more fortunate, as she is supposed to be studying music 
 seriously with Madame Bartolozzi. It is seldom that 
 poor May gets an excuse for going. Uncle doesn't care 
 for London much, once he has done his work; but then 
 he is perfectly happy among his books. When I grow 
 up, I mean to live in London at least half the year. 
 Last time we drove down Park Lane, Dearie told me 
 who lived in each house. Dearie often reads about them 
 in a large red book all about their ancestors and their 
 sons and daughters, and the years in which they were 
 born." 
 
 " Another unnatural taste," reflected Preston. It 
 struck him as more mysterious than ever that Hubert's 
 mother should have taken so tragic an antipathy to this 
 apparently model daughter-in-law. 
 
 " It's not often that uncle thinks of taking us to a 
 theatre," she sighed. " Now I love the theatre, but here 
 we get only a circus now and again. Of course there's 
 the theatre at Yominster, but there isn't much excite- 
 ment or enjoyment in going to that awful barn, and, 
 besides, I don't at all approve of the acting. The circus 
 isn't half bad though. The lions and tigers are splendid. 
 I should like to have a tiger for a pet. Kitties are all 
 very well, but they're too tame and too tiny. I want a 
 real, fierce, beautiful tiger with a magnificent roar. I 
 always get very angry when I see them walking round 
 and round their cages, lashing their tails. I should just 
 love to let them out it would be such fun to see the 
 people scampering away in terror." 
 
 " But what if the dear things made a meal of you! " 
 
 " They wouldn't hurt me," she declared confidently. 
 " They'd all come to me at my call and lie down quite 
 nicely, and I'd smooth their manes and call them pet 
 names. And they'd keep perfectly still whilst I sketched
 
 THE BENEDICT 205 
 
 them of course I'd flatter them a little in the draw- 
 ing. After that they'd love me and protect me, and 
 nobody in the world would dare to harm me." 
 
 " My dear girl, you could not go about all your life 
 with a troop of lions and tigers. You'd be finding them 
 a nuisance after a time." 
 
 " That was only a picture for the moment." 
 
 " Well, tell me, what is your real ambition if you 
 have any real ambitions ? " 
 
 " I have a great many real ambitions," she assured 
 him ; " but what I should like best of all is to be a great 
 princess and have a beautiful palace and give wonderful 
 parties." 
 
 " And invite all the people in the large red book," 
 he suggested. 
 
 " Yes," she agreed seriously. " And Gwenny could 
 come and sing. She has really a beautiful voice. 
 Madame Bartolozzi teaches her very well, you know, 
 but she puts strange ideas in her head." Already she 
 was darting off along another track. " Sometimes Gwen 
 talks to me about them. Of course I tell her they're all 
 rot, and then you should see her stare at me just as if 
 she were expecting an earthquake the very next moment. 
 I am really glad I thought of mentioning it to you. I 
 wanted to mention it to someone." 
 
 " What ideas do you mean ? " asked Preston. 
 
 " Oh, about religion," said May very solemnly. 
 " Madame Bartolozzi is a Catholic, and she and Gwen 
 took up with each other specially years ago." 
 
 " Do you mean that she tries to convert her ? " 
 
 " Well, not exactly that, but as Madame is very re- 
 ligious and talks a good deal about religion to her, 
 Gwen picks up things. Gwenny is good, you know; I 
 am the naughty one ! " 
 
 " Oh, I daresay there's no harm done," said Preston. 
 " When she grows up she'll have her own opinions. 
 What does your uncle say? "
 
 206 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " Uncle doesn't know anything about it. I haven't 
 said a word to him that would be sneaking although 
 he has more little talks with me than with Gwenny. I 
 am the favourite, but I'm sure he doesn't know it. He 
 thinks he is the same to both of us. Uncle has rather 
 good ideas. He used to tell us what he thought about 
 religion himself, at least so far as we mere children could 
 be expected to understand him. When we grow up, we 
 are to be free to choose for ourselves. Now I like 
 that!" 
 
 " But what does Mrs. Hubert say? " asked Preston, 
 growing interested. 
 
 " Oh, she goes to church regularly. She likes us to go 
 as well. Besides, uncle himself is different from what he 
 used to be. I think he must be changing though he 
 has never said anything about it to me yet, at least not 
 in any direct way. I fancy ho sometimes hints at things, 
 but perhaps he doesn't like to go back on what he used 
 to tell us. Anyhow, it's very difficult to understand what 
 exactly he does think. He goes to church with the rest 
 of us sometimes. I remember Mr. Rutherford the vicar 
 was perfectly radiant with joy the first time he saw 
 uncle with us in the pew. He smiled and smiled at him 
 all through the sermon, and I'm sure he put in a lot 
 extempore specially for uncle's benefit. After the service 
 he came to shake hands with us all, and I really thought 
 he'd have uncle's arm out of its socket." 
 
 " For a little infidel you seem to allow yourself to be 
 haled off to church pretty meekly." 
 
 " Oh, I'm not exactly an infidel. And I don't mind 
 going to church at all though, of course, I don't pre- 
 tend to like it as much as Gwenny. You should see her 
 sitting there pale and awe-struck. I am sure she must 
 be frightfully superstitious, what with all the moonshine 
 Madame Bartolozzi puts into her head. She left off 
 taking notice of all the poor beasties, because Madame 
 told her that if you get too fond of animals you begin
 
 THE BENEDICT 207 
 
 to lose your affection for people. And Gwenny takes 
 it all in." 
 
 " There's rather more in that superstition than you 
 think," declared Preston. " I once got very fond of all 
 animals, and I found myself hating most people in the 
 world." 
 
 She looked extremely surprised. " But it was only 
 fancy," she suggested. 
 
 " No for it would still hold good now, only I came 
 to the conclusion that people weren't even worth hating." 
 
 She wrinkled her brow. " That's very puzzling ! " 
 
 He dropped the point somewhat abruptly. " I wonder 
 if you'll continue going to church when you are your 
 own mistress." 
 
 " I suppose I shall. One must do as everybody else 
 does. One ought not to shock people unnecessarily," 
 she said gravely. " Now Master Francis he is the 
 vicar's son he boasts that he doesn't believe anything 
 at all. That's very wrong of him. But really how I 
 have been chattering! I hope you haven't been bored." 
 
 " Bored ! You have entertained me delightfully." 
 
 She found the compliment to her taste. " How splen- 
 did ! " she exclaimed. " Now I shall let you write your 
 name in my nice new book with a nice new thought of 
 your own." 
 
 She ran off to fetch it a luxurious violet-scented 
 album with soft-tinted satiny pages. 
 
 " It has only just been given to me, so that yours will 
 be its first autograph." 
 
 On the fly-leaf she had already inscribed her own 
 name with her address and a date. There was distinc- 
 tion and individuality in the handwriting, with a tinge 
 of affectation and self-consciousness. Backhanded, yet 
 firm, clear and artistic, with large s's flowing far below 
 the line and very elaborate capitals, it spoke of glowing 
 youth, of a haughty consciousness of high superiority 
 in fine, of a very big ego.
 
 208 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " I should like something about music something 
 very charming for the first page." 
 
 Preston considered, dipped the pen in the ink, con- 
 sidered again, and finally attacked the shining roseate 
 page with considerable nerve. 
 
 " Music is but the echo of beauty that is in our- 
 selves." 
 
 " How sweet ! how pretty ! " she exclaimed enthusi- 
 astically. " I like that very much." 
 
 She looked really pleased. She waited till the ink 
 was dry, then produced the long-neglected half of her 
 visitor's ring, which she had brought at the same time 
 as the album. 
 
 " See ! " she said, holding it towards him. " Here it 
 is, safe after all. I looked for it just now I was 
 feeling rather guilty about it." 
 
 " You're not expecting me to take it back ? " he asked 
 glumly. 
 
 " Well, I'm not sure I ought to keep it," she said 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " Ah, you dislike me." 
 
 " No, indeed," she protested. " I like you very much. 
 You are a brick. There, I shall keep it after all. And 
 now let me show you my pony."
 
 II 
 
 "F F'^HEN Preston had exhausted all the sight- 
 i/g/ seeing (for the visit to May's pony had 
 
 F p naturally extended itself into a personally- 
 
 conducted tour), he was taken back to the 
 verandah, and then through one of the tall French win- 
 dows into the drawing room for Hubert's library had 
 been long since dispossessed and re-established overhead. 
 Preston preferred his memory of the former room, with 
 its strange outline splendidly filled in with books, to the 
 present daintier version, panelled in white and gold, and 
 prettily set out with rugs and water-colour sketches, 
 satinwood furniture, Dresden china and old silver. But 
 then, he admitted, he was prejudiced. A beautifully- 
 bound book on a tiny table, which his hand mechanically 
 turned over, proved to be a translation of Machiavelli's 
 History of Florence. He asked May whether she had 
 read it since she was fond of history. She replied that 
 the only reason she hadn't read it (though she had taken 
 it up several times) was that it was part of the drawing- 
 room, and she preferred to browse in the library. She 
 had, however, just finished Roscoe's Life of Leo the 
 Tenth, and intended some day to read the whole of 
 Machiavelli. Indeed, she had a pronounced taste for 
 Italian history, and Hubert had in fact promised her 
 that, a few years hence, she should pass as long a time 
 in Italy as she might desire. 
 
 A rustling in the doorway just then informed Preston 
 they were no longer alone. Turning his head instinc- 
 tively, he beheld an extraordinarily happy-looking 
 woman (still in bonnet and jacket), very fair, with re- 
 fined features and large, girlish eyes. She had stopped 
 
 209
 
 210 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 on the threshold, evidently surprised at the sight of a 
 visitor. But May at once tripped over to her, and, 
 kissing her affectionately, called out laughingly 
 
 " A very old friend of mine has come to see us, 
 Dearie." 
 
 Constance looked perplexed for an instant, but smiled 
 at Preston as May, holding both her hands, almost drew 
 her forward into the room. 
 
 " An old friend of our little girl's is indeed welcome," 
 she assured him. 
 
 The frankness and unaffected cordiality of her 
 manner, and something in the ring of her voice which 
 seemed to indicate a really nice nature, modified agree- 
 ably the preliminary idea he had formed of her. 
 
 " Mr. Preston is perfectly at home already," said 
 May. " I have been entertaining him delightfully." 
 
 " Mr. Preston ! " Constance was all white. " Good 
 gracious ! " she gasped, then laughed and held out her 
 hand. " Give me a moment, please, to collect my wits. 
 I have always looked upon my meeting with you as a 
 most important and dramatic event, but I never imagined 
 anything so unawares as this. It is really hard on me 
 to be caught in this way, just after having indulged in a 
 riot of small gossip and weak tea." 
 
 " Oh, but Mr. Preston has been doing exactly the 
 same thing," put in May, indicating the table on the 
 verandah. 
 
 " Saucy child ! " said Constance. " I hope your riot, 
 Mr. Preston, was not too much of a trial." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed May indignantly. 
 
 " On the contrary," smiled Preston ; " I have learnt 
 that small gossip and weak tea if that is what I have 
 been indulging in have a charm in combination that I 
 never before suspected." 
 
 " A new pleasure for you to cultivate ! " laughed 
 Constance. " Once upon a time I used to have a certain 
 contempt for that sort of thing, or, at least, for the
 
 THE BENEDICT 211 
 
 small gossip weak tea is quite an old indulgence of 
 mine but as one gets older one begins to develop the 
 taste. I find it so soothing and refreshing, quite the 
 pleasantest form of recreation, in fact, after household 
 management. And the more malicious the gossip, the 
 better I like it! I really ought to feel ashamed of my- 
 self." 
 
 "Not in the least," he declared. "The taste for 
 scandal and even for poking one's nose into other 
 folks' business is perfectly genuine, and ought to be 
 accorded honourable recognition. It is really artistic at 
 bottom represents the natural craving of the dramatic 
 instincts. The novelists have merely caught up the 
 hint. Great creative work and small gossip grow from 
 the same root." 
 
 " Ah, well, I am dying to have some gossip with you, 
 small or large; but Hubert will be here soon, and 
 domestic matters, alas, must claim me for awhile. You 
 are staying the night, I hope." 
 
 " If I may presume on your hospitality." 
 
 " Then please amuse yourself. Why not astonish 
 Hubert by letting him find you in his study you might 
 pretend to be your ghost! There are large accumu- 
 lations of books since you were here last. You will 
 find they have overflowed into most of the other rooms. 
 And, by the way, Mr. Preston, I want to take the op- 
 portunity of thanking you for introducing me to my 
 husband. I always meant that to be my first greeting 
 to you, but, of course, I had no idea I should be thrown 
 out of my reckoning like this." 
 
 " So you were my introduction," repeated Preston 
 with a laugh. " To be frank, I have no recollection of 
 the occasion nor even of you. As you had no recol- 
 lection of me, I mean personally, of course, that is only 
 tit for tat. So let us forgive each other." 
 
 " Willingly," she agreed good-humouredly. " But 
 please try to remember me all the same. I shall feel
 
 so complimented if you succeed before Hubert gives 
 me away. I have never forgotten the fateful moment, 
 but, truth to tell, I accept the fact entirely on Hubert's 
 authority that the vague somebody who adroitly got rid 
 of me after only two seconds of conversation was no 
 other than Mr. Preston." 
 
 " I passed on to him so many pretty women in the 
 old days. Hubert was so much more proof against the 
 sex than I, and I was always mortally afraid of finding 
 myself in the toils." 
 
 " Why afraid? " she retorted. " I'm sure it would 
 have been a very good thing for you." 
 
 He only smiled in reply, so with an " au revoir " she 
 left him to occupy himself as best he might. But he 
 had not the slightest intention of cudgelling his brains 
 in the effort to recall when and where he had been the 
 instrument of first bringing Hubert and his wife to- 
 gether. The fact itself he looked upon as a mere amu- 
 sing coincidence indeed, the more he reflected on it, 
 the more it amused him. He had no reason for supposing 
 that Hubert was mistaken; the incident was perfectly 
 likely on the face of it. The name of Constance Powers 
 he might, no doubt, have remembered the thought of 
 the unimportant actress whom his friend had avowedly 
 visited did vaguely hover in his mind as it plunged 
 back to the Pump Court days; but out of so many 
 possibilities it did not occur to him to identify Mrs. 
 Ruthven with a person who, as Hubert had informed 
 him at the time, had married somebody else. 
 
 Presently he thought it would be a good idea to adopt 
 Mrs. Ruthven's suggestion that he should wait for Hu- 
 bert in the library, especially as he hadn't seen the room 
 yet. So May readily led the way up-stairs, and even 
 stayed with him a little to explain things. His face 
 lighted up as all Hubert's old treasures caught his eye, 
 from the fat Dutch cabinet to the Frisian clock. As he 
 put it to May, the sight of them made him feel more
 
 THE BENEDICT 213 
 
 than anything else had done that he was really home 
 again. Indeed, it was almost like being back at the old 
 place in Pump Court. 
 
 Soon his little friend left him to get ready for the 
 evening, and he spent some pleasant minutes moving 
 about the room, taking down a book here and there, 
 handling a curio, or inspecting a familiar engraving. 
 Finally, finding himself a little fatigued, he came to a 
 stand by one of the windows, and, vaguely looking out 
 across the garden, he fell a-pondering on his impressions 
 of this little corner of life which he had let strike so 
 suddenly on his consciousness. 
 
 Having thus far had only the merest glimpse of 
 Hubert's wife, he hesitated as yet to form any very 
 definite conception of her. To some extent he was 
 easier in his mind now, for he admitted he had been 
 anxious as to the sort of person his friend had married. 
 It was a firm article of faith with him that the best 
 woman in the world was scarcely good enough for 
 Hubert, so that the standard he was instinctively im- 
 pelled to apply was of a terrible severity a fact of 
 which poor Constance had been happily ignorant. 
 Whatever misgivings he might still entertain about 
 her, she had, at any rate, struck him as intelligent, and 
 he hoped that that quality of hers was not merely 
 illusory. His experience had taught him to distrust 
 first impressions of a woman's intelligence, and he held 
 that the woman by no means uncommon who was 
 brisk and bright superficially, yet stupid in the depths 
 of her nature, was the worst possible companion for a 
 clever man. He had a feeling, too, that Hubert's wife 
 was a woman with a story; the fact somehow seemed 
 writ on her, though the writing, still visible to his sharp 
 eyes, was faint and blurred by continued prosperity and 
 happy domesticity. Perhaps, indeed, poor old Mrs. 
 Ruthven had really discovered something against her; 
 or was it merely the lack of a fortune had called forth
 
 214. ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 that bitter hostility? He did not doubt that she was a 
 good soul he had most distinctly felt she was ! Her 
 friendly, unembarrassed way had at once appealed to 
 him, and he attributed to her both candour and the gift 
 of good-fellowship. Still he missed something in her, 
 something that was fine and lofty and noble in the 
 Pagan sense rather than the moral. Her bonnet and 
 jacket might have subtly suggested it to him, but a 
 fatal hint of the bourgeoise had come from her, at the 
 moment of her entrance, fresh from paying calls. Cer- 
 tainly the ways of convention were pleasant to her. 
 
 He had noticed that there were now five servants at 
 least about the house and garden though he was not 
 addicted to observing details of that kind. Also the 
 new stable had several stalls and inmates, while a smart 
 caleche besides the well-known trap had already caught 
 his eye. Then, of course, there must be another carriage 
 in which Mrs. Ruthven had done her afternoon's visiting. 
 Preston fervently hoped that Hubert, who had never had 
 any fortune of his own, was not killing himself to main- 
 tain these appurtenances of gentility, and it was at least 
 some comfort to reflect that the children now had means 
 of their own. He wondered, by the way, what Gwenny 
 looked like the Gwenny who sat awe-struck in church, 
 and had a beautiful voice. He imagined her pale and 
 in velvet, singing in a beautiful cathedral. That was 
 because he was an artist, and fugitive hints and impres- 
 sions had a way of shaping themselves brilliantly. 
 
 And as regards May herself, how was it she had said 
 nothing about charity or love of the poor? Preston was 
 really concerned about the omission on her part, but he 
 liked her too well to doubt she was kind-hearted. She 
 was, indeed, a strange mixture of charming imaginative- 
 ness and pleasure-loving Philistinism. On the latter he 
 scarcely liked to dwell ; it was pleasanter to wish that 
 the other soul in her might gain the ascendency as she 
 grew older.
 
 THE BENEDICT 215 
 
 For a beautiful other soul it was when it entirely took 
 possession of her! How sweetly and gravely she had 
 said, as, crossing the lawn in the lengthening shadows, 
 they had passed a swarm of evening flies, " Let them be 
 happy they have only a few hours to live." She had 
 confessed, too, to stealing out of doors on summer nights 
 when all the world slumbered, just to see what was 
 happening in the moonlight. Truly there was a charm- 
 ing touch of fantasy in her, and of a kind that was her 
 very own. He had not only felt it in her personality, 
 but it was stamped on everything that belonged to her.
 
 Ill 
 
 PRESTON'S back was turned to the door, but 
 Hubert recognized it at once and was less 
 startled at its presence in his study than the 
 conspirators had anticipated. He knew his 
 man too well, had, indeed, always expected he would 
 suddenly appear in some such fashion. But if Hubert 
 wasn't frightened into imagining that he beheld his 
 friend's ghost, Preston, as he turned and caught sight 
 of the figure in the doorway came near to entertaining 
 that very idea with regard to Hubert. 
 
 "The devil!" he cried. 
 
 " Of all greetings the most frivolous and dismal," 
 said Hubert. 
 
 They laughed and clasped hands. 
 
 " I did not mean you, of course," said Preston. " But 
 stand a moment. The afternoon sunlight is shining full 
 upon you. Your face has many lines. It is sad, gentle, 
 forbearing. It is serious and learned, full of high phil- 
 osophy. You are handsomer than you were what with 
 the dash of grey in your hair; but your cheeks are 
 thinner. You look tired and overworked." 
 
 " Well, I have hardly had time as yet to shake off the 
 dust of the Strand. My work though of late has been 
 rather heavy. For which I am most thankful. The 
 more fees the merrier for my little nest of singing- 
 birds. And you must understand that I join in the 
 singing too." 
 
 " I am glad to find you are so much more lively thp.n 
 you appear," said Preston, who did not seem very much 
 relieved notwithstanding. " You are barely forty, but 
 you look nearer fifty. Evidently you are well on the 
 
 216
 
 THE BENEDICT 217 
 
 way to the Bench. If you only proceed at the same 
 rate, why, in another ten years you'll be the very image 
 of a judge! I believe you must be strenuously cultivat- 
 ing the type. Only your stoop must now remain as it 
 is ; it is quite marked enough even for the Bench. 
 And a little more flesh wouldn't hurt. I hope you don't 
 neglect exercise." 
 
 " I have my regular canter across country," Hubert 
 assured him ; " and I frequently take a racket at tennis 
 with the girls. My appetite and my digestion are 
 excellent. My dear fellow, I am not nearly the wreck 
 I appear to have impressed you as being there is not 
 the least reason for concern about my health. ... I 
 am certainly not worried about yours," he added, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 " Yes, I have put flesh on," admitted Preston. " In 
 the olden days when I kept on bothering my head so 
 much about the universe, I used to waste away. But 
 ever since I learnt to say : * Let the universe go its own 
 way and be damned,' I have fattened wonderfully. My 
 thought at present partakes of my corporeal nature it 
 deals only with solidities." 
 
 " Some day you'll find the fat has been accumulating 
 a little too fast, and then perhaps you'll be glad to work 
 it off by clutching after the universe again and trying 
 to make it go your way. But your solidities remind me 
 of those with which we are more immediately concerned 
 the succulent solidities we shall be called upon to 
 deal with in a few minutes." 
 
 " Oh, you had better get cleaned then. I have already 
 taken possession of my room, and I know my way about." 
 
 It was a happy little party that assembled soon after, 
 though dinner was delayed considerably beyond the 
 few minutes mentioned by Hubert; Preston smilingly 
 divining abnormal preparations as Constance, busy and 
 anxious, made a pretence of being with them in the 
 drawing-room yet kept slipping discreetly out of it.
 
 218 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 Her anxieties were at last apparently allayed, for she 
 was smiling gaily when she took her seat at table. 
 
 At first Preston was the most talkative of all, keeping 
 the others well entertained with some account of his 
 itinerary and odd bits of his experiences and adven- 
 tures. Hubert sat beaming happily at the head of the 
 gaily-spread board with its charming candelabra and 
 exquisite flowers his cheeks all in a glow, and looking 
 very much better than when he had first arrived home. 
 Constance, facing her husband, seemed the very em- 
 bodiment of pride in her well-ordered household; a 
 shade more ceremonious, now that she was presiding 
 in her own dining-room as the stately domesticity of 
 the atmosphere demanded. The fresh, coquettish manner 
 of youth had already passed into the even demeanour 
 and temperament of the mistress of a home. She was 
 pleased and sleek and happy almost to purring point, 
 as Preston put it to himself. Indeed, as she sat there 
 discreetly attentive and smilingly encouraging, she dis- 
 tinctly reminded him of the innumerable cousins and 
 sisters of his own. Hubert might just as well have mar- 
 ried one of his clan, he reflected. He could have offered 
 him an immense choice of that sort of woman, with a 
 touch of patrician quality, .moreover, that this one 
 lacked, and with birth, breeding, and fortune enough to 
 have added another score of years to the old Mrs. 
 Ruthven's existence! He was really sorry now he had 
 not contrived to keep Hubert in the family. 
 
 With Gwenny, Preston found himself singularly 
 pleased she was so astonishingly like the ideal figure 
 her sister's chatter had caused him to imagine. Slightly 
 taller than May, she was evidently of a far less robust 
 type. Yet she was undoubtedly beautiful with her child's 
 rounded features, her graceful neck, her dark-brown 
 hair, becomingly encircled with a velvet band. The ivory 
 pallor of her complexion gave her an added distinction, 
 and in few girls' faces had Preston seen so perfect a
 
 THE BENEDICT 219 
 
 goodness. She was quiet and attentive most of the time, 
 opening large eyes when much interested. When she 
 spoke it was with shyness and diffidence, which, how- 
 ever, only made her the more sweet and winning. For 
 her remarks were distinctly good, her questions to the 
 point. 
 
 But May was just May! always charming, and 
 brimming over with life and excitement. 
 
 Though the two men were eager to be alone together, 
 they would not show themselves impatient or break up 
 the pleasant party. In the drawing-room the girls sang 
 and played, and it was not till quite late in the evening, 
 and Gwenny and May had said good-night, that the two 
 friends found themselves together in the study. 
 
 The windows were open, and the summer air flowed 
 in softly. Hubert sank into a deep arm-chair with a 
 languor as of everlasting fatigue. Preston stood gazing 
 a moment or two across the grey lawn and the shadowy 
 masses of wood and thicket. Then he turned again into 
 the light and looked Hubert in the face. 
 
 " Well, there you are, old fellow, comfortably at 
 anchor in your old tub of an arm-chair." He took a 
 restless turn or two round the room, as if in significant 
 contrast. 
 
 " Yes, it does feel pretty comfortable," admitted Hu- 
 bert ; " and when one's at anchor, time speeds astonish- 
 ingly. Yet the old days seem very far off. When I 
 look back my former self seems the veriest shadow. But 
 perhaps I was a shadow then ! " 
 
 " My old self," said Preston, " rather amuses me. 
 Looking back, I can see it going its way and playing 
 its antics as if it were entirely an external person; as 
 if it hadn't the faintest connection with the present ' me.' 
 But confound my ' me ' that still has the sturdy back- 
 bone of an income to support its insolent pretensions. 
 There's many a better man than I will be waiting ere 
 the morrow's dawn outside the dock-gates only to be
 
 220 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 disappointed of a job. Well, well, but I want to hear 
 how your ego has been faring, what sort of a backbone 
 it has been acquiring, and, of course, everything else 
 about it as well as the state of its bones. I suppose you 
 are still a democrat." 
 
 " I hope so," returned Hubert, smiling ; " though I 
 must confess I have long forfeited my claim to rank 
 among the fighters. I fear I have passed entirely into 
 the obscurity of a quiet, large practice, and all my 
 controversial energy has been absorbed at the same 
 time." 
 
 " Yet I imagine you are the same old Hubert in spite 
 of everything ! " 
 
 Hubert mused a little. " I have changed more than 
 you would think." 
 
 " You have turned to religion ! " Preston hazarded 
 quickly. He could not help remembering May's ac- 
 count of Hubert's church-going. 
 
 There was a moment of silence. " Well, in a way," 
 said Hubert reflectively at length. 
 
 " You had always a touch of the mystic about you. 
 At one time I thought it possible you might end in a 
 cloister. Still your experience is by no means excep- 
 tional. The priest who knows his business knows he has 
 only to smile and bide his time." 
 
 " I have not yet told you about my poor mother." 
 Hubert bowed his head. 
 
 " I have heard," said Preston huskily. 
 
 " It was her death that changed me, that wrought in 
 me such refinements of softening as I had never before 
 conceived. I need not dwell now on the cloud that 
 descended on me and mine. Anyhow, it was then that 
 I began to reconsider the question of a future life. But 
 when I say ' reconsider ' I use the wrong word. Pre- 
 viously, as you know, I occupied a purely agnostic posi- 
 tion, keeping a perfectly open mind." 
 
 " You took up a comfortable seat at the fulcrum,"
 
 THE BENEDICT 
 
 interposed Preston, " leaving faith and scepticism to 
 swing each other up and down." 
 
 " It was a slippery seat all the same," said Hubert, 
 smiling. " Well, after my poor mother's death, I simply 
 found myself so possessed by spiritual feeling that it 
 seemed as if I had been stupidly blind all my life." 
 
 " I feel myself defrauded of a most subtle and joyous 
 sensation," exclaimed Preston. " I'd give a year of my 
 life to be a priest now for five minutes in order to gloat 
 over this confession of yours. What waste! What 
 waste ! " 
 
 " Let me give you some kiimmell instead," suggested 
 Hubert, as bottles and glasses gleaming from a distant 
 side-table, caught his eye just then. 
 
 " More confession first, please." 
 
 " There's very little more to tell. As you yourself 
 practically observed just now, my old self was never 
 entirely incompatible with the new. Indeed, there was 
 scarcely a breach of continuity. As you know, I was 
 always perfectly tolerant. In that respect I am glad 
 to say I have not changed in the least. I always said 
 the girls should be free to follow their own inspiration, 
 and it is my intention to maintain that attitude. I sin- 
 cerely think it the best one always values what one has 
 chosen for oneself. But, in any case, I should never 
 have thought of making a sudden autocratic descent 
 upon them and forcing them into one path. As it is, I 
 have the greatest confidence in them. By the way, I 
 hope you think as much of them as I do." 
 
 " They've converted me to that quaint mid-century 
 theory of the origin of life that it was bottled sun- 
 shine." 
 
 Hubert's face lit up with pride and pleasure. " They 
 have been a great happiness to me. I want to talk to 
 you intimately about everything, and I want to hear you 
 speak freely. Tell me frankly your impression of my 
 household."
 
 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 The question caught Preston unprepared, and he did 
 not answer immediately. 
 
 " Come, old fellow, don't shirk it," Hubert admonished 
 him. 
 
 " I do shirk it," said Preston. " When a man marries 
 he necessarily shuts out even his best friend from a large 
 part of his life. You forget that, Hubert. As for 
 myself, I come, I see, and I go. My affection is not less 
 than of yore, but still there is certain ground I cannot 
 possibly intrude upon in conversation even at your 
 invitation. Of course I might very easily say that your 
 household is perfectly charming, and I should be speak- 
 ing the exact truth. But, to say the least, that would 
 be somewhat superficial." 
 
 " You are afraid of hurting me by criticism," said 
 Hubert. " You think I have settled down in a common- 
 place way. I understand your hesitation. I readily 
 admit that our home here is what chiefly occupies my 
 mind at present, but then my responsibility for the 
 others is for me just now the most important thing in 
 the world. After all one's energies are limited. One has 
 to choose in life and one chooses ! Once upon a time, 
 as you know, I had altruistic ambitions, hopes that I 
 might be able to do something for the good of my fel- 
 lows; if not directly by humanitarian work, at least 
 indirectly by writings and political work. But the sea 
 of life is so vast, and the day comes when it dawns upon 
 one somewhat rudely that one's strength is not equal 
 to the demands one would make upon it. I draft and 
 study documents, and write out opinions all day long, 
 and not infrequently all night too. I did sit for some 
 years on a committee or two, and even took classes in 
 Bethnal Green and other districts. But Constance used 
 not to like it or rather she used to hate it. She used 
 to fret about my having to stop in town after my day's 
 work and my having to go down to Shadwell or Lime- 
 house, as the case might be, and only catching the last
 
 THE BENEDICT 223 
 
 train home and arriving near midnight. She always 
 cherished the belief that I went without dining, and then 
 she was sure I'd one day catch small-pox or fever or the 
 Lord knows what horrible disease. So at last I had to 
 give up all that sort of thing. So you see how one drifts 
 into looking back with a sigh on one's past aspirations 
 and finding what consolation one may in giving one's 
 mite. Why, I cannot even manage to read near as much 
 now as I should like. Strangely enough, whenever I 
 do manage to get through a book now-adays, however 
 much I may have been interested, it has a way of com- 
 pletely fading from my mind after a few days, for all 
 the world just as if it were a brief which I had disposed 
 of in due course. But to return to my question. I have 
 always been looking forward to your taking a sort of 
 brotherly interest in us all, and I confess I did not fore- 
 see your reluctance to speak out. You know I was 
 always given to looking life in the face, and I assure 
 you I have not yet learnt to flinch. My wife, whom 
 you scarcely know yet, is, in this respect, even more cour- 
 ageous than I. She is highly gifted, and she is one 
 of those rare women to whom one may talk without cir- 
 cumspection. So we shall both be only too grateful to 
 hear exactly what you think." 
 
 Preston had followed him with a slight smile on his 
 face, nodding every now and again in sympathetic 
 comprehension. 
 
 " I'll confine myself to one point at present," he con- 
 tented himself with remarking ; " and that is the 
 worldly aspect of your affairs. I fear you may be over- 
 driven you who have only your health and work to 
 rely upon." 
 
 " Ah, well, no doubt the expenses of a household have 
 a rising tendency," admitted Hubert. " But Constance 
 is the most careful person in the world. In fact she 
 economizes to excess. She would spare herself no pains 
 to save a shilling. The girls, perhaps, do not realize
 
 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 how much she sacrifices for them they are so used to 
 having things made easy for them. But then that is 
 the privilege of childhood. My marriage has been a 
 great success, greater than I had ever looked forward to. 
 Constance has smoothed things for me immensely." 
 
 " I should say she has been finding that an extremely 
 agreeable process," smiled Preston. " She certainly 
 struck me as perfectly happy. She is of a social dis- 
 position? " 
 
 " I have yet to tell you about her," returned Hubert. 
 " Constance never had a home at least in the real sense. 
 That is why she loves domesticity and a large circle of 
 friends. She has been so starved of these things that 
 she lives for them now." 
 
 At this point Hubert naturally slid into relating the 
 history of his marriage with a smiling reference, of 
 course, to the accidental part Preston had taken in its 
 promotion. Preston's surprise at the revelation had al- 
 ready been discounted to some extent, but he certainly 
 confessed he would never of himself have succeeded in 
 identifying his friend's wife with the actress Hubert had 
 occasionally gone to visit, and whose marriage, more- 
 over, Hubert had at the time distinctly mentioned to him. 
 Still he listened with his usual impassiveness, speaking 
 only when appealed to. In the course of his recital 
 Hubert exhibited much emotion and occasionally was so 
 shaken that he was forced to pause for awhile. He was 
 as touchingly anxious to enlist Preston's sympathy for 
 Constance's hard case as he was to gain his approval 
 for the marriage itself. But he was most shaken of all 
 when he went on to tell of the imperious opposition his 
 mother had displayed on his writing to her to announce 
 the engagement. Impelled by an almost desperate sense 
 of threatened social degradation, she had immediately 
 employed an inquiry agent to rake up poor Constance's 
 antecedents. Armed with the agent's report, she had 
 burst in on him at the Temple, where she fortunately
 
 THE BENEDICT 225 
 
 happened to find him alone, and the scene that followed 
 he would always remember as the most shattering he 
 had ever experienced. Briefly, she had insisted on re- 
 garding Constance as a wilfully disreputable person 
 who had disgraced herself and her family, and she had 
 got the idea into her head that the poor girl would be 
 only too delighted to be bought off for a few hundred 
 pounds, which she desired to supply from her own purse 
 however much she might have to stint herself for the 
 rest of her life. He had in vain maintained that he 
 was about to marry a good and irreproachable woman, 
 who had been cruelly victimized; Mrs. Ruthven took 
 such a view as a proof that he had been cunningly 
 blinded. Argue as he might, they had remained in 
 hopeless conflict, and he should remember to his dying 
 day every word that had passed between them. After 
 her first onslaught had spent itself she had remained for 
 a time in silent misery, but that had been the merest lull 
 in the storm. 
 
 " I don't really believe you're going to do this," she 
 had recommenced tremblingly. " It is too horrible to 
 be true." 
 
 Then had followed a pretty altercation, ultimately 
 devoid of diplomacy on both sides; Mrs. Ruthven con- 
 stantly assuming that the social ideals in the light of 
 which this engagement appeared to her an outrage were 
 fully accepted by him, he as constantly disclaiming them, 
 declaring that in any case they could not be applied 
 indiscriminately. But his efforts had proved to no 
 purpose. Never for a moment had she seemed at a loss 
 to continue the struggle, in the calmer intervals of which 
 she had kept recurring to the notion that Constance 
 was to be bought off for a moderate amount of money, 
 and always with a nai've unshakable confidence in the 
 success of such a measure. It had been more than her 
 dominant idea; it had represented the solid and in- 
 fallible resource on which her hopes rested. She had at
 
 226 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 length offered to go to a thousand pounds, if necessary 
 she would gladly endure every consequent privation, 
 even if she had to go without a rag to her back and 
 scrub her own floors for the rest of her life. 
 
 " Come, mother let us make an end of this painful 
 discussion," he had at last been driven to demand. " It 
 is quite clear we shall never be of the same mind about 
 Miss Powers. I desire this marriage, I am pledged to 
 it, and I mean to carry out my engagement." 
 
 Whereupon she had come to him and thrown her 
 arms round him in a last frenzied burst of entreaty. 
 
 " I have been a good mother to you all your life," 
 she had sobbed, " and I am a good mother to you now. I 
 would give all I possess, my life itself, to save you from 
 this. I have not a thought for myself, only for the 
 future of my poor boy. My own life is nothing to me ; 
 I care only for your life to see you happy. If you 
 marry that creature, it will kill me." 
 
 " When you know her, you will care for her as much 
 as I do." 
 
 ( " God forbid she should have the honour of counting 
 me among her acquaintances." 
 
 " If you'd only put a good face on the matter since 
 it has to be you'd soon be convinced how splendidly 
 everything's going to turn out." 
 
 " Put a good face on the matter ! " She had let him 
 go free at last, had even pushed him away. " No ! I set 
 my face against it altogether. I had hoped and dreamed 
 for you otherwise for all my hopes and dreams were 
 for you. I repeat you will kill me if you marry that 
 creature. I am an old woman now, and I am not so 
 strong as I look. I am all broken. Pride holds me. 
 Break my pride and you break me." 
 
 He had listened in torture, only too conscious of her 
 terrible sincerity. And now she had suddenly caught 
 him in her arms again, beseeching him piteously, kissing
 
 THE BENEDICT 227 
 
 him tumultuously, and sobbing over him with breaking 
 heart. 
 
 " Calm yourself, mother, for heaven's sake. Things 
 are not what they appear to you, believe me." 
 
