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+Project Gutenberg's The Third Miss Symons, by Flora Macdonald Mayor
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Third Miss Symons
+
+Author: Flora Macdonald Mayor
+
+Release Date: October 28, 2008 [EBook #27071]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THIRD MISS SYMONS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    THE THIRD
+    MISS SYMONS
+
+    F. M. Mayor
+
+    _With a Preface by John Masefield_
+
+    First published in Great Britain 1913
+
+    Copyright F. M. Mayor 1913
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+Miss Mayor's story is of a delicate quality, not common here, though
+occurring at intervals, and always sure of a choice, if not very large,
+audience among those who like in art the refined movement and the gentle
+line. Her subject, like her method, is one not commonly chosen by women
+writers; it is simply the life of an unmarried idle woman of the last
+generation, a life (to some eyes) of wasted leisure and deep futility,
+but common enough, and getting from its permitted commonness a
+justification from life, who is wasteful but roughly just. Miss Mayor
+tells this story with singular skill, more by contrast than by drama,
+bringing her chief character into relief against her world, as it passes
+in swift procession. Her tale is in a form becoming common among our
+best writers; it is compressed into a space about a third as long as the
+ordinary novel, yet form and manner are so closely suited that all is
+told and nothing seems slightly done, or worked with too rapid a hand.
+Much that is tiresome in the modern novel, the pages of analysis and of
+comment, the long descriptions and the nervous pathology, are omitted by
+Miss Mayor's method, which is all for the swift movement and against the
+temptations to delay which obstruct those whose eyes are not upon life;
+she condenses her opportunities for psychology and platitude into a
+couple of shrewd lines and goes on with her story, keeping her freshness
+and the reader's interest unabated. The method is to draw the central
+figure rapidly past a succession of bright lights, keeping the lights
+various and of many colours and allowing none of them to shine too long.
+This comparatively passive creative method suits the subject; for her
+heroine has the fate to be born in a land where myriads of women of her
+station go passively like poultry along all the tramways of their
+parishes; life is something that happens to them, it is their duty to
+keep to the tracks, and having enough to eat and enough to put on
+therewith to be content, or if not content, sour, but in any case to
+seek no further over the parochial bounds. Her heroine, born into such a
+tradition, continues in it, partly by the pressure of custom and family
+habit, both always very powerful and often deadly in this country, and
+partly from a want of illumination in herself, her instructors, and in
+the life about her. The latter want is the fatal defect in her: it is
+the national defect, "the everlasting prison remediless" into which so
+many thousands of our idle are yearly thrown; it is from this that she
+really suffers; it is to this that she succumbs, while the ivy of her
+disposition grows over and smothers whatever light may be in her. Like
+water in flood-time revolving muddily over the choked outlet, her life
+revolves over the evil in it without resolution or escape; her brain,
+like so many of the brains in civilization, is but slightly drawn upon
+or exercised; she is not so much wasted as not used. Having by fortune
+and tradition nothing to do, she remains passive till events and time
+make her incapable of doing, while the world glitters past in its
+various activity, throwing her incapacity into ever stronger relief,
+till her time is over and the general muddle is given a kind of
+sacredness, even of beauty, by ceasing. She has done nothing but live
+and been nothing but alive, both to such passive purpose that the
+ceasing is pitiful; and it is by pushing on to this end, instead of
+shirking it, and by marking the last tragical fact which puts a dignity
+upon even the meanest being, that Miss Mayor raises her story above the
+plane of social criticism, and keeps it sincere. A lesser writer would
+have been content with less, and having imagined her central figure
+would have continued to stick pins into it, till the result would have
+been no living figure, but a record of personal judgments, perhaps even,
+as sometimes happens, of personal pettiness, a witch's waxen figure
+plentifully pricked before the consuming flame. Miss Mayor keeps on the
+side of justice, with the real creators, to whom there is nothing simple
+and no one unmixed, and in this way gets beauty, and through beauty the
+only reality worth having.
+
+In a land like England, where there is great wealth, little education
+and little general thought, people like Miss Mayor's heroine are common;
+we have all met not one or two but dozens of her; we know her emptiness,
+her tenacity, her futility, savagery and want of light; all circles
+contain some examples of her, all people some of her shortcomings; and
+judgment of her, even the isolation of her in portraiture, is dangerous,
+since the world does not consist of her and life needs her. In life as
+in art those who condemn are those who do not understand; and it is
+always a sign of a writer's power, that he or she keeps from direct
+praise or blame of imagined character. Miss Mayor arrives at an
+understanding of her heroine's character by looking at her through a
+multitude of different eyes, not as though she were her creator, but as
+if she were her world, looking on and happening, infinitely active and
+various, coming into infinite contrast, not without tragedy, but also
+never without fun. The world is, of course, the comparatively passive
+feminine world, but few modern books (if any) have treated of that
+world so happily, with such complete acceptance, unbiassed and
+unprejudiced, yet with such selective tact and variety of gaiety. She
+comes to the complete understanding of Henrietta by illuminating all the
+facets in her character and all the threads of her destiny, and this is
+an unusual achievement, made all the more remarkable by a brightness and
+quickness of mind which give delightful life to a multitude of incidents
+which are in themselves new to fiction. Her touch upon all her world is
+both swift and unerring; but the great charm of her work is its
+brightness and unexpectedness; it lights up so many little unsuspected
+corners in a world that is too plentifully curtained.
+
+    JOHN MASEFIELD, 1913
+
+
+
+
+THE THIRD MISS SYMONS
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Henrietta was the third daughter and fifth child of Mr. and Mrs. Symons,
+so that enthusiasm for babies had declined in both parents by the time
+she arrived. Still, in her first few months she was bound to be
+important and take up a great deal of time. When she was two, another
+boy was born, and she lost the honourable position of youngest. At five
+her life attained its zenith. She became a very pretty, charming little
+girl, as her two elder sisters had done before her. It was not merely
+that she was pretty, but she suddenly assumed an air of graciousness and
+dignity which captivated everyone. Some very little girls do acquire
+this air: what its source is no one knows. In this case certainly not
+Mr. and Mrs. Symons, who were particularly clumsy. Etta, as she was
+called, was often summoned from the nursery when visitors came; so were
+Minna and Louie her elder sisters, but all the ladies wanted to talk to
+Etta. Minna and Louie had by this time, at nine and eleven, advanced to
+the ugly, uninteresting stage, and they owed Henrietta a grudge because
+she had annexed the petting that used to fall to them. They had their
+revenge in whispering interminable secrets to one another, of which Etta
+could hear stray sentences. "Ellen says she knows Arthur was very
+naughty, because ... But we won't tell Etta." She was very susceptible
+to notice, and the petting was not good for her.
+
+When she was eight her zenith was past, and her plain stage began. Her
+charm departed never to return, and she slipped back into
+insignificance. At eight she could no longer be considered a baby to
+play with, and a good deal of fault-finding was deemed necessary to
+counteract the previous spoiling. In Henrietta's youth, sixty years ago,
+fault-finding was administered unsparingly. She did not understand why
+she was more scolded than the others, and decided that it was because
+Ellen and Miss Weston and her mother had a spite against her.
+
+Mrs. Symons was not fond of children, and throughout Henrietta's
+childhood she was delicate, so that Henrietta saw very little of her.
+Her chief recollections of her mother were of scoldings in the
+drawing-room when she had done anything specially naughty.
+
+If she had been one of two or one of three in a present-day family she
+would have been more precious. But as one of four daughters--another
+girl was born when she was eight--she was not much wanted. Mr. Symons
+was a solicitor in a country town, and the problem of providing for his
+seven, darkened the years of childhood for the whole Symons family. The
+children felt that their parents found them something of a burden, and
+in those days there was no cult of childhood to soften the hard reality.
