Woe!--to you women especially--when you teach men to despise the vote--when men come to know that behind the paper currency of a vote which may be a man"s or a woman"s, there is nothing but an opinion--bad or good! At present, I tell you, the great conventions of democracy hold because there is reality of bone and muscle behind them! Break down that reality--and sooner or later we come back to force again--through bloodshed and anarchy!"
"Inevitable--all the same!" cried Madeleine. "Why did you ever let us taste education?--if you are to deny us for ever political equality?"
"Use your education, my dear Madam!" said the doctor, indignantly. "Are there not many roads to political equality?--many forms of government within government, that may be tried, before you insist on ruining us by doing men"s work in the men"s way? Hasn"t it taken more than a hundred years to settle that Irish question, which began with the Union? Is it a hundred years since it was a hanging matter to steal a handkerchief off a hedge? Can"t you give us a hundred years for the Woman Question? Sixty years only, since the higher education of women began! Isn"t the science of government developing every day? Women have got, you say, to be fitted into government--I agree! I _agree_! But _don"t rush it_! Claim everything--what you like!--except only that sovereign vote, which controls, and must control, the male force of an Empire!"
"Jove"s thunder!" scoffed Lady Tonbridge. "Well--my dear old friend!--you and I shan"t agree--you know that. Now what can I do for Delia?"
"Nothing," said France gloomily. "Unless some one goes up to watch over her."
"Her guardian will go," said Madeleine quietly, after a pause.
They eyed each other.
"You"re sure?" said France.
"Quite sure--though I"ve not said a word to him--nor he to me."
"All right then--she"s worth it! By George, she"s got the makings of something splendid in her. I tell you she"s had as much to do as any of us with saving the life of that woman upstairs.
Courage?--tenderness?--"not arf.""
The slangy term shewed the speaker"s desire to get rid of his own feelings. He had, at any rate, soon smothered them, and he and Lady Tonbridge, their chairs drawn close, fell into a very confidential discussion. France was one of those country doctors, not rare fortunately in England, in whom a whole neighbourhood confides, whom a whole neighbourhood loves; all the more if a man betrays a fair allowance of those gnarls and twists of character, of strong prejudices, and harmless manias, which enable the common herd to take him to their bosoms. Dr. France was a stamp-collector, a player--indifferent--on the cornet, a rabid Tory, and a person who could never be trusted to deal faithfully and on C.O.S. principles with tramps and "undesirables." Such things temper the majesty of virtue, and make even the good human.
He had known and prescribed for Winnington since he was a boy in knickers; he was particularly attached to Lady Tonbridge. What he and Madeleine talked about is not of great importance to this narrative; but it is certain that France left the house in much concern for a man he loved, and a girl who, in the teeth of his hottest beliefs, had managed to touch his feelings.
Delia spent the day in packing. Winnington made no sign. In the afternoon,--it was a wet Sat.u.r.day afternoon--Lady Tonbridge sitting in the drawing-room, saw the science mistress of the Dame Perrott School coming up the drive. Madeleine knew her as a "Daughter," and could not help scowling at her--unseen.
She was at once admitted however, and spent a short time with Delia in the Library.
And when Miss Jackson closed the Library door behind her on her way out of the house, Delia broke the seal of a letter which had been given into her hands:--
"I am very sorry, my dear Delia, you should have taken these silly reports so much to heart. You had better dismiss them from your mind. I have given no such orders as you suppose--nor has the Central Office.
The plan you found referred to something quite different--I really can"t remember what. I can"t of course be responsible for all the "Daughters" in England, but I have much more important business to think of just now than the nonsense Mr. Lathrop seems to have been stuffing you with. As to W-----L-----, it would only be worth while to strike at him, if our affairs _go wrong_--through him. At present, I am extraordinary hopeful. We are winning every day. People see that we are in earnest, and mean to succeed--at whatever cost.
"I am glad you are coming up on Monday. You will find the flat anything but a comfortable or restful place,--but that you will be prepared for. Our people are amazing!--and we shall get into the House on Thursday, or know the reason why.
"For the money you sent, and the money you promise--best thanks.
Everybody is giving. It is the spirit of the Crusader, "Dieu le veult!""
"Your affectionate G. M."
Delia read and re-read it. It was the first time Gertrude had deliberately tried to deceive her, and the girl"s heart was sore.
Even now, she was not to be trusted--"now that I am risking everything--_everything_!" And with the letter in her lap, she sat and thought of Winnington"s face, as he had turned to look at her, before leaving the drawing-room the night before.
The day pa.s.sed drearily. The hills and trees were wrapped in a damp fog, and though the days were lengthening fast, the evening closed like November. Madeleine thought with joy of getting back to her tiny house and her Nora. Nora, who was not yet out, seemed to have been enjoying a huge success in the large cousinly party with whom she had been spending the Christmas holidays. "But it"s an odd place, Mummy. In the morning we "rag"; and the rest of the day we talk religion. Everybody is either Buddhist or "Bahai"--if that"s the right way to spell it. It sounds odd, but it seems to be a very good way of getting on with young men."