 But she had expended her last reserve of energy. 
 
 " Then you are still set on casting off your mother 
 for the sake of a wanton ! " she had exclaimed, checking 
 her tears and drawing herself up sternly. 
 
 " It is unjust of you to put it that way." 
 
 " You don't deny it, you don't deny it," she had ex- 
 claimed. " You can't deny it ! I have humiliated myself 
 before you quite enough. Marry your wanton then, if 
 you must have her. But remember, you are no longer a 
 son of mine. I wish never to see your face again. One 
 day you will think more tenderly of your mother as she 
 sleeps in her grave, but then it will be too late. I shall 
 pass my few remaining days in the same solitude that 
 has always been my lot." And with that she had stridden 
 out of the room. 
 
 Hubert drew a long breath. Preston saw that even 
 now he was trembling with the emotion of the scene 
 through which he had just lived again. 
 
 " Even giving you our very words, I have not been 
 able to revive before you more than the ghostliest echo 
 of the actual storm," he resumed presently. " It is a 
 wonder I did not shoot myself in the first fit of despair. 
 Afterwards my source of strength was in the feeling 
 that my conscience was absolutely clear." 
 
 In spite of which conviction Hubert looked exceed- 
 ingly relieved when Preston likewise declared he had 
 nothing to reproach himself with. Evidently he at- 
 tached the greatest importance to this corroboration of 
 his own judgment. Preston, desiring now to lead his 
 friend's mind gently into less gloomy fields of reflec- 
 tion, guilefully proceeded to point out that the rupture 
 between his mother and himself was to some extent
 
 228 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 balanced by the attendant reconciliation between Con- 
 stance and her family. The stratagem was effective, for 
 Hubert at once took up the theme, gleefully dwelling on 
 the pride with which the Powers now regarded their 
 former scapegrace. Constance had, in fact, become an 
 immense personage in her family, especially since she 
 had married off one of her younger sisters to an excellent 
 young neighbour of theirs. 
 
 " Constance has quite a talent for match-making," he 
 added, smiling. " She has remarkable skill. She plays 
 destiny without for a moment impairing her subjects' 
 faith in free-will. 
 
 " A heavenly amusement," exclaimed Preston. 
 
 Recurring for a moment to his mother's death, Hu- 
 bert went on to tell how he had been dumbfounded at 
 learning the extent of the property she had managed to 
 accumulate. He had always taken it for granted that 
 she had only just enough to live upon in a quiet way, 
 but she had evidently been saving for many years and 
 must have invested her money with the greatest shrewd- 
 ness. Then, of himself dismissing the subject, Hubert 
 went on to speak of the children their growth and 
 promise. He had saved up many mementos of their 
 childhood bits of needlework, crude attempts at draw- 
 ing and colouring, (including various comic efforts), 
 and old copybooks exhibiting the state of their knowl- 
 edge in its earlier stages; all of which he brought out 
 and displayed to Preston with an eager pride and in- 
 terest. Nor were their more recent stages neglected, for 
 Hubert was able to lay his hand on a batch of their 
 latest compositions, which he read out with avidity. 
 Preston certainly derived from them a great deal of 
 amusement, and was especially tickled by the profuse 
 high-minded morality with which May stuffed her sen- 
 tences, whether criticising the character of some me- 
 diaeval monarch and the manners of his times, or en- 
 larging to her heart's content on the ideals of a noble life.
 
 THE BENEDICT 229 
 
 " The little puss thinks I like the sort of thing, so she 
 lays it on thick," chuckled Hubert. " However, you 
 will gather from some of these the sort of ideas I en- 
 deavour to put into their heads in our informal little 
 talks together. I always insist on simplicity of existence, 
 combined with personal dignity and high culture. ' Be 
 fit for any sphere,' I am constantly telling them ; ' but 
 know how to be happy in a sphere of your own, which 
 will be just as fine or as ignoble as you make it.' I 
 dream of their being content to marry men such as I 
 myself was you understand, of course, what I mean. 
 A cultivated man, working for his bread, is only wel- 
 come in the world as a sort of theatrical supernumerary, 
 to help to fill up the background reputably at least that 
 is what I learnt in my younger days." 
 
 Preston preferred to remain silent. From what he 
 had seen of May he doubted very much whether the 
 society supernumerary (worker or no worker) was likely 
 to be the sort of husband to her taste. 
 
 " I suppose you'll be taking a house in town some 
 day I mean in a few years time." Preston's train of 
 thought went forward, and the words slipped from his 
 lips in spite of himself. 
 
 " Such future details I have scarcely considered yet, 
 though I dare say the girls will be getting a little bit 
 tired of the country by then, or at any rate will be 
 feeling the need of a change. The only thing I have 
 really made up my mind about is their going abroad for 
 a year or two later on, though, of course, I should only 
 be able to join them myself for the briefest of inter- 
 vals. I want them to know the world and to see every- 
 thing, but I am sure they have too much good sense 
 ever to get spoiled. As you know, my policy is to leave 
 them the widest freedom. I believe in freedom. Let 
 them get their own impressions and feel and think for 
 themselves. At the same time, of course, they must not 
 neglect to hear what other people think."
 
 230 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 Preston again refrained from making any comment. 
 As he had said before there were regions where the best 
 of friends might not intrude, especially with a mind to 
 meddle. Besides, who could stem the flood of life? 
 
 " And then there's our old friend, Lady Wycliffe," 
 went on Hubert. " She has never ceased to take the 
 greatest interest in my household. She has been un- 
 affectedly charming all along though she, too, has had 
 trouble. Ah, you have already heard. The loss of her 
 husband was a terrible blow to her. Since then we have 
 been greater friends than before though it is true we 
 sometimes lose sight of each other for months at a time. 
 But that has no significance. The children have pres- 
 ents from her regularly on their birthdays, and she 
 never fails to send for them when in the neighbourhood. 
 She perfectly understands my view of their future, and 
 she entirely endorses it. I am sure she will always be 
 a good friend and adviser to them." 
 
 " But her sphere her set and circle I mean is not 
 what you have in mind for them," Preston could not 
 help suggesting, though he almost repented it the next 
 instant. 
 
 " Oh, I don't wish them to be absorbed into her 
 sphere certainly not," said Hubert. " Nor is there 
 any likelihood of such a thing. They will simply know 
 her in a quiet and intimate way. I would not have such 
 a true friendship lost. Besides, since her husband's 
 death, Lady Wycliffe has given up entertaining, and 
 she rarely goes into society. She lives in seclusion and 
 is devoted to her charities. . . . But let us go down 
 into the garden. The air is warm and full of perfume, 
 and the stars are out in multitudes." 
 
 They went down-stairs, and Constance met them in 
 the hall to say " good-night." Then, happy in the re- 
 newal of friendship, they paced to and fro on the lawn 
 in the perfect night, seeking, finding, renewing the old 
 trains of thought, the old discussions, in the new light
 
 THE BENEDICT 231 
 
 of the riper and the richer years. Memories, fantasies, 
 and audacities, half -suggestions quickly taken up, shades 
 of soul-expression knit in with the old bond and signifi- 
 cant to them alone, confirmed that there had been no 
 loosening, and now and again other lives with which 
 their own had been associated in good-will or friendship 
 mingled in their reunion.
 
 Book V 
 
 The Husband
 
 PRESTON peered into the dim shop but saw only 
 the bookseller himself busy over his accounts. A 
 big sunbeam, striking slantwise through a gap in 
 the close-packed window, revealed so dust-laden 
 an atmosphere that Preston rejoiced Hubert was not 
 there to inhale it. Yet he was himself tempted to enter 
 and to glance along one or two of the shelves. A sort 
 of archway divided the shop in the middle, and as, taking 
 down a volume here and there, he gradually worked his 
 way towards it, he fancied he heard vague shufflings and 
 movements in the vision beyond. Suddenly there was 
 a strange premonitory noise; then followed immediately 
 the crash of a veritable avalanche. The bookseller came 
 rushing forward. 
 
 The actual catastrophe was, however, less alarming 
 than its mode of announcing itself. Hubert, browsing 
 high up on a ladder, had had the misfortune to over- 
 throw a gigantic pile of volumes, and Preston, to his 
 amused astonishment, found his friend looking guiltily 
 down at the chaos on the floor. The region here beyond 
 the archway was unexpectedly lofty, with a grimy top 
 light through which the sunshine filtered. Hubert on his 
 perch had been quite hidden from view. 
 
 Smilingly reassuring, the bookseller set to work to 
 repair the mischief. Hubert, beating the dust from his 
 hands and coat, came down the ladder with a rueful 
 countenance. 
 
 " I felt it was going to happen," he said. " There 
 was a moment of horrible suspense. I'm glad it's over." 
 They laughed as their grimy hands met. " But what 
 are you doing here? " 
 
 235
 
 236 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " Looking for you, of course," said Preston ; " though, 
 for a moment, I really thought you must have found 
 your way home after all." 
 
 " The deuce ! " cried Hubert, glancing at his watch, 
 " I've been fooling away more than two hours. I can't 
 possibly be in time for the ceremony." 
 
 " They were worrying about you at lunch, so I hur- 
 ried off to fetch you, making straight for this new 
 temple of bargains. I was confident of finding you at 
 your devotions. You see I know my man." 
 
 Hubert smiled, though really vexed with himself. 
 He had so carefully arranged to have the afternoon free 
 since May had insisted he must come with them to 
 her friend's wedding; and now the others must be con- 
 tent to pick him up on their way to the reception. 
 
 He settled with the bookseller, and presently the two 
 men were being driven away from the region of the Law 
 Courts, the hansom soon emerging into Oxford-street 
 and going westward at a brisk rate. Preston confided 
 to Hubert that he had won a bet by his sure instinct 
 as to his whereabouts, May being the loser. She had 
 so impressed on Hubert the necessity of coming straight 
 home to lunch that she was certain some unforeseen 
 piece of business had detained him. She had, therefore, 
 not hesitated to enter on the speculation. 
 
 " I knew I was bound to win," chuckled Preston. 
 " These clever people of nineteen do not realize how 
 stereotyped they'll be at forty-seven." 
 
 " Yes," said Hubert, musingly. " I am getting peril- 
 ously near fifty, and I seem to have flitted through all 
 those decades like a shadow. All is vanity." 
 
 He sighed. His face was naturally sad for all its 
 sweetness, his hair was gre3 - ing rapidly, and his forehead 
 showed lines. There were lines, too, about his mouth 
 severe, pure, cloistral; whilst his deep eyes, full of bril- 
 liance, accentuated the pallor that gave a further mo- 
 nastic distinction to his features. Pie had been growing
 
 THE HUSBAND 237 
 
 thinner of late, and his long frock-coat, seemed to sit 
 loosely on him. 
 
 " Your reflections are distinctly unappropriate en route 
 to a wedding," suggested Preston. 
 
 " You need have no fears as to the sort of figure I 
 will cut," laughed Hubert. " I shall be careful to dis- 
 simulate my sadness. I am not inexperienced at that." 
 
 Preston looked thoughtful. " Oh, well, / shall have 
 to try to amuse you I'll be looking in at Rutland Gate 
 myself later on." 
 
 u I shall certainly appreciate your attentions. You 
 know how these functions bore me. I generally sur- 
 render myself to the inward contemplation." 
 
 " I promise you that you shall not go to sleep to-day 
 Avith such material about to stimulate me. The most 
 pompous people in London converge to the Roburnes. 
 I'm always wondering, by the way, how it is that that 
 May of yours, with her intelligence, chooses to be so 
 thick with a family of that kind." 
 
 " I know the people only in the most superficial way," 
 said Hubert almost apologetically. " Besides, May and 
 her friendships have long since passed out of my little 
 personal horizon," he added with a laugh. 
 
 " Lady Wycliffe remains the same undiscriminating 
 enthusiast as ever. Fancy two such pets as May Ruth- 
 ven and Lady Florence ! " 
 
 " She is responsible, I should say, for most of May's 
 friendships," said Hubert smilingly ; " but, as you know, 
 I leave May perfectly free." 
 
 Preston laughed, observing that there was hardly any 
 alternative policy. He was certain he should never 
 have the pluck to try to influence her, even though they 
 were terrific friends, and he ranked among the few 
 people who were not her inferiors. 
 
 Hubert made some indulgent remark about high- 
 spirited youth. 
 
 " Sometimes it wants diluting down a bit," suggested
 
 238 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 Preston. " And there's the brother, young Arthur 
 Roburne Skeffington's personal secretary the very 
 part he's cut out for! The youngster has ambitions, 
 but I fancy he'll end pretty much as he began, and, at 
 the most, look back on a creditable career of under- 
 secretaryship. The old earl, however popular he may 
 be, has at least character, but the son represents a woeful 
 degeneration. The prig has the assurance to put on his 
 airs with me. You know the sort of young man the 
 chilly omniscient person who talks the stock political 
 platitudes in the longest words." 
 
 Hubert's thoughts travelled back very far. He had 
 a vision of a shy lad, fresh from Eton, holding forth to 
 Preston blushingly, yet with evident self-satisfaction. 
 He had never supposed then that this boy's sister was 
 destined to become May's bosom friend, and that he 
 himself should one day be bidden to her wedding. But 
 then life was full of these amusing irrelevant develop- 
 ments ! 
 
 " One of the most proper young men Balliol ever 
 turned out ! " pursued Preston. " But time enough for 
 me to be spiteful afterwards. Your folk were all fear- 
 fully excited about the wedding. Here we are at Oxford 
 Circus. See you later then. Au revoir! 
 
 Preston jumped off. The hansom turned up Portland 
 Place, and a minute later Hubert stood on his own door- 
 step. 
 
 The house was a great corner one, as plain and dull 
 externally as its neighbours all about. As Hubert 
 turned the latch and stepped into the hall, a listlessness 
 came over him. Besides engaging himself to accompany 
 the others to the Roburne wedding, he had promised to 
 join in one or two calls afterwards, but he felt no pleas- 
 ure at the afternoon's prospect. The occupations that 
 afforded them so much happiness had little savour for 
 him, did not even interest him. This fashionable resi- 
 dence, which another might have regarded with unctuous
 
 THE HUSBAND 239 
 
 self-satisfaction as the symbol of a successful career, 
 was merely a constant reminder to Hubert that all his 
 old ideals of life had somehow miscarried ! 
 
 It was their second season in London, and the girls 
 were important persons now. How swiftly the last half- 
 dozen years had sped! And as for their settling in 
 town why that seemed only the other day ! He re- 
 membered well the evening of May's first formal party, 
 how when she had come down ready dressed for depart- 
 ure, he had meant to offer her a little friendly counsel. 
 But she had made a moue. " Now, please, don't be an 
 old parson, uncle," she had exclaimed, kissing him. 
 Then, sylphlike, she had flashed away. He had laughed 
 in spite of himself, called himself a solemn old fogey. 
 Eighteen months had already gone since then, and their 
 abandoned house in the country (which Hubert had been 
 tempted to buy shortly after his marriage) had stood 
 empty all the time. It was one of his few bad invest- 
 ments, for never a possible tenant had appeared. 
 
 Their present mode of life astonished him every time 
 he grasped it. And yet the chain of events that had 
 led up to it was clear enough. 
 
 He had sent the girls abroad as soon as they were old 
 enough to travel with Constance, of course, to accom- 
 pany them. As they wished to become expert linguists, 
 and as there was no urgency for them to return to 
 England, their leisurely progression through the Conti- 
 nent had extended over two years. Hubert, in view of the 
 incalculable benefit of this experience to the girls, was 
 perfectly content to be left alone at home, especially 
 as he was able to join them, wherever they happened to 
 be, in the intervals of the law terms the many weeks 
 of the long vacation making amends for the few days 
 of the minor vacations. 
 
 Their time, indeed, was well occupied; whether they 
 were making long sojourns at Paris, Munich, Rome, or 
 Florence, or alternating these wonderful cities with
 
 240 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 Swiss lakes and Provei^al vineyards and Normandy or- 
 chards. May appeared to be taking art seriously, even 
 spending a good deal of time in the schools, and Gwenny 
 did not neglect her music. Naturally they rummaged a 
 great deal for treasures and bargains in out-of-the-way 
 corners, sending home, too, many a bulky acquisition. 
 And in the summer they would bask in the sunshine at 
 little sea-side places, far from the beaten track of the 
 tourist. Transient friendships, that at least left pleas- 
 ant memories, came to them everywhere, and there were 
 always people with whom to interchange mild hospitali- 
 ties and go shopping and sight-seeing. 
 
 And when at last they set foot in England again, it 
 was with a high consciousness of being very different 
 persons from the unsophisticated trio, who, landing at 
 Calais for the first time, had interrogated porters in 
 uncouth French. They found, in fact, they had quite 
 outgrown the old life. 
 
 And, indeed, it had soon become apparent that they 
 could not settle down in the old grooves. The girls, 
 interested in having the world unfold before them, could 
 not suddenly have it shut out at their age. Youth, as 
 Hubert indulgently reflected, must ever have something 
 in prospect especially youth that is splendidly buoyant, 
 splendidly beautiful, and splendidly loved. May's long- 
 ing for May, exuberant in desires, always took the 
 lead in longing was now to live in London; and 
 Constance, once the subject was mooted, made no con- 
 cealment that such a prospect was distinctly inviting 
 to her. Even Gwenny vibrated to the mysterious beck- 
 oning of the capital. To occupy a house in town seemed 
 an adventure full of romantic possibilities. They wished 
 to feel London as they had felt other great capitals, 
 with the added zest of being a real part of the life as 
 well as spectators of it. 
 
 As they had already a sufficient nucleus of friends 
 in town, they would not be entirely outsiders ; and
 
 THE HUSBAND 
 
 this nucleus, moreover, was of an easily expansible 
 nature. 
 
 But such aspects of the idea were, of course, more 
 present to the minds of the returned wanderers than to 
 that of Hubert, who was busily engaged in overworking 
 most of the time, with his books for his sole distraction. 
 He himself was naturally pained at the idea of giving up 
 the home in which he had spent the happiest years of his 
 life, for, in spite of unexpected luck of late with some of 
 his investments, he still could not afford to maintain it 
 in addition to a residence in London. He was careful, 
 however, not to let his own emotions enter into the 
 family councils. How could he do otherwise in face of 
 their irrepressible zest in existence ! 
 
 He gave his sanction without uneasiness. He had 
 faith in those he loved. So far as he looked forward, it 
 was with the hope that, if London offered a wider field 
 of interests and pleasures, it would equally offer a 
 wider field of inspiration and a wider appeal to their 
 sympathies. 
 
 But once the initial step had been taken, he had 
 scarcely been able to influence the march of events. 
 Their London friends had rallied round them, and Lady 
 Wycliffe (who, since her husband's death, had occupied 
 a simpler house in Arlington street) had enthusiastically 
 taken them under her special wing, and, in spite of her 
 semi-retirement from the world, she had contrived to 
 launch Constance and the girls into a fashionable whirl- 
 pool before Hubert had fairly realized how matters were 
 shaping themselves. When at last he came to ponder 
 over and to face the facts, he began to recognize that the 
 years of their Continental residence had effected a gap in 
 his relations with the others which he had never contem- 
 plated. Since their return they had never resumed the 
 old footing. It began to dawn upon him that his mental 
 leadership was somehow a thing of the past. They 
 were independent entities, proud individualities, not only
 
 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 generating their own criticism, but capable of turning it 
 on him ! Each now had her secrets, her private corres- 
 pondence, her personal thoughts and emotions. He felt 
 as if a wall had been built against him. There was not 
 even superficially the same intimacy as of old. 
 
 Their first house in London had been on a far more 
 moderate scale than their present one, but Constance 
 had found it unsuitable for social purposes. And when, 
 ultimately, her longing to give a large party was 
 thwarted by the smallness of her drawing-room, she had 
 set herself to scan the advertisement columns of The 
 Morning Post, with the result that, in the winter, they 
 had shifted their quarters again. Constance had obtained 
 this " eligible mansion " in Portland Place as a special 
 bargain, taking over the remainder of a short lease from 
 the estate of a bankrupt bullion-broker, and confidently 
 calculating to be able to maintain it by clever manage- 
 ment (seeing they were so small a family) with only a 
 slight increase of their normal expenditure. Hubert did 
 not even go to look at the house; he needed only a 
 corner for himself, and was content to take possession of 
 that whenever it should be allotted to him. 
 
 And so their second season was now in full swing. 
 Expenditure, in spite of all calculations, had heavily 
 increased. Hubert signed all cheques with an almost 
 mechanical indifference, and resumed his unceasing 
 labours. Meanwhile he had been losing touch more and 
 more with the details of their existence. Their by now 
 vast circle of friends were for the most part strangers to 
 him, and he neither knew nor saw what exactly they 
 were doing from day to day. Constance was entirely 
 absorbed in this new life, and had now at last ventured 
 to send out cards for the ambitious party she had long 5 
 dreamed of.
 
 n 
 
 Sj MESSAGE awaited Hubert that May would 
 ZJ return for him after the ceremony. As he 
 ^4 M had forgotten to lunch, he was not displeased 
 at the respite. The house at its corner faced 
 east and north, so that even at that early hour the rooms 
 were already sunless. Hubert had a fancy that, at the 
 best of times, a dimness brooded over the immediate 
 locality, and he found it particularly cheerless now to be 
 eating alone in the sombre dining-room, through whose 
 ugly plate-glass windows, giving on streets on two sides, 
 came a tarnished London light. There was not even the 
 compensation of shady coolness, for the air was close 
 and stifling everywhere. He hurried from the table as 
 soon as possible, and, by the time he had made himself 
 presentable, was informed that May was waiting for 
 him in the drawing-room. 
 
 And there he found her standing in one of the win- 
 dows between the green arras-like hangings, and staring 
 at the dull brick stretch of respectable mansions on the 
 opposite side of the street. She was all in white 
 her summer dress was of the daintiest, and her hat co- 
 quettishly trimmed with roses and black velvet. Her 
 beauty dazzled him. It seemed to him almost too ex- 
 quisite for reality, and the deep tenderness with which 
 he was stirred at the sight of her had mingled in it 
 something of the worship of a lover in his first flood of 
 romance. Such discontent and vague unhappiness as 
 had been troubling him were at once charmed away; it 
 seemed a great thing that the world should contain so 
 wonderful and so happy a creature! 
 
 243
 
 244 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 He stole across the great room softly, picking his way 
 amid the Louis Treize arm-chairs covered with faded 
 brocade, and old cedar and tulip-wood tables laden with 
 quaint silver and bibelots. As he could not take his eye 
 off her, he was fortunate in getting over to her without 
 misadventure. And yet, despite all the important bril- 
 liance of her presence, she was the same child he had 
 taken away from the northern suburb so many years 
 before, had always been that tiny person. The princess 
 into which she had bloomed was a perennial surprise for 
 him, and he had often a bewildering double sense of her 
 identity. After a period of hesitation, she had had a 
 spurt of growth, but in the end she had just missed 
 being tall. Hubert would not for worlds have had a 
 single inch of difference whether more or less in her 
 height. 
 
 For some obscure reason, she seemed greatly fasci- 
 nated just then by the row of opposite houses, and so did 
 not hear Hubert approaching. When at last he called 
 her by name, she turned with a start. 
 
 " You must forgive my unpunctuality. I feel very 
 guilty," he murmured. 
 
 She came close to him, and putting her long arms 
 round his neck, ensnared his soul with her wonderful 
 smiling eyes. 
 
 " On one condition that you've not been discovered 
 at that wretched book-shop." 
 
 " I'm sorry, but I've lost you your bet." 
 
 " Then I forgive you without conditions." Her voice 
 was sweet with reassurance. She held her eyes fixed on 
 his a moment longer, then suddenly tiptoed up and gave 
 him the kiss her tantalizing attitude had kept promising. 
 Already the afternoon's prospect had become more at- 
 tractive to Hubert. Usually he had to be content to see 
 her lose herself in the brilliant life that charmed her 
 away from him ; for once he would have her near him for 
 a whole afternoon!
 
 THE HUSBAND 245 
 
 She reminded him that the carriage was waiting, so 
 they descended immediately. 
 
 " So I've lost my bet," she sighed, as they drove off. 
 " Dear old father Preston I like him so much ! Only I 
 confess I'm a wee bit afraid of him. He's much too deep 
 for a child like me. He's perfectly uncanny sometimes 
 I believe he knows exactly what is going to happen to 
 every one of us." 
 
 " It looks uncommonly as if he does to judge by 
 to-day's experience." 
 
 May considered for a brief moment, as was her habit. 
 
 " I wonder why he hasn't married ! " she said 
 abruptly. 
 
 " I should say he is best able to answer that question 
 himself." 
 
 " I have tried to make him, but no one knows better 
 than he how to avoid answering. I suppose his queer 
 ideas have a good deal to do with it. I know he has 
 queer ideas, though they only peep out when it pleases 
 him to puzzle me. Now, to tell the truth, I'm begin- 
 ning to lose patience with him. Fancy allowing a set of 
 ideas to make one's life miserable for I'm sure the poor 
 old thing is miserable. If I were he, I should take care 
 to get rid of the ideas very soon." 
 
 " I don't think he'd give up his ideas if that were to 
 make him even as happy as you," said Hubert. " That's 
 one of his ideas, and an important one." 
 
 " It would be interesting to be in church and watch 
 him being married," smiled May, flying along, yet deftly 
 evading the threatened subtleties. " I couldn't help 
 imagining him in Major Bellows' place to-day. Major 
 Bellows was almost irritatingly calm. But poor Flo 
 went through the ordeal rather badly. She burst into 
 tears at the most solemn moment, and her aunt had to lift 
 up the veil and dry her eyes for her. I was so sorry 
 about it, but I never should have thought Flo likely to 
 break down in that way."
 
 246 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 And, once started about the wedding, May had much 
 to relate about the bride and the bridegroom, and the 
 two families thus allied. But Hubert's interest in these 
 apparently remarkable people was of the mildest. In 
 truth he was a little disappointed that the ground of 
 their conversation should have shifted just when it 
 had become promising. He was confident the love between 
 them was as perfect as it had ever been; but, even as 
 he listened to all this superficial chatter, he wondered 
 more and more what were the real workings of this quick 
 brain in its more earnest moments, what were the ideas 
 she had been forming for herself as the result of her 
 later experiences. 
 
 Soon, however, he found himself listening with a shade 
 more interest in the members of the Roburne family. 
 Close friends as they were of May's, his own acquaint- 
 ance with them was, as he had told Preston, of the 
 slightest. But, in view of his meeting them again, the 
 girl's talk was informing. The bride, who had been 
 left motherless many years since, had long been chaper- 
 oned by her aunt, Lady Farrow, at whose house in 
 Rutland Gate the wedding presents were being exhibited 
 and the reception held. Arthur Roburne, the younger 
 of Lady Florence's brothers, was, by a family arrange- 
 ment, quartered with his chief at Eaton Square, whilst 
 " Charlie," the heir, had a taste for soldiering, and was 
 now in Egypt. The father had had to come up specially 
 for the wedding, for he seldom left his Yorkshire home 
 now. Hubert did not suppose that the old earl would 
 have the least recollection of their meeting at the same 
 table some dozen years back, but with the son Arthur 
 he had already on one or two occasions interchanged a 
 few words, as when, somewhat absent-mindedly, Hubert 
 had wandered into the drawing-room on Constance's 
 " at home " day. May did not seem at all disinclined 
 to talk about the young man, who, Hubert learned, had 
 of late been spending a good deal of his spare time at
 
 THE HUSBAND 247 
 
 his aunt's, whereas at one time he had rather avoided 
 Rutland Gate. 
 
 " Once upon a time, I knew of his existence only from 
 Flo's talk. She used to talk about him an enormous 
 deal." 
 
 " And now I suppose you hear him at first hand on 
 the same subject," said Hubert, with incautious gaiety, 
 remembering Preston's estimate of the Honourable Ar- 
 thur Roburne. 
 
 He was surprised to see May reddening. Moments of 
 such confusion were rare with her. 
 
 " If Mr. Roburne chooses to honour me with his confi- 
 dence, there is no reason why I shouldn't be civil enough 
 to listen. I suppose somebody has been gossiping." 
 She seemed indignant, overlooking that Hubert had 
 spoken quite at random. 
 
 " Gossiping ! " he echoed. " What a notion ! I was 
 only afraid the fellow was inflicting himself on you." 
 He was still thinking of the egotistic young man whom 
 Preston had painted. 
 
 " The fellow inflict himself on me ! " May laughed 
 uneasily. " Poor Mr. Roburne ! " 
 
 " I understood he was conceited," murmured Hubert, 
 conscious of having got himself into trouble. 
 
 " Was there ever a young man whom somebody or 
 other didn't think conceited? Why, you scarcely know 
 Mr. Roburne. ... It really isn't fair to make up 
 your mind about anybody in that prejudiced way! " 
 
 " Of course it isn't ! You make me feel ashamed of 
 myself." 
 
 May was silent. She seemed agitated in spite of her- 
 self. Hubert was really sorry for his slight disparage- 
 ment of Mr. Arthur Roburne ; he could not bear to have 
 occasioned her the least vexation, even though unwit- 
 tingly. " How loyal she is to her friends ! " he thought 
 with pride. 
 
 But soon she resumed her talk as unconcernedly as
 
 248 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 though she had never had a moment of embarrass- 
 ment. She only stopped as they were passing along 
 Knightsbridge, remembering suddenly she had promised 
 Constance to call en route on two sisters, who were giving 
 a concert that evening, to which they were all going, 
 and who, moreover, were to sing at the Ruthven's party 
 on the following Wednesday. 
 
 She insisted on Hubert's accompanying her, and led 
 him down an unexpected impasse at the end of which 
 she rang the bell of a tiny brick house. This proved to 
 be a very quaint sort of place, unexpectedly amusing, 
 and, as Hubert ascended the stairway, he had the sensa- 
 tion of at once examining a doll's house through a mag- 
 nifying-glass, and of exploring the interior. There was 
 just one room on each floor, with windows at the back 
 that overlooked the full bustle of Park Lane, and the 
 miniature drawing-room into which they were ushered 
 might have been a virtuoso's showroom, so crowded was 
 it with daintily-filled cabinets, and brocade-covered 
 chairs, and the sweetest of old china, and ancient musical 
 instruments and exquisitely chiselled candlesticks. 
 Presently the two sisters Godfrey came bounding into 
 the room wonderful creatures with flaming gold hair 
 and dazzlingly fair complexions. They welcomed their 
 visitors with loud ringing voices, expressively accom- 
 panied by movements of very brilliant blue eyes that 
 were incredibly enormous. Despite all the warmth of 
 their greeting, their large, interesting features had yet 
 a strange suggestion of coldness ; they looked, indeed, as 
 if they had just leapt out of one of those pictures in a 
 high key, where the paint, despite all the dazzle, remains 
 coldly unreal. 
 
 Constance's message was soon delivered, the sisters 
 offered tea, which was refused, and then all spoke about 
 the wedding in which the Misses Godfrey seemed ar- 
 dently interested, though not acquaintances of the Ro- 
 burne family. Hubert, who naturally took little part in
 
 THE HUSBAND 249 
 
 the conversation, sat waiting good-humouredly. How 
 full of the joy of life were all three girls! What an 
 eagerness for pleasures and happy experiences radiated 
 from them! 
 
 Soon the visit had to be cut short, and Hubert and 
 May continued their drive amid the sea of smart equi- 
 pages, ultimately skirting the Park that lay green and 
 pleasant in the sunshine, and taking their place in the 
 long procession of carriages that were moving forward 
 to deposit their occupants at Lady Farrow's door- 
 step. 
 
 As they made their way between the rows of lackeys 
 and passed down the palm-lined hall, a murmur of music 
 came to them from a distant conservatory. The air was 
 scented by great heaps of roses, whose profusion amid 
 appropriate greenery all but succeeded in giving the con- 
 ventional London interior something of a romantic as- 
 pect. The assemblage in the drawing-room, too, had 
 undoubtedly its picturesque points, what with the poeti- 
 cally veiled bride, resplendent in white satin and orange- 
 blossoms, the little pages in mauve costumes, and the 
 bridesmaids with their beautiful bouquets flitting about 
 everywhere. Lady Florence was effusively affectionate 
 towards May, as if eagerly welcoming so legitimate an 
 opportunity of occupying her attention naturally. 
 Though she was finely built, her features were of a some- 
 what masculine cast she bore a curious resemblance to 
 her brother and she was evidently several years older 
 than May Ruthven. But she had always been a shy and 
 backward girl, and even now was scarcely on May's level 
 of engaging self-confidence. Her husband, Major Bel- 
 lows, was certainly a handsome fellow, and he stood near 
 at hand smiling at nobody in particular. 
 
 Lady Farrow, a plumper edition of her niece, looking 
 remarkably fresh in her velvet gown though she was well 
 over fifty, welcomed Hubert with great amiability, and 
 presently passed him on to her brother, whom he had
 
 250 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 recognized at once on entering the room. The earl had 
 apparently changed very little since the last and first 
 time Hubert had seen him. His gnarled and stern 
 features were somewhat chastened by years, though they 
 now exhibited a set expression of agony. He had al- 
 ways been a man of autocratic temper, passionately im- 
 perious, and had throughout life quarreled with his 
 colleagues in every capacity of public usefulness in which 
 he had attempted to engage. Living in retirement now, 
 he was dreaded by everybody about him, and was grow- 
 ing more and more difficult as gout and rheumatisms 
 tormented his old age. Yet his courtesy to strangers 
 was proverbial. 
 
 He eyed Hubert searchingly as Lady Farrow men- 
 tioned his name, and retaining his hand for a moment 
 with great cordiality, presently recalled the fact of their 
 previous meeting to Hubert's unconcealed surprise. 
 " I never forget a face," the earl went on to proclaim 
 with an almost childish pride, and he was ready with 
 many other remarkable instances of this infallible power 
 of his. He spoke with a peculiar dry intonation, gruff, 
 yet not unpleasant, articulating with his lips almost 
 closed. Clearly he was greatly pleased with himself at 
 his ability to astonish his listener repeatedly. Ultimately, 
 under cover of the amazement caused by one of the most 
 remarkable of these mnemonic achievements, he broke off 
 to welcome an ascetic-looking bishop, and, with an air of 
 addressing both, felicitated himself and them on the 
 charming weather that had come so suddenly with June. 
 When he had left the country but a fortnight before the 
 summer had been sadly behindhand and large roaring 
 fires had been the rule. In his own lifetime the climate 
 of England had certainly been changing, for of late 
 years the heat-wave had come upon them without warn- 
 ing. 
 
 Presently Hubert found himself subtly dismissed, so he 
 moved away and glanced round to see what had become
 
 THE HUSBAND 251 
 
 of May. In a moment he caught sight of her some 
 distance away talking to three young men of varying 
 types but uniform tailoring ; yet nodding and bowing at 
 the same time to other friends in the crowd. Constance 
 and Gwenny were not to be seen at all. As Hubert 
 knew absolutely nobody here, he occupied himself watch- 
 ing May's doings, and wondering who these men were 
 and on what exact footing they stood with her. Here 
 was she in the very heart of that life which claimed her 
 most of the time, and, now that he had followed her for 
 once, he could understand not a jot of what was proceed- 
 ing, of what were her vivid interests, her true feelings, 
 the degree of her friendship for all these people. Finally 
 he began to wish Preston would arrive and entertain 
 him with the promised malicious interpretation of the 
 assembly. 
 
 A great many slow minutes went by. May had flitted 
 all over the room by now, and at present was being 
 greeted by two elderly men who looked as if they might 
 be colonels. Then, as Hubert turned his head again, he 
 saw Constance and Gwenny just entering the room in 
 tow of Mr. Arthur Roburne himself. In thus averting 
 his eyes from the direction of May, who caught sight of 
 the others about the same time, Hubert failed to observe 
 the slight change that came over her face. 
 
 His attention was, however, again diverted just then, 
 for he was suddenly aware that somebody at his side was 
 trying to speak to him. 
 
 " I suppose you don't remember me, Mr. Ruthven ! " 
 
 The speaker was a very graceful, sweet-voiced woman 
 of about thirty -five, whose good looks were slightly on 
 the wane, the corners of her mouth having that drawn 
 appearance which is associated with perennial sadness. 
 Hubert, as she had surmised, was quite at a loss to recall 
 her, and found himself envying the earl his memory. 
 Despite her tolerant smile at his hesitation, he experi- 
 enced some slight embarrassment, the more so as she
 
 QNE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 struck him immediately as a very charming person, and 
 he felt he really had met her before somewhere. 
 
 " We met ever so long ago more years than I care to 
 think of," she said, with a flash of gaiety in her manner 
 that also seemed to him strangely familiar. " I am Mrs. 
 Holbrook I used to be Miss Hardynge in those days." 
 
 It was as if a wizard's wand had touched her. She 
 stood at once transformed before him, and he saw her 
 again as the fresh, sprightly girl who had been placed 
 beside him with as had afterwards transpired delight- 
 fully futile intention. He had often remembered that 
 little episode with a smile that was sometimes pitiful, 
 sometimes of mere amusement. 
 
 " Ah, yes ! " he exclaimed. " You had made up your 
 mind to be happy, and to let nothing throughout life 
 interfere with that determination. I have often thought 
 of you." 
 
 She flushed, then gave a little laugh. " I was an awful 
 little goose. What a number of foolish things I must 
 have said to you ! But how strange we should never 
 have met since ! " 
 
 " As I explained to you then, I do not exactly belong 
 to your world," he smiled. 
 
 " I envy you," she smiled back. " Still I confess I 
 should have liked to know you better I remember how 
 I enjoyed our talk that evening." 
 
 " You are very kind," he murmured. 
 