+
+The two older boys had a partnership together, into which they
+occasionally admitted Minna and Louie. Minna and Louie had, beside their
+secrets, a friend named Rosa. Harold, the youngest boy, did not want any
+person--only toy engines. He and Etta should have been companions, but
+he said she cried and told tales, though she told no more tales than he
+did.
+
+A large family should be such a specially happy community, but it
+sometimes occurs that there is a girl or boy who is nothing but a middle
+one, fitting in nowhere. So it was with Henrietta, till the youngest
+child was born.
+
+Unfortunately she had an almost morbid longing, unusual in a child, to
+be loved and of importance. Now she would have given anything to have
+heard Minna and Louie's secrets, not for the sake of the secrets, but as
+a sign that she was thought worthy of confidence. She ran everyone's
+errands continually, but she broke the head off Arthur's carnation as
+she was bringing it from his bedroom to the garden, and she let out
+William's secret, which he had told her in an unusual fit of affability,
+in order that she might curry favour with Minna. This infuriated
+William, and did not conciliate Minna. She grew fast and was a little
+delicate. It made her irritable, but her brothers and sisters, who were
+all growing with great regularity, could not be expected to understand
+delicacy. She always said she was sorry after she had been cross, but
+they, who did not have tempers, could not see that that made things any
+better.
+
+In her loneliness she made for herself, like many other forlorn
+children, a phantom friend. It was a little girl two years older than
+she was, for Henrietta preferred to look up, and be herself in an
+inferior position. For this reason she did not much care for dolls,
+where she was decidedly the superior. She called her friend Amy. Amy
+slept with her, helped her with her lessons, told her secrets
+perpetually, and grumbled about the other children.
+
+One day they all had a game at Hide and Seek. The lot fell on her and
+William, now fourteen, to hide. They ensconced themselves in a dark spot
+in a little grove at the end of the garden. The others could not find
+them, and there was plenty of time for talk. William was a kind boy and
+rather a chatterbox, ready to expand to any listener, even a sister of
+nine. Henrietta never knew how it was that she told him about Amy. It
+had always been her firm resolve that this was to be her own dead
+secret, never revealed. But the unusual warmth of the interview went to
+her head. It was in a kind of intoxication of happiness that she poured
+out her confidence. The shrubbery was so dark that William's face could
+not be seen, but he began fidgeting, and soon broke in: "I say, what
+hours the others are, it must be tea-time. Let's go and find them."
+
+It was kind of William to snub her confidence so gently, but the
+disappointment was cruel. She had been lifted up to such a height of
+happiness. When Ellen brushed her hair at night she noticed her dismal
+looks, and being really concerned at Henrietta's want of control, she
+said bracingly that little girls must never be whiney-piney. When the
+lamp was put out, Henrietta sobbed herself to sleep, and she looked back
+on that evening as the most miserable of her childhood.
+
+It was not long after this that the last child was born, the baby girl.
+They had all been sent away, and Henrietta, who had gone by herself to
+an aunt, came back later than the others; they had seen the new arrival,
+and had got over their very moderate excitement. Ellen asked Henrietta
+if she would like to have a peep at her little sister. When Henrietta
+saw it, she determined that it should be her own baby. "Oh, you little
+darling, you darling, darling baby!" she murmured over and over again.
+
+"Now you are happy, aren't you, Miss Etta?" said Ellen; she had always
+felt sorry for Henrietta out in the cold.
+
+The baby very much improved Etta's circumstances. Ellen allowed her to
+help, and she had something to care for, so she had less occasion for
+interviews with her phantom friend. As she grew older the baby Evelyn
+requited her affection with a gratifying preference, but she was very
+sweet-natured and would like everybody, and not make a party against
+Minna and Louie as Henrietta desired. She came to the pretty age, and
+was prettier and more charming than any of them. When the pretty age
+ought to have passed she remained as attractive as ever, and continued
+to enjoy a universal popularity. This was disappointing to Henrietta;
+she would have preferred them to be pariahs together. Still, it was
+always Etta that Evelyn liked best.
+
+When Evelyn was four and Henrietta thirteen, Evelyn was given a canary.
+It never became interesting, for it would not eat off her finger, but
+she cared for it as much as a child of four can be considered to care
+for anything. The canary died and was buried when Evelyn had a cold and
+was in bed, and Henrietta went by herself into the town, contrary to
+rules, and spent all her savings at a little, low bird-shop getting a
+mangey canary. She brought it back and put it into the cage, and when
+Evelyn, convalescent, came into the nursery, she attempted to palm off
+the new canary as Evelyn's original bird. This strange behaviour brought
+her to great disgrace. Her only explanation was, "I didn't want Evelyn
+to know that Dickie was dead. I think death is so dreadful, and I don't
+want her to know anything dreadful." Mrs. Symons and the governess
+thought this most inexplicable.
+
+"Etta is a very difficult child," said Mrs. Symons; "she always has been
+so unlike the others, and now this dreadful untruth. I always feel an
+untruth is very different from anything else. Going into that horrid,
+dirty little shop! You must watch her most carefully, Miss Weston, and
+let me know if there is any further deceit."
+
+"I never had noticed anything before, Mrs. Symons, but I will be
+particularly careful." And Miss Weston took the most elaborate
+precautions that there should be no cheating at lessons, which Henrietta
+resented keenly, having, like the majority of girls, an extreme horror
+of cheating.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+Soon after the incident of the canary, the three older girls went to
+school. When her first home-sickness was passed, Henrietta enjoyed the
+life. It was strict, but home had been strict, and there was much more
+variety here. She was clever, and took eager delight in her lessons;
+dull, stupid Miss Weston had found her beyond her.
+
+She would have liked school even more if her temper had been under
+better control. But at thirteen she had settled down to bad temper as a
+habit. She did not exactly put her feelings into thoughts, but there was
+an impression in her mind that as she had been out of it so much of her
+life she should be allowed to be bad-tempered as a consolation. This
+brought her into constant conflicts, which made no one so unhappy as
+herself.
+
+She had two great interests at school, Miranda Hardcastle and Miss
+Arundel. Miranda was the kind of girl whom everybody is always going to
+adore, very pretty, very amusing, and with much cordiality of manner.
+Henrietta fell a victim at once, and Miranda, who drank in all
+adoration, gave Henrietta some good-natured friendship in return.
+Henrietta fagged for her, did as many of her lessons as she could,
+applauded all her remarks, amply rewarded by Miranda's welcoming smile
+and her, "I've been simply pining for you, my child; come and hear me my
+French at once, like a seraphim."
+
+This happy state of things continued until unfortunately Henrietta's
+temper, over which she had kept an anxious guard in Miranda's presence,
+showed signs of activity. The first time this occurred Miranda opened
+her large eyes very wide and said, "What's come over my young friend,
+has it got the hydrophobia? I shall try and cure it by kindness and give
+it some chocolate."
+
+Henrietta's clouds dispersed, but she was not always so easily restored
+to good-humour; and Miranda, with the whole school at her feet, was not
+going to stand bad temper, the fault on the whole least easily forgiven
+by girls. Henrietta had a heartrending scene with her: at fifteen she
+liked heartrending scenes. Miranda was too fond of popularity to give
+Henrietta up entirely, so the two remained friendly, but they were no
+longer intimate.