Heavens! What did it matter how you played the old game, or with what counters, so long as it was played?
And as Lady Tonbridge watched the figure of Delia gliding through the house, wrapped in an estranging silence, things ancient and traditonal returned upon her in flood, and nothing in the world seemed worth having but young love and happy marriage!--if you could get them!
She--and her heart knew its bitterness--had made the great throw and lost.
Sunday pa.s.sed in the same isolation. But on Sunday afternoon Delia took the motor out alone, and gave no reason either before or after.
"If she"s gone out to meet that man, it"s a scandal!" thought Madeleine wrathfully, and could hardly bring herself to be civil when the girl returned--pale, wearied, and quite uncommunicative. But she was very touching in a mute, dignified way, all the evening, and Madeleine relented fast. And, as they sat in the fire-lit drawing-room, when the curtains were drawn, Delia suddenly brought a stool close to Lady Tonbridge"s side, and, sitting at her feet, held up appealing arms.
Madeleine, with a rush of motherliness, gathered her close; and the beautiful head lay, very quiet, on her breast. But when she would have entreated, or argued, again, Delia implored her--"Don"t--don"t talk!--it"s no good. Just let me stay."
Late that night, all being ready for departure, Delia went in to say good-night, and good-bye to Weston.
"You"ll be downstairs and as strong as a horse, when I come back," she said gaily, stroking the patient"s emaciated fingers.
Weston shook her head.
"I don"t think I shall ever be good for much, Miss Delia. But"--and her voice suddenly broke--"I believe I"d go through it all again--just to know--what--you could be--to a poor thing--like me."
"Weston!--" said Delia, softly--"if you talk like that--and if you dare to cry, Nurse will turn me out. You"re going to get quite well, but whether you"re well or ill, here you stay, Miss Rosina Weston!--and I"m going to look after you. Polly hasn"t packed my things half badly."
Polly was the under-housemaid, whom Delia was taking to town. "She wouldn"t be worth her salt, if she hadn"t," said Weston tartly. "But she can"t do your hair, Miss--and it"s no good saying she can."
"Then I"ll do it myself. I"ll make some sort of a glorious mess of it, and set the fashion."
But her thought said--"If I go to prison, they"ll cut it off. Poor Weston!"
Weston moved uneasily--
"Miss Delia?"
"Yes."
"Don"t you go getting yourself into trouble. Now don"t you!" And with tears in her eyes, the ghostly creature pressed the girl"s hand to her lips. Delia stooped and kissed her. But she made no reply. Instead she began to talk of the new bed-rest which had just been provided for Weston, and on which the patient professed herself wonderfully comfortable.
"It"s better than the one we had at Meran--for papa." Her voice dropped. She sat at the foot of Weston"s bed looking absently into some scene of the past.
"Nothing ever gave him ease--your poor Papa!" said Weston, pitifully.
"He did suffer! But don"t you go thinking about it this time of night, Miss Delia, or you won"t sleep."
Delia said goodnight, and went away. But she did think of her father--with a curious intensity. And when she fell fitfully asleep, she dreamt that she saw him standing beside her in some open foreign place, and that he looked at her in silence, steadily and coldly. And she stretched out her hands, in a rush of grief--"Kiss me, father! I was unkind--horribly--horribly unkind!"
With the pain of it, she woke suddenly and the visualising sense seemed still to perceive in the darkness the white head and soldierly form.
She half rose, gasping. Then, as though a photographic shutter were let down, the image pa.s.sed from the brain, and she lay with heaving breast, trying to find her way back into what we call reality. But it was a reality even more wretched than those recollections to which her dream had recalled her. For it was held and possessed by Winnington, and now by the threatening vision of Monk Lawrence, spectral amid the red ruin of fire. She had stopped the motor that day at the foot of the hill on which the house stood, and using Winnington"s name, had made a call on the cripple child. Daunt had received her with a somewhat gruff civility, and was not communicative about the house and its defence.
But she gathered--without herself broaching the subject--that he was scornfully confident of his power to protect it against "them creeping women," and she had come home comforted. The cripple child had clung to her silently; and on coming away, Delia had felt a small wet kiss upon her hand. A touching creature!--with her wide blue eyes, and delicate drawn face. It was feared that another abscess might be developing in the little hip, where for a time disease had been quiescent.
On Monday morning the doctors came early. They gave a favourable verdict, and Delia at once decided on an afternoon train.
All the morning, Lady Tonbridge hovered round her, loth to take her own departure, and trying every now and then to re-open the subject of London, to make the girl promise to send for her--to consult Winnington, if any trouble arose.