 " I really did," she assured him. " Only I felt terribly 
 timid, though, of course, I pretended not to be. It's a 
 great pleasure to confess things years afterwards when 
 one can afford to laugh at them." She nodded just then 
 to some one who had been trying to catch her eye. 
 " I'm sorry, but I have to go on now," she added, with 
 an air of affable conclusion. She drew herself up, and 
 frigidly held the tips of her fingers to him. " Good- 
 bye!" 
 
 Though she was still smiling kindly, yet, in that mo-
 
 THE HUSBAND 253 
 
 ment, she seemed to relapse into a fashionable frigidity 
 of demeanour that almost seemed to repudiate the more 
 human person who had just been speaking to him. 
 
 " Good-bye, Mrs. Holbrook," he returned. She 
 nodded again as she moved away, and Hubert bowed in 
 acknowledgment. 
 
 In the meanwhile Constance and Gwenny had been 
 seized upon by a couple of stately matrons who were 
 sisters, with comic obviousness so that Arthur Roburne 
 was left free to gravitate to May. Like his father, the 
 young man was well set up, and he had the family 
 features in a marked degree. He was of fair complex- 
 ion with a tinge of colour in his cheeks, his hair and 
 moustache were blonde, and he spoke with the least 
 touch of a drawl. He gave the impression of energy well 
 under control, carrying his perfectly-groomed self with 
 a certain decision of movement. 
 
 " I have just been helping your aunt and sister to see 
 the presents, Miss Ruthven," he explained as he greeted 
 her, letting his lips part in a careful smile. " I believe I 
 have greatly distinguished myself, and I hope you will 
 give me the chance of doing so further.* 
 
 May listened, as was her usual way, with the gravest 
 of expressions, letting her large grey eyes rest on him at- 
 tentively. She never indulged in superfluous movements 
 of her features : they were best in repose, and needed no 
 trick to show them off. Her manner, too, was free from 
 decoration. People spoke of her " pretty ways," yet 
 would have been perplexed to indicate in what these 
 " ways " consisted. 
 
 She thanked Roburne for his suggestion, and took his 
 arm without any hesitation, giving a swift smile and a 
 gracious nod by way of excuse to the two elderly men 
 with whom she had been more or less in conversation. 
 
 " As you may well believe, Miss Ruthven," he resumed, 
 as they picked their way down-stairs, " the last fortnight 
 has been pressing heavily on me. Skeffington has an
 
 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 unconscious way of working a man for all he's worth, 
 and the pressure of business is as usual reflected at Eaton 
 Square to say nothing of the thousands of correspond- 
 ents who are always finding some excuse for writing. 
 I've been caught, in fact, between two tempests. Skef- 
 fington was hard put to it to manage without me this 
 afternoon. Of course he could find plenty of mechanical 
 substitutes, but it's the special knowledge and experience 
 that count. So I had to promise him to slip away imme- 
 diately after dinner, and make an all-night sitting 
 of it." 
 
 " You are a big, strong fellow, so I'm not going to 
 waste any sympathy on you. It would have been too 
 hard on Flo not to have had at least one of her brothers 
 at her wedding." 
 
 " Yes. What with Charley away in Egypt, and Skef- 
 fington nigger-driving in that bland way of his, Flo was 
 well-nigh reduced to brotherlessness as as well as to 
 tears." 
 
 " You ought not to be so unkind." The reproach was 
 tempered by the subtle friendly modulation of her voice. 
 
 " I am quite good," he declared. " Charlie would 
 have chaffed her unmercifully. Why, I've not said a 
 word about it in her hearing. Here we are, though. 
 What shall we look at first ? " 
 
 The room was filled, all round its sides and down the 
 centre, with a great display of glittering objects. There 
 were few people in the room just at the moment, and 
 those had almost the air of visitors to a museum as they 
 bent over the exhibits or read on the affixed cards the 
 expressions of the overflowing affection for the newly- 
 wedded couple of which the gifts were merely trifling 
 and inadequate symbols. Roburne and May made their 
 way across the room and came to a stand by one of the 
 windows, attracted for an instant by the cool foliage of 
 the far-stretching Park without. Near them was a 
 queer-looking, broad-shouldered giant, with laughing big
 
 THE HUSBAND 255 
 
 flat features ; his head bald at the top, but with long hair 
 hanging straight down all round till it curled up at the 
 ends, and his back presenting an immense stretch of 
 broadcloth with great flaps. He was inspecting a curi- 
 ous old Brittany petrin, evidently bewildered as to the 
 nature of the object, for he was staring at it and chuck- 
 ling alternately. In marked contrast, a few feet away 
 from them, a beautifully-dressed couple, almost theat- 
 rically fashionable-looking, were examining things with 
 cold, well-bred aloofness; the woman with stiff, straight 
 back and tortoise-shell lorgnette, the man with hair splen- 
 didly dashed with grey, and all aglow with health and 
 fine linen. Rustling figures scattered all about supple- 
 mented these more definite ones, and, fountain-like, kept 
 playing out in echoes of " how sweet ! " " how pretty ! " 
 " how sweetly pretty ! " 
 
 " Now where had we best begin ? " Arthur Roburne 
 asked again. 
 
 " I put myself entirely in your hands," answered May, 
 in charming surrender of her will to his. " Have you 
 not already greatly distinguished yourself at that sort of 
 thing? " she added after the slightest of pauses. 
 
 " Oh, please don't laugh at me," he begged ; " it 
 makes me feel so nervous. Do you like these Louis 
 Seize candlesticks, Miss Ruthven? They say Louis 
 Seize is a good period to collect. These, of course, 
 aren't genuine, though they look almost as well as if 
 they were. But it's the identity of a thing that counts. 
 Oh, I say, Miss Ruthven, it's really charming, you know, 
 to be getting a chat with you again after being fagged 
 to death for a whole week and hardly getting a glimpse 
 of you." 
 
 " It's too bad to have a fag like that," she murmured, 
 her voice vibrating with indignant concern. " I'd rebel 
 against it, if I were you. How strange ! The tops of 
 these candlesticks are made to come off ! " 
 
 " Yes, that's what they call the bobeches," he ex-
 
 256 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 plained. " But I didn't mean to suggest that I shirk 
 hard work. Being only Arthur, and not Charlie, I have 
 to take my profession seriously; and, in political life, 
 there's nothing like beginning at the foot of the ladder 
 and learning the business thoroughly. In a way I've 
 been enormously lucky to have had Skeffington take me 
 up. With my ambition, I could scarcely have made a 
 better beginning." 
 
 She had listened to him, all whilst further examining 
 the candlesticks, with serene yet attentive countenance. 
 " Yes, Flo has often told me how ambitious you are," she 
 chimed in ; " that you mean to be Prime Minister one of 
 these days." 
 
 Roburne blushed like an awkward school-boy. " I'm 
 afraid Flo somewhat exaggerates," he stammered, as if 
 on his defence. " To listen to her you'd imagine I had 
 the most awful swelled head, whereas I am only anxious 
 to do my best in the hope of making a name. A man 
 may frankly look forward to honourable achievement and 
 yet be a good fellow don't you think so, Miss Ruth- 
 ven?" 
 
 " Certainly," she admitted " I can't understand a 
 man not being ambitious. If he isn't, he must be either a 
 fool or a philosopher. The fool isn't worth discussing, 
 and the philosopher, I confess, is quite beyond my intel- 
 lect. But I'm sure Flo never meant to be indiscreet. 
 She is genuinely enthusiastic about you." She moved 
 away from the candlesticks. 
 
 The young man looked up and observed with dismay 
 that people had suddenly begun swarming into the 
 room. 
 
 " I've a bright idea, Miss Ruthven to wit, a cup of 
 tea! It's really such a bore to be elbowed about, and 
 the multitude's only beginning to show itself. So please 
 let me off now. I do want to talk to you a little, and 
 you must admit I have been unfortunate of late." 
 
 " I shall be grateful for the cup of tea," she said
 
 THE HUSBAND 257 
 
 graciously. " But I'm afraid there won't be much of a 
 chat we have to go on." 
 
 He made a wry face, and she took his arm again, 
 laughing frankly at his discomfort. 
 
 " Well, 3'ou must make it up to me on Thursday when 
 I am bringing my aunt to your aunt's party. You'll 
 scarcely be going on elsewhere then, and I shall have 
 you at bay." 
 
 " Ah, but your Skeffington is coming have you for- 
 gotten? Did we not receive his gracious reply in your 
 own hand-writing! What if he has you at bay? I 
 mean gets you into a corner and dictates letters or 
 something of the kind ! " she pursued mischievously. 
 
 " Pie's taskmaster enough for that," murmured Ro- 
 burne uneasily, half to himself. 
 
 In the tea-room, however, they found another crowd, 
 mainly women, nibbling sandwiches or eating raw straw- 
 berries and cream, with just a sprinkling of frock-coated 
 males who stood amongst them chatting sociably and 
 skilfully balancing their cups. Presently May and her 
 companion discerned Preston in that very attitude and 
 engaged in discoursing to Gwenny, who, seated in a 
 corner, had been hidden from their view as they entered 
 the room. Gwenny wore a green dress with dark facings, 
 and a charming Leghorn hat. Her hair was arranged 
 a la vierge, and, though largely concealed by the hat, 
 still harmonized prettily with her features. As usual, 
 she was pale and ethereal-looking, and her face was 
 turned up to Preston's with half-shy, attentive eyes. 
 And just a few feet away sat Lady Wy cliff e and Hubert ! 
 Roburne did not feel quite so pleased as he tried to look, 
 especially as he saw Lady WyclifFe's face rest on his 
 companion's with a smile that suggested the girl should 
 come to her. 
 
 Though she was advancing in years, the change in 
 Lady WyclifFe's appearance was, apparently, of the 
 slightest. As of yore, she wore her white hair high
 
 258 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 above her thoughtful forehead, and there was the same 
 sweet expression about her eyes and mouth. But the 
 softly-faded face was marked by an infinity of lines that 
 spoke of doubtful health and pain bravely endured. 
 Her voice, too, had grown more subdued. 
 
 She took May by both hands. " I have just been 
 doing my best to entice our Hubert from his family 
 circle for once," she explained with a winning smile ; 
 " and he has promised to lunch with me on Sunday not 
 to be entertained, but just for a friendly talk with a not 
 very clever old woman. Now, little birdie, I want you 
 to come, too I have been shamefully neglected by both 
 of you of late. Of course I know my house is the dullest 
 in London for a high-spirited child who likes a romp, 
 but I hear you've been going about a great deal of late, 
 and perhaps a few quiet hours may not be entirely un- 
 welcome." 
 
 " Dear Lady Wycliffe ! " said the girl, her eyes full of 
 soft witchery as she returned the caressing pressure of 
 the hands that still held hers. " You know how happy 
 it always makes me to be near you ! " May felt the 
 hands close on hers tighter than ever now. 
 
 Roburne brought May her tea at this moment, and 
 Lady Wycliffe had the benevolent idea of extending an 
 invitation to him as well. " It will make a charming 
 quartette!" she urged, with a touch of girlish joyous- 
 ness in her voice. 
 
 Roburne eagerly accepted, feeling largely consoled for 
 the loss of his tete-a-tete. 
 
 As soon as they had seen the bride and bridegroom 
 drive off, about an hour later, the Ruthvens re-assembled 
 and went off to finish their afternoon at a garden-party 
 in Kensington. 
 
 The girls were somewhat silent as they drove along, as 
 if the wedding had stimulated them to mystic reflection 
 on the human destiny ; but Constance, the excitement of 
 the same event mingling with the excitement of her own
 
 THE HUSBAND 259 
 
 coming party (for which preparations were by now well 
 advanced), made ample amends for their silence. She 
 appeared to have a marvellously exact recollection of 
 all the presents to which she was a catalogue and 
 descriptive guide in one. She enumerated the things of 
 which there had been duplicates, and indicated how Lady 
 Florence might make mutually advantageous exchanges 
 with one of her friends who had been married shortly 
 before, and of whose duplicated presents an accurate 
 record likewise existed in Constance's mind.
 
 Ill 
 
 the Saturday following Hubert was able to 
 leave his chambers with the rare sensation of a 
 complete respite from his labours. On arriving 
 home, however, he remembered he had to lunch 
 in solitude, the others having gone off early in the 
 morning to join a river-party at Twickenham. So he 
 rose from the table immediately after eating, and went 
 across the hall to his own sanctum, with the intention of 
 skimming the newspapers or toying with a book, as the 
 mood of the moment might dictate. 
 
 The sanctum was a comfortable one, though it con- 
 veyed an excessive suggestion of solid respectability. 
 It had a large oak work-table, and a red-and-blue East- 
 ern carpet, and great bookcases lining the walls, and 
 roomy arm-chairs. 
 
 Hubert could not settle down at once, but found him- 
 self pacing about with a curious sense of having wan- 
 dered into somebody else's home. True, all these books, 
 arranged in such immaculate lines behind the beautiful 
 glass panels, were the very ones his own hand had so 
 patiently and lovingly collected. Yet none the less did 
 they seem absorbed into the general alien atmosphere, 
 of which he was as conscious here as everywhere in the 
 house. He thought with a sigh of the charming, dis- 
 orderly study of long ago, from which he had so often 
 stepped out on to the lawn on soft summer evenings, 
 when the children's long day of happiness had been 
 crowned by the deepest of slumbers. 
 
 Finally he dropped into a chair, and passed his hand 
 across his face despondently. The household weighed 
 on him ; he regretted their migration to London. 
 
 260
 
 THE HUSBAND 261 
 
 But, unwilling to abandon himself to the unpleasant 
 thoughts that besieged him, he presently tried to find 
 some little distraction in the batch of papers and maga- 
 zines that lay on the table. He was fortunate enough 
 to chance on one or two articles that had some interest 
 for him, and he read steadily for half-an-hour or so. 
 Then, taking up a weekly society paper at random, he 
 stumbled across a long account of the Bellows-Roburne 
 wedding. Although in the intervening few days he had 
 not escaped hearing much of the brilliance of the crowd 
 which he himself had looked upon so indifferently, the 
 description of the whole affair was certainly surprising. 
 The magnificence of the occasion flashed and scintillated, 
 shone richly at him from the printed words, with a riot 
 of grandeur and colour his innocent eye had never sus- 
 pected in the living assemblage. He had been aware of 
 a multitude of well-dressed people, of bride and brides- 
 maids and pages, had drunk a bad cup of tea, had con- 
 versed a little with his friends. And that corresponded 
 with this dazzling fairy tale ! 
 
 He could not help smiling at the picture of the bride 
 standing erect amid the throng of the great and noble, 
 a stately creature of " fair golden hair and sweet feat- 
 ures " in full panoply of white satin and orange blossoms, 
 of chiffon and point d'Alencon and seed pearls, of sweep- 
 ing train and Brussels lace veil fastened with a crescent 
 of sapphires and diamonds. He had a vision of Lady 
 Farrow disarranging this veil, and wiping the tearful 
 eyes with a dainty kerchief suppressed though the in- 
 cident had been by the chronicler! 
 
 He threw down the paper and pushed the whole heap 
 further away from him. He could not read any more. 
 His thoughts went back to his own womenfolk. If he 
 had not been interested in obtaining a complete view of 
 one of their days, a whole page out of the diary of their 
 existence, his taste of their social round the other after- 
 noon would have left him cold and indifferent. For
 
 262 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 months and months now he had struggled against his 
 bitterly clear perception that they had thrown themselves 
 heart and soul into a wholly worldly existence (involving 
 the maintenance of an ever-growing luxury), and were 
 devoting every available minute of their time to pleasure, 
 pleasure, pleasure pursuing it with a thoughtless f ever- 
 ishness that appalled him. 
 
 Such enthusiasm for " life " he had never conceived. 
 What an energy they put into every day every mo- 
 ment! Theirs was the ecstasy of a bird on the wing; 
 it was even akin to that of a savage on the war-path ! He 
 had continually rubbed his eyes in unbelief but the 
 facts would not bear denial. Then he had set about 
 searching for every possible argument in their favour, 
 He must not give way to resentment, he told himself, 
 merely because what afforded them the greatest gratifica- 
 tion afforded him none at all. So radical a difference 
 between his temperament and theirs was to be regretted, 
 but it must not lead him into injustice. 
 
 He knew himself pretty well by now with the years 
 he had become more clearly defined to himself. A less 
 ghostly person stared back at him from the mirror of 
 his soul. He felt as if his personality had concentrated 
 itself, as if it had lost a great deal of its vagueness and 
 shadings. Its gamut had come to comprise a few simple 
 notes that, when struck, sounded the deeper and stronger. 
 His approvals and disapprovals were backed by stronger 
 personal feeling than he had been wont to display in his 
 earlier years. And yet, with this growing tendency 
 towards austerity of character, there was joined an in- 
 finite tenderness towards the whole world. 
 
 He had been deeply impressed by the words Preston 
 had used to him in the course of their first conversation 
 after the latter's return from his wanderings : " At one 
 time I thought it possible you might end your days in a 
 cloister ! " He had often cited this to himself as an 
 instance of his friend's sagacity, for there had been
 
 THE HUSBAND 263 
 
 moments of late when he had almost found himself long- 
 ing for the serenity of the monk's existence. Severe 
 stone mediaeval spaces, bare monastic interiors, ripe 
 crumbling walls, had risen in his thoughts symbols of 
 repose amid this hurrying, scurrying life of the London 
 season. 
 
 The consciousness of his own austerity had made him 
 the more anxious to guard himself against possible nar- 
 rowness and intolerance. Constance, May, and Gwenny 
 were the last people in the world against whom he should 
 harbour one ungenerous thought. Surely, if, by de- 
 liberate self-sacrifice and self-suppression, one rendered 
 happy those with whom one's life was in closest contact, 
 that should be reckoned a great thing to have achieved ! 
 Had he not all along based the possibility of his own 
 happiness on that of the others? And were they not 
 happier than ever before in their lives? 
 
 He was perfectly aware it clearly followed from this 
 reasoning that he himself should be living in perfect 
 clover, and that, if he wasn't, it could only be from 
 crookedness on his own part. Yet, in spite of all such 
 logic, his constant attempts to crush back that blind, 
 spontaneous passion of rebellion, of remorse, even of 
 anger, which he had felt rising in him, had proved 
 utterly unavailing. In his heart he knew all along that 
 the considerations with which he had tried to sustain 
 himself were the veriest self-deception. And now he 
 had finally been forced to the conclusion that the posi- 
 tion was intolerable ! 
 
 He still clung to his desire to be scrupulously fair to 
 them. He did not complain that his old relation to- 
 wards them had altogether ceased, that they had long 
 since slipped away from his influence. However much 
 that fact contributed to his present unhappiness, he 
 bowed his head to it now. It was only natural for their 
 minds to claim independence sooner or later. Look, for 
 example, what a gap there had been between himself and
 
 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 his mother! He did not even complain that they had 
 gone their own way, and made their own outlook, and 
 followed their own pleasures. That, again, he admitted, 
 was in the natural course of things ; even though he was 
 bitterly jealous of all that seduced them away from him 
 and deprived him entirely of their society save in the 
 most casual moments. His own personal grievances he 
 was rigorously careful to exclude; he reserved to him- 
 self the mere right of impartial criticism. He had never 
 meant otherwise than that they should find happiness in 
 life, but the mode they had chosen was devoid of a 
 single redeeming feature! 
 
 "Utterly and wholly selfish!" Such was the judg- 
 ment he was constrained to pass on their existence. 
 Never once since their settlement in London had they 
 shown any disposition to render humane service of any 
 kind at least, not in any way he could respect. They 
 had taken stalls at bazaars, or, metamorphosed into 
 pretty waitresses, had served tea and ices, and dexter- 
 ously coaxed guineas from unwilling pockets. Their 
 charity, such as it had been, had always gone through 
 the conventional society channels, and, always associated 
 with forms of social pleasure and with aristocratic 
 gatherings, had been more by way of maintaining their 
 standing than by way of spontaneous benevolence. 
 
 But, apart from the purely moral aspect of the posi- 
 tion, there were other points of rottenness that were 
 grievously manifest. Not only in the attempt to sustain 
 the monstrous structure they had reared was he being 
 forced to narrow his soul, and live and work as the 
 veriest Philistine, but, notwithstanding all Constance's 
 economy in the management of her establishment, they 
 had been spending every farthing of available income 
 nay, even more than that ! He had not at all foreseen 
 this eventuality he had trusted Constance's calculation 
 absolutely. Yet when he found how one indulgence was 
 inevitably necessitating other indulgences, and how far 1 ,
 
 THE HUSBAND 265 
 
 in consequence, her maximum anticipations were being 
 exceeded, he had not had the heart to utter a single 
 word of reproach. On the contrary, he had put on a 
 smiling, reassuring face, feeling his back was broad 
 enough for the burden. The fact that they were de- 
 pending on him would, in itself, have made any protest 
 seem unutterably vulgar. So he had preferred to look 
 into his affairs, change his investments for the sake of 
 higher interest, and strain every nerve generally. He 
 did not fear a breakdown, but the position was perilously 
 tried so much so that he had now often to stint himself 
 in various necessary details. What grieved him more 
 than anything was that, for some time past, he had been 
 unable to spare one farthing for benevolent purposes a 
 luxury in which he had been able to indulge himself 
 practically all his life. 
 
 He did not shrink from taking most of the blame on 
 his own shoulders, though there were certainly extenuat- 
 ing circumstances. He was too honest with himself not 
 to see his great love for them had weakened him. Never 
 had his lips been capable of meeting a wish of theirs 
 with the word " no." And once he had authorized the 
 move to London, he had, as he saw now, given up the 
 reins for good and always; for his authority over their 
 minds had subtly passed away even before that, and 
 the one power he held over them that of money he 
 would have scorned to evoke under any conditions. Even 
 in the very last weeks they had had only to toss him 
 a kiss and dazzle him with their smiles and beauty, and 
 he had at once been blinded and disarmed! 
 
 Lady Wycliffe, too, had unwittingly been at the 
 bottom of the mischief. His own dear ones had been 
 drawn into the whirlpool gradually, had been unable to 
 resist the powerful influences to which they had been 
 subjected. He, the breadwinner, immersed in toil for 
 their sake (though often enough in idle romantic mo- 
 ments he had thought his calling ignoble, and had longed
 
 266 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 for freedom to go amid humanity and power to heal 
 its wounds) had been debarred from seeing what they 
 were doing from day to day. It was an irony of ironies 
 that Lady Wycliffe's friendship, on which he had set 
 such store for the children, should have so largely con- 
 tributed to bring about the very state of affairs against 
 which his conscience was now in such painful revolt 
 
 Yet he loved her ladyship too well to bear her any 
 ill-feeling. True, he had been wistfully playing with 
 the idea of opening out his heart to her even now, and 
 trying to make her understand how real and deep his 
 rebellion was. Was not, indeed, an intimate talk her 
 own avowed purpose in asking him to her house on the 
 morrow? though, to be sure, she had apparently (and 
 characteristically) lost sight of that the very next mo- 
 ment in her impulsive invitation to the others ! Never- 
 theless he had come to the conclusion it would be per- 
 fectly futile to say anything to her at this late stage. 
 How truly had his sagacious friend read into her ever 
 so many years ago ! With all her warm-heartedness and 
 ready sympathy, with all her quickness to grasp others' 
 points of view, she was yet, when dealing with actual life, 
 entirely incapable of all modes of seeing and arranging 
 other than those customary in her world. In however 
 conventional a manner she might be acting, she always 
 displayed the most charming unconsciousness that it 
 was otherwise than in accordance with the most liberal 
 considerations. But how could he be vexed with so 
 kind and true a woman ? She was ageing now, so to what 
 profit make her suffer? 
 
 He must follow his own conscience sternly, yet rea- 
 sonably! He could not believe that those who were 
 most dear to him were as heartless as they appeared; 
 that an important human side of them was really dead. 
 He must win them back to better ideals. The complex 
 selfishness of their days should yield to his old ideal of 
 a refined simplicity. Sympathy with the poor, and as
 
 THE HUSBAND 267 
 
 much helpfulness as was in their power must supersede 
 the barren social round. So far as they really cared, by 
 all means they might have their circle of friends, for 
 human intercourse was good and beautiful. But the 
 rush to put foot for a moment amid packed crowds 
 within hundreds of houses that belonged to people who 
 were known to them with less than superficiality, the 
 constant adding on no ground whatever to a visiting 
 list already portentously long these things seemed to 
 him a perversion. 
 
 The position, he recognized, was a difficult one for 
 him to handle. It occurred to him it possibly might be 
 best for everybody if he took up an inexorable attitude, 
 and smashed up the " establishment " without further 
 ado. However, so sudden and drastic a measure did 
 not really commend itself to him. He had too much 
 sound sense to desire to proceed melodramatically. Be- 
 sides, he had, if only by silence, sanctioned Constance's 
 party, and he had no wish to make fools of the invited 
 guests. And then his own women folk had, no doubt, 
 accepted many invitations for the next few weeks. What- 
 ever steps he might decide on, therefore, must be car- 
 ried out quietly and with dignity. He might even judge 
 it wise to wait patiently till the end of the season. The 
 house could then be let, and he could bear them off 
 to the country, where, with the opportunities for com- 
 munion thereby offered, he might hope gradually to re- 
 establish his old influence over them.
 
 IV 
 
 t ^ARLY in the afternoon Hubert's reflections were 
 -m interrupted by the announcement that a Mr. 
 M J Jones wished to deliver a letter to him person- 
 ally, and had refused to pass it through the 
 medium of Armstrong. 
 
 " What sort of man is it? " asked Hubert puzzled. 
 
 " I can't quite make him out, sir," said Armstrong, 
 " He looks very poor." 
 
 Hubert was interested. He rose and went into the 
 hall to look into the matter himself. A tall, clean- 
 shaven man, pale and sad-looking, was waiting in the 
 lobby with extraordinarily meek demeanour. Hubert's 
 eye took in at once that his carefully-brushed clothes 
 were threadbare to the last degree, and that a large, 
 clumsy cravat entirely concealed his shirt-front. Hold- 
 ing a finely-polished silk hat in one hand, the visitor 
 presented a dingy envelope with the other, presuming, 
 at the same time, that he had the honour of addressing 
 Mr. Ruthven. His voice, timid and subdued, as if he 
 almost expected to be cudgelled for his audacity, sug- 
 gested long futile searching for employment. 
 
 Hubert took the envelope, quite unenlightened at 
 hearing that the bearer was a messenger from " Mr. 
 Newton." But the perusal of the missive brought him 
 sufficient recollection of its sender, a fellow law-student 
 whom he had once admired, but of whom he had lost 
 sight for years and years. Hubert, however, was only 
 mildly surprised at hearing from him again after so 
 great an interval his experience of life had long since 
 taught him that almost everybody turns up again, some 
 time or other. He remembered that this Newton had 
 
 268
 
 THE HUSBAND 269 
 
 been a very brilliant fellow. The few who had known 
 and understood him were perfectly aware that he was 
 never likely to be heard of in the world or even to 
 achieve professional success. His intellect was so many- 
 sided that he could not concentrate himself in any one 
 direction with that exclusive intensity necessary for 
 earning money. The versatility of his intelligence, un- 
 supported by inalienable food and shelter, had proved 
 his ruin. 
 
 His letter to Hubert, written in watery ink on a 
 muddy-white sheet, was addressed from a common lodg- 
 ing-house near Spitalfields Market. 
 
 " DEAR MR. RUTHVEN 
 
 " Please pardon my intrusion on you, but we were 
 acquainted once upon a time (a long while ago), though 
 there is no reason why you should be able to recall me 
 now. I am that Newton with whom you and others 
 went one night to see an Adelphi melodrama, and with 
 whom, alone, you afterwards wandered, pendulum-like, 
 between his diggings and yours till break of day. We 
 each had such a deal to say that each kept turning back 
 to see the other part of his way again. And so we 
 oscillated to and fro all night long. If the memory has 
 entirely faded, please put me down as an impostor. 
 Otherwise please lend me ten shillings. 
 
 " I have been for a long time at the bottom of the 
 deep, deep sea, but at last have obtained a job, and this 
 is an attempt at solving the problem of existence till I 
 am in receipt of my first week's wages. I have not even 
 the sixpence for to-night's bed, but ten shillings will 
 carry me through the week, and shall be faithfully re- 
 paid. The bearer, a bed-fellow of adversity, has to pass 
 your way, and good-naturedly undertakes to deliver my 
 request and to bring back your reply, if any. 
 " Yours obediently, 
 
 " WILMOTT NEWTON."
 
 270 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 Hubert had a moment of strange emotion. With the 
 memory of this fellow-student came back the flavour 
 of early days when the bitterness of futile striving was 
 tempered by the freshness of the world and the large 
 horizon of life. In that epoch of glowing youth the 
 world had contained important things and persons, and 
 important events had sometimes happened! 
 
 He asked the bearer if he were returning at once, and 
 bade him tell Mr. Newton he would call and see him 
 that same afternoon. The man promised in his pathetic- 
 ally subdued manner to deliver the message, thanking 
 him for his reply with an equally pathetic politeness. 
 Then, with a nervous " good-afternoon," he took his 
 departure, obviously glad to escape from the oppressive 
 palatial atmosphere, and from so disturbing a proximity 
 to one of the world's superior beings. 
 
 As the door slammed behind Mr. Jones, Hubert 
 realized that the letter had completely upset him. It 
 could scarcely have caught him in a more susceptible 
 mood. The underworld of London surged upon him 
 again in all its immense reality, with all its immense 
 pity. The world of beauty, pleasure, and luxury was 
 blotted out. He saw humanity scarred, suffering, toil- 
 ing. He saw vividly the vast stretches of tenement 
 cities whose bleak and sordid streets swarmed with the 
 slave populations. 
 
 He was trembling as he returned to his study. Yet 
 he welcomed the episode as breaking up the insufferable 
 apathy of his long afternoon. His impulse was to make 
 at once for the Spitalfields lodging-house. It mattered 
 little that he would be following so close on the heels 
 of the messenger at any rate he would be escaping from 
 the deadly depression of his own home. 
 
 Soon he had left the house and was making his way 
 down the road. Oxford Street was full of traffic and 
 people, but Hubert, in his impatience to get forward, 
 was almost abstractedly unconscious of everything. He
 
 THE HUSBAND 271 
 
 walked some little distance, then mounted an omnibus 
 going citywards. He did not anticipate any difficulty 
 in finding the Spitalfields street. In the wanderings of 
 his student days he had learnt to know that very district 
 intimately, and his recollection of it, if not quite dis- 
 tinct, was not entirely vague. He remembered well the 
 church and the market, and, after an effort, could recall 
 the main conformation of the whole quarter. 
 
 He descended at the Bank of England, strolled on 
 foot to Bishopsgate through the heart of the money 
 market, then lost himself in a strange concatenation of 
 back streets and alleys, all familiar to him in the olden 
 days, passing through sociable, gossiping human colo- 
 nies a-swarm in hidden spaces, and for unexpectedness 
 like the mysterious resources of Neapolitan by-ways. 
 
 The dramatic swiftness with which in London one 
 may plunge from the pride of historic and representative 
 thoroughfares into the deepest depths towards which 
 human wreckage is swept, was a fact to which he had 
 grown accustomed in his youth. Yet to-day he could 
 not help feeling surprise at his quick penetration to the 
 heart of these packed, reeking labyrinths, close, some- 
 times foul, and always full of the mingled sloppy odours 
 that emanated from the houses and the gutters and the 
 gratings. The air was thick to the eyes as it was thick 
 in his nostrils. The children sprawling all over the road- 
 ways, and congregated on the doorsteps looked after him, 
 and occasionally strutted behind him the more daring 
 spirits calling out mockingly. Worn-out women eyed 
 him suspiciously from their doorways, and besotted men 
 leered at him as they stood about heavily outside the 
 public houses (which, inside, were packed with humanity, 
 smoking, carousing, singing, chattering, recklessly treat- 
 ing, making the usual Saturday inroad into the infinite 
 riches of its replenished treasuries). 
 
 At last, after much roundabout and random explora- 
 tion, Hubert found his way to the great stone church
 
 272 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 which he had always retained in his mind as the land- 
 mark of the district. Its solemn green graveyard ran 
 alongside a busy main road full of factories and com- 
 merce, and its steeple shot up romantically high above 
 the dilapidated neighbourhoods. From the chiselled 
 form of Greek urn and marble monument was wafted 
 the aroma of ancient civilizations, and with it a sense 
 of abiding mystery, sweet and brooding, infinitely 
 peaceful. 
 
 Presently Hubert plunged again into another network 
 of streets at the back of the church, and, with the help 
 of some slight inquiry, was able to find the lodging- 
 house from which Newton had addressed him. It was 
 a comparatively new building, palatial against the adja- 
 cent grimy houses. Lounging under its great open win- 
 dows, a score of labourers smoked short clays or re- 
 mained in a fixed melancholy. Their expressionless eyes 
 instinctively turned after Hubert as he made for the 
 high doorway. Here another lounger with a mysterious 
 manner (that suggested some large network of conspir- 
 acy) accosted him in a hearse whisper, infinitely signifi- 
 cant, inquiring whom he wished to see, and offering to 
 call the party out. Hubert vaguely replied he dared 
 say he'd find the man he wanted, and heedless of what 
 he might flounder into ! brushed aside his officious in- 
 terlocutor. Then, passing the foot of the stone stairway 
 that twisted its way up at the side of the lobby, he made 
 his way into the spacious common-room. Despite the 
 ample ventilation, a wave of hot air smote his face, unit- 
 ing strangely with the buzz of conversation from the few 
 scattered groups at the long wooden tables. It was just 
 about tea-time, but not many of the denizens of the 
 house had yet come in. To Hubert the scene was in- 
 finitely pathetic. A white-haired old man, with bent 
 back, weird massive features, and a venerable beard, was 
 broiling a bloater at the blazing fire at the further end 
 of the room; whilst other ragged wrecks were similarly
 
 THE HUSBAND 273 
 
 busy at a second great fire nearer the door. Midway 
 between the two was a small counter fixed in an aper- 
 ture in the wall, across which from the adjoining kitchen 
 (tantalizingly stocked with provender) mugs of tea were 
 being served to a little motley crowd of purchasers. In 
 the centre of this crowd, a fine stalwart figure towered 
 up in startling contrast with the broken, limp, ragged 
 reprobates pressing about him. Jauntily poised on the 
 back of his head was a resplendent silk hat that desper- 
 ately cherished symbol of the outcast's rightful standing, 
 to be clung to even longer than hope itself, its impecca- 
 bility renewed from time to time even at the sacrifice of 
 a night's shelter! Its gloss had outlasted the smartly 
 cut frock-coat, now, alas ! of the colour of an autumn 
 leaf, sere, dry, and fallen. But the bearing of the man 
 was proud and firm and soldierlike. There was no mis- 
 taking the West-End clubman and officer. As he turned 
 away from the little bar, carrying his tea and bread- 
 and-butter, his eye caught Hubert's, and his lips moved 
 in a grim smile, as if to say : " You understand, old 
 man ! " 
 
 At the same time Hubert had been looking about for 
 Newton, less hoping to recognize than to be recognized. 
 But he perceived neither the messenger who had brought 
 the letter to Portland Place, nor anybody he could 
 identify with any degree of probability as the man he 
 had come to see. So after waiting some little time, he 
 thought he had better take half-an-hour's turn in the 
 neighbourhood immediately around. 
 
 The streets here, though still grimy and thick with 
 life, were yet far less mean than those he had previously 
 traversed. There was a touch of an earlier century about 
 the dingy brick two-storey houses, with here and there 
 a pleasing old-world feature a projecting carved 
 moulding over a doorway, a strange bit of ironwork, an 
 ancient fan-light of harmonious design. Sometimes he 
 caught glimpses of interiors the decayed little rooms,
 
 274 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 occupied as tenements, seemed all panelled in mellow 
 oak, and the tiny entrance-corridors, often worn and 
 dirty beyond all reclaiming, were similarly wainscoted. 
 
 The half-hour passed quickly, and Hubert hurried 
 back to the lodging-house and again strolled into the 
 common-room, eyeing the inmates searchingly. As he 
 doubtfully moved down the room, and stood hesitating 
 right in the middle of it, a bearded, middle-aged man 
 with sad, sunken eyes and shaggy eyebrows, who was 
 seated somewhat apart on a bench under one of the high 
 windows, put down the evening paper he had been read- 
 ing, and, after watching Hubert for a moment, rose and 
 came forward. 
 
 " I am Wilmott Newton," he said. " Of course you 
 won't recognize me after all these years." 
 
 The man before him was entirely a different being 
 from the Newton he had known. His beard was thick 
 and shot with white, so that its colour was curiously 
 akin to the unpleasant drab of his clothes a cheap, ill- 
 fitting jacket-suit with clumsy seams. His face was 
 wasted, his voice had coarse vibrations. Newton as a 
 young man had been slim and charming. But Hubert 
 had no doubts as to his identity. The smile was the 
 same ; the ghost of the old Newton made itself sufficiently 
 felt in the new Newton. They shook hands quietly and 
 coldly, certainly with formality. Something seemed to 
 stand between them, to check effusion or cordiality. 
 
 " I preferred to come personally," murmured Hubert, 
 embarrassed to make a beginning. He was disappointed 
 at this tame meeting, but scarcely knew what else he 
 had expected. 
 
 " It's very kind of you, indeed," said Newton ; " but, 
 of course, I didn't mean to put you to so much 
 trouble." 
 
 " I should only have idled away the afternoon," ex- 
 plained Hubert rather shamefacedly. He felt almost as 
 if he had intruded on the other's misery, and ought to
 
 THE HUSBAND 275 
 
 apologize. " Besides," he added, " the prospect of a talk 
 with you was tempting." 
 