+
+Miss Arundel was the head-mistress's sister, and undertook all the
+serious teaching that was not in the hands of masters. She did not have
+many outward attractions of face and form, but schoolgirls will know
+that that is not of much importance. She was adored, possibly because
+she had a bad temper (bad temper is an asset in a teacher), which was
+liable to burst forth unexpectedly; then she was clever and
+enthusiastic, and gave good lessons. She marked out Henrietta, and it
+came round that she had said, "Etta Symons is an interesting girl, she
+has possibilities. I wonder how she will turn out." It came round also
+that Miss Arundel had said, "I only wish she had more control and
+tenacity of purpose," but this sentence Henrietta put out of her head.
+The first sentence she thought of for hours on end, and set to work to
+be more interesting than ever; in fact for some days she was so affected
+and exasperating that Miss Arundel could hardly contain herself. Still,
+even Miss Arundel's sarcasm was endurable, anything was endurable, after
+that gratifying remark.
+
+When Miranda ceased to be her special friend, she transferred her whole
+heart and soul to Miss Arundel. She waylaid her with flowers, hung about
+in the passage on the chance of seeing her walk by, and waited on her as
+much as she dared. Some teachers apparently enjoy girl adorations, and
+even take pains to secure them. Miss Arundel had had enough of them to
+find them disagreeable. She therefore gave out in the presence of two or
+three of Henrietta's circle that she thought it was a pity Etta Symons
+wasted so much of her pocket-money on buttonholes which gave very little
+pleasure to anyone, certainly not to her, who particularly disliked
+strong scents; she thought the money could be much better expended.
+
+Jessie Winsley repeated this speech to Henrietta, little thinking what
+anguish it would cause. Henrietta had very little pride, very little
+proper pride some people might have said; she did not at all mind giving
+a great deal more than she got. But this speech, which was not, after
+all, so very malignant, drove her to despair. She went to Miranda, who
+hugged her, and said: "Old cat! barbaric old cat! Never think of her
+again, she isn't worth it. Try dear little Stanley, he's a pet; men are
+much nicer." Stanley was the drawing-master.
+
+But after all one must have a little encouragement to start an
+adoration, and as Henrietta never could draw, she got none from Stanley.
+Besides she was constant, so instead, she brooded over Miss Arundel. She
+had not been so unhappy, when she had her Miranda and her Arundel. Now
+she had lost them both. Miss Arundel, with her cool, unaffectionate
+interest, had, of course, never been "had" at all, but Henrietta had
+imagined that when Miss Arundel said "Yes, quite right, that's a good
+answer," it was a kind of beginning of friendship. She, Henrietta, small
+and insignificant, was singled out for Miss Arundel's friendship; that
+was what she thought. She did not realize that it was possible to care
+merely for intellectual development.
+
+When she was prepared for Confirmation, there were serious talks about
+her character. The Vicar, whose classes she attended, was mostly
+concerned with doctrines, and Mrs. Marston with what one might call a
+list of ideal vices and temptations which pupils must guard themselves
+against. Miss Arundel talked to her about her untidy exercise books,
+her unpunctuality, her loud voice in the corridor, and her round
+shoulders, and explained very properly that inattention in these
+comparatively small matters showed a general want of self-control. She
+did not speak about bad temper, for Henrietta was much too frightened of
+her to show any signs of temper in her proximity. Miss Arundel did not
+give her an opportunity of unburdening herself of the problem that
+weighed on her mind, not that she would have taken the opportunity if it
+had occurred, not after that speech about the buttonholes. This was the
+problem: Why was it that people did not love her?--she to whom love was
+so much that if she did not have it, nothing else in the world was worth
+having. There had been Evelyn, it is true, but now Evelyn did lessons
+with a little friend of her own age, and she and the friend were all in
+all, and did not want Henrietta in the holidays. Henrietta reflected
+that she was not uglier, or stupider, or duller than anyone else. There
+was a large set at school who were ugly, stupid, and dull, and they were
+devoted to one another, though they none of them cared about her. Why
+had God sent her into the world, if she was not wanted? She found the
+problem insoluble, but a certain amount of light was thrown on it by one
+of the girls.
+
+She had been snarling with two or three of her classmates over the
+afternoon preparation, and had flounced off in a rage by herself. She
+felt a touch on her arm, and turning round saw Emily Mence, a rather
+uncouth, clever girl, whom she hardly knew.
+
+"I just came to say, Why _are_ you such an idiot?"
+
+"Me?"
+
+"Yes, why do you lose your temper like that? All the girls are laughing
+at you; they always do when you get cross."
+
+"Then I think it's horrid of them."
+
+"Well, you can't be surprised; of course people won't stand you, if
+you're so cross."
+
+"Won't they?" said Henrietta. "And the one thing I want in the world is
+to be liked."
+
+"Do you really? Fancy wanting these girls to like you; they're such
+silly little things."
+
+"I shouldn't mind that if only they liked me."
+
+"_I_ like you," said Emily. "Do you remember you said Charles I.
+deserved to have his head cut off because he was so stupid, and all the
+others gushed over him?"
+
+"Did I?"
+
+"I don't like the other girls to laugh at you; that's why I thought I
+would tell you."
+
+They walked up and down the path and talked about Charles I. Here there
+seemed the beginning of a friendship, but it was nipped in the bud, for
+Emily left unexpectedly at the end of the term. Henrietta received no
+further overtures from any of the girls.
+
+Emily's words had made an impression however, and for six weeks
+Henrietta took a great deal of pains with her temper. For this
+concession on her part she expected Providence to give her an immediate
+and abundant measure of popularity. It did not. The Symons family had
+not the friend-making quality--a capricious quality, which withholds
+itself from those who have the greatest desire, and even apparently the
+best right, to possess it. The girls were kind, kinder, on the whole,
+than the grown-up world, and they were perfectly willing to give her
+their left arms round the garden, but their right would be occupied by
+their real friends, to whom they would be telling their experiences, and
+Henrietta would only come in for a, "Wasn't it sickening, Etta?" now
+and then. She was disappointed, and she relaxed her efforts. She had
+missed the excitement of saying disagreeable things. The day had become
+chilly without them. By the middle of the term she was as disagreeable
+as ever.
+
+She very rarely received good advice in her life, and now that she had
+got it, she made no use of it. If she had, it might have changed the
+whole of her future. But from henceforth, on birthdays, New Year's Eves,
+and other anniversaries, when she took stock of herself and her
+character, she ignored her temper, and would not count it as a factor
+that could be modified. There were others as lonely as herself at
+school, there are always many lonely in a community; but she did not
+realize this, and felt herself exceptional. She imagined that she was
+overwhelmed with misery at this time, but really the life was so busy,
+and she was so fond of the lessons, and did them so well, that she was
+not to be pitied as much as she thought.
+
+It was clear she was to be lonely at school and lonely at home. Where
+was she to find relief? There was a supply of innocuous story-books for
+the perusal of Mrs. Marston's pupils on Saturday half-holidays,
+innocuous, that is to say, but for the fact that they gave a completely
+erroneous view of life, and from them Henrietta discovered that heroines
+after the sixteenth birthday are likely to be pestered with adorers. The
+heroines, it is true, were exquisitely beautiful, which Henrietta knew
+she was not, but from a study of "Jane Eyre" and "Villette" in the
+holidays, Charlotte Brontë was forbidden at school owing to her excess
+of passion, Henrietta realized that the plain may be adored too, so she
+had a modest hope that when the magic season of young ladyhood arrived,
+a Prince Charming would come and fall in love with her. This hope filled
+more and more of her thoughts, and all her last term, when other girls
+were crying at the thought of leaving, she was counting the days to her
+departure.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Henrietta was eighteen when she left school. Minna and Louie had gone
+two or three years before, and by the time Henrietta came home, Minna
+was engaged to be married. There was nothing particular about Minna. She
+was capable, and clear-headed, and rather good-looking, and could dress
+well on a little money. She was not much of a talker, but what she said
+was to the point. On these qualifications she married a barrister with
+most satisfactory prospects. They were both extremely fond of one
+another in a quiet way, and fond they remained. She was disposed of
+satisfactorily.