 At Newton's suggestion, they got into a corner. The 
 room was rapidly filling now, but any notice that was 
 taken of them was not pronounced enough to be discon- 
 certing. Newton explained further his position at the 
 moment. He had been six months out of work, but at 
 last had been given a place by the foreman of a large 
 paper warehouse at twenty-five shillings a week, so he 
 was looking forward to leaving the lodging-house and 
 returning to the luxury of a furnished bedroom of his 
 own. His work would have to be done in a great vaulted 
 cellar with gas burning perpetually. But the prospect 
 was welcome, since of late his experiences had been of 
 the roughest. He had been reduced to any kind of odd 
 job he could get had not escaped the sandwich-boards. 
 At one time he had kept himself alive by picking up 
 cigar-ends, and selling his day's harvest for a couple of 
 pence. Only a month before he had got a place in a 
 small ready-made clothes depot to which at least he 
 owed the decent suit he now wore. But, unfortunately, 
 his employer had been bundled off to gaol for buying 
 stolen goods, and Newton had found himself stranded 
 again after only one week of employment. But he was 
 pretty well used to roughing it. He had, in fact, fol- 
 lowed all sorts of humble employments for years, with 
 interludes of humbler employments still. 
 
 " It is strange to be talking to you again. It seems 
 centuries ago since I dropped out. But I have often 
 thought of you, have read your name in the papers you 
 were prospering in the old profession." 
 
 " It's a matter of mere luck," said Hubert. " Our 
 positions might so easily have been reversed." 
 
 " That is certainly comforting," said Newton, smiling. 
 " But I've long since settled down to being a failure 
 among the other failures of the earth. I have always 
 been a bit of a stoic, though, and, with decent food and
 
 276 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 shelter, such as I am now looking forward to again, I 
 can manage to jog along quite contentedly. In spite 
 of all the privations I have had to bear, my experiences 
 have been interesting, and I still think myself quite as 
 good as if I were the possessor of a respectable worldly 
 position." 
 
 Hubert professed to corroborate Newton's philosophy. 
 He himself was no worshipper of " success." After all, 
 the most terrible failure from the world's point of view 
 might, from a truer standpoint, be the very reverse. 
 Nevertheless, his feelings were too harrowed to allow 
 him to consider the career of this old brilliant acquaint- 
 ance of his with such placid detachment. Moreover, 
 the scene was working upon him the pitiable types in 
 every stage of decay, the variety of faces with their 
 expressions of hope, defiance, dejection, despair, resig- 
 nation. He could not keep his eye from running round 
 the room again and again, and he could scarcely trust 
 himself to speak. Newton half-smiled as he observed 
 Hubert's own miserable expression. 
 
 " I fear the temperature is not wholly agreeable. If 
 you will allow me to accompany you a little on your 
 way, we can talk going along," he suggested. 
 
 Hubert, having handed to him the sum he had asked 
 for, rose in response to the suggestion. As they passed 
 out together, he took a last quick look about him. The 
 clubman in the faded frock-coat sat in meditative isola- 
 tion at the corner of one of the long tables, his empty 
 mug and plate before him. Hubert readily picked out 
 the occupants he had noticed on his first entry they 
 seemed to stand out amid the groups of new-comers. 
 And the final picture impressed itself on him sharply. 
 
 They strolled along towards Bishopsgate, talking in 
 the same vein, Hubert obviously sad, Newton also per- 
 haps finding the occasion somewhat irksome. Hubert, 
 indeed, felt quite well that this man, metamorphosed by 
 the years and circumstance, was not in warm touch with
 
 THE HUSBAND 277 
 
 him. He had corne prepared, as it were, to take him 
 by both hands and pour out his sympathy. But that 
 subtle constraint of which he had been aware at the mo- 
 ment of their meeting had remained during all their 
 conversation. And this aspect of the experience sad- 
 dened him the more especially as he felt the fault was 
 not on his side. 
 
 They parted at the Bank of England, Newton him- 
 self seizing so natural an opportunity of coming to a 
 halt, repeating his thanks, and holding out his hand in 
 farewell. Hubert hoped Newton would write to him 
 occasionally, then, immersed in thought, he abstractedly 
 mounted a homeward omnibus.
 
 rHE next day Hubert took May to lunch at 
 Arlington Street. 
 The quartette, the idea of which had so 
 delighted their hostess, proved, however, to be 
 a sextet. Mrs. Drummond, their old friendly neighbour, 
 at Lynford, had suddenly come to town for a few days 
 and was staying at the house. To balance her table, 
 Lady Wy cliff e had asked Preston to join them, so that 
 her benevolent habit of springing him on Hubert once 
 more found exercise. 
 
 " I have good news for you," was her greeting to 
 Hubert. " Madame Almusa has promised me to sing 
 at your party." 
 
 " Madame Almusa ! " he repeated blankly. " She is 
 to sing for us ? " 
 
 " Ah, you did not know," she smiled kindly. " I 
 suppose it was to be a little surprise for you in case 
 I succeeded. Mrs. Ruthven should have warned me. 
 And I suppose you were in the conspiracy as well, you 
 wicked little thing ! " She shook a deprecating finger at 
 May, who had reddened with pleasure and excitement. 
 
 Hubert understood now. To have the divine Almusa 
 sing at one's private party was to achieve the rarest 
 distinction. True, Constance had not been able to an- 
 nounce the fact on her cards, but the sensation would 
 be all the greater for being unannounced, and, if only 
 in view of the possibility of the notoriously capricious 
 divinity's changing her mind, the omission could scarcely 
 be considered a disadvantage. Altogether as Hubert 
 phrased it to himself " it would give them a big lift." 
 He had a sudden desire to laugh aloud. But he main- 
 
 278
 
 THE HUSBAND 279 
 
 tained the gravest of faces, and thanked Lady Wycliffe 
 on Constance's behalf. 
 
 " Yesterday was Almusa's birthday, and I brought 
 her a box of bonbons, of which I have always kept 
 the maker's name a religious secret, so that she has 
 only been able to get them from me. She is very fond 
 of that kind, and has always begged me to give away 
 the secret. So I took the opportunity yesterday of 
 making a bargain with her." Lady Wycliffe laughed 
 and clapped her hands with glee. " However, we shall 
 soon discover something that she'll like even better, and 
 then we shall have a new secret." 
 
 She sent in Mrs. Drummond with Preston, the two 
 younger people naturally following together, and took 
 Hubert's arm herself. They settled down very snugly 
 in the dining-room, and Lady Wycliffe at the head of 
 the table had a charming smile for everybody. In the 
 subdued light that filled the hospitable spaces of the 
 old mellow room, her simple dignity seemed to blend 
 gently with the sentiment of the stately portraits that 
 hung against the wainscoting. Hubert was quite near 
 her on the same side of the table as May and Roburne, 
 whilst Mrs. Drummond and Preston sat immediately 
 facing. Mrs. Drummond, now a white-haired old lady 
 with a somewhat rugged face in which were strange 
 depths of softness and pity, had always had a warm 
 regard for her neighbour, and the pair were excellent 
 friends. As Hubert had had May's assurance that she 
 did not view Roburne with any sort of intolerance, he 
 found the ordering of the table entirely unexceptionable. 
 
 The conversation, as was natural in so small a party, 
 was for the most part general. But Mrs. Drummond 
 somehow began to feel that Preston was far from at 
 his ease, for he scarcely seemed to be listening to what 
 was said, and once or twice she even addressd him with- 
 out getting any reply. She also noticed that neither 
 Mr. Roburne nor Miss Ruthven shone particularly in
 
 280 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 the conversation (which was practically sustained by her- 
 self, Hubert, and the hostess), but, as she had been in 
 all Lady Wycliffe's secrets since they were girls to- 
 gether, the occasional abstraction of the two young 
 people merely made her smile. Preston's case, however 
 she couldn't understand at all. And once, when the talk 
 was broken up, and Arthur Roburne began to discourse 
 to his young neighbour, whose frank laugh rang out 
 merrily, yet restrainedly, she actually noticed Preston 
 eating his lip instead of his cutlet, and twirling his 
 moustache instead of crumbling his bread. She was a 
 woman of excellent discernment, but she was quite at 
 a loss to account for this aberration on his part. 
 
 Meanwhile Hubert was amazed at his own loquacity, 
 for he had by no means been so fortunate as to lose 
 himself in the occasion. At the back of his mind he 
 was picturing a vague Almusa singing to a ghostly 
 audience in his own drawing-room. He had no suspicion 
 that, even before May had made the acquaintance of 
 the Roburne family, Lady Wycliffe, full of sympathetic 
 affection for the Ruthvens, and with her instinctive love 
 of giving destiny a secret push for the good of others 
 whenever she could, had singled out Arthur Roburne as 
 an excellent young man for May to fall in love with. 
 Her sense of the highest expression of her good-will 
 for Hubert was to marry his girls for him. Being 
 neither as shrewd a judge of men as Preston, nor ad- 
 dicted by disposition to examine people searchingly, she 
 accepted the current estimate of the young Balliol hon- 
 oursman; and the irrepressible play of that ever fresh 
 and charming enthusiasm of hers, combined with an 
 amazingly sure instinct that the two young people would 
 take to each other, had led her to perceive in him every 
 ideal quality and virtue. 
 
 Now, Lady Wycliffe was in the habit of ascribing 
 to herself, and always with a glow of pride, an excep- 
 tionally subtle apprehension of Hubert's peculiar ideas ;
 
 THE HUSBAND 281 
 
 yet, curiously enough, her inability to see as he saw, 
 or rather to understand what exactly it was he did see 
 (whilst sincerely imagining she understood perfectly), 
 was exemplified in her present unshakable conviction 
 that Arthur Roburne was just the kind of young man 
 Hubert had had in mind in many past conversations 
 with her. Had she not always been in perfect agree- 
 ment when he had declared his hope that his girls 
 might grow up content to marry men who were at 
 an early stage of their careers; happy to give their 
 husbands all the sympathy and help they could, and 
 to share a simple refined existence. Girls only too often 
 regarded marriage as the attainment of a ready-made 
 station and the opportunity for enjoying all the ad- 
 vantages that appertained to it, accepting everything 
 and giving nothing. That point of view, he had often 
 declared, was one of selfish pleasure, and was as vulgar 
 as it was fashionable. He believed his girls would get 
 more real happiness and that of the highest kind by 
 doing their utmost for their husbands. A charming 
 touch of Bohemianism, as he used to put it, added im- 
 mensely to the attraction of wedded life. 
 
 Now here was the very man, had thought Lady 
 Wycliffe, overflowing with an almost tearful benevo- 
 lence, and rubbing her hands with feminine good-hearted 
 mischievous delight. So she had set to work to foster 
 the conditions, and the results were of the happiest. 
 Hubert had had in mind a plain gentleman of high 
 ideals and broad humanitarian views; not, of course, 
 the younger son of a proud Tory earl, inheriting the 
 traditions and prejudices of his class, and pledged to 
 maintain them. Lady Wycliffe never dreamed that this 
 admirable j r oung man without any sense of humour, 
 who had never had (and never would have) any period 
 of unrest, of that eager mental searching that leads to 
 rebellion, was not after Hubert's own heart. 
 
 Great and abiding as was her friendship for Hubert,
 
 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 that for the moment had been subordinated to the ac- 
 complishment of the idea that had arisen out of it. 
 She had thus, in spite of her genuine desire for one 
 of their old tete-a-tete, been quite unable to resist so 
 splendid a chance of giving the young people an extra 
 opportunity of coming together, knowing that the 
 Skeffingtonian taskmastership was hard and unremit- 
 ting, and that, in spite of May's intimacy with the 
 family, the young man must be suffering agonies of 
 uncertainty. At Rutland Gate his aunt and sister had 
 always assisted at their meetings, and his people, at 
 present, looked with disfavour on his spending too much 
 of his time in general society, preferring him to con- 
 centrate his attention in certain quarters with a view to 
 his advancement. True, May rode regularly in the 
 Row, but Roburne could seldom take a canter at the 
 same time. Thus they were reduced to casual meetings 
 under formal circumstances. 
 
 These unpromising conditions notwithstanding, the 
 wooing had proceeded though as yet the young man 
 was far from feeling sure of having engaged the girl's 
 affections. But Lady Wycliffe was watching it keenly, 
 herself fearfully aware of the extent to which it was 
 hampered, though gleeful at noticing how blind Hubert 
 was to what was a-brewing. 
 
 Hubert, for his part, was always relying on Constance 
 to apprize him should either of the girls appear to be 
 forming an attachment. As Constance had not so far 
 communicated any suspicion to him, and as the girls 
 themselves were so extremely young, he was taking it 
 for granted that nothing had as yet arisen to make any 
 demand on his personal attention. Otherwise, he would 
 have felt not a little disquieted that May's affections 
 should have been won in such a quarter an event of 
 which the logical outcome could only be her entire ab- 
 sorption for good and always into that life from which 
 he still hoped to win her back.
 
 VI 
 
 TT "W" UBERT was the first in the drawing-room on 
 
 m i the evening of Constance's party. He had 
 
 J[ M^ looked through the list of people who were 
 
 soon to be flooding in, and, though the vast 
 
 majority were quite unknown to him- he was anxious to 
 
 do his best to be of help in entertaining them. 
 
 Constance would have preferred giving a dance for 
 the girls, but her own list of young men was far too 
 meagre, and she was not yet intimate enough with her 
 fashionable friends to be able to utilize somebody else's. 
 Her position, in fact, was necessarily tentative; she had 
 to feel her way cautiously, fearful of snubs, morbidly 
 conscious of her modest past, and of the slenderness 
 of her personal claim to attention in short, knowing 
 only too well that she had yet to take root in these 
 fascinating social altitudes. 
 
 Nothing untoward had happened to seduce their guests 
 elsewhere. The awning stretched from the house-door 
 to the roadway. The many windows blazed with light, 
 the illumined angle of the two serried streets designing 
 itself on the night. All the rooms on the first floor had 
 been thrown open the smaller and cosier ones arranged 
 for quiet conversation and on the landing an embow- 
 ered space had been improvised for the fashionable gipsy 
 band. On guard at the foot of the double staircase two 
 life-size bronze children held aloft many-branched can- 
 delabra. Myrmidons (supplied by contract with the 
 supper) had possession of the hall, the stairway, and 
 the kitchens, and in Hubert's study steaming silver urns 
 stood on the long table amid the usual riot of crockery 
 and refreshments. The house was ready gay and 
 
 283
 
 284. ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 scented and gleaming; the company alone was want- 
 ing. 
 
 Gwenny was the first to join Hubert in the drawing- 
 room. She wore a simple amber gown, very soft and 
 flowing, with a string of tiny pearls at her throat. Her 
 hair was dressed wavingly over her ears, with a deep- 
 green leaf at the side and a vivid scarlet bud set against 
 it. She struck him as looking remarkably tall to-night 
 as she came to him in her usual undemonstrative fashion. 
 He kissed her on the forehead, feeling that if she, too, 
 had grown strangely aloof from him, it was rather in a 
 different way from the others. Somehow he did not 
 resent her defection as much as he resented May's. She 
 had never been so near to him as her sister, and her 
 aloofness, which had to some extent characterized her 
 manner even as a child, might almost be looked upon 
 at least in certain of its aspects as a purely natural 
 development. The thoughtfulness that so becomingly 
 radiated from her features had always had a baffling 
 suggestion of mystery about it. Hubert shrewdly 
 suspected she had ideas of her own, though it was easy 
 to understand she had joined in the same round as the 
 others as a matter of course. He knew, moreover, that 
 she was by no means as popular as her younger sister, 
 and that people seemed to prefer to admire her from a 
 distance. 
 
 Yet he himself was scarcely an exception, for he still 
 retained the old unconscious favouritism, and was 
 dazzled almost to confusion when May appeared in the 
 doorway just then, all in white foam, with lines of ex- 
 quisite coral round her neck, a green sprig in her bosom, 
 and a white rose in her silken hair that was witchingly 
 fresh and radiant. She came across the room with a 
 joyous movement, her red lips parted, her teeth gleam- 
 ing, her eyes dancing. With Hubert she was as natur- 
 ally coquettish as her sister was austere and earnest, 
 and, as she came near him, her face changed again and
 
 THE HUSBAND 285 
 
 i 
 
 took on a babyish, large-eyed expression of innocence. 
 But he was too blinded to notice that, in the interim, 
 a quick significant glance had passed between the two 
 sisters on May's part of warning and appeal, on 
 Gwenny's of patient disdain. 
 
 Meanwhile the band had been taking up its position 
 just outside, and Constance's voice was heard as she 
 exchanged a word with the conductor. Then she came 
 sailing graciously into the room, fresh and fair for her 
 forty years, her full woman's figure admirably gowned 
 in black velvet, against which her bare shoulders rose 
 dazzingly. A triple necklace of pearls hung low, rest- 
 ing gently on her bosom. 
 
 Presently the four found themselves standing in a 
 silent group. 
 
 " Why are we all so solemn ? " exclaimed May, and 
 just then the sudden noise of instruments tuning up 
 destroyed the tension and set them laughing. 
 
 Some of their best friends were inspired to come 
 early, and thus the evening had an intimate beginning 
 which helped greatly to send it off on a smooth career. 
 The actual first arrivals were all of the feminine gender 
 Preston's favourite sister from Flintshire, Constance's 
 mother and two younger sisters, and Madame Barto- 
 lozzi ; but soon a little knot of barrister friends appeared 
 to redress the balance with sober dress-coats. Preston, 
 who came up the stairs simultaneously with Lady Wy- 
 cliffe and Mrs. Drummond, found quite a cheerful 
 nucleus already in the drawing-room. People kept 
 straggling in by twos and threes for the next half-hour, 
 then suddenly the road was alive with carriages, and 
 guests began to pour into the house steadily, spreading 
 themselves out into all the rooms, blocking the staircase, 
 and crushing into every niche and corner. The hubbub 
 of their voices rose in cheerful, sociable discord; a dis- 
 creet accompaniment of music breaking gently across it. 
 
 The windows were wide open to the soft breeze that
 
 286 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 came from the neighbouring Regent's Park, but to Con- 
 stance the cool circulating air seemed to glow with a 
 thrilling splendour, and, if now and again a spasm of 
 nervousness overcame her, Lady Wycliffe was near to 
 give her the encouragement of her presence. Yet, the 
 crowd being for the most part " in the same swim," the 
 task of entertainment was easy enough, reducing itself 
 to a. mere watching of the ball as it rolled, with just a 
 judicious touch here and there a word, a greeting, a 
 discreet introduction to keep it at full speed. 
 
 When at last the rooms seemed full, May slipped 
 away from Constance's side, and, like a sprite, was here, 
 there, everywhere, self-possessed, sparkling, merry. She 
 was more than seen and admired; her active personality 
 dominated the house, impressed itself with skill, with 
 fine resource. At the same time her own enchantment 
 knew no bounds ; the whole feeling of this party in their 
 own house was glorious to her. There was nothing which 
 did not give her pleasure the lights, the people, the 
 homage, the large house itself, the awnings, the far- 
 stretching double rank of carriages, the lines of lackeys, 
 the plate, the flowers. She had a large consciousness of 
 every detail. 
 
 The innumerable wax candles burnt lower in their 
 sconces, the murmuring flow of music was heard as in 
 the distance, yet always penetrating; people left now 
 and again to go on elsewhere, but there was a steady 
 press of arrivals to take their place. The house was 
 packed. Constance still held her court in the drawing- 
 room, and here, too, Gwenny was content to stay, though 
 Hubert, like May, was at length impelled to choose a 
 larger field for his perambulations. 
 
 But, unlike May, he soon found he was hardly at home 
 in his own house. All along he had had a cool per- 
 ception that this throng of earls, baronets, soldiers, 
 politicians, millionaires, and their corresponding women- 
 kind, had not been drawn here by his wife, but that the
 
 THE HUSBAND 287 
 
 central figure of the evening was in reality Lady Wy- 
 cliffe. How pitifully self -deceived was Constance! 
 
 Here and there his eye noticed an occasional guest 
 who wore an uncomfortable air of aloofness. But it was 
 amusing to feel that he himself was as much of an 
 " outsider " as any of these. He prowled about vaguely 
 amid the hundreds and hundreds of people he had 
 never seen before in all his life, amid these gleaming 
 toilettes with which this house bloomed like a flower- 
 garden. 
 
 On his restless way upstairs again, he encountered 
 Arthur Roburne, whom he had not yet seen that evening. 
 The young man greeted him eagerly, pressing his hand 
 effusively; inquired how he had been since they had 
 met at Arlington Street, and stayed a moment lounging 
 against the balustrade. These civilities interchanged, 
 they pursued their respective ways. At the top of the 
 staircase Hubert found himself in a momentary block of 
 converging currents, and face to face with Preston. 
 He flashed at his friend a meaning smile, but Preston 
 failed to respond. Then Hubert, noticing he was in a 
 strange fit of absraction, gave him a gentle dig. " Why 
 this solemnity? " he whispered in his ear. " I had 
 expected you'd be amused by the incongruity of this 
 whole foolish business." 
 
 " Oh, I wasn't thinking about that," answered Preston 
 mysteriously, as with the renewal of movement they 
 were borne past each other. Ultimately Hubert found 
 himself in the neighbourhood of his wife, and felt a 
 certain comfort in having got back to his starting-point. 
 
 In the meanwhile Preston pursued his way down-stairs, 
 and began to look about him eagerly. He drew a 
 breath of relief as he noticed Arthur Roburne in con- 
 versation with a group of two matrons and two daugh- 
 ters, and May just turning away from another group at 
 a distance. He at once hurried forward to intercept her. 
 
 " Hullo ! " she txclaimed in playful greeting.
 
 288 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " Hullo ! " he returned. " You look happy have 
 been dispensing bright glances. None for me though ! " 
 
 " Oh, well, you've seen through me ever so long ago," 
 she answered playfully. " I know better than to attempt 
 to humbug you" 
 
 " Humph ! I sincerely hope this flattering attitude of 
 yours is not to be permanent." 
 
 " I see. Like all old fogeys, you find it hard to exist 
 without being humbugged." 
 
 " Without the kind of humbug in question now 
 certainly ! " he answered with imperturbable gravity. 
 
 She was habitually hard upon him because she knew 
 he was more than her match, and she was perhaps 
 slightly chagrined at having to acknowledge it even 
 though only to herself. His courtly parry of her attack 
 made her feel rather ashamed, and she was quick to 
 make amends for what must have sounded very much like 
 pertness, though she only meant it for banter. 
 
 " That is really charming of you," she flashed back. 
 " And you deserve a bright glance for it." She gave 
 him one of her most sparkling. " But what's that queer 
 thing you're playing with? " 
 
 Her expression changed as suddenly again to one of 
 curiosity. " A broken ring ! " she exclaimed breathlessly. 
 " How romantic ! " 
 
 " Yes," he sighed. " There's a real romance behind 
 it ! " He slipped it back again into his waistcoat pocket. 
 
 She looked interested, but on her guard. " You're not 
 serious ? " 
 
 " Just like the irony of things. All my life I have 
 tried my hardest to achieve obscurity, yet I have been 
 unable to escape a reputation for levity. Please believe 
 that I am entirely in earnest." 
 
 " In that case I want to hear all about it." 
 
 He considered a moment. " I don't at all feel sure 
 that I ought ever to say anything about it even to 
 you!"
 
 THE HUSBAND 289 
 
 " Oh, you must," she protested in her most coaxing 
 and sympathetic manner. " I always knew you had 
 some secret sorrow. The very bumps on your dear old 
 face have always had such a mournful way about them. 
 Do confide in me, please." 
 
 " There's nothing I should like better, only you never 
 take me seriously," he complained. " Naturally, my 
 dear girl, a man doesn't care to have his most sacred 
 confidences received with flippancy." 
 
 " Now you are unkind," said May, her voice tinged 
 with distress. " Won't you come and sit in this nice 
 corner, all among the pretty flowers, and tell me every- 
 thing ! I shall be so nice and sympathetic." 
 
 He had somehow made her thoroughly believe in his 
 seriousness, and she did not dissimulate her eagerness 
 as she led the way and quickly seized possession of the 
 tempting point of vantage. 
 
 He dropped into the seat beside her. " I confess I 
 find it difficult. There has been so much banter between 
 us all these years." 
 
 " That's not my fault," she declared. " You set the 
 tone you always masked your true self and only seemed 
 to care about puzzling me." 
 
 He looked at her keenly. She seemed bent on having 
 things out with him and coming to a better under- 
 standing. 
 
 " That was merely due to my sense of propriety," he 
 explained. " I was never created to be read by the 
 young person, so I was forced to present you with an 
 expurgated edition of myself." 
 
 " There ! You see it's you who won't take me seri- 
 ously and I want to be friendly with all my heart." 
 
 " I'm sorry," he half-groaned ; " but it's a pretty 
 tough struggle for me to take myself seriously. Life is 
 really such a ridiculous business." 
 
 " You strange thing ! I do believe you're going from 
 bad to worse. You used not to be always so so well,
 
 290 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 let us say * eccentric.' Why, once upon a time, we used 
 to get on beautifully together. I've known you to be 
 quite natural just clever and interesting, you know 
 for hours at a stretch. Don't you remember that summer 
 evening at Paris when uncle brought you across with 
 him, and we came to meet you both at the Gare du 
 Nord. It was my seventeenth birthday, and you gave 
 me, you remember what don't you? " 
 
 He nodded, glancing instinctively at the coral neck- 
 lace that gave such a charming touch of colour to the 
 picture. Her fingers played with it a moment ere she 
 continued softly and in enchanted reminiscence 
 
 " We were all so happy that evening, what with dining 
 on the boulevards, and strolling afterwards in the warm 
 night through the Champs Elysees and some of the 
 great avenues. How sweet and silent it grew as we got 
 further and further away from the busy part! I can 
 see the silhouettes of the great houses now, and the 
 wonderful starry sky. And then later on, what an 
 enchantment it was to come back to the brilliant boule- 
 vards again, with all the life and sparkle! We walked 
 on ahead, do you remember? And how we talked, and 
 talked you and I ! Those are the moments I treasure, 
 they were so beautifully serious. I like you more for 
 them than for all our years of friendly snarling at each 
 other. Now I really do believe you have a deep hidden 
 sorrow in your life, and I also really believe that, in 
 spite of everything, I am your best friend next to 
 uncle, of course. And even uncle isn't more fond of 
 you than I am. So you must tell me everything. If 
 you won't trust me, you'll never find anybody else half 
 as sympathetic. *"' Do tell me," she pleaded, with her 
 eyes as well as her voice ; " me your little friend ! " 
 
 The moments to which she had alluded could scarcely 
 have been more beautiful than her own face as she 
 spoke so, at least, thought Preston. 
 
 " I do trust you," he answered gravely.
 
 THE HUSBAND 291 
 
 " Now you are a dear ! " she exclaimed, her eyes glis- 
 tening. 
 
 He was still silent for a while, but she waited patiently. 
 
 " Well, now for my romance," he began at last. " I 
 once lost my heart to a very beautiful little girl." 
 
 " Was it long ago? " she asked eagerly. 
 
 " Years," he replied. " We divided a ring, because we 
 had to part. I kept one half and she the other. She 
 promised to be my sweetheart true for life. When we 
 met again years afterwards, she had quite forgotten me 
 and my ring as well. That lay somewhere neglected, 
 and as for myself, I had difficulty in recalling myself to 
 her." 
 
 May's face was suddenly blanched. " Oh ! " she ex- 
 claimed, drawing her breath sharply. 
 
 " Ultimately her part of the ring was paraded for a 
 moment, but it was immediately consigned again to 
 its old oblivion, in which it has remained ever since." 
 
 She sprang up, laughing. 
 
 " Ah a comedy ! You have acted it splendidly all 
 through. And you actually succeeded in making a fool 
 of me! There were almost tears in my eyes at one 
 time I can be a goose at times. So that is the secret 
 sorrow that weighs down your life. I congratulate you 
 on keeping so solemn a face." 
 
 " I assure you I am perfectly in earnest. Come, now, 
 confess you have been fickle." 
 
 " True, you caught me tripping, but, after all the 
 pathetic expressions you put on, how could I suppose 
 you were at your old tricks again! Besides, it's really 
 too bad of you, bringing up that old babyish piece of 
 business." 
 
 " Babyish ! " he groaned. " How terribly severe you 
 are ! you hit me hard." 
 
 She stamped her foot prettily. 
 
 " I understand ! " she exclaimed. " You sometimes go 
 on like this when you're hungry. Happily, supper is
 
 292 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 now to be had. Let me see if I can't find you some 
 other girl a nice one, of course to mystify. You won't 
 have any appetite otherwise. I must admit there are not 
 very many of them to be seen; we are not boys and 
 girls to-night, but important grown-up people. Yet 
 there are distinct compensations even if there isn't 
 much fun. There are lots of people who will be very 
 attentive to us after seeing who are here. We shall be 
 able to consider ourselves in the tip -top swim." 
 
 " You are very fond of that kind of swimming ? " he 
 observed. 
 
 " I couldn't live without it," she answered solemnly. 
 " But now to find the pretty girl for you somebody 
 with a good memory, especially for broken rings," she 
 added. She began to move off, and he had no option 
 but to follow. 
 
 " But won't you sup with me if I promise to conduct 
 myself with all due regard to your susceptibilities." 
 
 " I'm sorry," she returned ; " but I've already prom- 
 ised to talk to somebody else during supper. However a 
 preliminary ice would be acceptable." 
 
 " How chilling ! " he exclaimed, looking very sad in- 
 deed. 
 
 " Please don't continue that comedy," she begged, 
 changing her tone to grave friendly entreaty, as she 
 took his arm. 
 
 " My dear girl, I have done my best to assure you it 
 isn't a comedy, and I wish you would believe me." 
 
 " It is a comedy," she insisted, frowning at him sig- 
 nificantly. " You're not going to catch me again." 
 
 There was an appreciable interval of silence. As the 
 frown faded, her face was left clouded and distressed. 
 
 " Of course," he said, looking full at her, as a mes- 
 sage of mutual understanding flashed between them. 
 "Deuced clumsy of me to keep up the joke! Babyish 
 joke, too! I hope you'll forgive and forget." 
 
 " Of course I forgive you. And let us both forget."
 
 VII 
 
 rHE ice took the less chilling form of an infinites- 
 mal quantity of mineral-water which May pre- 
 tended to be sipping, while Preston, with an 
 impassive countenance, ate a mustard-and- 
 cress sandwich a kind he detested which he had taken 
 at random. Then she begged him to escort her back to 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 On the stairway they met Madam Bartolozzi descend- 
 ing. As she rustled down in her gay brocade dress, she 
 had all the traditional ease of charming Continental 
 womanhood. Despite her greying hair, she yet retained 
 that fresh, dignified maturity of appearance and manner, 
 which, with its accompanying suggestion of romance, 
 had so fascinated Hubert's mother years before. 
 
 " I have just been singing, Miss May," she said with a 
 touch of reproach in her soft foreign accent. " Of course 
 you were careful to take your dear naughty self out of 
 the way." 
 
 " I'm sorry I did not know you were to sing so 
 soon," said May, with studied girlish brusqueness and 
 carelessly averted eyes subtly intimating that all such 
 friendly advances on Madame's part were unacceptable. 
 
 " I suppose we must forgive you then," returned 
 Madame Bartolozzi amiably, seemingly unaware of the 
 girl's coldness. " But I really could not be expected to 
 sing after the divine Almusa. By the way, what a lovely 
 surprise you have sprung on us all I must really con- 
 gratulate you. I heard it whispered the other day that 
 she might be expected to-night, but nobody believed she 
 would actually be heard. However, she has arrived, and 
 I have been asked to accompany her. It seems she is 
 
 293
 
 294 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 going to repeat the very song I have just been 
 giving." 
 
 " But do you think anybody is likely to notice that? " 
 asked May in innocent off-hand reassurance, as she 
 continued her way up on Preston's arm, leaving Madame 
 Bartolozzi (who in her heart was possessed of an extreme 
 vanity, and, moreover, considered Almusa somewhat 
 overrated) to ponder which end of the dart was meant 
 for her the poisoned point or the tickling feather. 
 
 In the drawing-room they found the divinity still 
 affably smiling in the full rays of Constance's effusive 
 welcome, and May came forward to bow daintily to the 
 world-famous cantatrice. Preston, too, was presented, 
 but he managed to steal away after a moment or so. 
 
 Now Arthur Roburne, who had sufficiently paid his 
 addresses to the right persons, and who had in the mean- 
 while lost sight of his May, was prowling about in search 
 of her. Happily Skeffington hadn't turned up after all, 
 having had a lump of dirt blown into his eye as he was 
 driving home from Downing Street, and the eye was too 
 inflamed to permit of his going out for the rest of the 
 evening. Roburne, in consequence, had an unusual sense 
 of freedom, and he came swooping down on May as soon 
 as Almusa's attention was otherwise engaged. 
 
 " I want you to come to the rescue," he begged with 
 comic lugubriousness. " My tie has burst at the back. 
 Cannot one of the servants put in a stitch for me other- 
 wise my career this evening threatens to come to an 
 abrupt and timely ending." 
 
 His disconsolate expression made her laugh. " Go 
 upstairs one flight more. Knock at the second door on 
 the right. Inside you will find somebody the good 
 homely fairy who will save your career." 
 
 " It sounds complicated," he said, looking nervous. 
 
 " I'll find the door for you and knock you must carry 
 all the rest through for yourself." 
 
 She led the way light-heartedly, he following close
 
 THE HUSBAND 295 
 
 after her. At the top of the stairs she rapped smartly 
 at one of the doors, then moved away immediately with 
 the gracious observation : " I am almost famished we 
 were scarcely able to dine to-night. You'll find me in the 
 hall." 
 
 And there he joined her some five minutes later, his 
 face shining with the nearest expression to that of 
 joyousness of which it was capable. They found a 
 cosy little table, prettily laden with wine and fruit, in 
 one of the smaller supper-rooms, just beneath a charm- 
 ing little Turner a gift of Preston's for the new house. 
 The remembrance of the fact would have sufficed to 
 make May change to another table, but, although the 
 picture caught her eye now and again, she was too 
 absorbed in the moment to notice the omen. 
 
 So here they sat talking and waiting patiently. At 
 intervals of ten minutes a fresh man approached, and to 
 him they repeated their choice from the menu. But 
 nothing ever came of it. However, they sipped wine 
 and crumbled bread contentedly, May making merry at 
 the delay, notwithstanding her sharp-set appetite. For 
 she was now possessed by a pleasant half-fatigue which 
 made her lazily yield herself to an instinctive flow of 
 gaiety and laughter. She was living intensely in the 
 present even to the exclusion of the immediately pre- 
 ceding present. And the strange luminous web of colour 
 shone down at them mystically from the canvas above! 
 
 At last soup was brought, and they ate it mechanically. 
 Roburne had expanded by now ; he was enlarging on his 
 political prospects. Even in his comparatively humble 
 position, he explained, he had an occasional finger in the 
 destinies of the great British Empire. 
 
 " Only to-day, for example, Skcffington dictated a 
 letter on which the most critical issues depended. Of 
 course you will understand, my dear little girl, that I 
 cannot breathe a word of its nature even to you. Now 
 you know what a fine old crusty temper Skcffington has
 
 296 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 been blessed with, and how ready he is to fly at anybody 
 and everybody. But I've long since learnt how to 
 manage him, and evidently he must have a great deal of 
 respect for my judgment. For no sooner had he finished 
 it wouldn't at all have done to interrupt him before 
 that than I ventured to put my view of the case to 
 him." 
 
 " Did he fly at you? " asked May breathlessly. " Tell 
 me quick ! " 
 
 " Not at all," said Roburne. " He LISTENED ! Just 
 think the autocrat who will never hear a word from 
 anybody actually listened ! I felt that was a good sign, 
 and somehow I thought of you." 
 
 " But what had I to do with it? " she asked innocently, 
 her eyes resting full upon his face. 
 
 " You had everything to do with it," he declared, 
 adoring her with his look. " In my heart I knew my 
 inspiration had come from you, and I felt my confidence 
 growing. I could scarcely make you understand how 
 self -distrustful I usually am. Well, the upshot of the 
 matter was that, after a little friendly discussion, Skef- 
 fington altered the letter from beginning to end! ac- 
 cording to my ideas. Such a thing is absolutely un- 
 precedented." 
 
 " Then I, too, have influenced the destinies of the Brit- 
 ish Empire ! How glorious ! " She clapped her hands. 
 
 " My dear little girl ! " he repeated fervently, though 
 he was uneasily aware that she was taking it all in a 
 merry, jesting spirit. It was a relief, however, to think 
 that she wasn't laughing at him in the least, and that she 
 was really as sympathetic as he could wish. All the 
 same he felt his beginning had miscarried, and that he 
 hadn't at all succeeded in striking the right note, and 
 that in fact it had been kind of her not to laugh at him. 
 He hesitated a moment, then launched out again in a 
 vein whose seriousness could not be mistaken, his voice 
 trembling with eager emotion.
 
 THE HUSBAND 297 
 
 " May I confess it is my dream that you may play 
 a really brilliant part in the affairs of our country." 
 
 " What a charming idea ! " she exclaimed softly. 
 
 " You can do anything you please in life," he whis- 
 pered in an enthusiastic burst of adulation. " You are 
 the cleverest girl in the kingdom, and the most beautiful ! 
 For the man who had your help nothing would be im- 
 possible. Is it too daring of me to think of winning 
 you? You are so wonderful I want to worship you 
 always. You are dearer to me than life itself. Say you 
 will be my wife, dear I know I don't deserve you, but 
 you would pity me if you only knew how I have suffered, 
 in what a fever of torment I have been living. I have 
 sometimes felt as if I could punch my own head for 
 daring to aspire to you." 
 