+
+Louie was prettier and more lively. She was having a gay career of
+flirtations, when Henrietta joined her. She did not at all want a
+younger sister, particularly a sister with a pretty complexion. Three
+years of parties had begun to tell on her own, which was of special
+delicacy. She and Henrietta had never grown to like one another, and now
+there went on a sort of silent war, an unnecessary war on Louie's side,
+for she had a much greater gift with partners than Henrietta, and her
+captives were not annexed.
+
+But for her complexion there was nothing very taking in Henrietta.
+Whoever travels in the Tube must have seen many women with dark-brown
+hair, brown eyes, and too-strongly-marked eyebrows; their features are
+neither good nor bad; their whole aspect is uninteresting. They have no
+winning dimples, no speaking lines about the mouth. All that one can
+notice is a disappointed, somewhat peevish look in the eyes. Such was
+Henrietta. The fact that she had not been much wanted or appreciated
+hitherto began to show now she was eighteen. She was either shy and
+silent, or talked with too much positiveness for fear she should not be
+listened to; so that though she was not a failure at dances and managed
+to find plenty of partners, there were none of the interesting episodes
+that were continually occurring on Louie's evenings, and for a year or
+two her hopes were not realized. The Prince Charming she was waiting for
+came not.
+
+Sometimes Louie was away on visits, and Henrietta went to dances
+without her. At one of these, as usual a strange young man was
+introduced. There was nothing special about him. They had the usual talk
+of first dances. Then he asked for a second, then for a third. He was
+introduced to her mother. She asked him to call. He came. He talked
+mostly to her mother, but it was clear that it was Henrietta he came to
+see. Another dance, another call, and meetings at friends' houses, and
+wherever she was he wanted to be beside her. It was an exquisitely happy
+month. He was a commonplace young man, but what did that matter? There
+was nothing in Henrietta to attract anyone very superior. And perhaps
+she loved him all the more because he was not soaring high above her,
+like all her previous divinities, but walking side by side with her.
+Yes, she loved him; by the time he had asked her for the third dance she
+loved him. She did not think much of his proposing, of their marrying,
+just that someone cared for her. At first she could not believe it, but
+by the end of the month the signs clearly resembled those of Louie's
+young men. Flowers, a note about a book he had lent her, a note about a
+mistake he had made in his last note; she was sure he must care for
+her. The other girls at the dances noticed his devotion, and asked
+Henrietta when it was to be announced. She laughed off their questions,
+but they gave her a thrill of delight. All must be well.
+
+And if they had married all would have been well. There might have been
+jars and rubs, with Henrietta's jealous disposition there probably would
+have been, but they would have been as happy as the majority of married
+couples; she would have been happier, for to many people, even to some
+women, it is not, as it was to her, the all-sufficing condition of
+existence to love and be loved.
+
+At the end of the month Louie came home. Henrietta had dreaded her
+return. She had no confidence in herself when Louie was by. Louie made
+her cold and awkward. She would have liked to have asked her not to come
+into the room when he called, but she was too shy; there had never been
+any intimacy between the sisters. Mrs. Symons however, spoke to Louie.
+"A very nice young fellow, with perfectly good connections, not making
+much yet, but sufficient for a start. It would do very well."
+
+Louie would not have considered herself more heartless than other
+people, but she was a coquette, and she did not want Henrietta to be
+settled before her. The next time the young man came, he found in the
+drawing-room not merely a very much prettier Miss Symons, that in itself
+was not of much consequence, but a Miss Symons who was well aware of her
+advantages, and knew moreover from successful practice exactly how to
+rouse a desire for pursuit in the ordinary young man.
+
+Henrietta saw at once, though she fought hard, that she had no chance.
+
+"Are you going to the Humphreys to-morrow?" he said to Louie.
+
+"If Henrietta's crinoline will leave any room in the carriage," answered
+Louie, "I shall try to get a little corner, perhaps under the seat, or
+one could always run behind. I crushed--see, what did I crush?--a little
+teeny-tiny piece of flounce one terrible evening; didn't I, Henrietta?
+And I was never allowed to hear the last of it."
+
+She smiled a special smile, only given to the most favoured of her
+partners. The young man thought how pretty this sisterly teasing was on
+the part of the lovely Miss Symons; Henrietta saw it in another light.
+
+"My crinolines are not larger than yours, you know they are not."
+
+"Methinks the lady doth protest too much, don't you, Mr. Dockerell?"
+
+"And you always take the best seat in the carriage, so it is nonsense to
+say ..."
+
+He noticed for the first time how loud her voice was.
+
+"Please let us change the conversation," said Louie gently, "it can't be
+at all interesting for Mr. Dockerell. I am ready to own anything you
+like, that you don't wear crinolines at all, if that will please you."
+
+"If there is any difficulty, could not my mother take one of you
+to-morrow night?" (It was Louie he looked at.) "She is staying with me
+for a week. Couldn't we call for you? It would be a great pleasure."
+
+"Oh, thank you," began Henrietta.
+
+"Really," said Louie, "you make me quite ashamed of my poor little joke.
+I don't think we have come quite to such a state of things that two
+sisters can't sit in the same carriage. I hear you are a most alarmingly
+good archer, Mr. Dockerell, and I want to ask you to advise me about my
+bow, if you will be so kind." To be asked advice, of course, completed
+the conquest.
+
+Mr. Dockerell had not been so much in love with Etta as with marrying.
+It took him a very short time to change, but when he had made his offer
+and Louie had discovered that he was too dull a young man for her, he
+did not transfer his affections back to Henrietta. She would gladly have
+taken him if he had. He left the neighbourhood, and not long after
+married someone else.
+
+In this grievous trouble Henrietta did not know where to turn for
+comfort. Mrs. Symons was one of those women who are much more a wife
+than a mother. She could enter into all Mr. Symons' feelings quite
+remarkably, even his most out-of-the-way masculine feelings, but her
+daughters, who on the whole were very ordinary young women, she did not
+understand. Perhaps Henrietta was not altogether ordinary, but after all
+it is not exceptional to want to be loved. Nor did Mrs. Symons care
+particularly for her daughters; she liked her sons much better, she
+would perhaps have been happier without daughters; and she liked
+Henrietta the least, connecting her still with those disagreeable
+childish interviews when Henrietta had been brought down, black and
+sulky, to be scolded.
+
+Henrietta was now passing through what is not an extraordinary
+experience in a woman's life. She had loved and been loved, and then had
+been disappointed. Her mother in her distress was no more comfort than,
+I was going to say, the servants, but she was much less, for Ellen, now
+Mrs. Symons' maid, gave poor Henrietta some of the sympathy for which
+she hungered.
+
+Evelyn was away, her parents had consented to her being educated with
+the little friend abroad, and if she had been at home, she was only
+fourteen, too young to be of much use. However Henrietta poured out her
+bitterness to her in a long letter, and Evelyn wrote back full of loving
+sentiment and sentimentality. Henrietta wrote also to Miranda, and had a
+sympathetic letter in answer, most sympathetic, considering that Miranda
+had just consummated a triumphant engagement to the son of an earl.
+
+Mrs. Symons could not help thinking that Henrietta had stupidly muddled
+her affairs, and wasted the good chance which had been contrived for
+her. This was the view she presented to her husband, so that though they
+tried not to show it in their manner, they both felt a little
+aggrieved.
+
+It was to William that she turned, though she remembered clearly the
+disappointing interview of her childhood. William, now a solicitor in
+London, came home for a few days' holiday. The Sunday of his visit was
+wet. When Mr. and Mrs. Symons were both asleep in the drawing-room, he
+and Henrietta sat in the former school-room, and kept up friendly
+small-talk about the neighbourhood. There was something so solid and
+comfortable about his face that she felt she must tell him. She wanted
+to lean on someone; she had not, she never had, any satisfaction, any
+pride in battling for herself. Yet she knew that William's face was
+deceptive; it would be much better not to speak. She determined,
+therefore, that she would say very little, and speak as coolly as she
+could. She began, but before she could stop herself, the whole story was
+out, and much more than the story, unbridled abuse of Louie, who was
+William's favourite sister. She only stopped at last, because her sobs
+made it impossible to speak.
+
+"It does seem unlucky," said William, "very unlucky. I should talk it
+over with mother."
+
+"Mother thinks it was my own fault. I know she does."
+
+"Well--um--write to Minna; yes, you might write to Minna."
+
+"Minna is only interested in the baby. She hardly ever writes; besides,
+she never cared about me at all. She would be glad."
+
+"Oh, well, I shouldn't think it was worth while taking it to heart. Just
+go out to plenty of dances and be jolly; you mustn't mope. If you can
+get Aunt Mercer to give you a bed, I'll take you to the play. That will
+do you all the good in the world."
+
+"It's very kind of you, William."
+
+"Oh, that's all right. Well," going to the window, "it's no good staying
+in all the afternoon, it makes one so hipped. I shall take a turn and
+look in on Beardsley on my way back. Tell mother not to wait supper for
+me."
+
+She knew she had better have said nothing. He hated the recesses of the
+heart being revealed, particularly those special recesses of a woman's
+heart; he had thought her unmaidenly. But he was sorry for her; he took
+her to the play, a rousing farce, for he was one of those who naively
+consider that two hours of laughing can compensate for months of misery,
+and even be a remedy. He gave her a brooch also, and said to his
+mother, "I think Etta gets low by herself, now Minna is married and
+Louie is away. Why shouldn't she go for some visits?"
+
+It may seem strange that Henrietta should have spread broadcast a grief
+which most people would keep hidden in their own hearts. But it is one
+of the saddest things about lonely people, that, having no proper
+confidant, they tell to all and sundry what ought never to be told to
+more than one. When, however, the overmastering desire for sympathy had
+passed, words cannot express her regret that she had spoken. For years
+and years afterwards it would suddenly come upon her, "I told him and he
+despised me," and she would beat her foot on the floor with all her
+might, in a useless transport of remorse.
+
+Both Louie and Henrietta had felt it was wiser not to see too much of
+one another after Mr. Dockerell's proposal. Louie had gone away for a
+month or six weeks, and when she came back, Henrietta went for a long
+visit to Minna.
+
+With two babies, the youngest very delicate, Minna was completely
+absorbed. She was emphatically Mrs. Willard now, not Minna Symons. Mrs.
+Symons had told her something of Henrietta's circumstances, and Minna
+considered that the best balm would be her babies. So they might have
+been for people with a natural admiration for babies, but this Henrietta
+had not got. If Minna's children had been neglected she would have loved
+them dearly, but when they were surrounded by the jealous care of
+mother, nurse, nursemaid, and (if any space was left for him) father,
+there was nothing for her but to look on as an outsider.
+
+It was during this visit that she heard of the young man's engagement.
+She did not realize, till she heard, how tightly she had been clinging
+to the hope that he might come back. Close following on that came the
+news that Louie was engaged to a most amiable and agreeable colonel.
+This made her more bitter, if it was possible to be more bitter, against
+Louie than before. Louie was not merely let off scot-free for what she
+did, but was to have every happiness given to her. Why? The old problem
+of her Confirmation year pressed itself on her, only now she felt less
+mournful and more acrid.
+
+Her troubles made her peevish and disagreeable, as was apparent from
+Minna's kindly admonition.
+
+"I think," said she, as they sat sewing one morning, "that I really
+ought to warn you not to talk quite so loud and so positively. I don't
+like saying anything, but of course I am older than you, and that is the
+sort of thing that spoils a girl's chances. Men don't like it. And your
+temper--even Arthur noticed it, and he is not at all an observant man. I
+daresay you hardly realize the importance of a good temper, Etta, but in
+my opinion it makes more difference in life than anything else."
+
+Henrietta came back three days before Louie's wedding. Louie repented
+the injury she had done, and on the last night she came into Henrietta's
+room and apologized. "You know, Etty, I am very sorry, very, very sorry.
+Of course I had no idea how you felt about him. He wasn't the sort of
+man one could take very seriously, at least that was what I thought.
+Anyhow I wouldn't worry about it any more, for you know I think he
+cannot have been very seriously touched, or he would have made some
+effort to see you again, surely, after his little episode with me."
+
+Louie felt more than her words conveyed, but she could not demean
+herself to show too much.
+
+"Perhaps you didn't mean it unkindly," said Henrietta; "I shall try to
+believe you, but you've wrecked my life."
+
+"Etta is so exaggerated and hysterical," said Louie afterwards, talking
+things over. But as a matter of fact Henrietta spoke only the sober
+truth.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+After Louie's wedding Henrietta went to stay with an aunt, her father's
+eldest sister, almost a generation older than he was. She lived in a
+little white house in the country, with a green verandah and French
+windows. She was a kind, nice old lady, not well off, a humble
+great-aunt to the whole village. Children continually came to eat her
+mulberries; girls were found places; sick people were sent jelly, and
+there was always a great deal of sewing and knitting for poor friends.
+
+She did her best to make the visit pass cheerfully; she had some little
+scheme of pleasure for each day, and so many people came and went that,
+though not exciting, the life could not possibly be called dull.
+
+Henrietta did not know whether Mrs. Symons had mentioned her trouble to
+her aunt; she hoped not. Now that the first shock was over, she had
+become sensitive on the subject, and did not wish to speak about it.
+From a little speech her aunt made, it is possible that Mrs. Symons had
+said something.
+
+One day as they sat talking comfortably and confidentially over the
+fire, the conversation turned on her aunt's past days. She had been left
+motherless, the eldest of a large family, when she was nineteen or
+twenty. It was evidently her duty to devote herself to the younger ones,
+and when a man presented himself whom she loved and by whom she was
+loved, she felt that she could not be spared from home.
+
+Henrietta saw that she was bracing herself to say something. At last out
+it came:
+
+"You know, my dear, I think in spite of--I mean that there are many
+things besides--though when one has hoped--still life can be very happy,
+very peaceful, without. Why, there is this garden, and there are those
+three darling little children next door."
+
+Henrietta knew that this unanalysable sentence was meant to comfort her.
+She felt grateful, but she was not comforted. Her aunt's life was the
+sweetest and happiest possible for old age, but could she at twenty
+settle down to devising treats for other people's children, or sewing
+garments for the poor? It made her feel sick and dismal to think of it.
+Besides, their circumstances were not similar. Her aunt, fortified by
+the spirit of self-sacrifice, had resigned what she loved, but she had
+the reward of being the most necessary member of her circle. Henrietta
+had had no scope for self-sacrifice, for she had never had anything to
+give up. In fact she envied her aunt, for she realized now that Mr.