 This pugilistically-phrased announcement was purged 
 to lyric value by its ardent passion. She was looking at 
 him softly, and though an outsider might hardly have 
 guessed it, she had barely control of herself. 
 
 " It is my dearest wish to make you happy," she said 
 simply. There was an infinite tenderness in her look 
 and voice. 
 
 " You are good," he breathed, overwhelmed. " Believe 
 me, dearest, I shall strive that my whole life may be 
 worthy of you, that you may never regret your decision." 
 
 " I am sure of that," she exclaimed. " I shall be proud 
 of my husband ! " 
 
 u Dear May, you make me long for the brave days of 
 old," he broke out enthusiastically. " I should chal- 
 lenge every knight in the country to confess my lady was 
 the fairest in the world." 
 
 " And for me you are as gallant a knight as ever 
 lived." 
 
 " Thank you, sweet May." 
 
 There was a silence. They were looking at each other, 
 yet both were considering, realizing the new relation 
 between them.
 
 298 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " I am so happy, darling," he breathed presently out 
 of the fulness of the emotion. " I love you, I love 
 you." 
 
 " I wish we were alone, dearest," she whispered back ; 
 " in some strange, silent, beautiful place under the stars." 
 
 " Yes," he chimed in. Then, after a pause, he added : 
 11 1 was only just dreading that you might be snatched 
 away from me at any moment." 
 
 His words made her glance round the room quickly. 
 The tables were now all occupied, and there was a cheer- 
 ful buzz of voices, a clatter of crockery, a bustle of 
 servants. She wondered if her sweetheart and herself 
 had made themselves conspicuous. But the embarrassed 
 emotion which had accompanied the thought died away 
 almost immediately. She was ashamed of having ex- 
 perienced it. Was he not her gallant knight before all 
 the world? She raised her head proudly with an almost 
 involuntary movement. 
 
 But she suddenly laughed as another thought occurred 
 to her. " What a comic place," she exclaimed, " for a 
 declaration of love ! " 
 
 " Oh, you don't think it really matters," he said with a 
 shade of uneasiness, as if she had reproached him. " I 
 suppose a supper-room is as good a place as any other." 
 
 " I can imagine a more romantic one," she smiled. 
 
 " Suppose we leave it," he suggested. 
 
 " Oh," she laughed, not displeased at his morbid sus- 
 ceptibility to her lightest word, " I was only joking. 
 It is very comfortable here after all. Please give me 
 some more wine." 
 
 He had an inspiration. " Let us drink to our own 
 happiness." 
 
 " What a lovely idea ! " Her eyes sparkled with 
 pleasure. 
 
 He filled up their glasses from the foaming gold- 
 necked bottle. Surreptitiously they clinked them and 
 raised them to their lips. Then, having sipped, they
 
 THE HUSBAND 299 
 
 as surreptitiously exchanged glasses and sipped again 
 with a delicious sense of mild wickedness. 
 
 They dawdled over the wine a minute or two longer, 
 then they rose, and he took her upstairs. 
 
 " You know, dear, I really ought to be making myself 
 useful," she reminded him on the way. " I am supposed 
 to be seeing that all the poor neglected folk find their 
 way down-stairs to be fed." 
 
 " Please let them starve," he begged, pleasantly sur- 
 prised to find himself inspired to humour. 
 
 " Oh, well, I suppose everybody concerned will take it 
 for granted that I'm making myself as useful as I ought 
 to be," she said yieldingly. " So I mean to indulge 
 in the luxury of being weak for once and giving way to 
 temptation." 
 
 There was certainly less crush on the staircase now, 
 with so many people in the supper-rooms, but the draw- 
 ing-room still seemed full. So they carefully avoided it, 
 and, turning back past the band, they entered one of the 
 rooms on the other side of the landing. There were only 
 a few people sitting about just then, and, not long after, 
 the lovers suddenly discovered they had the room to 
 themselves. As, however, they sat facing the open door 
 in full view of the band and of all passers-by, no par- 
 ticular significance could have reasonably been attrib- 
 uted to their conversation especially having regard to 
 the hitherto discreet character of their acquaintanceship.
 
 VIII 
 
 HORTLY after three in the morning, Preston, 
 who had stayed to smoke a quiet pipe with 
 Hubert, rose to bid his host good-night. Dur- 
 ing those pleasant minutes, passed in friendly 
 silence on both sides, Preston had puffed away, as 
 apparently calm and unrelated to human emotion and 
 passion as he had ever appeared in his life. And his 
 hand-grip was, as always, a consolation to Hubert for 
 the burden of existence. 
 
 Hubert was the last person astir in the house, and, 
 after a moment of idle, vague lounging, he made his 
 way up the stairs, extinguishing the last lights as he 
 went. 
 
 Yes, it had all been a success ! The majority of 
 their guests had stayed late ; the gathering, as the hours 
 had gone by and the champagne flowed, having taken 
 on a perceptible degree of animation. Tongue-strings 
 had been veritably loosened, faces had grown flushed, 
 laughter had made itself heard on all sides. And as 
 soon as the word had flown that Almusa was about to 
 sing, everybody had crushed up eagerly to the drawing- 
 room, blocking all the approaches. Finally a hush had 
 fallen over the house, and then, suddenly, the magic 
 voice had soared out with a wonderful carolling sweet- 
 ness, that held them all enchanted. Constance's fame 
 as a hostess was assured ! But the divinity had been 
 more than gracious, had not only given them a second 
 piece, but had thrown in a final morceau that, alas ! was 
 all too short. Great personages had been astonishingly 
 cordial to the members of the household, and from 
 Constance's face had shone a subtle radiation as of 
 
 800
 
 THE HUSBAND 301 
 
 the ecstasy of a soul in Paradise. Her mother, too, had 
 seemed perfectly dazed at breathing the same air with 
 the very pick of the inhabitants of those " fashionable- 
 intelligence " columns on which she had always so greed- 
 ily nourished herself. 
 
 Hubert felt only too well how much the occasion had 
 meant to his wife, and even May's warm kiss of good- 
 night, followed by two more unexpected ones, full of 
 deep affection, had almost made him wince. Gwenny 
 had kissed him with less demonstration (though not with 
 less tenderness), but to-night he had only appreciated 
 that the more. 
 
 And now at last the world had settled down to cool- 
 ness and to silence. Hubert was fatigued, yet, although 
 the feverish sense of the hours that had passed still beat 
 in his blood, he was pleasurably conscious of the brood- 
 ing night without, as of some eternal purity charming 
 the tired spirit with its sweet calm, its large repose. 
 
 Well, the affair was over. It was the first of the kind 
 in his house it should be the last ! He would try to make 
 the most of the few hours rest before him, for he must 
 be at his chambers as early as usual. 
 
 The door of Constance's bedroom (which was immedi- 
 ately above the drawing-room, and of the same generous 
 dimensions) stood unexpectedly open, and Hubert was 
 surprised at the dim light that came from it. But just 
 then the unmistakable sound of an almost hysteric 
 sobbing startled him disagreeably. In great alarm, 
 he advanced into the room. Constance, huddled in a 
 dressing-gown, was crouching on the hearth-rug before 
 the screened fire-place, her back against a low arm-chair, 
 her head bent forward. The one light in the room, set 
 high in a sconce near the chimney, shone down gently 
 on her shaking form. 
 
 He quickly went across to her, but the thick carpet 
 muffled his footsteps, and she did not look up. 
 
 He stood by her a moment in wonder. Across the
 
 302 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 dark spaces of the room, wherein the canopied bed 
 seemed to lose itself, glistened the long yellow silk hang- 
 ings of the three windows. The immense Empire ward- 
 robe, stiff and mellow, with classic columns and chiselled 
 golden garlands, loomed vast and full of character amid 
 the shadows. The creamy panelling of the walls 
 stretched dull and smooth, and the rare prints and water- 
 sketches that hung here and there against it, each in 
 precious isolation, were all reduced to the same vague 
 uniformity. Again the deep stillness of the world was 
 wafted on his senses suddenly. For a moment he knew 
 that he was very dizzy and tired, then he forgot where 
 he was and what he was. 
 
 Another choking sob from Constance just served to 
 avert his swoon. The sharpness of his thoughts and 
 senses were abruptly restored to him, and he was staring 
 at his wife and instinctively explaining to himself that 
 she had been overwrought by the excitement of the 
 long evening. Impulsively he placed his hand on her 
 hair. 
 
 " Constance ! " he called softly. 
 
 He could feel her shaking with renewed sobbing. 
 
 " Oh, Hubert, Hubert," she moaned. " It is terrible 
 terrible ! " 
 
 " I fear you are a little unstrung you need rest." 
 
 After one or two unsuccessful efforts, she checked her 
 sobs at last. " Yes, I need rest. But I cannot keep 
 silent any longer. Things have come to a crisis." 
 
 " But what can be amiss? " he gasped. 
 
 He still stood with his hand on her hair. She raised 
 herself painfully, slowly, and he helped her. Then she 
 sank into the chair. 
 
 " How shall I tell you, Hubert ? The poor child ! it 
 is too horrible." 
 
 His heart beat with anxiety, despite himself; but he 
 kept his outward calm. 
 
 " Speak, dear," he said quietly. " Surely nothing can
 
 THE HUSBAND 303 
 
 have befallen either of the children not any accident 
 since they said good-night to me." He paused a moment 
 in bewilderment, half suspecting she was the victim of 
 some hysteric imagining. She was still silent. " Speak," 
 he said again. " There is nothing in life which I am not 
 steeled to bear." 
 
 She raised her tear-stained face to his, and at last 
 jerked the truth at him. 
 
 " Gwenny has gone over to Catholicism she has only 
 to take the formal steps. She has been under the influ- 
 ence of that wicked woman that Madame Bartolozzi 
 for years. But the worst of the business is that she is 
 now determined to take the vows." 
 
 Hubert stared at her blankly. 
 
 " Don't you understand? She wants to bury herself 
 for life in a convent." 
 
 " Then things have been happening ! " The words 
 were less addressed to her than himself. 
 
 " Gwenny has never given any of us her confidence. 
 She has preferred to take up with strangers. She has 
 always had her own thoughts, and, oh ! such a stubborn, 
 iron will ! I should never have believed it." 
 
 Plubert drew over a chair, and sat so as to face her. 
 
 " My dear Constance," he said, hoping his own calm 
 reasonableness would extend itself to her ; " I have been 
 under the impression that you were all perfectly happy 
 and united. Perhaps it is my fault that I have been so 
 blind. But I am all in the dark. Won't you tell me 
 briefly what has been going on ? " 
 
 " God knows I have tried to do my best for the chil- 
 dren," she broke out, as if unable to compose herself 
 for the reasonable conversation he suggested. " Once 
 upon a time they loved me now Gwenny disapproves 
 of me, and May looks down on me. May is not even 
 civil to my family." 
 
 He stared at her again, astounded at this fuller reve- 
 lation of a divided household.
 
 304 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " To think I should have come to be resented as a 
 stranger in the house after all these years ! " she ex- 
 claimed, breaking into sobs afresh. " Sooner or later 
 that had to come, I suppose. Children that are not one's 
 own always turn against one." 
 
 " Surely things are not so black as you see them," 
 urged Hubert, who thought it possible she might be 
 taking an exaggerated view of some minor dissension. 
 " You are over-fatigued, and not quite yourself. There 
 must be some misunderstanding. Our girls are at heart 
 too good to cherish such feelings against you." 
 
 " Things are as I tell you, Hubert. I see them only 
 too clearly. Years ago I felt Gwenny slipping away 
 from my influence, and now what I have always dreaded 
 has come at last. And as for May, I repeat she despises 
 me I am not well-connected enough for her. Oh, I 
 have brought it on myself this life has been all a 
 mistake, Hubert. We ought never to have come to 
 London." 
 
 " That is the last thing I should have expected to hear 
 from you," he could not help exclaiming. 
 
 " Ah, Hubert, you do not know what misery I have 
 had to endure of late. We had a scene to-day, all to 
 ourselves at the last moment before coming down to 
 the drawing-room. Gwenny declared she hated the whole 
 business, and she would refuse to be yoked to us any 
 longer. She wanted to go to you at once and make 
 another scene, and we had almost to go down on our 
 knees to implore her to be silent. I trembled like a leaf, 
 afraid it would upset you too much. It would have been 
 a catastrophe if people had had to be turned away from 
 our door. I don't know how I ever got through the 
 evening I had to force myself to forget with a great 
 brute effort. It was like gulping down a huge bitter 
 apple, and keeping on smiling." 
 
 " Ah, you managed that part very well indeed. And
 
 THE HUSBAND 305 
 
 now, I suppose, follows the inevitable indigestion." He 
 sought to touch a lighter note, but in vain. 
 
 " It is not only that," she went on miserably. " I feel 
 that something is radically wrong in this house. Do not 
 think, Hubert, that I have not been aware your life has 
 been apart from ours. If I had only had the courage 
 not to have kept any thought from you at the beginning, 
 I should have had a clearer conscience now." 
 
 Gradually he got her to talk more freely. In the 
 early years of her marriage, she and May had been firm 
 friends, though even then she had had a resentful sus- 
 picion of being keenly eyed by the child and constantly 
 weighed in the balance. As for Gwenny, she, from the 
 very beginning, had held herself somewhat aloof from 
 both of them. 
 
 " I always had a strange, anxious feeling about her 
 she was so mystic and religious and awe-struck, engaged 
 in inward contemplations. I knew she didn't care about 
 pleasure as other girls do, and even when she did allow 
 herself to be amused a little, you always felt that under- 
 neath she wasn't at all sure she wasn't risking her soul. 
 I used to be puzzled what quite to make of her, and 
 used only to be too thankful when she appeared to be 
 getting along fairly happily. Of course, when I first 
 came to understand what was brewing in her I was thun- 
 derstruck. I did not know how to fight it, though I 
 did my utmost to win her over to me. I was glad when 
 we went abroad it was a comfort to think she was being 
 taken away from the fascination of that horrible woman ! 
 But she was not to be coerced into refusing to correspond 
 with her, and whilst we were on the Continent, she sub- 
 jected herself wilfully and defiantly to every influence 
 that could deepen her religious tendencies. She literally 
 steeped herself in Catholicism. Still I did not really 
 believe she would throw over her own religion I pre- 
 ferred to think the whole business was an affectation
 
 306 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 on her part. A dangerous one, but still an affectation. 
 Afterwards I still continued to receive Madame Barto- 
 lozzi I thought it best not to court any unpleasant- 
 ness, but to let things just glide along smoothly." 
 
 " But surely, from what you tell me now, you have all 
 along been taking rather a morbid view of the child's 
 religious leanings. Why attach so much importance to 
 the matter? " 
 
 " A morbid view ? Is faithlessness to one's own creed 
 an unimportant matter? " 
 
 " You astonish me ! " he exclaimed. " I never sus- 
 pected you felt these matters of religious doctrine so 
 poignantly." 
 
 " I have always felt the Church more than you. But 
 I shrank from asserting myself. You were always so 
 impartial, and I dreaded your criticism." 
 
 Her words made him wince. He had never then 
 really been so close to his wife as he had imagined ! How 
 pitifully blind he had been! He had not even under- 
 stood the children! A sense of bewilderment possessed 
 him. The air seemed to vibrate with revelations to 
 come. 
 
 " I am sorry," he could only murmur. " I am sorry. 
 I wish I had only known ! " 
 
 She did not answer, but sat brooding miserably. 
 
 " Yet Gwenny has accompanied you everywhere since 
 we have been settled in London," he found himself saying 
 presently. " She does not by any means seem to have 
 avoided pleasure." 
 
 " She took * going out ' for granted, I suppose, as 
 part of the routine of a girl's life. Besides, she no doubt 
 thought you wanted them both to go into society. At 
 the same time I am sure she never liked it. Once before 
 she rebelled openly, and since then she has sullenly per- 
 mitted herself to be led. I was in hopes that the ex- 
 citement of parties and dances would absorb her, and
 
 THE HUSBAND 307 
 
 wean her away from morbid broodings about religion. 
 But, as it now turns out, I was altogether mistaken. She 
 hates the life like poison, but, so far as possible, she did 
 not wish to make herself disagreeable to us others. Nat- 
 urally she could not lightly violate the spirit of loyalty 
 that bound her to May and myself." 
 
 " What do you mean exactly by that? " he asked. 
 
 " There was a spirit of loyalty that kept us together in 
 spite of all antagonisms. No one of us could tear herself 
 away from the others. The differences between us, no 
 matter how discordant they threatened to become, were 
 sacred to ourselves, were to be shielded jealously from 
 every eye, and, short of the disruption that has now 
 occurred, even from yours." 
 
 " I see. It was a spirit of loyalty that naturally 
 divided the house into two camps, according to sex." 
 
 " I suppose so," she admitted, hanging her head mis- 
 erably. 
 
 " But Scripture says that a house divided against itself 
 cannot stand," he exclaimed sternly. 
 
 " Every house inhabited by the two sexes is from the 
 start divided against itself," she insisted. " It used to be 
 the same in my father's home, and it is the same every- 
 where. The banding together, as against one's menkind, 
 is not exactly brought about consciously. But it is a 
 reality in the end, and one tacitly accepts it." 
 
 " And so this tacit loyalty has hitherto been sufficient 
 to keep poor Gwenny tied on to you and May ? " 
 
 " I needed her to help us to secure our position. We 
 were on our trial with people, and the three of us were 
 known and thought of and spoken of together. They 
 formed such a striking contrast, May and Gwenny, and 
 that helped to impress us on people's minds. If Gwenny 
 had abandoned us, we should have been sadly hampered. 
 Our individuality as a social unit would have got de- 
 stroyed."
 
 308 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " Your individuality as a social unit would have got 
 destroyed ! " repeated Hubert. " So it has come to 
 that!" 
 
 " Don't look at me so bitterly, Hubert, please," she 
 begged hoarsely, covering her face with her hands. " I 
 know what you are thinking of me, and I de- 
 serve it." 
 
 " Constance," he said more gently. " Please don't 
 imagine that I am reproaching you. But once upon a 
 time we used to look freely into each other's minds and 
 hearts; now, even when we are closest together, our 
 minds are quite out of touch. I welcome even this 
 painful conversation don't you see it unites us again? " 
 
 " Yes, dear, it makes me distinctly happier to be open- 
 ing my heart to you." 
 
 " In the days when I first knew you, your ideas of life 
 were other than they are now," he went on in quiet 
 pursuance of his theme. " Of course, everybody's ideas 
 change more or less, but isn't it ironic to recall that, in 
 the glow of youth, you used to declaim against what was 
 known to both of us as ' the Philistine life.' ' 
 
 " I know what you wish to lead up to, Hubert. Per- 
 haps our thoughts of late have been more in harmony 
 than you imagine. Do not suppose that I never watch 
 myself. Whatever my life may have become in practice, 
 my old girlish self has not entirely died away. I know 
 that I have become transformed into a Philistine of the 
 Philistines ; I know that the transformation began years 
 ago at Lynford. Theoretically, my contempt for the 
 conventional, selfish life was unabated, but somehow my 
 watchful self got lulled into a sort of torpor. Recollect 
 I had always lived in a wretched way from hand to 
 mouth, and that at last I found myself on a bed of roses. 
 I was so happy to be settled in life, and everybody was 
 so kind and cordial that my own individuality got swal- 
 lowed up. I felt myself slipping, slipping; yielding, 
 yielding. It was so much easier to become one of the
 
 THE HUSBAND 309 
 
 crowd to do, to think, and to like what everybody else 
 did, thought and liked. After my rough experiences as 
 an outcast, prosperity was fatal to me. And so I have 
 grown middle-aged and stupid and snobbish! You 
 would be justified in thinking that I haven't a soul now 
 above Debrett" 
 
 " My poor Constance," he murmured, struck with the 
 pathos of her acute self -perception. " You are hard on 
 yourself." 
 
 " There was always a spark in me that never quite 
 died out," she insisted again, as if seeking comfort in the 
 thought. Then, suddenly raising her voice piteously: 
 " Oh, why didn't you beat me out of my stupidity ! 
 You never said a word you simply signed cheques and 
 retired into your shell. And I have been clinging to 
 things as they are, so desperately of late. The life al- 
 ways fascinated me it fascinates me horribly now. I 
 do not know if I have the strength to extricate myself 
 from it." 
 
 " The mere form of existence matters little, so long as 
 one's soul is not enslaved. I am convinced there are 
 people who, whilst appearing to be part of the fashion- 
 able whirl, have never surrendered their inner selves and 
 live ideal lives." 
 
 " Ah, but it is dangerous to coquet with the form 
 unless one is very strong. The form is of iron. It 
 crushes most people into a sort of jelly." 
 
 " You remind me now of your old girlish self," he said, 
 smiling. " I used to be charmed by your pathetic bright 
 way of putting things, and now you give me a touch of 
 it again. If only you could become your old self 
 again ' " 
 
 Constance let her head drop forward; her hands lay 
 listlessly on her lap. She had grown quieter now, and 
 was speaking more easily and naturally. There was a 
 long pause, during which both were sunk in reflection. 
 
 " So you have not been happy," murmured Hubert at
 
 310 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 length. " Neither you nor Gwenny nor even May, 
 perhaps," he added. 
 
 " Oh May ! I don't think she allows anything to 
 trouble her very much. The chief drawback to her 
 happiness is the fear that it'll one day get about I was 
 only a touring actress. Don't think, Hubert, I am un- 
 just to her. I have always loved and worshipped her, 
 but she has made me suffer. She thinks I did you a great 
 wrong in marrying you. I call you to witness that I 
 refused you, that I resisted with all the strength I was 
 capable of." 
 
 " She is more to be pitied than blamed," said Hubert. 
 " She is so high-spirited a child, and I ought not to have 
 allowed her to escape so soon from my personal control. 
 Yet I still cannot believe that all I thought I had 
 built up in her mind was so entirely submerged as soon as 
 she went out into the world. And all this time I have 
 been acquiescing in whatever course it seemed good to you 
 all to adopt, simply because I imagined you were all so 
 perfectly happy. I shall talk to the child things must 
 be thoroughly threshed out." 
 
 " But we must think of Gwenny first," she cried. " We 
 must save her, Hubert. Time enough to deal with the 
 other one afterwards." 
 
 He did not answer, being again immersed in thought. 
 
 " Oh, Hubert," she cried suddenly. " How pale and 
 worn you are! And what horrible lines there are on 
 your face ! I've been mad. I've been a selfish brute. I 
 have never been the wife to you at all you had a right 
 to expect, the wife you deserved to have. I see how you 
 have silently sacrificed yourself and your ideals to me, to 
 the girls. You have always given, given, given ; and we 
 we have always accepted thoughtlessly, callously. We 
 have left you solitary to bear all the burden on your 
 poor back. How we have let you slave and slave ! This 
 great expensive house ugh ! And our dressmakers' and 
 milliners' bills ! Flabby fool I have been ! Oh, why
 
 THE HUSBAND 311 
 
 were you so sweet-natured with us all? O my guilty 
 conscience ! O my guilty conscience ! I have been blind 
 to your wasted frame, your sunken cheeks. I would 
 give the rest of my life away, Hubert, if only I could re- 
 call the mischief I have done." 
 
 " You exaggerate," he said soothingly. " My health 
 is tolerably good, and as for work, I have been caught up 
 in the swirl of professional life. In any case I should 
 have done the same work and earned the same money." 
 
 " No, no, you are too indulgent. I hate myself when 
 I think of all you have done for me and all you have 
 been to me. Hubert, I want to be the ideal wife to you 
 in future." 
 
 " I believe in you," he said simply. " We shall all 
 be inspired for the best." 
 
 " Thank you, Hubert. I shall try to be worthy of 
 your generous trust. Your happiness is what I shall 
 hold most dear in life. Only tell me I have not forfeited 
 your love." 
 
 " My feelings towards you are the same as they were." 
 
 " Ah, Hubert, I don't quite like the way you put it," 
 she protested, in an access of suspicion. " Your words 
 may imply I have never had your love." 
 
 " My words had no such subtle intention," he assured 
 her. 
 
 " Still, when I come to look back," she persisted, " I 
 don't see how you could have had any real love for a 
 woman such as I. Now that we are opening our hearts, 
 I want you to search yours and tell me the truth." 
 
 He was silent, perplexed ; not perceiving quickly 
 enough that she, woman-like, had set her mind working 
 on a side-issue, vital to her, and that she was longing to 
 hear him passionately contradict her. 
 
 " You do not answer," she exclaimed excitedly. " You 
 do not answer. Of course you did not love me. I 
 have always known the truth in my heart, though care- 
 fully cherishing the delusion in my brain. Poor Hubert,
 
 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 you did not know what love was. But the delusion meant 
 everything to me. Do you know why I have no children 
 of my own? " she went on, with a renewed hysteric vehe- 
 mence that made him wince. " I made up my mind when 
 I married you that I should deny myself children because 
 of your great love for these these that are neither 
 yours nor mine ! And I have abided by my determina- 
 tion. I dreamt of our common life flowing on so happily 
 and ideally. I wanted May and Gwenny to have every- 
 thing undivided, and I dreaded the discords and possible 
 bitternesses that might be occasioned by the intrusion of 
 other little ones." 
 
 Her voice, more hoarse than before, modulated itself 
 tragically, was soft with tenderness, rose with passion. 
 Her eyes were fixed on him now, and her face flashed 
 with vivid expressions that thrilled him with their in- 
 tensity. 
 
 He watched her, fascinated; as what she was saying 
 sank into him slowly and then flared into meaning. 
 When she had finished an answering flood of words rushed 
 to his lips, and he did not stop to weigh them. 
 
 " Perhaps it is true. I see now that I married you for 
 the children's sake. They needed somebody to be a 
 mother to them. The intensity with which I sought my 
 purpose blinded me, deceived me into imagining I was a 
 young man wooing a bride. I wanted no love for my- 
 self. The springtide of life had long since passed, and 
 my hand had almost lost the instinct of the caress for 
 all save the children." 
 
 " Ah," she exclaimed, her voice ringing bitter and 
 triumphant. " I knew it, I knew it." 
 
 He had risen to his feet under the stress of the mo- 
 ment. 
 
 " But listen, Constance," he urged. " I care for you 
 now, indeed, very much." 
 
 She looked up with passionate eyes into his gentle,
 
 THE HUSBAND 313 
 
 careworn face. Then she, too, rose and staggered into 
 his arms. 
 
 " We shall keep together now, dear, for the rest of 
 life," she whispered. 
 
 " Ah, yes. We shall set our house in order together." 
 
 " You shall decide, dear. Your will shall be mine." 
 
 " Let us go back to the old home. The country will 
 be gloriously fresh, and the hill-sides green and sweet. 
 There we can rest and plan out our lives anew." 
 
 " Yes the old home ! It is full of happy memories ! " 
 Her eyes sparkled eagerly. " We must throw this night- 
 mare off our shoulders. You must work less, Hubert, 
 in future." 
 
 " Listen, darling. I have realized of late that I hate 
 my profession in my heart I have always been doubtful 
 about it. I somehow feel it has kept me stifled. When 
 I was young the call of humanity sounded in my ears, 
 but, as the years raced by, it grew fainter and fainter. 
 Now it surges up once more through my very blood. I 
 swear to you I am sincere. It is not a small still voice I 
 hear it is a desolate cry that deepens and deepens. 
 Only the other day I went to a Spitalfields doss-house to 
 succour an old fellow-student whose life broke down long 
 ago. My soul was shaken to its depths. It was all a 
 terrible reminder to me how barren my years had been of 
 generous endeavour. I have searched my heart and con- 
 science, and I cannot keep still any longer. My soul flies 
 to the outcast and the submerged. By giving up my 
 profession now I should be left free to follow the life of 
 service. We should be able to live simply ourselves, and 
 have something to spare for others. Have I your sanc- 
 tion, Constance? " 
 
 " Let us work hand-in-hand, dearest ; let us follow it 
 together the life of service ! " 
 
 His arms were still round her. " Come closer to me, 
 darling," he whispered, and held her to his heart.
 
 IX 
 
 7t / AY slept late after the fatigue and excite- 
 
 / i/m ment of the party, and, when she came down 
 ^/ f _M at last, she found that the others had al- 
 ready breakfasted, Hubert having gone to 
 his chambers ever so long before. Constance was alone 
 in the room reading the newspaper. 
 
 The girl took her seat and then noticed a letter for 
 her lying on the table. She could not help reddening as 
 she saw the handwriting. Moreover Constance looked up 
 from her paper just then, and. smiling significantly, 
 informed her that a messenger had brought the letter an 
 hour before. 
 
 May did not like this display of interest in her affairs. 
 She was athrill with her big secret for she had consented 
 not to breathe a word about their engagement to any- 
 body till her fiance should have communicated with his 
 father. But, even apart from that, she would have been 
 strangely shy of sharing it as yet with any one else. It 
 was clear that Constance must have recognized the 
 writing on the envelope, so that her meaning smile re- 
 vealed the existence in her mind of at least some sus- 
 picion as to what was happening. 
 
 However, Constance presently resumed her reading, 
 and May boldly tore open the envelope and read the 
 letter. 
 
 " DEAREST," it ran ; " I have a very big favour to ask 
 of you. I know you will not refuse, but, all the same, 
 I shall appreciate your compliance more than I can ex- 
 press to you. My request is that you agree to consider 
 our engagement a secret even longer than we agreed 
 
 314
 
 THE HUSBAND 315 
 
 last night till the end of the parliamentary session, in 
 fact. If I were not tied to town, matters would be dif- 
 ferent, for I could run down and see my father at 
 once. As perhaps you know, my father has always 
 ruled in his family with a very stern hand. So, after 
 further consideration, I don't at all care to arrange so 
 vital a matter by correspondence. It is hard to foresee 
 how he might take the announcement. He might ex- 
 press himself delighted, but, on the other hand, he might 
 capriciously make up his mind to stand against our 
 engagement, and withdraw all the support on which I 
 am relying for my career. He is wealthy and intends to 
 deal liberally with me, so that, for a younger son, I 
 shall hardly have reason to complain. But, I fear, he 
 has always had ideas of his own about my marriage. Of 
 course, dearest one, if he really knew you, he would 
 worship you as I do, but, as his acquaintance with you 
 is merely superficial, he is more likely than not to be 
 upset by a sudden letter from me to say nothing of any 
 rumour that might come to him independently. What I 
 purpose is to run home as soon as I am free to leave 
 town it will be so much more politic for me to tell 
 him personally of our attachment and beg his consent." 
 
 She stopped to turn the page, and became aware that 
 her hand was trembling nervously. " But what if he 
 should oppose the marriage even then ! " her lips almost 
 murmured. Her face had grown white. She glanced 
 apprehensively towards Constance, who, luckily, was still 
 buried in her newspaper. But the letter seemed to an- 
 ticipate the girl's thought, for it ran on as follows 
 
 " Not that I have the least fear that any real difficulty 
 will arise. I know my father. He is scrupulously fair- 
 minded, and, in spite of all his reputation to the con- 
 trary, almost as tender-hearted as a woman. He won't 
 withhold his sympathy, and, once he has given his con- 
 sent, he'll be a thousand times the more anxious for our 
 happiness. Only he has always insisted on things going
 
 316 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 his way, and so I must go through the form of consult- 
 ing him first. As I've already said, far too much de- 
 pends on the issue for me to risk a letter. I hope, 
 darling, you are not the least bit fatigued this morning. 
 What a delightful hostess Mrs. Ruthven is! And you 
 were perfectly beautiful and perfectly charming ! With 
 deepest and truest love. 
 
 " Ever your sweetheart, ARTHUR. 
 " P.S. I am so happy, dearest." 
 
 Her misgivings vanished before her confidence. His 
 concluding sentences made her eyes sparkle and her 
 heart beat faster. She found herself dwelling on them 
 with eager pleasure. It was wonderful that a few simple 
 phrases should sink so deeply into her, should stir her 
 with exquisite delight. 
 
 But for the absurdity of such a proceeding in tht 
 presence of Constance, she would have kissed the lettc? 
 there and then with an impulsive tenderness that seemea 
 to spring from the very depths of her soul. She realized 
 she was desperately attached to her chosen husband. 
 That terrible pride of hers was at last humbled. She 
 was as if tied hand and foot ! 
 
 She would have liked to read the letter again from the 
 beginning, but she struggled against the longing, and 
 put the sheets back into the envelope, which she let lie 
 with apparent carelessness beside her plate. Heroically 
 she swallowed some breakfast, eating with studied leisure, 
 and lingering at the table as if she were not dying to 
 slip away. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts, 
 to reread the letter as often as she pleased, to feast her 
 eyes on the words that kept echoing in her mind, and 
 from the contemplation of which, however her mind 
 might wander for a moment, she could not tear herself. 
 " And you were perfectly beautiful and perfectly charm- 
 ing! And you were perfectly beautiful and perfectly 
 charming ! "
 
 THE HUSBAND 317 
 
 She had sufficient command of herself to ask Con- 
 stance if there was any special news in the paper. 
 
 " Well, see for yourself," and Constance passed her 
 The Morning Post. Then rising, glancing at the clock, 
 and moving towards the door ; " By the way, there's only 
 a short paragraph about our affair last night," she 
 added. " You'll find it in small type at the bottom of a 
 column." 
 
 By lunch-time May had her answer ready for posting. 
 She accepted absolutely, she assured her Arthur, what- 
 ever seemed best to him, and their secret should be as 
 safe as if it had been entrusted to the deep sea. " And 
 by the way, dearest," she went on, " I think I ought to 
 take the opportunity of telling you how I stand. Now 
 that I have written it, my last sentence reads rather 
 strangely. I mean my financial standing at least I 
 think that's what people call it. Parents are proverbially 
 business-minded when their children's marriages are 
 concerned, and in case your father should desire to know 
 what I am bringing by way of fortune, it is best I 
 should explain at once. An old legacy of five thousand 
 pounds has since, by accumulations of interest, become 
 more than seven, and another thousand pounds, at least, 
 has been put aside for me by my uncle himself or 
 rather, that is what I have understood the last few years. 
 I have no doubt that my uncle will be as generous as he 
 possibly can, still I can scarcely claim to be bringing you 
 much of a fortune. When I was a foolish little child I 
 thought I had become immensely rich; now, I suppose, 
 I may just regard myself as a genteel sort of pauper."
 
 POOR Constance was scarcely able to keep herself 
 up to the heroic pitch at which she had arrived 
 in the opening of hearts between her and Hu- 
 bert. 
 
 Her backsliding, however, was venial. In spite of her 
 earnest desire to see as he saw and to think as he 
 thought, the modes of feeling that had been created in 
 her all these years could not be conquered so abruptly. 
 Thus, when Hubert returned home in the evening, Con- 
 stance could not help intercepting him in the hall, and 
 pointing with irrepressible excitement to the piles of 
 cards that had been left at the door. But he merely 
 smiled in good-humoured comprehension. Nor did he 
 take it amiss when he found she had been thinking over 
 things all day and was already showing a desire for com- 
 promise. Not that she was the less reconciled to beating 
 a quiet and honourable retreat from fashionable life. But 
 she was now anxious that nothing should be altered till 
 the end of the season ! 
 
 She was ready with several excellent common-sense 
 arguments in support of her suggestion. There would 
 be little gained by an immediate clean cut through 
 everything, so they might as well avoid the attention 
 they must necessarily attract to themselves by their adop- 
 tion of that policy. Moreover, they were deeply en- 
 tangled what with social engagements and all sorts of 
 semi-friendships ; and, as people had been so very nice 
 to them, they, on their part, ought not to do anything 
 which might appear to savour of rudeness or unfriendli- 
 ness. They could scarcely explain themselves to all and 
 sundry, and it would be hateful to have to invent suitable 
 
 818
 
 THE HUSBAND 319 
 
 fibs. Whereas, by waiting till the end of the season, 
 they could sublet the house and slip away quietly. 
 
 As Hubert had already once looked at the position in 
 a similar light, and had of himself been inspired to 
 adopt the very policy, he was content not to offer any 
 opposition to this desire of hers. But, when Constance 
 attempted to follow up her advantage by begging that, 
 in the meanwhile, May should remain " unmolested," he 
 would not concede this new point there and then, saying 
 he must consider further, though for that evening at 
 least he would promise to remain silent. 
 
 And so, indeed, the dinner passed without a word 
 being said that might rouse the girls to suspicion that 
 anything had happened between the elders. Constance 
 had to content herself for the moment with the one point 
 she had scored. But she was still in a terrible dilemma. 
 She found herself, in fact, unexpectedly at the helm, and 
 the steering was of the most difficult. And, greatly to 
 her sorrow, there were one or two reservations she 
 saw herself already forced to make from her hus- 
 band. 
 
 In pleading that they might be allowed to continue 
 as they were for the present, she had had to keep back 
 the most potent reason of all though she was by no 
 means insincere in the reasons she did put forward. It 
 was perfectly true that she feared to attract attention 
 it made her sick and giddy to think of the talk there 
 might be! When people once began to talk, there was 
 no knowing what it might lead to. Things might be 
 raked up about herself! She was not very proud of her 
 own personal history, and though she resented she yet 
 shared May's contempt for it. And then there were one 
 or two chapters in that history with which even May was 
 unacquainted. 
 
 But these, after all, were merely minor considerations ; 
 the great point was to handle things so that May's mar- 
 riage might not be imperilled. Constance was well aware
 
 320 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 the courtship was proceeding Lady Wycliffe had given 
 her more than one strong hint to that effect. She herself 
 was taking a real maternal interest in the affair, had 
 tasted all the excitement and the joy of prospective 
 triumph with which a society mother contemplates the 
 attentions paid to her " child " by an eminently satis- 
 factory parti. All the woman in her bristled up at the 
 bare idea of endangering so promising a match she 
 would rather have died than have had it ruthlessly foiled. 
 Indeed, she found herself regretting now that she had 
 said to Hubert anything at all to May's detriment. But 
 it was something to be thankful for that she had not 
 " blurted out " everything the night before. 
 
 If only she could keep Hubert quiet till all was settled ! 
 Once May had given her promise to the young man, 
 Hubert could not require her to break it; but, till the 
 important moment had passed, she had an almost morbid 
 fear that he would consider himself not merely, free, but 
 actually in duty bound, to bear the girl away from the 
 " danger." May was now fully grown up and fit to 
 strike out a destiny of her own. Children must always 
 pass out of one's hands, and, in this case, it would be 
 for the best for would it not simplify matters even 
 for Hubert? 
 
 Yet, though the problem of May's marriage seemed 
 the more immediately pressing to her, she was not the 
 less concerned about what was destined to happen in 
 Gwenny's case. And, in a way, that, too, had a distinct 
 bearing on the younger sister's " prospects." Young 
 men's minds often worked mysteriously ; they had a way 
 of being unexpectedly put out, of exhibiting an astonish- 
 ing sensitiveness to all sorts of things the last things, 
 indeed, one would dream was affecting them. Then one 
 day they would abruptly go their own way without 
 saying a word, leaving one to puzzle out what could 
 possibly have annoyed their susceptibilities. The Ro- 
 burne family was strictly Protestant, and the young man
 
 THE HUSBAND 321 
 
 might well have cause to draw back if Gwenny's con- 
 version became a realized fact. 
 
 She herself had been terribly vexed about it; though 
 for years and years in her earlier days her own religion 
 had been of the vaguest, and she had never attached any 
 special importance to the particular form in which she 
 had been brought up. She could not help herself, she 
 argued, but she had " changed." That Gwenny's in- 
 tentions had come into violent collision with deep-seated 
 feelings and prejudices of her own, was a fact that 
 forced itself only too painfully on her recognition, 
 and she had been not a little alarmed at the ap- 
 parent calm with which Hubert had received the intelli- 
 gence. All along she had unaccountably hoped that he 
 would at least be sufficiently incensed to forbid the con- 
 templated " folly " ; for she considered the girl had been 
 deliberately tampered with by a set of designing fanatics. 
 
 In the intense excitement of her last night's outpour- 
 ing to Hubert, this, the starting-point of everything, 
 had afterwards got altogether obscured. As he had 
 scarcely expressed himself then on this particular sub- 
 ject, she felt justified in recurring to it without any 
 further delay. Besides, it would be such a relief to 
 have that matter off her hands ! 
 
 So when Hubert retired soon after dinner to his 
 sanctum, leaving the others to pass one of their rare, 
 quiet evenings in that same cosy room wherein hung 
 the Turner beneath which May had supped with her 
 Arthur the evening before. Constance took the oppor- 
 tunity of following him after a brief interval with a 
 view to at least sounding him as to the attitude he meant 
 to assume. 
 
 She found Hubert's mind singularly unruffled, though 
 he had evidently given the subject some consideration. 
 He steadfastly refused to accept Constance's view that 
 this desire of Gwenny's was an inconceivable folly. 
 
 " I feel no impulse to oppose her wishes," he declared.
 
 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " I am certain she is perfectly sincere, and, in fact, I 
 must confess I rather welcome such a proof that her 
 faith has taken such a firm and definite turn. Now 
 that I know how she has chosen to shape her life, I feel 
 distinctly less concern about her. Surely you would not 
 have me go back on the principle I adopted from the 
 beginning to leave the children with open minds till 
 they should be inspired to choose." 
 
 " To choose amid what is good," she fenced. 
 
 " Naturally. But if I considered the present choice 
 an evil one, I should be the first to forbid it." 
 
 " But her going into a convent ! The idea is hor- 
 rible!" 
 
 " You will grow reconciled to it. If it is the only way 
 she can find happiness, then I desire it as much as she 
 herself." 
 
 " The child is young she may be deceiving herself." 
 
 " Of course I mean to make certain that she is not 
 deceiving herself." 
 
 " But how are we to know that? " she exclaimed 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Well, I admit that my ideas about convents are not 
 entirely definite, but I know that a girl has her chances 
 of withdrawing before finally taking the vows. I shall 
 make her promise me that she'll not hold to the idea 
 just out of mere pride if she does not find in the life 
 what she hoped to find." 
 
 Constance could see that Hubert meant to be firm, so 
 she did not persist further. Even though she still hated 
 the prospect of Gwenny's leaving them in that way, she 
 had to make up her mind to put the best face on it she 
 could. And, seeing he had work lying on his table, 
 she deemed it best to retire which she did with a gloomy 
 countenance. 
 
 Hubert tried to give his attention again to his papers, 
 but the ingress of Constance had distracted his mind, 
 and he could not help dwelling instead on the conversa-
 
 THE HUSBAND 323 
 
 tion he had just had with her. He had been forced 
 to take a side, and he could not but think he had decided 
 rightly, though he was grieved when he considered how 
 deeply Constance felt about it. Well, he could hardly 
 blame her; had he not himself his passionate prejudices? 
 
 Ultimately he was impelled by his restlessness to 
 wander upstairs, and, scarcely understanding why, to 
 look into Gwenny's room. Each girl had annexed a 
 personal sanctum that opened into her bedroom, for on 
 the upper floors were several superfluous chambers. He 
 rapped mechanically at the door before entering, though 
 he was almost certain she was still below with the others. 
 
 The room was a dainty little place, entirely created 
 by its occupier so as to be an enlargement of one of its 
 corners, wherein were placed cross-wise a tiny bureau 
 and a spindle-legged chair with a tall, ladder-like back. 
 Two far-stretching rows of books on either side met 
 higher in the angle, yet within comfortable reach of the 
 hand, and were sheltered behind a short embroidered 
 hanging that could be drawn along a brass rod. A large 
 central rug and a few odd chairs sufficed for the rest of 
 the room. On the mantelpiece were some curious and 
 significant relics of the girl's travels a bronze angel 
 kneeling beside a scroll, but with both wings broken off 
 short, and another strange one of worm-eaten wood, with 
 large wings this time, though the features were entirely 
 worn away. There was also a large wooden cross, in- 
 congruously covered with flowers that were inlaid in 
 silver, brass, and mother-of-pearl, and standing on an 
 extraordinary semi-circular base that gleamed with 
 strange heads and scrolls and crowns and lilies. And, 
 on either side, Gwenny had flanked this cross with a 
 porcelain Virgin. 
 
 Hubert drew aside the hanging and glanced along the 
 titles of the books a prettily-bound collection which 
 had accumulated from her tenderest years. Only a few 
 of them indicated the trend of their owner's religious
 
 324 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 thoughts, and these were for the most part elementary 
 books of the Catholic faith, such as The Garden of the 
 Soul, and Imitation, and Master Butler's Catholic Cate- 
 chism. More interesting was a small French volume, 
 bound in morocco, which had evidently been picked up 
 on the Paris quays. It was entitled Meditations et 
 Sentimens sur La Saint e Communion, and, as appeared 
 from a label pasted inside the cover, had been presented 
 to one, Meline Boulu, at a " Distribution Solennelle des 
 Prix," for excellence in " analyses " some sixty years 
 previously ! 
 
 He replaced the book, and drew the curtain back to 
 its previous position. Then he stole from the room 
 somewhat guiltily. He had been touched by his peep 
 into it. If he was more than ever conscious that 
 Gwenny's life had been going its own way, he felt it 
 had been going daintily, sweetly, quietly, and it seemed 
 to point naturally to the destiny she desired. The 
 thought of it brought him a deep, suffocating emotion, 
 but did not tear his heart. The idea was too full of 
 peace. 
 
 In the meantime, Constance, face to face with her 
 problems, had been stimulated to further reflection. Rec- 
 ognizing now that Gwenny could not be hindered from 
 getting her way, she saw she must surrender with as good 
 a grace as possible, and stifle her repugnance as best 
 she could. So, like a sensible person, she hastened to 
 cast off the gloom to which she had given way, and to 
 take a purely practical view of things. Once she had 
 accepted the idea of putting her own prejudices on one 
 side, she saw that, in view of the manoeuvring that had 
 been forced upon her (but which, nevertheless, she cheer- 
 fully undertook for the good of everybodv concerned), it 
 was at any rate an advantage to know definitelv the state 
 of affairs with which she had to deal. And thus accept- 
 ing the inevitable, she. ^i+'h n rr>o] o-cnius for general- 
 ship, was presently inspirorl +o utilize it as far as possible,
 
 THE HUSBAND 325 
 
 to incorporate it, in fact, into her own plan of cam- 
 paign. 
 
 So, with a swift volte-face, she set to work at once to 
 make her peace with Gwenny ; and, so far from conceal- 
 ing the fact that she had already forestalled her in 
 bringing the matter to Hubert's knowledge, she did not 
 shrink from implying that she had been instrumental in 
 his decision. She would, therefore, no longer stand in 
 the way, and, when the time came, Gwenny should leave 
 them with her full blessing. One concession, however, 
 she would expect in return that the matter should re- 
 main a family secret for the present, and that no formal 
 step was to be taken till the autumn, the moment for 
 proceeding to be indicated by herself. She promised, 
 however, that the period of waiting should not exceed 
 six months. 
 
 Gwenny, though startled at this abrupt change of 
 front, and inclined to be incredulous as to Constance^ 
 share in influencing Hubert in her favour, was far too 
 pleased and excited not to assent immediately to the 
 one " mysterious " condition. But she almost at once 
 divined what was in Constance's mind, having long since 
 recognized the attachment between her sister and Arthur 
 Tloburne, and smiled inwardly at Constance's fear thai 
 1 er own plans might hinder that marriage. 
 
 " I suppose you have no objection against my speak- 
 ing to uncle I should like to thank him." 
 
 Constance hesitated, but at once recovered herself, 
 remembering that, if necessary, she could explain away 
 to Hubert the period of waiting she had insisted upon 
 as merely intended to fit in with their general policy of 
 preserving appearances. 
 
 " Certainly you may speak to him," she managed to 
 reply promptly. " There is no reason at all why you 
 should not be perfectly open with him now." 
 
 Yet, for the rest of the evening, Constance did not 
 give herself up to the elation that might naturally have
 
 326 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 attended the disposal of so troublesome a difficulty. 
 True, there was one possibly formidable hindrance the 
 less in the way of May's settlement in life, but how 
 would Hubert feel when he realized he was to lose both 
 the children ! Poor Hubert ! How vexing it was that 
 she herself could not be perfectly frank with him yet ! 
 But, in the days to come, she would make up to him 
 for everything so great should be her devotion, so 
 exceeding what was ever given by woman to man since 
 the world began!
 
 XI 
 
 , knowing that Hubert was busy, con- 
 siderately waited till near bedtime before in- 
 truding on him. He looked up from his docu- 
 ments as she came within the threshold. 
 
 " Isn't it rather early for your good-night kiss? " he 
 smiled in kindly welcome. "But I suppose you were 
 hard-worked last night." 
 
 The apology on her lips for disturbing him melted 
 before his wistful glance, his gentle voice. 
 
 " Oh, come, right in," he continued, divining her pur- 
 pose. " These papers are only boring me, and I'm 
 rather glad to have a visitor." 
 
 " I want to thank you, uncle," she said, advancing to 
 him and kissing him warmly. " That's not for * good- 
 night ' yet," she explained. 
 
 " Ah, Constance has already informed you of her con- 
 versation with me." 
 
 " In my heart I always knew you would never be 
 against me ! " 
 
 Her face was even paler than usual, and she had a 
 certain air of fatigue. What a frail sister she would 
 make! And yet she curiously looked the part though 
 a poet's conception of it rather than the reality ; a figure 
 rising from ballad or song. 
 
 " My dear child," he answered, " your heart told you 
 true. Of course I had not the least idea of how you 
 were being drawn. I almost wish I had known 
 earlier." 
 
 " I was never really sure of myself till the last year 
 or so, but I have not been happy all this time, and 
 that helped to destroy my last doubts. I want to get 
 
 827
 
 328 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 away from this stifling life. I hate it. What they call 
 pleasure is to me hollow and worthless. Of late I have 
 often longed to come to you, uncle dear but I was so 
 much away from you, and you were always so distracted 
 and busy. Besides, I was always so timid, and Dearie 
 thought it would make you terribly angry, and upset 
 you. I would rather have given up the idea altogether 
 than have caused you pain." 
 
 " My dear little child," he said, his heart going out 
 to her ; " and, now that you have at last overcome your 
 timidity, I am to lose you ! " 
 
 " I am so sorry, uncle," she said, and broke into 
 sobbing. 
 
 He rose and placed his hands on her hair caressingly. 
 " You are sure you will be happy ? " he asked. 
 
 " I shall find peace," she said. " I love the Faith, and 
 I wish to work for the poor." 
 
 She went on to explain that it was no sensational step 
 she desired to take; she did not have it in mind to join 
 a rigorous sisterhood of severe and unremitting disci- 
 plines, but one in which she could turn her energies to 
 good practical purpose, and lead a quiet, useful, dignified 
 life. She described to him the ordinary routine of the 
 days, divided between teaching and visiting the poor 
 and the sick. Such a retirement from the world could 
 only be said to be a nominal retirement, and her family 
 might see her when they wished. 
 
 Hubert was glad to be thus enlightened. Her ideas 
 seemed very sensible, and he could approve of them 
 both with relief and satisfaction. There was really little 
 that she had to reveal to him about the past. Through 
 Madame Bartolozzi she had formed a little circle of 
 friends of her own with whom she was very much more 
 in sympathy than with even the most intimate of their 
 fashionable acquaintances. He elicited from her with 
 difficulty some account of her gradual estrangement from 
 the ways and ideas of the others, for she was as loath
 
 THE HUSBAND 329 
 
 to insist on the gulf between her and them as she 
 was to breathe the slightest word of their disparage- 
 ment. 
 
 She was ready with all the details of her plans he 
 could ask for. Her friends would make everything easy 
 for her. Of course she would have first of all to pass 
 over to Catholicism formally ; afterwards announcing to 
 her spiritual director at confession her wish to enter the 
 religious life. She would begin as a " novice," and wear 
 " the cap " for six months, then " the white veil " for 
 two years ; during which latter period she would be look- 
 ing forward to taking the final solemn vows, and eventu- 
 ally donning " the black veil." As to her own little 
 fortune, she would wish to have half settled on the order 
 she might enter, and the remainder devoted by him to 
 charity. 
 
 There were no obstacles of any kind, but now that he 
 was to lose her, he was anxious to have her stay with 
 him yet a little. 
 
 " I have already promised aunt to wait a few 
 months. She does not like the idea of any immediate 
 change." 
 
 Hubert smiled, instinctively making the very inter- 
 pretation Constance ha'd hoped for. 
 
 " Well, I want to put to you now a serious question," 
 he presently resumed. He paused for a moment im- 
 pressively. " Suppose you should, at any time before 
 taking the solemn vows that are to bind you for always, 
 reconsider your position, and desire to come home 
 again ! " 
 
 " That I can scarcely conceive of, uncle." 
 
 " Still the contingency might arise. And, therefore, 
 my dear child, I want you to make me a promise as 
 solemn as the vows themselves." 
 
 She waited askance. 
 
 " If ever you should not feel sure of yourself, you are 
 to allow no sentiment of pride, or the mere desire to
 
 330 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 appear firm even in your own eyes to prevent you 
 from withdrawing before it is too late." 
 
 " I understand, uncle dear," she said, her eyes glisten- 
 ing ; " and, of course, I promise."
 
 XII 
 
 m ^OR the present, then, the Ruthvens presented 
 rm the same front to the world, as heretofore, and 
 M the trio pursued their social way (Gwenny 
 
 joining the others in conscientious fulfilment 
 of her understanding with Constance), each with her 
 own emotions, but betraying no hint of them on the sur- 
 face. 
 
 Meanwhile Hubert's spirit was calmer. The hours his 
 womenkind spent with him were still few, but all three 
 were markedly affectionate and attentive to him now, and 
 he felt they were infinitely closer to him than before. 
 
 This emphasized considerateness on their part was easy 
 to understand in the case of Constance and Gwenny, but 
 the tender way in which May now hovered about him at 
 odd moments puzzled him. He did not suppose that she 
 had ever, in her heart, cared for him less warmly; still 
 it was hard to think why, amid these whirling days of 
 gaiety, she should be showing such signs of a possible 
 return to their old companionship. For now, too, she 
 would come to show herself in her finery before going 
 out; and her clinging movements, her swift caresses 
 seemed always to be wistful apologies for her having to 
 dash away the next moment to be back hours after his 
 usual bedtime. He could only interpret it all as due to 
 an awakening of remorse on her part for her previous 
 neglect of him, and even Constance was content to accept 
 that supposition. 
 
 In deference, too, to Constance's wishes, he had put 
 off his meditated little interview with the girl at least 
 till some promising occasion should arise naturally. He 
 
 331
 
 was more disposed to wait now her renewed tenderness 
 for him might grow, and his task be all the lighter. 
 
 On the one point of the girl's future, Constance con- 
 tinued to keep her own counsel. At the same time she 
 began to be much exercised by the tardiness of the 
 engagement in declaring itself. The young people were 
 certainly not seeing less of each other, nor did there 
 seem any falling off in their friendliness. But there 
 was yet something about their cordiality which was not 
 quite of the right shade, and which set Constance won- 
 dering tremulously whether Lady Wycliffe were not 
 grievously mistaken. So far, as her own experience 
 went, that sort of cordiality never led to anything! 
 
 The truth, of course, was that the pair were studiously 
 careful not to rouse any suspicion or gossip, heroically 
 submitting to the restraint thus imposed on them. Yet, 
 save for a single drawback, the girl was amazingly 
 happy. She was certainly intoxicated with life all she 
 set the highest value on was to be hers ! 
 
 She not only saw the young man through the glamour 
 of love ; there was also the glamour of his coming career 
 as a great politician or diplomatist. She chose to be- 
 lieve in that blindly without it her visions would have 
 been bereft of half their colour. But, perhaps most 
 desirable of all, shone his inalienable birth-right of deep- 
 rooted social position. Her marriage would open to her 
 a path to the zenith of the ambitions that had filled her 
 dreams almost from childhood. Not only was she to 
 be of the very fabric of that world into which she had 
 now only a not very comfortable sense of having risen, 
 but she was determined to wield power, to blossom ulti- 
 mately into a great leader of Society. There was even 
 a possibility, not so very remote, of an important title 
 falling to her; but she was not cold-blooded enough to 
 dwell on that, save at moments, and then it was an in- 
 voluntary insinuating tl ' 4 ^at gained her attention, 
 hardly a deliberate r 1
 
 THE HUSBAND 333 
 
 When, however, she allowed herself to acknowledge 
 the proverbial bitter that was mixed with her sweets, it 
 certainly exercised a most disturbing influence on the 
 harmony of her mood. Often, in conversation with her 
 Arthur, she had found herself approaching very delicate 
 and perilous ground. Having, as yet, had insufficient 
 experience of the world, he had always taken her posi- 
 tion for granted she was the niece and adopted daughter 
 of an eminent Queen's Counsel, he had met her in a 
 very exclusive circle, her home was refined and artistic. 
 He had never dreamt otherwise than that her social 
 eligibility, even for a man of his exalted blood, was 
 unquestionable. And thus, whenever any chance ref- 
 erence to her father and mother had arisen, her heart 
 had beat faster with fright, and she had had a distinctly 
 guilty sense of the inferiority of her origin. Her in- 
 stinct had been to glide over the point quickly they 
 had both died when she was ever so little. Once, indeed, 
 she had been impelled to throw out casually that her 
 father had been a " physician," though she regretted it 
 immediately. If it had occurred to him to interrogate 
 her pointedly, she would, perhaps, have made no reserva- 
 tions, painful as it might have been to confess that her 
 maternal grandmother had let cheap lodgings in a 
 Bloomsbury back street, and that her mother had cut 
 her throat in a fit of mad excitement. As it was, she 
 merely refrained from enlightening him on these and 
 other points. 
 
 Inwoven as her romance was with so much that was 
 worldly, she yet loved it for its own sake, and there 
 were times when she despised herself for her " insin- 
 cerity and cowardice." But, on the other hand, her 
 vulgarer instincts fostered in her an acute dread lest the 
 truth, by whatever means, should ever penetrate to him. 
 This possibility, vivid in her consciousness, and touched 
 to tragic importance, she constantly strove to shut her 
 eyes against. The epoch of her childhood was so dim
 
 334 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 and distant that the present May Ruthven had only the 
 ghostliest connection with it; yet, as she could not help 
 admitting that the connection existed, she resented the 
 fact as a rank injustice. 
 
 And thus, in the attempt to obliterate from her mind 
 so disagreeable an element, she tried to live more in- 
 tensely in every moment, throwing herself heart and 
 soul into the movement of life, and gratifying to the 
 utmost her keen zest for pleasure.
 
 XIII 
 
 71 /F AY'S ears were always remarkably acute now, 
 
 I t/ 1 especially for any talk whereof she imag- 
 ^ w M ined she or her family might be the sub- 
 ject, and in this way she was destined one 
 day to overhear an extremely curious conversation. 
 
 She had been shopping in Bond-street with Constance, 
 and, as the afternoon was a blazing one, they had just 
 descended at one of the tea-rooms for refreshment. Al- 
 most on the doorstep, May just escaped a couple of 
 elderly gallants, who were close upon them, and who 
 were in the habit of boring her with playful compliments 
 and banter. Constance, however, was caught, stayed a 
 moment or two, and ended by asking them to lunch, 
 returning to her carriage to note the engagement in her 
 book, which had to be fished out from her reticule. 
 Meanwhile, May passed into the tea-room, and took a 
 seat at a table not far from the entrance, so that 
 Constance might be able to see her at once. A tall 
 Japanese screen that rose in front of her, gave her a 
 certain cosy privacy, but she could hear feminine voices 
 talking with an almost painful distinctness at another 
 table behind it. Indeed, she had vaguely caught sight 
 of the two speakers as she had entered. 
 
 At first, though she could not help hearing every 
 word, she did not want to listen, and so she did not 
 catch the drift of what was being said. But suddenly 
 the sound of her own name smote on her ear violently, 
 and she found herself following the voices in spite of 
 herself. 
 
 " I hear the Ruthvens' party the week before last was 
 
 335
 
 336 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 such a brilliant success at least my sister says so in her 
 column in The Loyal Lady. Were you there? " 
 
 " Not I ! We had cards through Mrs. Geoffrey, who 
 told me Mrs. Ruthven had positively begged her to 
 bring us. However, one can't be too careful now-a-days, 
 and I don't see why, just because Lady Wy cliff e takes it 
 into her head to patronize the woman, we should all be 
 running to dance attendance on her. A fine stroke, 
 though, their getting Almusa I wonder how it was 
 managed ! But that sort of person generally goes down 
 as suddenly as she goes up. Only just wait a little." 
 
 " Why, who are the Ruthvens ? You astonish me. I 
 thought they were of the right sort." 
 
 A peal of cultivated, silvery laughter rang behind the 
 screen. 
 
 " The right sort ! A mere caprice, my dear, on the 
 part of Lady Wycliffe! This Ruthven was a protege 
 of hers when he was a young man. She paid for his 
 education, or something of the sort, and occasionally 
 had him to lunch. He got on in his profession, and she 
 had him to dinner. And, now that he has become a Q.C., 
 she has taken up his wife and his nieces quite nice girls, 
 everything considered, though one of them makes herself 
 as much at home in Society as if she were a princess of 
 the blood. I don't question but that Lady Wycliffe 
 means very well, but she really ought to be more careful 
 whom she forces on other people." 
 
 " But there doesn't seem to be anything you know 
 what I mean, really anything against the people." 
 
 " My dear, the whole business is a rather amusing 
 scandal. Lady Wycliffe does not even seem to have 
 made the least attempt to inquire into these people's 
 antecedents. This Mrs. Ruthven, at the time her hus- 
 band grew infatuated with her, was an actress in the 
 lower ranks of the profession just starving along, you 
 know and I have the best of authority for saying that 
 she was no better than she should be. She had pre-
 
 THE HUSBAND 337 
 
 viously been living with a married man, and she only 
 left him to marry this Ruthven." 
 
 " You astonish me ! " 
 
 " I assure you, my dear, it's as true as gospel and 
 would be bad enough in all conscience, but there's still 
 worse to follow. This Ruthven's brother " here the 
 voice impressively lowered itself an octave " appears to 
 have married a common street-walker, who drove the 
 poor fellow to suicide. The uncle then took the little 
 girls, the mother not being a fit person to be entrusted 
 with their upbringing. My dear, it's the solemn truth 
 I have it on unexceptionable authority. Nobody knows 
 what became of the mother, and, indeed it's likely enough 
 she's still rolling about somewhere. She'll turn up some 
 day they always do, my dear and then perhaps the 
 Ruthvens '11 feel a bit uncomfortable for awhile." 
 
 May rose, all afire, and hurried into the street again, 
 almost colliding with Constance, who was just about to 
 enter. 
 
 " What's the matter with you, child ? " said Constance, 
 staring at her. 
 
 " I feel overcome by the heat all of a sudden," said 
 the girl. " It is too terribly close in there. Let us go 
 home at once."
 
 XIV 
 
 rHERE was a dance that evening at which 
 Arthur Roburne was expecting to find her, 
 but May shut herself up in her room instead, 
 on the plea that she was too indisposed to stir 
 out. Nothing to be alarmed about mere fatigue. The 
 suggestion of a doctor only evoked her scorn. She would 
 lie still, she said, and try to compose herself, perhaps 
 even get a little sleep. This in order to be left to her 
 own thoughts; for even friendly solicitude was to be 
 dreaded as an irritation. 
 
 As a result, Constance and Gwenny, after various 
 fluctuations, also decided to pass the time at home. 
 Meanwhile May was brooding and suffering. If it was 
 possible to hear such talk quite at random, then 
 then 
 
 The world seemed to sink away from beneath her, 
 and a horrible, choking dread almost made her swoon. 
 Again and again she gathered her strength together, but 
 each time the memory of that vile gossip struck her like 
 a knife. 
 
 About nine o'clock her reflections were interrupted by 
 a rapping at the door. Her petulance at being disturbed, 
 vanished immediately when she perceived the visitor 
 was Hubert. 
 
 " How flushed you are, little May ! " he exclaimed, his 
 voice full of anxiety. 
 
 She gave a forced little laugh. " You look as con- 
 cerned, uncle dear, as if I had broken a limb. The 
 afternoon's shopping wore me out it was so stuffy 
 everywhere. I dare say I shall be all right again in the 
 morning."
 
 THE HUSBAND 339 
 
 He came into the room, and closed the door behind 
 him. 
 
 " I'm sorry you have to lose your dance to-night. 
 Still, I suppose there are a great many more to come. 
 May I not sit down a moment? " 
 
 She pushed forward an arm-chair for him, then 
 languidly dropped into another herself. 
 
 " Of late I've been feeling the heat in chambers, ter- 
 rifically," he continued. " The mere idea of shopping 
 turns me dizzy. Why do you do it? " 
 
 " Why ? I never thought about it. I suppose it's 
 natural." 
 
 He made a wry face. 
 
 " Even father Preston likes it ! " she added, as if that 
 bore out her view. 
 
 " Merely an acquired taste of his to counteract his 
 metaphysical tendencies. He strives to escape from the 
 infinitely big by burying himself in the infinitely 
 little." 
 
 " I don't quite grasp that," she said, without any 
 attempt to do so. " My brain is rather muddled to- 
 night. But it sounds as if it were the right explanation 
 it's Prestonish through and through." 
 
 Hubert smiled. " I'm glad to see my little girl in such 
 good spirits. I was nervous in spite of your assurance. 
 Dances and that sort of thing are all very well in their 
 way, but I've no doubt you'll be finding it a refreshing 
 contrast to spend some time with me just quietly in 
 the country. First a good rest amid pure air and sweet 
 surroundings, and then, when we both recover our ac- 
 tivity, we'll indulge in some of those long walks we 
 used to have together in the olden days do you re- 
 member, little girl ? " 
 
 Her head swam again, and she momentarily forgot 
 where she was and what she was talking about. The 
 vast feeling of misery she was trying both to keep down 
 and to dissimulate, surged up heavily.
 
 340 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " Yes, yes," she said vaguely, with a far-off sense of 
 meadows and buttercups and daisies. Then, as the op- 
 pression passed off, she gathered her wits again with a 
 swift effort. " Oh, those walks they were simply splen- 
 did ! " Her eyes sparkled, and her face took on an ex- 
 pression of joyous reminiscence. She was like a sick 
 actress struggling through her part. 
 
 " I suppose you are somewhat tired of town and 
 dancing by now? " he suggested tentatively. 
 
 " Oh, no," she answered, dizzily losing her sense of the 
 drift of the conversation. " I love town, and I like 
 dancing almost better than any other amusement." 
 
 " Curious our tastes should be so different," he ven- 
 tured. " I used to care very little about dancing in the 
 old days, and I am never quite happy in town." 
 
 " I really can't understand anybody not liking town," 
 she said. " Oh ! " She gave almost a moan, and closed 
 her eyes. 
 
 " I am tiring you, dear," he exclaimed, jumping up. 
 " I'll send you the maid, and you must go to bed at 
 once. Forgive my thoughtlessness. Good-night, dear 
 little one." 
 
 She kissed him affectionately, and then, unexpectedly, 
 a second time. As he moved towards the door, she 
 called to him again with a last forced effort at coquetry, 
 charming him with her freshest smile. 
 
 " And, uncle dear, you must take me for a walk soon. 
 Why not here in London? Perhaps you will find that 
 you can be happier in town than you think." Her eyes 
 played at him roguishly. 
 
 " Well, why not to-morrow if you feel equal to it ? " 
 he rejoined, staying a moment with his hand on the 
 door-knob. " To-morrow is Saturday, remember. We 
 can fill the whole afternoon, and have tea out. . . . 
 Besides," he added, deciding to make the announcement, 
 " I want particularly to have a long talk with you, and 
 that will give us a splendid opportunity."
 
 THE HUSBAND 341 
 
 " A really serious talk ? " she murmured, struck by 
 the sudden gravity of his manner. 
 
 " Well, yes quite a serious talk," he assured her. 
 She made a moue.
 
 XV 
 
 /N the morning May had a letter from Roburne, 
 and the sight of it renewed her distress to the 
 full. As part of the compact between them, 
 letters had to be rare for the time being. Her 
 feeling of foreboding about this one was therefore ac- 
 centuated. 
 
 " DEAR MAY," he wrote " I turned up at the 
 Cairds' particularly early to-night, and, what is worse, 
 stayed particularly late, as I did not care to give up 
 hope of your arrival, even at the fag-end. I wonder 
 what kept you away, and how it is you did not con- 
 trive to let me know somehow surely you might have 
 wired a word. I bored myself to death all the evening. 
 I am the more vexed at missing you, as, in the ordinary 
 course of events, there isn't much chance of my seeing 
 you again this week, and there are important reasons 
 why I must see you immediately. So, in sheer desper- 
 ation, I must propose something alarmingly indecorous. 
 Cannot you meet me to-morrow (Saturday) about five 
 in the afternoon, say in the Embankment Gardens near 
 Charing Cross Station? You might take out a book, 
 and be reading on one of the seats. I'll find you in a 
 moment. I know you are free to go about as you please, 
 and that is a very convenient place for talking at our 
 ease. If you cannot come, a wire will find me at Eaton 
 Square up to four o'clock. 
 
 " Yours, ARTHUR." 
 
 She read through the note with beating temples, ac- 
 cepting as a matter of course the interpretation that 
 
 342
 
 THE HUSBAND 343 
 
 came uppermost in her mind. She made no attempt to 
 examine each phrase searchingly, to explain away his 
 coldness. His hurried, slap-dash manner seemed just to 
 indicate a non-committal policy ; could be explained away 
 as mere hasty scribble, or stand as significant in case a 
 break should follow. 
 
 Of course he had heard the gossip, and desired to 
 know exactly what amount of truth was in it. Vile and 
 exaggerated as it all was, she would have to make clear 
 to him the foundation of fact on which these rumours 
 rested that is, if she could make up her mind to meet 
 him at all. Her feeling now was principally one of 
 anger and bitterness. The intense pride which had car- 
 ried her through life with high head and elastic step 
 could react against the blow in no other way. She was 
 angry with herself at having had a mother of such 
 humble extraction, angrier still with that mother for 
 having quitted this world in so violently unconventional 
 a fashion. And as for Constance of whose history she 
 had guessed (and guessed wrongly) more than she had 
 ever been able to discover, and against whom she had 
 come to nourish an heroic resentment for having killed 
 Hubert's mother (who after all had been a gentlewoman) 
 it was hard that a person like that should be so closely 
 bound up with her own life as now to spoil it for her. 
 How foolish of Hubert to have allowed himself to get 
 entrapped by a woman who had already besmirched her- 
 self! 
 
 With such gossip going about, it was plain they could 
 not retain their position in society nor ought they to 
 desire it. That would not matter to Gwenny, who did 
 not care for things, and who meant to pass her life in 
 teaching and praying in a convent ! But she herself 
 had no turn for the conventual existence. She was to 
 lose everything she who cared for everything! 
 
 At breakfast she smilingly asserted that she was al- 
 most quite recovered again, but would not go out for her
 
 344 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 morning ride. The afternoon's promenade, for which 
 she had engaged herself to Hubert, would be exercise 
 enough for her. To distract her thoughts she busied 
 herself during the next hour or two with anything 
 that offered, and found herself arranging her books, and 
 sorting her letters and papers and destroying an endless 
 number of them. It was as if she were being impelled 
 by some presentiment of tragedy to put her affairs into 
 order ! 
 
 Suddenly she remembered that Hubert, too, had an- 
 nounced he had something serious to say to her, and 
 she laughed nervously. All in front of her was a black 
 chaos she would not let her mind go forward and trace 
 out possibilities. And though she had not yet told her- 
 self so in words, she had in her mind already recognized 
 the utter futility of seeing Arthur again. Her percep- 
 tion of certain aspects of his character had been greater 
 than she had ever admitted to herself, and, in the depths 
 of her soul, she knew only too well he would never stand 
 by her. Moreover, even if she had desired to go to 
 meet him, she could not be at all sure of parting from 
 Hubert in time to be punctually at the rendezvous, or 
 even to get there at all that day. 
 
 Yet at no moment during the morning could she 
 bring herself to slip out to send the young man a tele- 
 gram, either accepting or rejecting the suggested meet- 
 ing; though her silence, leading him to expect her, was 
 bound to result in his kicking his heels wrathfully and 
 feeling she had made a fool of him. For she was still 
 struggling with herself mentally, and could not bring 
 herself to utter a definite " yes " or " no." 
 
 At lunch she again presented a smiling face, and thus 
 far none of the others manifested the least suspicion 
 that anything was amiss. She almost pitied their sleek 
 happy ignorance as, nervous and overwrought, she grew 
 comparatively hilarious and overflowed with gay 
 laughter.
 
 THE HUSBAND 345 
 
 " Well, uncle," she asked, as she jumped up from the 
 table at last. " Where are you going to take me? " 
 
 He was pleased she hadn't forgotten the arrangement. 
 
 " So soon after lunch ! Will it be good for our di- 
 gestions? " he laughed. 
 
 " You should have thought of that before. As for 
 myself, I am unaware that I possess such a thing. But 
 I'll be generous you shall have ten minutes for your 
 coffee." 
 
 There was a breeze blowing when they left the house, 
 so that it was pleasant to saunter in the sunshine. May, 
 despite herself, could not help being heartened a little 
 by the stimulus of the town she so loved; and, even for 
 Hubert, the streets momentarily took on a brighter 
 aspect. 
 
 They strolled through Regent Street, the Haymarket, 
 across Trafalgar Square, and down Whitehall to West- 
 minster. Then, passing the Houses of Parliament, they 
 struck the Embankment, and followed it along Milbank 
 and past the sordid genteel mansions of Pimlico. It 
 was dominant in her mind that they were leaving further 
 and further behind them the place of rendezvous fixed 
 by Arthur Roburne. Of course it was only natural for 
 Hubert to turn his back on the Temple and walk in 
 the direction away from it, but still the fact that they 
 were so going was curiously significant; and it pleased 
 her to persuade herself that fate was deciding for her ! 
 However, she was meanwhile doing her best to chat 
 amusingly, and she fortunately found her companion 
 easy to entertain, for he smiled and laughed incessantly. 
 
 The neighbourhood was growing dingier each moment, 
 and suddenly she stood still and looked all round her 
 and over the parapet of the river. An unbroken range 
 of warehouses and factories towered across the water, 
 that lay brown and thick under the caressing sunshine. 
 Blackened houses stretched endlessly on their right, with 
 gloomy side-streets at intervals. She shuddered.
 
 546 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 "How depressing it is just here!" she exclaimed. 
 " The sunshine seems a mockery." 
 
 " How so? " he said, with sad memories of his recent 
 excursion to the Spitalfields lodging-house. " This is 
 not at all bad. Indeed, for London it is quite 
 good." 
 
 She shivered again. " You are prejudiced against 
 London, and always were." 
 
 " I think, little girl, you are the prejudiced person ! 
 I am of those who points out that certain things are bad 
 because they desire improvement ; whereas are you not 
 of the majority who will not see the badness and insist 
 that we others are only mischief-makers ? ' Fouling 
 one's own nest ' is the absurd time-honoured way of 
 putting it. Highly effective, no doubt, but it virtually 
 declares that to draw attention to the foulness is the 
 same thing as having made the foulness." 
 
 She listened, taken aback at this abrupt attack, though 
 his tone was of the kindest. 
 
 " Oh, this must be the serious subject about which 
 we were to talk! But why such a strange choice, 
 uncle?" 
 