+Dockerell could never have cared for her. And far from being the most
+necessary member of her family, her difficulty was to squeeze into a
+place at all.
+
+The visit came to an end. She went home, and regular life began again.
+Since one ordinary young man had been attracted to her when she was
+twenty, there seemed no reason why other ordinary men should not
+continue to be attracted. As he had been in love with marrying rather
+than with her, so she had been in love with being loved rather than with
+him. She would have accepted almost any pleasant young man, provided he
+had had the supreme merit of caring for her. But the inscrutable fate
+which rules these matters, decreed that it was not to be. No other
+suitor presented himself.
+
+For one thing, she went to fewer parties now. After Louie's marriage,
+Mrs. Symons, who had worked hard in the good cause of finding husbands,
+began to flag. Henrietta was not so gratifying to take out as Louie had
+been, particularly as her complexion went off early, and without her
+complexion she had nothing to fall back on. So Mrs. Symons gave herself
+up to the luxury of bad health, and said she could not stand late hours.
+When Henrietta did go out, her experience made her feel that she was
+unlikely to please; and though no one can define what produces
+attractiveness, it is safe to say that one of the most necessary
+elements is to believe oneself attractive.
+
+Mr. Symons had not hitherto taken great interest in his daughters, but
+when Minna and Louie were married, he became fonder of them. He was one
+of those men whose good opinion of a woman is much strengthened if
+confirmed by another man. His daughters' husbands had confirmed his
+opinion in the most satisfactory way by marrying them, whereas his good
+opinion of Henrietta, far from being confirmed, had been rather
+weakened. Minna and Louie's virtues, husbands, and houses were often
+extolled now, and there was nothing to extol in her. Henrietta felt this
+continually. Her parents did not speak to her of her misfortunes; she
+was left alone, which is perhaps what most girls would have liked best.
+Not so Henrietta.
+
+The three years after Louie's marriage were the most miserable of
+Henrietta's life. If she did not go out to parties, what was she to do?
+The housekeeping? The housekeeping, as in many cases, was not nearly
+enough to provide her mother with occupation. It certainly could not be
+divided into occupation for two. Nursing her mother? Her mother much
+preferred that Ellen, on whom she had become very dependent, should do
+what was necessary, and for companionship she had all she wanted in her
+husband. He was away for several hours in the day however, and during
+his absence Henrietta did drive out with her mother, read to her, and
+sit with her, and as they were so much together and shared the small
+events of the country town, they were to a certain extent drawn
+together. But Mrs. Symons always treated Henrietta _de haut en bas_,
+and snubbed her when she thought necessary, as if she had been a child
+of ten, so that Henrietta was constrained and a little timid with her.
+There was the suggestion of a feeling that Mrs. Symons was to be pitied
+for having Henrietta still on her hands. If Henrietta had refused to be
+snubbed, there would have been none of that suggestion. Evelyn was still
+away at school. There were a certain number of girls of Henrietta's age
+whom she saw from time to time, but as her mother did not wish to be
+disturbed by entertaining, they were not asked to the house, and
+therefore did not ask Henrietta to theirs. Besides, she was sensitive,
+thinking, truly, that they were discussing her misfortune, and did not
+want to see them.
+
+In addition to the poignancy of disappointment, of present dulness and
+aimlessness, Henrietta realized forcibly, though perhaps not forcibly
+enough for the truth, that the years between eighteen and thirty were
+her marrying years, which, slowly as they passed from the point of view
+of her happiness, went only too fast, when she considered that once gone
+they could never come back, and that as they fled, they took her chances
+with them.
+
+Fifty years ago the large majority of the girls of her class married
+early, and the years of home life after school were arranged on the
+supposition that they were a short period of preparation for marriage.
+It did not matter to Minna and Louie that they had no interests to fill
+their days, that their life had been nothing but parties and intervals
+of waiting for parties, because it had only lasted four or five years.
+It had done what it was intended to do, it had settled them very
+comfortably with husbands. But with Henrietta, the condition which was
+meant to be temporary, seemed spreading itself out to be permanent, and
+with the parties taken away, she was hard put to it to fill up her days.
+She longed inexpressibly for school, for its restrictions, its monotony
+and variety. And to think that when she had the luck to be there, she
+had counted the days to being a young lady. When she remembered how she
+had almost wept at Miss Arundel's description of Joan of Arc, her mouth
+watered for lessons. As for Miss Arundel herself, she hungered and
+thirsted after her.
+
+At last she had a happy thought; she decided that she would read
+Italian, read Dante. Miss Arundel had taught her Italian, and she would
+write to Miss Arundel, and ask her to recommend a good translation. She
+remembered that Miss Arundel and Mrs. Marston had occasionally had
+favourite old pupils to stay with them. She imagined how one letter
+might lead to another, and how at last Miss Arundel might invite her to
+stay too. She wrote her letter with great care and great delight,
+constantly changing her words, for none seemed good enough for Miss
+Arundel, and making a fair copy, as if it were an exercise to be sent up
+for correction.
+
+Miss Arundel received the letter, read it through, came to the
+signature, and could not for the life of her remember who Henrietta
+Symons was. So many girls had passed through her hands, and she lived in
+the present rather than the past. A teacher was ill, she was very busy,
+the letter slipped her memory. One evening it came into her head, and
+she asked her sister, "By the by, who was Henrietta Symons?"
+
+"I recollect the name perfectly," said Mrs. Marston. "Let me see; yes,
+now I know. There were three of them, one was Minnie, I believe, and I
+think Etta had a bad headache at the picnic. It was a blazing day that
+year, the hottest I ever remember, and I had to come back early with
+her."
+
+"Of course; I remember now," said Miss Arundel. "A girl with very marked
+eyebrows." And she wrote back a postcard, "Tr. of D.'s D. C. Carey, 2
+vols., Ward and Linsell. M. Arundel."
+
+The postcard made Henrietta inclined to back out of Dante. But by this
+time she had arranged to read with a neighbour, Carrie Bostock, so she
+had to make a start. They did start, but as they neither understood the
+Italian, nor the translation, nor the notes, they found continual
+excuses for not reading, till Carrie boldly suggested "I Promessi
+Sposi," which went much better. They did not read for long, however, for
+Carrie became engaged, it seemed to Henrietta that everybody she knew
+was becoming engaged, and Carrie considered her engagement an occupation
+which gave her no time for anything else, certainly no time for Italian.
+
+Henrietta found she did not read by herself. The two years away from
+school made it difficult to start. Perhaps it may seem strange that a
+girl who had been so eager at school, should not care to work by herself
+at home. But when there are no competitors and no Miss Arundel, work
+loses much of its zest for everyone except the real student, who is
+rarely to be found among men, still more rarely among women. And the
+last thing Henrietta would ever be was unusual.
+
+Clever, interesting schoolgirls are not at all uncommon, though not so
+general as clever, interesting children. But there are few who remain
+clever and interesting when they grow up. Uninspiring surroundings, and
+contact with life, or mere accumulation of years, take something away.
+Or perhaps it simply is that when they are grown up they are judged by a
+more severe standard. Miss Arundel had been disappointed again and
+again. But she would not have been surprised that Henrietta let
+everything go, for she had always observed in her an unfortunate strain
+of weakness.
+
+Besides being weak, Henrietta was always affected by the people she was
+with, and the atmosphere of home life was not encouraging to study.
+"Reading Italian, my dear?" her mother would say. "Oh, can't you find
+anything better to do than that? Surely there must be some mending;"
+while her father advised her, through her mother, "not to become too
+clever; it was a great pity for a girl to get too clever."
+
+After all, there seemed no earthly reason why she should read Italian;
+it gave no pleasure to herself or to anyone else. So she spent most of
+the long leisure hours sitting by the window and thinking. She often
+said to herself the verse of a poem then just published by Christina
+Rossetti. She had seen it on a visit, copied it out, and learned it:
+
+    "Downstairs I laugh and sport and jest with all,
+       But in my solitary room above
+     I turn my face in silence to the wall:
+       My heart is breaking for a little love."
+
+It did not quite apply to Henrietta, for she was not sporting and
+jesting downstairs with anyone, but that verse was the greatest comfort
+to her of those dreary years. The writer _must_ have been through it
+all, she thought; she knows what it is. Not to be alone, to have
+someone, though an unknown one, who could share it, lightened her
+burden, when she was in a mood that it should be lightened.
+
+She made up verses too, and wrote them in a pretty album she bought for
+the purpose. They relieved her heart a little--at any rate it was a
+distraction to think of the rhymes. She would have shown them to Carrie,
+if she had had the slightest encouragement, but as Carrie gave no
+encouragement, there was no one to see them.
+
+    "While Nature op'ed her lavish hand
+     And fairest flowers displayed,
+     'Twas his to taste of sunny joys,
+     'Twas mine to sit in shade.
+
+    "Oh, talk not to me of a lasting devotion!
+     It shrivels, it ceases, it fades and it dies.
+     In the heart of a man 'tis a fleeting emotion;
+     Alas, in a woman eternal it lies!"
+
+A poet would have said that anyone capable of writing that was incapable
+of feeling, but he would have been wrong.
+
+Sometimes Henrietta used to have a phantom lover like the phantom friend
+of her childhood, but now--had she more or less imagination as a
+child?--she could not bear it. She imagined the phantom, and then she
+wanted him so intensely that she had to forget him. The aspect of
+certain days would be connected with some peculiarly mournful moments.
+She wondered which was the most depressing, the dark setting in at four
+o'clock and leaving her seven hours of drawing-room fancy work (for it
+disturbed her mother if she went to bed before eleven), or the summer
+sun that would not go down.
+
+If only some kind stroke of misfortune had taken away all Mr. Symons'
+money. Disagreeable poverty would have been a great comfort to her. She
+would have been forced to make an effort; not to brood and concentrate
+herself on her misery. But Mr. Symons, on the contrary, continued to get
+richer, and throughout her fairly long, dull life, Henrietta was always
+cursed with her tidy little income.
+
+But interminable as the time seemed, it passed. It passed, so that
+reading her old journal with the record of her happy month, she found
+that it had all happened five years ago, and was beginning to be
+forgotten. She felt as if it had not happened to her, but to some
+ordinary girl who had ordinary prosperity. At the same time her lot did
+not seem so bitter as it had done; she had become used to it. Though she
+herself hardly realized it, and certainly could not have said when the
+change had come, she was not now particularly unhappy. It was an
+alleviation that her mother was more of an invalid, so that some of the
+responsibilities of the household devolved on her, and her mother
+leaned on her a little. She was certainly not the prop of the house, or
+the lodestar to which they all turned for guidance, none of the
+satisfactory things women are called in poetry, but she was not such an
+odd-man-out as she had been.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+And now the even course of Henrietta's life was interrupted. Evelyn
+returned home. She and her friend were both grown up into young ladies.
+Many letters had passed between the sisters, but it was so long since
+they had seen one another that each felt a little shy at the meeting.
+
+Evelyn was very lovely, made to please and be pleased, a regular
+mid-Victorian heroine, universally courted. Though always courted she
+was never spoilt, and was a most affectionate sister and daughter. But
+the old particular bond which had attached her and Henrietta no longer
+existed. She was equally affectionate to Minna and Louie.
+
+Still, her coming made a great difference to Henrietta. There was a
+person of her own generation and way of thinking to converse with; they
+could have jokes together, and Evelyn was still full of schoolgirl
+enthusiasm. She had numberless schemes of occupation, duets, French
+readings, and splashwork. And when she went away on visits, there were
+her letters, much more intimate than those of a year or two earlier,
+full of allusions to their new occupations, and teasing of a kind,
+complimentary sort, which was new and very delightful to Henrietta.
+
+They were arranging flowers in the school-room one afternoon, roses
+which had been brought to Evelyn by an admirer. They dropped some on the
+floor, both stooped to pick them up, and they knocked their heads
+together. Evelyn got up laughing, but felt her hand suddenly snatched,
+and kissed with a long, eager kiss. She turned round, startled. "What is
+it?" she said.
+
+"I couldn't help it," said Henrietta, half hysterically. "If you knew
+what it is to me to have you back. I can't tell you."
+
+"Is it, dear?" said Evelyn. "I'm so glad." And she smoothed Henrietta's
+forehead with a pretty gesture full of sweetness, but with a touch of
+condescension in it. She had listened already to so many passionate
+declarations about herself (one that very afternoon) that she was not so
+much impressed by Henrietta's as most younger sisters would have been.
+Still she could not help contrasting herself in her triumphant youth
+with Henrietta, disregarded by everyone and snubbed. Mr. and Mrs. Symons
+never snubbed Evelyn, and she thought for a moment, "Oh, I'm thankful
+I'm not her"; but she put the thought away as unkind, and supposed
+vaguely that Henrietta was so good she did not mind.
+
+Now that Evelyn was come back, Mrs. Symons roused herself from her
+invalidism to provide amusements for her. So little was possible at home
+that almost at once a round of gay visits was arranged. Minna was less
+engrossed now that the babies were older, and took her out to parties;
+and Louie had all the officers of her husband's regiment at command.
+These same attractions had been offered to Henrietta. Louie had been
+most sincerely anxious to atone for the past, and had invited her again
+and again, but Henrietta had always refused; for though the original
+wound was healed, she still cherished resentment against Louie.
+
+Evelyn's was a career of triumph. Her letters, and Louie's and Minna's
+were full of officers and parties. This roused Henrietta's old
+discontent. Why was Evelyn to have everything and she nothing? She
+promptly answered herself, "Because Evelyn is so sweet and beautiful,
+she deserves everything she can get." But the question refused to be
+snubbed, and asked itself again. She hated herself for envying, and
+continued to envy.
+
+Evelyn came home from her visits very much excited and interested about
+herself, but still not unmindful of Henrietta.
+
+"Let me come in to your room, Etty, and tell you everything. I had a
+perfect time with Louie; she was a dear. She was always saying, 'Now,
+who shall we have to dinner? You must settle;' so I just gave the word,
+and whoever I wanted was produced. Louie wishes you would go too. Do go,
+you would have such fun. She gave me a note for you."
+
+"MY DEAR ETTA," the note ran,
+
+"The 9th is having a dance on the 28th. I wish you would come and stay
+with us for it. Come, and bring Evelyn. I particularly want to have her
+for it. There is a special reason. Everyone is enchanted with the dear
+little thing. I shall be disappointed if you don't come too. It all
+happened such years ago, surely we may forget it; and Edward is always
+asking me why I do not have you, and it seems so absurd, when I have no
+proper reason to give. I shall really think it too bad of you, if you
+don't come.
+
+    Your affec.,
+        L. N. CARRINGTON."
+
+Henrietta, thinking over the matter, found there was no reason why she
+should not go. At twenty-seven she felt herself rather older than this
+generation at forty-eight, and thought it ridiculous that she should be
+going to a dance. But once she was there, Louie made her feel so much at
+home, she found her remarks were so warmly welcomed, and her few
+hesitating sallies so much enjoyed, that she began to think that after
+all she was not completely on the shelf.