 " No, it is not a strange choice," he declared. " I have 
 my purpose. If I can show a radical error exists in 
 your mind on one important point, you will be the more 
 ready to believe that you are in error on many other 
 important points." 
 
 " But why just now, uncle? " she asked mystified. 
 
 " That will become clear to you as we proceed." 
 
 " This is all very unexpected," she said. " Of course 
 I know our ideas don't quite agree. I used to think 
 more your way when I was little." 
 
 " I feel complimented ! " He spoke with marked re- 
 proof. 
 
 She smiled in spite of herself. " Now you are getting 
 cross. But I don't repent," she cajoled. " You are 
 always so charming when you are cross."
 
 THE HUSBAND 347 
 
 She was able to win the mastery over him, but it was 
 only for a moment this time, for presently he hardened 
 himself against all her pretty arts and returned sternly 
 to his point. 
 
 " Seriously, May, I am cross. Am I to take your 
 word for it that you are still going to find me charm- 
 ing? " 
 
 " I begin to feel quite nervous. I can see it in your 
 face you mean to read me a long sermon about every- 
 body's being equal and all that sort of thing." 
 
 She was not intensely interested. Her mind was too 
 distracted, and she was weary and heart-sick after her 
 long night of tossing about. To have remained brood- 
 ing in her room would have suited her better than this 
 apparently abstract conversation that was now being 
 forced upon her. Had her sorrow been other than it 
 was, she might even now have been impelled to confide in 
 the one soul she still loved best in all the world. But 
 she had been wounded deep, and her rebellion against 
 all the doings and events of long ago that had resulted 
 in crushing her now, involved a certain amount of resent- 
 ment against him. She had thus no impulse to open 
 her heart to him; she even shrank from anticipating 
 events by telling him of the terrible slanders she had 
 overheard. So she took up the conversation with just 
 the captious fag-end of her mind, yielding up the rest 
 of herself to the intense reckless bitterness which had 
 again asserted itself, and which grew as each step took 
 them further from the point in London that was most 
 vivid to her. 
 
 " You attribute to me all the false opinions, plausibly 
 invented and attributed to people of my kind of con- 
 victions by people of your kind of convictions," pursued 
 Hubert coolly. " I do not say everybody is equal, only 
 that if anybody is equal, let him be accepted as such. 
 As for the long sermon, it is quite conceivable it might 
 do you good. Physic, I believe, is more or less disagree-
 
 348 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 able, yet there are times when its administration is in- 
 dispensable." 
 
 He still spoke kindly, even half banteringly, neverthe- 
 less he made her feel now he meant no jest. 
 
 Yet that he was serious in the deeper sense she had 
 not yet realized. 
 
 "Oh dear!" she thought; " just to choose this mo- 
 ment to torment me with his radicalism ! Bother, bother, 
 bother ! " 
 
 " But perhaps I ought not to compare my sermon 
 with physic. It is not impossible you may actually find 
 pleasure in listening to me. You use/i to, once upon 
 a time." 
 
 " You began by frightening me to-day." 
 
 " I am sorry I did not mean to do that. Only, my 
 dear child, it is naturally difficult for me to make a new 
 beginning without appearing to be a little abrupt. We 
 have drifted so far apart. When I come to think of it 
 we have not really talked together for several years 
 not in the way, that is, we once used to." 
 
 She did not respond to the yearning in his voice, did 
 not even perceive it. 
 
 " Are you angry with me? " she asked in a weary 
 indifferent tone. 
 
 " No, not angry," he answered slowly ; " but in a way 
 disappointed and dissatisfied." 
 
 A strange expression passed across her face; she felt 
 persecuted. 
 
 " I am sorry, but I feel very innocent." 
 
 They had by now left Westminster ever so far behind 
 them. She would certainly not retrace her steps that 
 day! 
 
 Arthur would wait some time, and then go away dis- 
 gusted and disappointed. Well, she, too, was disgusted 
 and disappointed! 
 
 Just then they went past the end of a bleak Pimlico 
 street respectable with porticoes and areas and tall
 
 THE HUSBAND 349 
 
 windows down which was coming a train of wedding 
 carriages, gaily decked out, the bridal carriage harnessed 
 with a pair of splendid greys. At every area-gate down 
 the long street, maidservants in twos and three were 
 talking in awed whispers and all looking intently in the 
 same direction. Hubert had passed on without glancing 
 to that side, and May averted her eyes and kept pace 
 with him. 
 
 " It is neither a question of innocence or guilt," he 
 responded. " I do not say who is at fault, but I cannot 
 hide from myself that I am bitterly disappointed in you. 
 You are something very different from what I always 
 hoped you would grow up to be." 
 
 It was hard on her, she felt, to be thus attacked. The 
 captiousness of that bit of herself which was engaged in 
 the conversation was increasing each moment. Why did 
 he not stop tormenting her? 
 
 " This is all so unexpected," she repeated ; " but I 
 cannot be otherwise than I am, although I am sorry 
 not to be the somebody else who would please you 
 better." 
 
 " I repeat I am not finding fault," he assured her 
 more gently, conscious of his own short-comings and 
 that he had hardly the right to chide her. " I only 
 want to enlist your sympathetic interest. I cannot be- 
 lieve that the person with whom I am dissatisfied is really 
 yourself the little May who was once everything in the 
 world for me ! " 
 
 " Naturally I am not the little May. One grows. 
 But, even so, I don't think my nature has changed so 
 very greatly. I am ever so much more experienced and 
 wiser and all that, and " 
 
 " And you've made up your mind about ever so many 
 things. That's just what makes you superficially the 
 person that grieves me." 
 
 " You mean our views about things would not agree 
 which is exactly what I said myself just before. Why,
 
 350 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 uncle," she protested ; " you always used to encourage 
 me to form my own opinions ! " 
 
 " I had a right to hope you would form them within 
 certain limits. Freedom does not mean freedom to go 
 wrong. But I am not merely concerned about your 
 opinions or rather convictions. What concerns me most 
 is the selfish life which, I have no doubt whatever, is 
 based on those comfortable convictions of yours." 
 
 He spoke in all meekness, conscious she might well 
 demand what wonderful benevolence had been practised 
 in his life, what shining example of altruism had he set 
 her ! Nor did he feel such argument the less keenly be- 
 cause it did not occur to her to employ it. As for the 
 girl, the words " selfish life " had stung her, but not into 
 argument. Selfish life, indeed ! She could have laughed 
 when she thought what she was suffering at that mo- 
 ment. Her face hardened. 
 
 " Cannot we get home again ? " she asked, her voice 
 distorted in the effort to avoid a moan. " Please call 
 that hansom. I am so tired." 
 
 He mistook her manner for petulance half insolent 
 as well. Constance was right in what she had said, he 
 thought; the girl was utterly spoilt. He looked at her 
 and caught the hardness in her face, and it made him 
 think of her grandmother's granite hardness. 
 
 " I do not believe you are tired, and I must ask you 
 to listen to me." he said sternly. " Meanwhile, if you so 
 prefer, we can turn our steps towards home. I can say 
 all I wish very quickly, and leave you for the present to 
 ponder over it." 
 
 She made no reply, but her face hardened even fur- 
 ther and she set her teeth. Though in her heart she 
 had never meant to go to Arthur, and even though she 
 had already openly told herself that she was letting cir- 
 cumstances decide for her, she yet began to nurse a fur- 
 ther and absurdly unjust anger against Hubert for hav- 
 ing made it impossible for her to keep the rendezvous
 
 THE HUSBAND 351 
 
 Both distinctly felt now that a critical moment had ar- 
 rived ; and this perception made the girl by now grown 
 unreasoningly reckless the less disposed to try to soften 
 him. Life was now so worthless, she had been struck 
 so hard, it seemed only the fit thing that she should hold 
 herself to be struck again. 
 
 He made as if to turn back the way they had come, 
 but the thought of Arthur, who would soon be waiting 
 for her some three miles further down the Embankment, 
 struck her sharply again and made her cry 
 
 " No, no, uncle. I am sick of walking past those 
 horrible streets. Let us cut up towards Kensington 
 Gardens and get home that way." 
 
 She herself led the way up the next turning. 
 
 He recommenced the onslaught. 
 
 " I wanted you to grow up a true lady, but you prefer 
 to live as a sham one." 
 
 He waited to hear what she had to say to that, but 
 she made no response. Then, stung into angry expostu- 
 lation, he spoke out at last with feeling, almost with 
 tears, and with the sense of performing a sacred duty. 
 It was a nightmare, this life they had slid into leading, 
 and it oppressed him, revolted him. He did not mean 
 to sacrifice his conscience any longer to this low 
 type of happiness, dependent on superficial gratifica- 
 tions. What had become of her mind not to speak of 
 her soul? 
 
 " You have grown into a snob a snob of snobs," he 
 said passionately ; " but my love for you still clings to 
 the hope that your deeper self will throw it all off. This 
 foolish ostentatious existence, this running after the 
 people who have possession of the social stage and 
 simply for that reason is loathsome to me. My whole 
 nature is up in arms against it. I hate my profession, 
 I hate the money I have earned. I want to breathe 
 a purer air. I will no longer foster the selfishness of 
 your days, your gluttony for pleasure ! Is not the world
 
 352 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 full of poorer sisters whom you might have thought of 
 helping? " 
 
 She listened with burning cheeks yet callous heart. 
 What was her life to her? she laughed inwardly. What 
 cared she about her poorer sisters? Let them starve, 
 let the whole world starve, or be smashed to pieces ! 
 What would it matter to her? She only wanted to close 
 her eyes, to sleep to sleep in peace! 
 
 Yet, somehow, she felt she must now argue with him, 
 impelled to wound him, despite all her indifference to 
 this conversation as to everything else. And she argued 
 amazingly flauntingly cynical and superior, defending 
 her own mode of existence, defending luxury and the 
 worldly life. The masses of people were only inferior 
 animals, she declared, fit only to black her boots. The 
 world was so made ; let the slaves labour ! 
 
 Hubert's heart sank, and the torture of his passion so 
 increased that he contained himself only with difficulty, 
 attuned himself outwardly to the grey respectability of 
 these dingy streets. So she was then like her grand- 
 mother (though without her redeeming piety and 
 charity), hard as granite and shrewdly snobbish. In 
 that moment, too, he seemed to behold even her mother's 
 features flashing strangely through her own, and he 
 recognized Agnes's stubborn pride and her lust for 
 " life." 
 
 " You are absolutely heartless," he cried bitterly ; 
 " and vulgar, too, though you may not suspect it. You 
 care for nothing save to amuse yourself." 
 
 " Ah, you would prefer me to be like Gwenny, and 
 shut myself up for life in a convent." 
 
 " She at least will lead a useful life of service. She 
 loves humanity." 
 
 " She has strange tastes. How can one love that ? " 
 
 She tossed her head contemptuously toward the op- 
 posite side-walk, where a poor creature hobbled along 
 in a dirty red ragged petticoat and gaping boots, her
 
 THE HUSBAND 353 
 
 white hair hanging in strange disorderly curls, her face 
 pock-marked and wrinkled. 
 
 Hubert's passion passed as by magic into pity. He 
 did not know which he pitied the more the young girl 
 or the aged woman! 
 
 " Yes, one can love even that," he said softly. An 
 irresistible impulse carried him across the street. He 
 stopped the half-starved woman, spoke to her kindly, 
 and ended by pressing a little money into her hand and 
 promising to help her further. 
 
 She called a blessing after him, her aged eyes wet, her 
 hands and body shaking. May had remained waiting 
 defiantly, with curling lip and sneering smile. Hubert 
 rejoined her and they resumed their walk without a 
 word. At the top of the street they met the same 
 procession of wedding carriages which had come by 
 another route, and they could not help observing the 
 people inside them the men with strangely varying 
 beards and whiskers and features, all wearing glossy 
 high hats and small black ties and large shirt-fronts : 
 the women, buxom and matronly, holding big bouquets. 
 
 Some clock struck five just then. At that actual 
 moment Arthur was waiting for her miles away ! Well, 
 let him wait. She once more turned her eyes away from 
 the wedding procession. 
 
 Hubert did not fail to observe the movement. 
 
 " No doubt they are too low for your attention." 
 
 " They certainly do not strike me as aristocratic." 
 
 " Well, you yourself can hardly lay claim to aris- 
 tocracy," he reminded her. " Your own extraction was 
 humble enough ! " 
 
 " It was indeed," she thought, but she made no fur- 
 ther answer. 
 
 They walked home in silence. It was the first quarrel 
 of their life.
 
 XVI 
 
 yJ^T home they retired to their respective rooms, 
 ZJ Hubert with a rude sense of disillusionment 
 ^4 M and all but shattered. But the brooding 
 mind of the girl, stupefied by calamities of 
 which Hubert knew nothing, had not yet grasped the 
 import of the clash between them. What had happened 
 that afternoon was quite new to her experience, but its 
 blackness was lost in the deeper blackness of the tragedy 
 generally. Though it was even now dawning upon her 
 that a great change had abruptly come in her feelings 
 for Arthur, she could not keep her mind from engaging 
 itself with the picture of her lover vainly and angrily 
 searching for her. Of course he would interpret her 
 silence as a full corroboration of the vile stories that were 
 going the round, and would abandon all further desire 
 to hear any explanation from her. And even if suspend- 
 ing judgment, he would throw up everything just the 
 same, she felt sure, through sheer fading of the impulse 
 of justice on which he might well feel he had already 
 acted sufficiently. 
 
 Nevertheless, she was haunted by the odd fear (which 
 she well knew to be without reason) that he might yet 
 call at the house, and she therefore informed the maid 
 she would not be well enough to come down to see any- 
 body whoever it might be ! Meanwhile she was racked 
 by the strain of awaiting this more than remote possi- 
 bility. 
 
 Yet she was realizing more and more that she no 
 longer cared for him. Emotions, like people, may find 
 their ending violently. Amid all this stress her love for 
 him had suddenly ceased it had been throttled by her 
 
 354
 
 THE HUSBAND 355 
 
 pride. She felt as if she had been touched by a magic 
 wand and released from the sway of a great illusion. 
 
 For, in spite of all that had occurred to humiliate her, 
 her pride was still even greater than his, she told herself, 
 and she was not going to stoop and humble herself 
 before anybody. Nay, more, if he were to go down on 
 liis knees now and beg her to marry him, she would most 
 certainly refuse. Not that there was the slightest chance 
 of his exhibiting any such magnanimity as she well 
 knew. Still she could not keep her mind from imagining 
 some such interview, till at last she almost came to believe 
 in it. The minutes became long tracts of agony, and 
 her heart leapt tremblingly whenever she heard a passing 
 hansom. Yet towards dinner-time, she roused herself, 
 dressed carefully, and descended to face the table 
 brazenly, with an arrogant freshness of countenance and 
 spirits that was almost miraculous. Over the meal 
 Hubert sat repressed and sullen, but May chatted away 
 with an apparent unconsciousness of anything abnormal ! 
 
 Later, she paid dearly for the effort, and the evening, 
 moreover, was a renewal of anxious waiting and specu- 
 lation which she knew to be absurd. 
 
 But if Arthur did not come, the last post brought her 
 another letter from him. " How reckless of him ! " she 
 thought mockingly. " Two letters in one day. Never 
 rains but pours." 
 
 She locked the door illogically behind the retiring 
 maid. Excited as she had been till now, that was nothing 
 compared with this dizzy moment. Yet the letter could 
 contain no surprise for her her palpitation only marked 
 the moment of the crisis. 
 
 All, in fact, was just as she had supposed. Arthur 
 began with petulant complaint. He was evidently very 
 angry ; quite at a loss, as he put it, to understand what 
 was implied by this continued and apparently deliberate 
 avoidance of him. He had simply desired to inform 
 her that she and her family were being finely talked
 
 356 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 about. Obviously the untarnished honour of his house 
 could not be associated with the least sullying breath of 
 scandal. As for himself, he was not altogether disin- 
 clined to stand by her, if these stories were merely 
 malicious though, in any case, now that scandal had 
 got about, he feared his father's opposition would prove 
 unsurmountable. On the other hand, if the gossip now 
 current had any foundation in fact, she would herself, as 
 a sensible girl, be able to see how near Lady Wycliffe's 
 indiscreet acquaintanceship with her family had come to 
 bringing a blameless young man to the verge of catas- 
 trophe a young man whose disinterestedness (at any 
 rate so far as the question of a suitable fortune was con- 
 cerned) she would readily admit. 
 
 Not one line of sympathy for her, she noticed ; merely 
 a roundabout indication that she ought to release him. 
 Evidently his diplomatic training was proceeding apace { 
 
 She felt like fainting, as she suddenly realized again, 
 in its whole import what had befallen her. Indifferent 
 as she might be about an affection that was now dead, 
 she was still overwhelmed by the sense of the sudden 
 tragic alteration in her whole position. She saw her 
 imperious ambitions crumbled to dust. But she set her 
 lips, dashed some cold water over her face, and forced 
 herself to sit down to write him a brief note at once. 
 
 " DEAR ARTHUR," she said " It is really generous 
 of you not to be ' altogether disinclined to stand by me,' 
 but it would scarcely be right of me to put such a strain 
 on your heroism. Therefore, with your kind permission, 
 I will leave you to stand alone that is, so far as I am 
 concerned as I feel sure that the vacant place at your 
 side will readily be filled by somebody happier than my- 
 self both in fortune and in immunity from patronage 
 and scandal. Confidently wishing you every success in 
 your diplomatic career, I remain, Yours truly, 
 
 " MAY RUTHVEN."
 
 THE HUSBAND 357 
 
 Her impulse had been to write bitingly, but she 
 thought better of it after a few lines, and preferred to 
 cut the letter short. 
 
 Tears came as she addressed the envelope came as a 
 relief. For some minutes she yielded herself to the sobs 
 that could not be restrained. 
 
 Lady Wy cliff e's patronage ! So this was the humilia- 
 tion she had been destined for ! She patronized ! she 
 with her pride ! She who had taken it for granted that 
 her irresistible fascination entitled her to queen it over 
 the highest ! She was clever enough to see the situation 
 in a clear light how Constance's big and brilliant party 
 had made them a mark for this irresponsibly spiteful 
 scandal, this nightmare distortion of the truth ! 
 
 Then came a convulsive moment of revolt. She was 
 sick, she cried out to herself, of the terrible swirl of 
 emotion in which she had been living; she was sick of 
 the degrading sensation of lying crushed and helpless. 
 No, no, she would not endure it any longer; she would 
 rather be dead altogether! 
 
 And then the girl's irrepressible spirit leapt up again, 
 and she drew herself together in all her stubborn pride, 
 seeing at that moment the one possible way of redeem- 
 ing her life. She was in the position of the desperate 
 gambler, and, though the stakes to be won were those 
 she had once already recklessly disdained in the full flood 
 of her prosperity, they seemed to her wonderfully desir- 
 able now, and to be well worth the trying for. If she 
 failed, then she would be content to have risked every- 
 thing on the one throw. 
 
 With quick decision she changed her evening dress for 
 an ordinary day frock, bathing her face and temples 
 with eau-de-cologne. Then, glancing at her watch, she 
 arranged her hat, threw a light cloak over her shoulders, 
 and hurriedly went down-stairs. 
 
 There was nobody about in the hall, so she slipped out 
 into the street, glad there was no necessity to murmur
 
 358 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 the words almost on her lips: " I am just running to the 
 post-office." 
 
 Instead, she dropped her letter into the nearest pillar- 
 box, then took a hansom to Jermyn Street, determined, 
 with characteristic impulsive dash, to put her destiny to 
 the test without a single moment's delay. As she was 
 rattled along, odd recollections of other visits to Pres- 
 ton in years gone by mingled with her anxious specula- 
 tion as to whether she should find him at his chambers. 
 His sitting-room up four flights of stairs was a queer 
 nest she had a vivid picture of Preston lounging in 
 one of those large comfortable arm-chairs in red leather, 
 the incongruity of which amid such dilettant and eccen- 
 tric surroundings had always struck her. It was a 
 relief, she found, to let her over-strained mind dwell idly 
 on this and other trivial details. 
 
 The familiar shop on the ground floor was shuttered 
 and gloomy. She rang the bell of the door at the side, 
 and the same nasty man answered her as of old. As 
 usual he was reeking of alcohol, and leered at her with a 
 puffed purplish countenance, from which shone an arro- 
 gant consciousness of the profits of the long-leased 
 " commodious upper part," tempered by the humility 
 of valeting and boot-blacking. 
 
 He did not know if Mr. Preston had gone to his club 
 that evening, but would see. Anyway he could run 
 round the corner to St. James's Street, and ask for him 
 at the club door. -She expressed her thanks, whereupon 
 he gave her a knowing glance, full of prudence, with 
 depths beyond depths of meaning; as if to indicate her 
 reputation was perfectly safe in his keeping, that, as 
 one who had let chambers for gentlemen for a score of 
 years and upwards, he had had lots of experience of that 
 sort of thing, and was not in the least astonished to see 
 her. 
 
 He left her standing in the tiny stuffy corridor, and 
 disappeared up the sharp turn of the narrow flight of
 
 THE HUSBAND 359 
 
 stairs that began only a few feet from the door. She 
 felt rather disgusted that rich bachelors could put up 
 with such places, and was glad to find diversion in the 
 thought. 
 
 Soon she heard the man descending, and presently he 
 announced to her that Mr. Preston was at home. She at 
 once followed him up the four flights, smiling her thanks 
 as she passed into the sitting-room that flashed again 
 on her in all its olden familiarity. 
 
 Preston himself, sunk in a deep arm-chair (just as she 
 had imagined him), was engaged in the mild occupa- 
 tion of drinking tea, one end of his table being laid in 
 primitive fashion. In the fender a copper kettle steamed 
 over a spirit-lamp. 
 
 " I'm caught indulging my vice ! " he exclaimed 
 pleasantly, as he rose and came forward to shake hands. 
 He exhibited no sign of surprise. 
 
 She, however, was hardly prepared to be so taken for 
 granted, and had to collect herself to meet him on even 
 ground. 
 
 " Call it something prettier than that, please," she 
 managed to flash back. " Because you may be inspired 
 to hospitality, and that would hardly be a nice thing to 
 offer me." 
 
 " Will * virtue ' do ? Used not our grandfathers to 
 say that all virtues carried to excess were vices? I was 
 merely carrying it to excess. Fact is, I've taken to 
 drinking of late. Whenever I feel bored at the club of 
 an evening and that is pretty frequently I come home 
 and dispose of three large cups, pale golden-brown, and 
 no sugar or milk. I have not yet got through the first, 
 so there is still an ample store of hospitality at my dis- 
 posal." 
 
 She had dropped into an old rickety Sheraton arm- 
 chair, and he resumed his own seat at the end of the 
 table nearest the hearth, letting his eyes rest on her face 
 searchingly for a brief moment. Her radiant freshness
 
 360 ONE'S WOMENK1ND 
 
 was almost miraculous after the anguish she had been 
 enduring, and she met his gaze squarely. But she felt 
 him reading beyond her superficial mask, and presently, 
 in order to escape, looked away round the room, with 
 simulated interest, taking in with a leisurely, though 
 comprehensive movement of her head the mass of comic 
 coloured prints that hung above the mantel, itself 
 crowded with cards, photographs and bits of old china 
 (mostly chipped and broken) ; the tall Empire bureau, 
 in the alcove at the side of the hearth, stuffed and laden 
 with a most remarkable chaos of letters and papers ; the 
 two great iron candlesticks, fantastically wrought, that 
 stood on a worm-eaten cedar-wood table against a faded 
 little Persian rug hung broadwise between the two win- 
 dows; and the few long shelves across the one unbroken 
 wall, that were packed with books mostly mediaeval, and 
 in oak and vellum bindings and surmounted by ex- 
 quisite china. 
 
 " What a lovely untidy den ! " she cried gaily. " And 
 will you give me some of the hospitality, please I mean 
 the golden virtue ? How happy you must be here ! " 
 
 He produced a cup and saucer from an unsuspected 
 cupboard in the wall, carefully dusted them, and poured 
 out her tea. 
 
 " Happy here? " he echoed. " When fortified by ex- 
 cess of virtue, otherwise 
 
 He broke off, and strode round the room expressively. 
 
 " How sad ! " she exclaimed. " Then why don't you 
 give it up? " 
 
 " Give it up ? This philosopher's garret ! " He con- 
 tinued his striding. " Well, for the sake of the wet 
 misty nights. I like to have the room dark, and to sit 
 after midnight at the open window with a terrific down- 
 pour from the suggestion of inky sky one feels up above 
 the mist. Those buildings opposite loom so darkly and 
 softly, and then I feel I am high up in one of those tall 
 narrow side-streets off the Boulevards. This Jermyn 
 Street, with a little imagination, does seem Parisian.
 
 THE HUSBAND 361 
 
 An occasional hansom dashes through below, but up 
 here it is so mystically silent and solitary that one feels 
 in touch with the infinite. And the pour, pour continues, 
 and the mist grows thicker, and the universe is so beauti- 
 ful. And there I stay watching till the dawn." 
 
 " I shiver at the thought of it." 
 
 She did shiver, and pulled her cloak closer over her 
 shoulders. 
 
 "But how about the fine dry nights?" she asked, 
 after a moment. 
 
 " When I come to think of it, those are equally good," 
 he declared. " The feeling of London that then comes 
 to me from below is that of a dead city, of the capital of 
 some ancient empire that passed away thousands of 
 years ago a sort of superb Pompeii, in fact, recon- 
 structed and revivified specially for me. I often have 
 the same feeling as I pass through it. The countless 
 multitudes of people are all dead and shrivelled and long 
 since passed back into the dust. But they are all so 
 happily ignorant of it ! " 
 
 She shivered again. " How weird ! " 
 
 " So you see, whether it's wet or fine, this garret has 
 its consolations." 
 
 " But what about the mornings ? After meditating all 
 night long like that, you must get up fearfully late." 
 
 " Not later than when I go out to some party or 
 other." 
 
 " What time did you get up on the Thursday of the 
 week before last? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, I did not mean to be personal," he laughed. 
 " But to answer your question I slept very soundly, 
 indeed, was up refreshed by ten, and ate a most hearty 
 breakfast." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that," she said. 
 
 He looked at her sharply, but she was sipping her tea 
 and her head was bent forward, her hat largely conceal- 
 ing her features. He could not see her eyes, but her
 
 362 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 cheeks were redder. Suddenly she threw her head back 
 and broke into laughter. 
 
 " My appetite both vexes and amuses you appar- 
 ently," he grumbled. 
 
 " Your appetite annoyed me shockingly, I admit. 
 But my amusement was due to an odd memory." 
 
 " Odd memories are the most amusing things in the 
 world." 
 
 " You used to oversleep when I was a child I heard 
 you telling uncle about it one morning, just when you 
 were about to leave England. You put it down to a 
 demon, and gave me a terrible fright." 
 
 " Ah, I remember, too." He threw himself again into 
 the great arm-chair. " Those must have been happy 
 days for you." 
 
 " You were more chivalrous then, certainly more sen- 
 timental." 
 
 " I am certainly ever so much more sentimental now," 
 he declared ; " and I hope I am not less chivalrous. 
 Then I was a hardened cynic." 
 
 " Now you are gentler, I know," she said. " But in 
 those days you believed in broken rings and plighted 
 troths and everlasting fidelity; whereas now " 
 
 " I believe in broken hearts as well." 
 
 " Whereas now you eat big breakfasts. I repeat your 
 appetite is disgraceful, and it annoys me." 
 
 " Rather than that I withdraw it and the slumber, too. 
 I thought the fib would please you for fib it was ! I 
 sat at the open window that Thursday till long after 
 dawn." 
 
 " You were thinking, no doubt, of the little joke you 
 had played off on me, and the glorious way I was caught 
 by it." 
 
 " I wasn't as proud of the joke as all that," he 
 murmured. 
 
 They sat silent. They sipped their eternal tea. 
 
 " Let me pour you another cup," he said suddenly.
 
 THE HUSBAND 363 
 
 She did not refuse, and he filled his own as well. 
 
 " It was mean of me to pretend the thing was only 
 a little joke wasn't it? " she asked. 
 
 " Why, wasn't it a joke? " 
 
 " No fencing," she warned him. 
 
 He considered a moment. " It shall be whatever you 
 wish." 
 
 " It was mean of me," she insisted. 
 
 " Merciful ! " 
 
 The new cups of tea were standing. Simultaneously 
 they raised them to their lips as if both struck simultane- 
 ously by the fear that the liquid might cool. 
 
 " Do you know, I am perfectly sick of the London 
 season," she broke out abruptly. " I wish I were hun- 
 dreds of miles away from it ! " 
 
 " Surely the wish is easy to realize." 
 
 " But I want other things to go with it. It is entirely 
 a different kind of life I want from what I have hitherto 
 been leading. I want to do something for poor people 
 to help them and make them happier. I was walking 
 with uncle to-day, and we saw such a terrible wreck of a 
 poor woman. Uncle thought I despised her. Now I 
 really didn't though I said something superior that I 
 didn't mean a bit. You understand? " 
 
 " Your philanthropic ambitions do you credit," he 
 said dryly. 
 
 " You have heard the talk about us," she exclaimed 
 quickly, immediately catching the implication of his 
 tone. 
 
 " Well, yes," he admitted. " I confess I have had the 
 honour this evening of throwing, not a glass of wine, 
 but a huge tankard of excellent stout in the face of an 
 extremely good-natured old fellow, who, I am sure, has 
 never harmed a fly in his whole life, and to whose stupid 
 ancient head and breezy laughter I am indebted for 
 much entertainment. Now I am to be sat upon by the 
 club committee."
 
 364 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " And so you came home to console yourself with 
 tea ! " Her eyes glistened tearfully. 
 
 He saw she was moved. " My dear little girl," he said 
 affectionately. " Don't let the thing bother you at all. 
 You will not be on people's tongues for more than a 
 day or two they take it as a good joke more than 
 anything else. You will be happy in spite of it." 
 
 " Nobody at home knows anything yet, and I hope it 
 won't reach their ears. I fancy aunt won't find out 
 unless she meets with some unkindness, and who would 
 be rude enough to tell her? But our fashionable exist- 
 ence was doomed all the same uncle, I more than sus- 
 pect, had already made up his mind about that! And 
 in any case Gwenny was going into a convent soon. 
 Happy soul ! " she sighed. 
 
 " Your domestic politics are not entirely unfamiliar to 
 me," said Preston. " However, since we are talking so 
 frankly, and I am after all one of your oldest friends, 
 may I suggest that it would not be out of place if you 
 were even a shade more frank with me. There is one 
 point, for instance, on which you have not yet enlight- 
 ened me." 
 
 " As usual there is no hiding secrets from you. As 
 for that it is broken off. I am glad. See, my hands 
 are quite steady ! " She held up her cup firmly. " And 
 now, Mr. Wizard, you will help me to live the kind of 
 life I want won't you ? " , 
 
 " So far as I possibly can." 
 
 " That is nice of you. I want to live very simply, but 
 far, far away from this hateful London, and to be a sort 
 of Lady Bountiful to do good to as many people who 
 are worth it up to my full powers. I have a small for- 
 tune, as you know." 
 
 " Why not be guided by Hubert ? Surely your idea 
 would delight him ! " 
 
 " Because I want the idea to delight you. Don't you 
 approve of it? "
 
 THE HUSBAND 365 
 
 " I always approve of whatever delights Hubert." 
 
 " Thank you." She set her cup down on the table, 
 and, leaving her cloak on her chair, she came over and 
 stood by the hearth, smiling in all the freshness of her 
 beauty. Her eyes wandered round the room again, 
 dwelling once more, for an instant, on the iron candle- 
 sticks that stood on the cedar-wood table against the 
 Persian rug. Then she turned to him again. " Now, 
 not so very many evenings ago," she resumed ; " you 
 were good enough to consent to confide in me, but we 
 agreed at the time that the confidence should be treated 
 as a joke the same joke which we have just now agreed 
 is to be taken seriously after all. Well, in return, may 
 I not confide in you? " 
 
 " Not a new joke this? " 
 
 " No, indeed ! " She opened wide coquettish eyes. 
 Then she turned her face away from him again and idly 
 examined the bric-a-brac on the mantelshelf. " Well," 
 she continued ; " once upon a time, a long while ago, I 
 lost my heart to a brave knight. He was going on a 
 long pilgrimage, and I solemnly promised to be his 
 sweetheart true for life. We divided a ring, each keep- 
 ing half. If he will claim me again, he will find me 
 ready to redeem my promise." 
 
 She wound up all breathlessly. She was red now, and 
 her hands were no longer steady. 
 
 " My dear child, you are by far too generous. The 
 brave knight, as you are kind enough to call him, would 
 be mean indeed if he were not to absolve you from so 
 rash a promise, made, indeed, at so immature a period 
 of your existence." 
 
 " I am disappointed. The promise has the full rati- 
 fication and approval of the very mature person who has 
 enjoyed two large cups of your beautiful hospitality." 
 
 " The knight cannot lend his approval to it," he 
 answered sternly. 
 
 " But he approved of it only a short time since," she
 
 366 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 argued. " And besides, he has already expressed his 
 approval of the conditions as to the sort of existence he 
 and I may lead together." 
 
 " The conditions are fascinating, but the circum- 
 stances are not the same as they were a short time since, 
 that is." 
 
 " Why, how have they changed so soon ? " 
 
 " Then, you were called upon to decide ! And you 
 would have decided with your eyes open, prepared to 
 accept the sequel. Now " 
 
 " Now " she murmured, her face white at last, 
 
 and all the ghastly worried look in undisputed pos- 
 session. 
 
 " The knight would scarcely be worthy of his knight- 
 hood if, the onus and responsibility of decision being 
 now upon him, he were to take advantage of a temporary 
 mood due to vexatious circumstances, and thrust the 
 sequel upon you. For you to have accepted him then 
 would have been a very different thing. Now that the 
 responsibility falls upon him, he has a conscience." 
 
 " I do not fear the sequel." 
 
 " He has a conscience," he repeatedly doggedly. 
 
 There was a long silence. Preston swallowed the 
 remainder of his cup at a draught. The girl's fingers 
 played nervously with a little silver lion on the mantel. 
 
 " Then you won't marry me? " she said. 
 
 " I am not such a selfish brute," he answered. 
 
 Abruptly she left the hearth, took her cloak, and 
 again slipped it across her shoulders. 
 
 " Good-night," she said, holding out her hand stiffly. 
 Her lips, as they closed, were drawn hard. Her form 
 was proudly erect. In that one instant, he felt, as he 
 caught the chill look on her face, she had drawn a 
 thousand miles away from him. 
 
 " Good-night," he returned quietly. She barely gave 
 him time to touch her fingers with his own. 
 
 " Please don't see me down I shall find my way out."
 
 THE HUSBAND 367 
 
 He respected the request, knowing she desired to 
 escape from him at once. And in a moment he was 
 sitting in his deep arm-chair, staring hard at nothing. 
 
 He scarcely knew how long the interval was, but the 
 sound of the slamming of the street-door came up to 
 him abruptly, and he started up violently, haunted by 
 the terrible expression of despair on her face as she had 
 swept out of the room, and suddenly remembering how 
 her mother had ended.
 
 XVII 
 
 TT fJ^ HEN May found herself in the street again, 
 f/t/ she stood still for an instant in complete 
 
 r r mental darkness. But presently remem- 
 
 brance and decision came to her, and, with 
 a quick, nervous movement, she pulled her cloak closer 
 round her and began to walk towards St. James's-street. 
 At the corner, she stepped into a hansom, and ordered 
 the driver to take her to Waterloo. 
 
 As the vehicle rattled off, she shrank back into her 
 seat as if with an instinctive fear of being recognized in 
 some sudden glare of illumination. For the streets were 
 in their full evening bustle. Hansoms were dashing 
 about in hundreds, the side-walks were thronged, the 
 club-houses were lighted up. In the Haymarket the 
 theatres flared, and the sounds that reached her were as 
 of a whole population astir. 
 
 And then she fell a-brooding on Preston's weird fancy, 
 and it veritably seemed to her this was the swarming 
 capital of some ancient mighty Empire that had long 
 since crumbled into the dust ; that she herself was flying 
 through it in dream to be restored to some other life 
 that was her true life, and towards which her mind was 
 straining in a vain effort of memory. 
 
 She found pleasure in abandoning herself to the 
 imagining, for there was nothing else in the world that 
 called for her attention. 
 
 She had thought to carve her worldly way imperi- 
 ously, to gratify herself with pleasure, and with realized 
 desires and ambitions; but fate had laughed at her! 
 
 Life on her own terms had been refused to her; she 
 
 368
 
 THE HUSBAND 369 
 
 would not accept it on any other terms ! She would die 
 with her pride unbroken ! 
 
 Idly her eye took in the ghostly far-off spectacle of 
 the town. Yet now and again, as the despair in her 
 soul came up overwhelmingly, she caught her breath 
 with a half-moan, and her eyes were blinded by a mist. 
 
 When the hansom drew up at Waterloo station, she 
 resumed control of herself again, paying the driver his 
 fare and buying her ticket with her usual assurance. A 
 Lynford train would be starting in a few minutes; she 
 knew it well, as Hubert, when detained late at his 
 chambers, had often come home by it. 
 
 After an interval of dazed waiting on the platform 
 with a strange, slumbrous sense of the vast echoing 
 terminus, she watched the train glide up slowly, and 
 presently she took her seat. She was glad to find herself 
 alone in the dim compartment when at last it started off 
 again. Then came the plunge into the weary suburban 
 darkness, amid which showed a grey wilderness of houses 
 and factories, punctured with blinking points of light, 
 and varied by the long glare of some suburban High 
 Street as they swept over a bridge that spanned it. 
 
 On, on, the train danced and beat; the lights and the 
 dark masses of buildings grew rarer, and at length they 
 were running through black landscapes. The night was 
 moonless but starry. The overpowering closeness of the 
 town and suburbs was replaced by a freer feeling of air 
 and space. 
 
 For a time she lay back against the cushions, conscious 
 at last of a throbbing fatigue in her limbs. But she 
 eventually threw off the torpor, and went to stand by 
 the open window. She liked the grey, moving hedges, 
 the weird trees, the mysterious depths of the landscapes 
 and of the heavens. How smoothly and evenly the train 
 ran through them, penetrating penetrating. Were 
 they not making direct for that bright star, twinkling 
 at her so invitingly, low down on the horizon?
 
 370 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 Then suddenly the thought of her purpose rushed 
 backed on her, and, drawing her breath hard, she felt 
 cut as by a knife, and her hand went up to her breast. 
 To breathe at all she was constrained to exercise force 
 in defiance of the pain. " Oh, my crushed heart ! " she 
 moaned ; " Oh, my crushed heart ! " 
 
 And presently she fell again into her seat, and her 
 eyes that had known no tears since she had left home 
 were now wet, and she could not check her sobs. 
 
 The great, cool shadows brooded softly over the 
 stretches of hill and field, but could bring her no calm. 
 
 But, like everything else, the fit of weeping ran its 
 course, and she relapsed for the rest of the journey into 
 a stony resigned indifference. The proximity of Lyn- 
 ford was at length indicated to her by the familiar little 
 wayside stations, dreary and deserted, at which the train 
 made momentary stoppages. Already she began to 
 arrange her hat so that it might overshadow her face 
 the more, for, though she knew it was an idle fear that 
 anybody about the station might recognize her, she was 
 yet anxious to attract as little notice as possible. She 
 had been well known to the station-master in the olden 
 days, but of course she had grown and changed, and, 
 besides, she would slip out of the station very quickly. 
 
 And so, when the train finally pulled up at Lynford, 
 she was able to escape without observation, just as she 
 had anticipated. Her carriage came to a stand near the 
 exit, and she gave up her ticket and passed out briskly, 
 barely conscious that some half-a-dozen other passengers 
 had alighted, and were straggling along the platform 
 behind her. 
 
 The little town was already asleep. Her own foot- 
 fall alarmed her as she hastened along the shuttered 
 High-street to get to the country road. Every now and 
 again she would catch the sound of voices, and soon 
 after would come upon little groups of men and women 
 chatting at some wayside corner. But to her high-
 
 THE HUSBAND 371 
 
 strung mood they scarcely seemed real. London had 
 become the reality again, and this only the dream. The 
 lighted dining-room at Portland Place, the glare and 
 hubbub and dash of Piccadilly Circus, the crowded 
 houses of their friends these all thrust themselves up 
 before her in living vividness. There in London pulsed 
 the blood of life, the lights flared, the hansoms rattled, 
 the newsboys shouted. That was reality splendid real- 
 ity that beat itself against one. This was all a shadow, 
 part of the greater shadow that brooded above and 
 around and into which it all merged this dim agglom- 
 eration of silent, sleeping, tortuous streets and ghostly 
 chimney-stacks; a fading vision seen by preoccupied 
 attention, a hesitating suggestion whispered into the ear 
 of a sleeper ! 
 
 Soon she had traversed the full length of the High- 
 street. The pavement ended; the road twisted and 
 turned between homes that slept in sweet silence amid 
 old gardens behind high, mossy walls. The lamps grew 
 rarer. And, the last isolated house once left behind her, 
 she distinguished with difficulty the stretch of the road- 
 way. The whole countryside lay gloriously free and 
 vast under a multitude of stars, and she was conscious 
 of the sweet hill-sides that stretched in the distance in 
 great undulations. But only the dusk-grey hedges were 
 softly visible on either hand as she stepped along. The 
 air was still. 
 
 She was sure of her way, and at that hour it was 
 near mid-night she was hardly likely to meet anybody. 
 So her pace slackened and her feet went on mechanic- 
 ally, the whilst she again lapsed into a daze, a mental 
 emptiness, till she was startled out of it by the rumbling 
 along of a belated cart. As soon as it had well passed 
 her by, she came away from the hedge against which 
 she had crouched, and pursued her way. But, somehow, 
 the break had made a difference. She was trembling 
 now she knew not why and she was glad to rest
 
 372 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 against a barred gate that was all wet from the dew. 
 Her fingers, her ears, her feet were burning, her knees 
 were beating together. " Oh my crushed heart, oh my 
 crushed heart ! " was all she could think, all she could 
 murmur. 
 
 She closed her eyes till the pain should pass, but, 
 after a moment or two, she abruptly began to go for- 
 ward again. What a pity there was no moon to-night ! 
 was her sudden thought. She had come specially to see 
 the old garden again in the moon-light, to visit for the 
 last time the favourite nooks of her childhood, those 
 she had so often haunted when she had stolen from her 
 bed on summer nights with only a cloak round her, and 
 had gone down just to see what was happening. At 
 night-time, she had been wont to fancy that it was 
 entirely a different region from the garden of her play- 
 hours. She felt a keen disappointment at the prospect 
 that her journey might be vain, then laughed at herself 
 for being capable of such an emotion. What mattered 
 the journey, the little extra bustle and energy . . . By 
 the morning it would be all the same! 
 
 Soon she struck off the main-road that led ultimately 
 to the front of the old house, and took the rougher by- 
 road that ran downwards to the hidden little gate, of 
 her first coming to which, in her childhood, she had still 
 a vivid remembrance. Here she seemed to be plunging 
 into even intenser darkness. The dim, fantastic trees 
 hung over her head. She stumbled each moment in 
 the deep ruts and over the invisible inequalities of the 
 way. 
 
 At last she arrived at the slippery steps that led to 
 the well-known gate. As the house had never yet been 
 re-occupied, she was not intruding on strangers. A 
 faint feeling of exhilaration came over her as she stood 
 once more in the thick of the little plantation. She 
 could almost have imagined that the last few years had 
 never been, and she was happy amid everything and
 
 THE HUSBAND 373 
 
 everybody she loved, and was now merely at her favourite 
 nocturnal pranks. 
 
 Yes, it was good to feel she was here at last, with the 
 smell of the pines in her nostrils. It made her feel she 
 had not come in vain, despite the pitchy darkness. If 
 the whole place were not bound to be so weed-grown by 
 now, she would not even have lamented the absence of 
 moonlight. 
 
 Yes, yes, she was glad she had come, she kept repeat- 
 ing. She felt suddenly she had it all to herself this 
 wild, sweet garden. She forgot she had been faithless 
 to it; once again it had taken the place it had had in 
 the affections of her childhood. She held out her arms 
 with an all-embracing sweep; it was splendid to think 
 that she was mistress of it all to-night, free to wander 
 and to linger where she listed, and not a soul to interrupt 
 her mood. Souls ! There seemed to be none within a 
 hundred miles of her. What a wild joy to be again 
 amid these glorious pine-trees, to be knee-deep in the 
 tangled field, to be treading the old lawns, and explor- 
 ing all the mysterious paths amid the familiar shrub- 
 beries ! 
 
 She laughed softly to herself it was the pleased 
 laugh of a happy child, yet had in it some ring of 
 insanity. 
 
 By old habit she was now traversing a favourite 
 route. She could have found her way blindfold, so 
 familiar was she with every tree and mound and stone. 
 She skirted the tangled field, steered through the pines, 
 and went across the lawn. Her shoes were by now wet 
 through and through, yet she was scarcely aware of it. 
 
 But as, at last, she came close to the shuttered empty 
 house, her curiosity about it vanished, and she shrank 
 away from the dark mass, thrust back by its desolate- 
 ness. The thought, too, of the remainder of the garden 
 that lay beyond it made her shudder. In their childhood 
 she and her sister had shunned it as a forlorn, mysteri-
 
 374 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 ous region, and had whispered each other gruesome 
 imaginings about it. Now that old feeling surged up 
 again, and the house and all that lay beyond seemed 
 given up to vague demons, eerily at home in the dim 
 corners. And not a human soul within a hundred miles 
 of her ! 
 
 Back she went with her spirits dulled again. Why 
 didn't the moon come out and silver the tangled field 
 and border it with the shadows of the pine-trees? Why 
 didn't the wind blow music among the branches? Where 
 was the nightingale? 
 
 She halted at length by an old fallen trunk that lay 
 at the foot of a great solitary elm, and had been pre- 
 served for her own special behoof as an agreeable touch 
 of nature. It had always made such a lovely seat, and 
 now she found with surprise that she was glad at the 
 idea of resting there awhile. She sank down, propping 
 her back against the tree behind. 
 
 Her limbs seemed broken with fatigue. The strange 
 energy which had carried her through these last hours 
 fell away. She closed her eyes and her head drooped. 
 
 Thus she remained seated, only shifting her position to 
 settle her back more comfortably against the rugged elm 
 that spread its foliage far overhead. Ah, how weak 
 and tired she felt, how good it was to rest a moment ! 
 
 Poor dear Hubert ! She had not really meant to vex 
 him. . . . But perhaps it was just as well. No, no, 
 she did not quite mean that, only when one ran away to 
 put an end to oneself it was appropriate there should be 
 as much bitterness as possible. The next moment she 
 was crying softly. And Preston, too how foolish of 
 him not to marry her when he loved her ! She could have 
 got on quite well with him, too. And as for Arthur 
 Roburne well, perhaps she had deceived herself and 
 had never cared for him at all. But what was the use of 
 thinking about these things? There was nothing for 
 her to live for anyway. . . . And how untidy Preston's
 
 THE HUSBAND 375 
 
 rooirs were ! What fun it would have been pretending 
 to want to put them straight for him just to see how 
 cross he'd have got about it ! ... " The faded rug 
 on his wall, with those two monster candlesticks in front, 
 is really very artistic makes a sort of shrine. Now I 
 think the rug in the MacFarlane's hall is horrible it 
 shines so, just like a sleek brilliant cat. . . . The 
 James's concert wasn't much of a success, but I don't see 
 how they could have expected anything better. Helen's 
 voice is pretty enough, but she never has worked, and 
 her brother is a little too hard and bangy. I like a soft 
 fluidity, something with melody in it, but nothing 
 sad. . . . Now that there is a breeze, it seems quite 
 chill." 
 
 She huddled closer against the elm, opened her eyes 
 a moment on the vague spaces, then closed them immedi- 
 ately. Her mind wandered off again, darting here and 
 there, recalling comic incidents of their travels, and 
 jumping from table-d' hote at Milan to her first day at 
 school in London, or from lunch at Mrs. Drummond's to 
 that awful moment of her childhood when she had 
 dropped the prism, temporarily borrowed for a spy- 
 glass from the lustre that was the pride of her mother's 
 mantelpiece. 
 
 And as the girl crouched there in the soft night, she 
 finally passed into a half-doze. Yet she was still con- 
 scious of her thoughts, now passing into living pictures, 
 with fantastic touches of invention against which her 
 reason made no protest. Occasionally her hand pulled 
 up her slipping cloak as the breeze blew cooler. And 
 the procession of images continued. 
 
 The hours went by. Sometimes, as though cramped, 
 she shifted her position automatically, stretched her stiff, 
 tired limbs. Sometimes her lips murmured words, some- 
 times she spoke out aloud. There were moments, too, 
 amid the grotesquerie of her dreams when her thoughts 
 were vividly logical to her.
 
 376 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 " I hate your peacocks and chrysanthemums and 
 goody-goody saints, and your Lancelots and King 
 Arthurs," she called out suddenly, launching into 
 aesthetic declamation. " Give me a picture with the 
 artist's own inspiration. . . . Ah, Sir Lancelot, why 
 are you standing over me ? Do you take me for a beauti- 
 ful maiden lost in the wilderness? . . . Did you say 
 * yes ' did I hear you say ' yes ' ? " she exclaimed 
 excitedly. 
 
 Her eyes opened in her sleep and rested vaguely on 
 the shadowy figure that seemed to flit back and melt into 
 the darkness. Then they closed again, and, as the 
 breeze rose once more, she began talking to herself again. 
 " Oh, I must fly away, if you will go on with that music. 
 Why, you never seem to play anything save those 
 strange unhappy Russian masters. They affect me too 
 deeply and send me all into discords. . . . Ah ! " She 
 shivered. " No, no, I can't bear the elusive emotion of 
 those wonderful Russians. A soul in pain seems to be 
 trying to make itself heard all through the music. Give 
 me music that makes me think of the laugh of a happy 
 child." Then as the breeze died away : " That's better, 
 thank you how much warmer I feel ! It was so cold 
 just now. I love dear soft colours and beautiful chil- 
 dren and lovely palaces and dances and fun. No more 
 cold music, but warm music warm, warm ! " 
 
 The moon came out late and shone on all the land- 
 scape. The house looked less desolate, as if the demons 
 had gone elsewhere. Soon the dawn came a gentle, 
 dreamy dawn with the universe wrapped in a gentle 
 meditation, and the pale crescent lingering. 
 
 The light was quite strong when May started abruptly 
 to her feet. Her head was a-throb, and she stood up with 
 pain. Ah! she remembered all. How foolish to have 
 gone to sleep in that ridiculous fashion ! 
 
 In annoyance, she took out her watch. It was a 
 quarter-past four. She knew that, in less than half-an-
 
 THE HUSBAND 377 
 
 hour, the early London express would dash through 
 Lynford station, and, by walking sharply, she would have 
 just easy time to get there. The station was the nearest 
 point on the railway, so she must hurry away at once. 
 Not even a porter would be about, and the signal-man 
 could not possibly see her from his box, if she waited 
 under the covered part of the platform which, at this 
 usually quiet station, was accessible at all times. 
 
 An express at fifty miles an hour gives you no time 
 to think or suffer. It goes like a tempest, you time your- 
 self to the second, shut your eyes, jump, and the " you " 
 is at an end! 
 
 The thought excited her more, and she set her lips 
 tight as she pressed forward briskly. 
 
 Very soon she was following the main road back 
 to the little town, but she looked neither to right nor 
 left, ignoring the rolling green hillsides flooded with 
 fresh morning sunlight. Her mind was obsessed by the 
 thought of the goal to which she was pressing, by the 
 picture of the swift-flying roaring train and her own 
 annihilation. 
 
 She covered the ground without any slackening. There 
 was not even an early wagon to trouble her. In the 
 town, now that it was day, she took a short cut through 
 back streets till she struck the railway at the point 
 she had in mind a level crossing just out of the sta- 
 tion. The points-man had already closed the gates for 
 the passage of the express. But a covered flight of steps 
 leading to a subway was just at the side, and, arrived 
 at the bottom, one could either pass along the subway 
 or ascend another flight on to the platform. But, as 
 an extra precaution against observation on the parts of 
 the points-man, May preferred to wait just at the bottom 
 of the steps. There she could hear the roaring of the 
 train in ample time to ascend to the platform at the exact 
 moment. 
 
 In a minute or so she heard it afar off miles, per-
 
 378 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 haps and trembled a little in spite of herself. But 
 only for a second. For she felt wonderfully calm again 
 as slowly she began to mount the steps, staying ulti- 
 mately on the threshold of the platform ready to hurl 
 herself forward. 
 
 But suddenly she fancied she heard a footstep, and, 
 glancing round sharply, she beheld a gentleman emerg- 
 ing from a waiting-room a few yards off. She stood 
 rigid, her heart throbbing convulsively, her bewildered, 
 frightened eyes gazing full at him, though she saw 
 nothing save a burning, palpitating mist. Yet she was 
 aware he was coming straight towards her, and, as her 
 vision cleared, she saw he was smiling at her. Then he 
 raised his hat with one hand, and held out the other to 
 her. In that moment she recognized him. 
 
 " You ! " she gasped. 
 
 " I was afraid you weren't going to recognize me," 
 said Preston blandly. 
 
 " Oh ! " She drew her breath. " What are you doing 
 here? " 
 
 " I wanted to see you ; to tell you that, immediately 
 I had let you go last night, I repented of well, of the 
 way our conversation had ended. May I hope it is not 
 too late for me to go back upon what I then said to 
 you?" 
 
 She was not yet mistress enough of herself to reply 
 to him. There was a tense silence. 
 
 " Although a few hours have already passed since," 
 he continued pleadingly, " I must really claim that my 
 repentance was almost instantaneous. We both travelled 
 here by the same train, in fact. I lost you at this end, 
 and found you in the dark by accident just when I was 
 beginning to suppose you must have gone to some of 
 your friends. Of course I had to respect your slumbers." 
 
 Ah! She remembered she had vaguely fancied some 
 shadowy knight was standing over her in her sleep. 
 
 " You came to .watch over and to save me ! " she cried.
 
 THE HUSBAND 379 
 
 He bowed his head anxiously. 
 
 " I stayed in your neighbourhood, hovering about like 
 a ghost, for several hours you were sleeping so deeply 
 I hadn't the heart to wake you. I dared not, in fact. 
 Later on, I wandered back here to amuse myself with 
 the time-tables, and was just now on the point of start- 
 ing out again, somehow expecting to find you still in the 
 happy land of dreams." 
 
 The girl stood in troubled emotion ; she tried to speak 
 further, but the words stuck in her throat. 
 
 " Will you not let me put the remainder of my life 
 at your service ? " he asked. 
 
 He stood before her with expectant face. He was 
 handsome and stalwart. 
 
 " I know it is presumptuous of me," he added ; " but 
 perhaps you may not entirely regret it." 
 
 The roar of the train sounded nearer, mingling con- 
 fusedly with the turmoil of her brain. She bowed her 
 head, and the glint of the morning sunlight seemed to 
 beckon to her blithely. At least he would love her faith- 
 fully till death! 
 
 " Yes," she murmured. " If you think I am worth it ! " 
 
 He seized both her hands in protest, and, with a great 
 rocking and roaring, the express came thundering along, 
 swift as a tempest.
 
 xviir 
 
 rHE interview in the convent parlour had occu- 
 pied hardly a minute or two, but it was al- 
 ready obvious to Hubert that there was noth- 
 ing to detain him further. The uncomfort- 
 able silence in the dim, frosty light of the plain, business- 
 like apartment, the affable smile of the Mother Superior, 
 his own uneasy cough these were all indications that 
 the simple procedure for installing Gwenny as a novice 
 at this scholastic house in the far East End of London 
 had now been completed. Hubert was impelled to rise 
 to bid the girl good-bye. Already she was wearing the 
 little black lace cap of her novitiate which the Mother 
 Superior had just handed to her, and she came forward 
 to lift her lips to his. Her face was infinitely subdued, 
 and there were tears in her eyes. The next moment 
 Hubert was trying to walk firmly through a long, wind- 
 ing corridor and across the flagstones of the roomy en- 
 trance-hall. 
 
 As the convent door closed behind him, his eyes 
 flinched before the strong daylight. He stood bewildered 
 for an instant, then, collecting himself, he glanced about 
 him with a piqued interest in this quiet old side-street. 
 Stretching from a great thoroughfare (that changed its 
 name often in the miles of its course) towards the swarm- 
 ing region of Limehouse and the Docks, it was curiously 
 heterogeneous in its huddled succession of buildings. 
 Warehouses, huge and strangely silent, with cranes in 
 repose, alternated with plain brick dwelling-houses of 
 the eighteenth century and earlier, and there were other 
 structures with mysterious barred and frosted windows 
 that defied the prying imagination. 
 
 \
 
 THE HUSBAND 381 
 
 Not far removed from here, as Hubert knew, were 
 domestic areas of comparative affluence, where flourished 
 the comfortable and often spacious homes of manufac- 
 turers, wharfingers, merchants, tradespeople, and high- 
 placed dock officials. The convent, an old-world pile 
 of simple Gothic aspect, situate at so excellent a point 
 of vantage, could count among its pupils the daughters 
 of such of these well-to-do families as were of the 
 Catholic faith, whilst its sisters worked quietly in the 
 vast fields of poverty that offered themselves on every 
 hand. 
 
 But Hubert could not fix his mind for long on these 
 streets, however fascinating their appeal. Though he 
 had been all along at peace about Gwenny's chosen 
 future, the excitement of the actual moment of parting 
 had proved greater than he had anticipated. As he had 
 bowed himself smilingly out of the room and caught a 
 last glimpse of her, he had had a pang of terrible regret 
 (immediately suppressed as selfish) for not having 
 snatched at the chance of keeping her at home which 
 she had offered him on her sister's wedding-day. " Will 
 you not let me stay with you, uncle, now that May has 
 gone ? " she had whispered, as, hand-in-hand, they 
 watched the bridal pair drive out of sight. He had 
 been moved almost to tears, but he had not cared to 
 take advantage of an impulsive moment of emotion, and 
 interfere now with what she had set her heart on so 
 deeply how deeply intuition alone enabled him to 
 divine. So his refusal had taken the form of persuasion, 
 he pointing out that, according to the way they had 
 finally planned out things, she could scarcely be said to 
 be leaving them at all. 
 
 And, indeed, he was fain to repeat this argument to 
 himself to-day. After all, the parting was very far from 
 being so absolute as it might well have been ; for had 
 she not, with excellent sense, allied her faith with the 
 most practical issues possible? Moreover, it was more
 
 382 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 than likely that, in a few months time, Constance and 
 he would be able to come into close touch with her 
 activities for why should not their own work be chosen 
 in the very district? Heaven knew there was ample room 
 for everybody! And until that time (when his arrange- 
 ments for retiring from the practice of his profession 
 should have been completed) Gwenny would be accessible 
 to them whenever they might desire to see her. 
 
 Yet, despite all these considerations, it was hard to 
 force himself away from here, and it was only the 
 thought of the uselessness of lingering that finally urged 
 him onward. In the open main road he mounted a 
 passing omnibus that was going citywards, and for a 
 time found distraction in the interest of the journey 
 itself. 
 
 He knew that, when the poignant emotion of the 
 moment should have passed away, he would be as con- 
 tented in mind as he had ever looked forward to being. 
 Indeed, it was curious now to reflect that, at the very 
 moment his unhappiness was at its greatest, events had 
 ripened ready to play into his hands with incredible 
 swiftness. First had come that astonishing revelation 
 of discord between the three beings whom he had imag- 
 ined perfectly united. And, almost immediately after, 
 the nightmare in which he had been living had suddenly 
 vanished of itself. 
 
 May's flight that memorable evening three months 
 before had happily caused no flutter in the household; 
 merely because, in the evening, she was assumed to have 
 retired early, and in the morning, just as Hubert had 
 finished dressing and was about to descend, the servant 
 brought him a telegram in which May announced she 
 was staying with the Williams's for a day or two, and 
 they were very glad to have her. This was the first 
 indication of her absence from home. Hubert, indeed,
 
 THE HUSBAND 383 
 
 was at first inclined to doubt his own sanity, then 
 suspected some practical joke; but investigation with 
 the aid of the hurriedly summoned Constance placed the 
 genuineness of the telegram beyond a doubt. Naturally 
 they were both perplexed, though Constance could throw 
 no light at all on this apparently meaningless escapade. 
 But Hubert instinctively understood that May was en- 
 acting some secret drama of her own, and he was by 
 no means content to wait till she should deign to explain 
 herself further. He indeed meditated following her to 
 Lynford without any delay, and investigating the whole 
 mysterious matter himself. But the appearance of 
 Preston just then saved him all further anxiety. 
 
 Preston found Hubert alone, for Constance had gone 
 back to complete her interrupted toilette. He merely 
 smiled at the puzzled look of inquiry with which Hubert 
 greeted this visit of his at so unearthly an hour; and 
 the smile deepened as he caught sight of the telegram 
 and its envelope still lying on the table. 
 
 " Congratulate me, Hubert," he said, as they shook 
 hands. " I am engaged to be married." 
 
 In the half-hour that followed Hubert heard much to 
 surprise him. Preston had decided to enlighten him 
 completely, and, for the first time, Hubert was in pos- 
 session of the history of May's short-lived engagement 
 with Arthur Roburne. In the girl's natural outpouring 
 to Preston that morning she had concealed nothing from 
 him. His was the first sympathetic ear after those ter- 
 rible days of suffering, and it eased her heart to feel 
 she had somebody who cared as deeply as, in her inmost 
 soul, she knew he cared. But Preston, in thus divulging, 
 in his turn, the full sequence of events, did not consider 
 he was violating her confidence; he had a duty to per- 
 form to Hubert, who, it was best, should know all. 
 
 When Hubert expressed his astonishment that Con- 
 stance had said not a word to him about all the evil 
 gossip (at which he himself could well afford to smile),
 
 384 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 Preston was rightly able to surmise that in all probability 
 she knew absolutely nothing of it. 
 
 Very soon Preston had to hurry away he had prom- 
 ised, amongst other things, to send May a wire of re- 
 assurance, for she was fearful as to the consternation 
 her disappearance must have caused at home. But he 
 had hardly departed ere Constance came hurrying in 
 with pale face she had evidently been brooding over 
 the " escapade " and seeing it in new lights. 
 
 Hubert promptly metamorphosed her emotions. Her 
 amazement and alarm as the story was unfolded were in 
 the end quite obscured by the intensity of her satisfac- 
 tion at having so difficult a child at length definitely 
 settled in life. She, indeed, had to pay the penalty of 
 her former reservations with Hubert (now ridiculous 
 before his fuller knowledge) by having to maintain the 
 pretence she was hearing for the first time that any 
 affection had existed between May and the patrician 
 young diplomatist; but the new engagement was suffi- 
 cient consolation for this forced hypocrisy. At Hubert's 
 hinting that the difference in the ages of the couple was 
 rather conspicuous, she dissented from such a view most 
 emphatically. Preston was barely forty-five, and in the 
 modern world a man was still young at that age. Be- 
 sides, even a really great difference in the ages of people 
 marrying passed almost without notice now-a-days. Her 
 tremulous eager delight made him smile, though he did 
 not feel entirely convinced. 
 
 The news that a marriage had been arranged between 
 May Ruthven and Robert Preston had little or no effect 
 in re-raising the family in social estimation. Preston 
 was a crank, and this was of a piece with all his life. 
 As for the girl, it was only to be expected that she would 
 seize the first opportunity of selling herself for a posi- 
 tion. 
 
 In spite of all of which the wedding took place quietly 
 about a month later. Hubert himself had at first ac-
 
 THE HUSBAND 385 
 
 cepted the engagement with neither ecstasy nor mis- 
 giving; yet glad that Preston at least was happy about 
 it, and that May, so far as he could judge, was certainly 
 contented. But gradually he had come to have a more 
 harmonious feeling about it; on the wedding morn his 
 enthusiasm had matched Constance's ! 
 
 The pair had gone off to spend their honeymoon in 
 Flintshire, both being desirous of settling near Preston's 
 favourite sister, Marian ; she, indeed, having lent them 
 her house for a time, so that they might search for a 
 suitable one for themselves in the same county, and 
 furnish it at their leisure. And as, during the two 
 months that had since elapsed, the Ruthvens had been 
 receiving from the couple the most lyrically-worded re- 
 ports as to their extraordinary state of happiness, Hu- 
 bert had been able to maintain his enthusiasm at its full 
 pitch. After all, Preston fairly deserved his bride, and 
 Hubert felt he could never estimate his debt to his 
 friend's insight and his promptness in acting on it. 
 
 And now at last the children's lives had ceased to be 
 bound up with his own ! It was curious for him to look 
 back to the time when his desire to make their destinies 
 his own special concern had been frustrated by the 
 suspicious hostility of the poor woman who had come to 
 so pitiful an end. " Poor Agnes, poor Agnes," he could 
 not help repeating to himself softly, and he had a solemn 
 sense of the fleeting years of existence. How had his 
 own fled like a dream ! Well, well, the children had been 
 entrusted to him, and the time had had to come sooner 
 or later for their destinies to be taken out of his hands. 
 He had no doubt made mistakes, but he had at least 
 done his best, according to his lights. It remained for 
 him now to gather the ends of his life together, and, 
 with his true help-meet to sustain him in the tasks and 
 difficulties that the days might bring, to devote himself
 
 386 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 to following the life of service of which he had dreamed 
 as a young man. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 He smiled again as the figure of Lady Wycliffe swam 
 up suddenly in his thought. That charming and senti- 
 mental friend of his had again vanished from London. 
 Hubert had called at Arlington-street specially to in- 
 form her of May's engagement, only to learn that she 
 had suddenly gone off to the North on the very next 
 day after Constance's party. 
 
 That she should depart in that way without the least 
 message for him was not in itself a matter of surprise. 
 He had often in former years had the kind of experience 
 with her; it had been her habit to disappear just at some 
 interesting moment in their intimacy, and the discussion 
 of subjects nearest to his heart would thus be cut short 
 abruptly. But when he recalled the share she had had 
 in promoting the affair between May and Arthur Ro- 
 burne, her departure on this occasion seemed rather an 
 extreme example of that characteristic of hers of sud- 
 denly dropping without warning what apparently was 
 interesting her most at the moment. But he had always 
 tolerantly accepted her weaknesses, such as they were, 
 and he was careful to bear in mind the exacting calls of 
 her many friendships and charities. He did not regard 
 her gyrations very seriously, and, in a way, they were 
 not unamusing to him. So he supposed he must forgive 
 her as usual if only out of respect for her undoubted 
 sincerity and goodness, and out of recognition of the 
 benevolent unconsciousness with which she sinned. It 
 was certainly the easier in the present instance to take 
 such an indulgent view of her behaviour, inasmuch as it 
 was merely a source of gratification to him that the 
 marriage she had desired to promote had been foiled by 
 the natural course of events. 
 
 However, he had contented himself with writing the
 
 THE HUSBAND 387 
 
 news to her, marking the letter for redirection, but that 
 did not elicit any immediate reply. It was not till the 
 wedding morn, that she gave any sign of recollecting 
 their existence, for a small parcel, addressed to May, 
 arrived by the first post, and proved to contain a splen- 
 did diamond necklace. Enclosed with this impulsively 
 generous gift was Lady Wycliffe's card with " con- 
 gratulations and affectionate good wishes " scribbled in 
 her own handwriting. 
 
 But May's acknowledgment did not result in any 
 further communication from her, and it had since re- 
 mained a mystery to all of them how she had learnt the 
 date fixed for the marriage, that having been carefully 
 preserved as the secret of the few people concerned. For 
 the moment at least, her ladyship had passed entirely out 
 of Hubert's personal horizon ; but he had no doubt that 
 she would one day come sailing into it again as enthus- 
 iastically smiling as ever. 
 
 The train was speeding along the old familiar route to 
 Lynford, and Hubert's thoughts turned homeward again. 
 He was glad his agent had failed to find a tenant for 
 the old house these last two years. Now he should never 
 think of parting with it. On giving up the Portland 
 Place establishment, they had disposed of most of the 
 furniture, keeping only sufficient to refurnish the old 
 home as cosily as before. He loved the place for its 
 associations; looking back, he felt that the years spent 
 there were the only ones that represented any realization 
 of his conscious desires and striving, and therefore the 
 only happiness he had known. The rest had gone their 
 course, and that part of his life which was covered by 
 them had merely happened had, so to speak, been more 
 or less forced upon him, though, of course, he had had to 
 do his best with the duties thereby involved. He had 
 therefore entered with zest on the work of preparing the
 
 388 ONE'S WOMENKIND 
 
 house again for their occupation. Not only would he 
 think of it as their home for the rest of their days (even 
 though their contemplated activities should render neces- 
 sary long periods of absence from it), but he counted 
 on giving many a happy day in the garden to wan and 
 sick children. 
 
 At Lynford, Armstrong was waiting for him with the 
 trap as in the old days, and they cut through the ripe 
 autumn country past the green meadows and the rolling 
 hillsides. As they entered the garden-drive at last, his 
 eye lingered with pleasure on the ivy-covered walls, the 
 freshly painted verandah, and the flower-laden window- 
 sills, and he had a pleasurable picture of the quaint, 
 snug interior. He could not help chuckling at the re- 
 membrance of the tough job Armstrong had had in re- 
 claiming the garden, now once more that faithful serv- 
 ant's pride and delight. 
 
 He descended at the pretty porch, and passed through 
 the hall, standing open from end to end, to the verandah 
 at the back ; thence he stepped down on to the lawn that 
 was green and smiling as ever. A sweet smell was wafted 
 to his nostrils from his own pine-groves. Constance, 
 who was hardly expecting him yet ( for she, too, had sup- 
 posed his visit to the convent would be rather more pro- 
 longed), was busy over a flower-bed some little distance 
 off. On catching sight of Hubert she came to meet 
 him. 
 
 " You left her there? " she asked, in vague all-com- 
 prehensive inquiry. 
 
 He nodded. " And now we are alone together, you 
 and I, sweetheart ! " 
 
 She looked at him wistfully. " Yes, together," she 
 murmured. 
 
 " The children have left us for always. We are 
 childless now."
 
 THE HUSBAND 389 
 
 " No, no, Hubert, not childless," she answered, her 
 eyes gleaming strangely. 
 
 His heart leapt. His eyes rested on her inquiringly. 
 But even before she spoke again, he had divined her 
 meaning. 
 
 THE END
 
 FOURTH THOUSAND 
 
 HOME THOUGHTS 
 
 First Series 
 
 ByC" 
 (MRS. JAMES FARLEY Cox) 
 
 izmo. Cloth, gilt top. 320 pages. Price, $ i . 20 net. Postage, ice. 
 
 " A book which every mother, wife 
 and daughter in the land should 
 read." 
 
 The Book Buyer. 
 
 " A lively fancy and charming dei- 
 criptive talent, with sparkling 
 humor cropping out here and there, 
 enlighten the pages." 
 
 Chicago Evening Post. 
 
 " No greater tribute can be paid to a 
 book than to say that one is better 
 for reading it. By every test 
 " Home Thoughts " deserves this 
 tribute. ' * 
 
 York Evening Sun, 
 
 " We can imagine no better moral 
 tonic than the reading of this 
 book will afford to any one who 
 is discouraged or discontented with 
 his or her environment." 
 
 Charleston News and Courier. 
 
 TF you have not read " Home 
 Thoughts" you have miss- 
 ed a great literary treat. A no- 
 table critic compares its style to 
 that of Washington Irving and 
 George Wm. Curtis. It is ex- 
 ceedingly interesting in every 
 line, and touches deeply that 
 which is nearest and dearest to 
 us all. The relations of hus- 
 band and wife, parent and child, 
 and the broad field of home life 
 give the chief themes. No re- 
 cent book is so valuable as a help 
 to right thinking and right living 
 as "Home Thoughts." 
 
 v A copy of Home Thoughts 
 First Series, will be sent 
 postpaid to any address on 
 receipt of $1.30.
 
 SECOND THOUSAND 
 
 HOME THOUGHTS 
 
 Second Series 
 By C" 
 
 (MRS. JAMES FARLEY Cox) 
 
 izmo. Cloth, gilt top. 340 pages. Price, i . 20 net. Postage, ice. 
 
 1 ' Should find a place among the pres- 
 ents of all bride* of our genera- 
 tion." 
 
 Mail and Express. 
 
 " More beautiful and inspiring, if pos- 
 sible, than those of the first 
 
 Tolume." 
 
 N. T. Herald. 
 
 "There is a chapter on amusements 
 for children that one would like 
 to see distributed from door to 
 
 door. * ' 
 
 Louisville Pott. 
 
 "This volume satisfactorily supple- 
 ments the First Series, and is in 
 our opinion even more womanly 
 
 and helpful." 
 
 Congregationalism 
 
 " Deserves the same appreciation as 
 the initial volume. Such books 
 promise to be a great and a neces- 
 sary factor in the proper develop- 
 ment of American life." 
 
 San Francisco Chronicle. 
 
 QF "Home Thoughts" 
 Hamilton W. Mabie said: 
 " No wiser book, nor one 
 more sorely needed, has ap- 
 peared for a long time." Its 
 success led to the publica- 
 tion of a " SECOND SERIES." 
 Life's most strenuous activity 
 and the eternal vigilance with 
 which men and women strive 
 to build their homes are among 
 the suggestive ''thoughts " in 
 the new volume. 
 x 
 
 v A copy of Home Thoughts 
 Second Series , will be sent 
 to any address postpaid on 
 receipt of $1.30. The Set 
 (First and Second Series) 
 in a boxy $2.60 postpaid.
 
 THIRD THOUSAND 
 
 By EDWIN CARLILE LITSEY 
 
 izmo. Gilt top. 1 70 pages. Price, $ i . 20 net. Postage, 90. 
 
 " A charming love story straight from 
 the heart." 
 
 Savannah Neios. 
 
 " As sweet and tender a story as has 
 
 come our way for a long time." 
 
 Charleston News and Courier. 
 
 Not since Allen's Kentucky Cardinal 
 
 have I read a more beautiful tale." 
 
 T. C. W. in Impressions. 
 
 The charm of the tale is its fresh 
 feeling for nature, its atmospheric 
 quality, and that touch of ideal- 
 ism which gives life unfailing 
 romance. * ' 
 
 Hamilton W. Mabie in 
 
 The Outlook. 
 
 " To say that 'The author's descriptive 
 powers are of the best' does scant 
 justice to the pure lights, the 
 dreamy shades Mr. Litsey imparts 
 to his Kentucky scenery." 
 N. Y. Times, Saturday Re-view. 
 
 ,A most charming story 
 of love and nature. 
 The author, a Kentuck- 
 ian, has caught the true 
 spirit of nature, and 
 weaves into his beautiful 
 descriptions a love story 
 so pure, so beautiful, so in- 
 tense, that one instinctive- 
 ly says : " This is a man's 
 life story." The scene is 
 laid in the Blue Grass 
 region, while the volume 
 is the perfection of the 
 printer's art. 
 
 v A copy of The Love 
 Story of Abner Stone will 
 be sent postpaid to any ad- 
 dress on receipt of $1.29.
 
 A 000129506 2