+
+"Don't go to-morrow, Etta--stay here. There's the Steeplechase on
+Friday; I want you to see that."
+
+"No, thank you, Louie," said Henrietta; "I can't leave mother longer.
+It's been very delightful, more delightful than you can realize,
+perhaps--you're so much accustomed to it; but I must get back."
+
+"Now, that really is nonsense, Etta. Mother has Ellen, and she has
+father, and she is pretty well for her; you said so yourself."
+
+But Henrietta persisted in her refusal, for she had all the strong,
+though sometimes unthinking, sense of duty of her generation.
+
+"Well, if you will go, you must. But now you have begun coming, come
+often. Write a line whenever you like and propose yourself."
+
+As they said good-night, Louie whispered, "Have you forgiven me, Etty?"
+
+"Yes," said Henrietta, "that's all past and gone."
+
+"For a matter of fact," said Louie, "he is not very happy with her; they
+don't get on. The Moffats know him, and Mrs. Moffatt told me."
+
+"Oh, I am sorry," said Henrietta, but she was not displeased.
+
+Evelyn stayed behind, and Louie talked Henrietta over with her. "Poor,"
+ever since her marriage Henrietta had been "poor" to Louie, "Poor Etta
+really isn't bad-looking, and when she gets animated she isn't
+unattractive. If I could have her here often, I believe I could do
+something for her."
+
+When Evelyn came home a week or so later, she had an announcement to
+make. She had become engaged to an officer, a friend of the
+Carringtons, who had been staying in the house. He was delightful, the
+engagement was everything that was to be desired, and Evelyn was
+radiant.
+
+Henrietta knew that such an announcement was bound to come sooner or
+later, but she had so longed for a few years' happy intercourse
+together. She tried to think only of Evelyn, but she could not keep back
+all that was in her mind.
+
+"Think of me left all alone. It was so dreary, and when you came you
+made everything different. Now it will go back to what it was before."
+
+"No, no, Etty darling; you will come and stay with us for months and
+months."
+
+"No, I shan't. When you have got him you won't want me."
+
+"Yes, I shall. I shall want you all the more. I love you more than I've
+ever done in my life, my darling sister. We've always been special, we
+two, haven't we, ever since I can remember?"
+
+Henrietta was a little comforted, and did not realize that though
+Evelyn's tenderness was absolutely sincere, it came from the strange
+expansion of the heart which accompanies true love, and was not
+habitual.
+
+The marriage took place almost at once, for the Captain's regiment was
+ordered on foreign service, and Evelyn went away to regions where it was
+not possible for Henrietta to visit her.
+
+But if she had lived in England, Henrietta would not have felt herself
+at liberty to go away for long. After she got home, she felt glad she
+had not extended her visit to the Carringtons, for Mrs. Symons was not
+so well, and she died shortly afterwards, and Henrietta reigned in her
+stead.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+The household changed now; two new elements were introduced: William
+came from London to be a partner in his father's firm, and lived at
+home, and Harold, who had been employed by an engineer in the North,
+found work in the neighbourhood and came back too. So that Henrietta's
+life became at once much fuller of interest and importance than it had
+been for years. As the only lady of the house, she was bound to be
+considered, to make decisions, to have much authority in her own hands,
+and at twenty-seven she greatly appreciated authority. If she was not to
+have love, she would at any rate have position, and the servants found
+her an exacting mistress. Mrs. Symons, though she had given over certain
+duties to Henrietta, had kept herself head of the house to the time of
+her death. She had a way with servants: they always liked her, and
+stayed with her; but latterly she had let things slide, and when
+Henrietta took her place she found much to criticize. Most of the
+servants left, but some stayed, and agreed with Ellen that it was "just
+Miss Henrietta's way; she was funny sometimes." However, they got used
+to her, and things jogged along pretty quietly.
+
+When Ellen left to be married, and there was no one in the kitchen to
+make allowances for her, she had much more difficulty, and Mr. Symons
+was occasionally disturbed in his comfortable library by an indignant
+apparition, which declared amid gulps that it had "no wish whatever to
+make complaints, but really Miss Henrietta----!"
+
+Mr. Symons thought this very hard. "Can't you manage to make them
+decently contented? We never used to have this sort of thing," he would
+say. Henrietta would defend herself by counter-charges, and on the whole
+felt the incident was creditable to her, as showing that she was a
+power, and a rather dreaded power, in the house.
+
+The men thought also that they were under a needlessly harsh yoke.
+Henrietta grumbled when they were late for meals, or creased the
+chintzes, or let the dog in with muddy paws. From a combination of
+kindness, weakness, and letting things slide, they made no complaints.
+Mr. Symons always remembered and felt sorry for the episode which
+Henrietta herself had almost forgotten, and he was determined to make up
+to her by letting her be as unpleasant as she liked at home.
+
+If only they had spoken strongly while there was yet time. They did not
+realize, it is difficult for those in the same house to realize, where
+things were tending. Henrietta's temper became less violent; there are
+fewer occasions for losing a temper when one is grown up, but she took
+to nagging like a duck to water.
+
+But if they made no complaints, the men left her to herself. Mr. Symons
+spent many hours at his club, and her brothers entertained their friends
+in the smoking-room. She was vaguely disappointed; she had an idea,
+gleaned from novels and magazines, that as the home daughter to a
+widowed father, the home sister to two brothers, she would be consulted,
+leant on, confided in. Mr. Symons missed his wife at every turn, but he
+never felt Henrietta could take her place. Her nagging shut up his heart
+against her. He thought it silly, rather unfairly, perhaps, for she
+inherited the habit from her mother, and he had never thought _her_
+nagging silly.
+
+As to William and Harold, they had come to the ages of thirty-five and
+twenty-six without any wish for confidence, and why should they wish to
+confide in Henrietta? She was not wise and she was not sympathetic. The
+mere fact that they lived in the same house with her caused no automatic
+opening of the heart. Well on in middle life, William became engaged,
+and suddenly poured out everything to his love, but for the present he
+and Harold were content to go through life never saying anything about
+themselves to anybody. In fact, they hardly ever thought of Henrietta.
+She would have been astonished if she had known what an infinitesimal
+difference she made in their lives.
+
+As mistress of the house, Henrietta was promoted to the circle of the
+married ladies, and the happiest hours of her life were spent in visits
+she and they interchanged, when they talked about servants,
+arrangements, prices, and health.
+
+They were not intimate friends. Perhaps the women of fifty years ago did
+not have the faculty of staunch and close friend-making possessed by
+our generation. And now Henrietta did not very much want to make
+friends. She would have thought intimacy a little schoolgirlish, a
+little beneath a middle-aged lady's dignity.
+
+Her parents had been a very ordinary couple in a country town. They and
+the society they frequented were uncultivated, and uninterested in
+everything that was going on in the world outside. The men, of course,
+were occupied with their professions, and almost all the ladies had
+large growing families, which gave full scope for their energies.
+Henrietta had not their duties, and was better off than the majority of
+them, but she did not find time hang heavy on her hands. Long ere this
+she had learnt the art of getting through the day with the minimum of
+employment. Now, of course, her various duties gave her a certain amount
+to do, but not enough to occupy her mind profitably. She often said, "I
+am so busy I really haven't a moment to spare," and quite sincerely
+declined the charge of a district, because she had no time. If any
+visitors were coming to stay, she spoke of the preparations and the work
+they entailed, as if all was performed by her single pair of hands.
+"What with Louie and Edward coming to-morrow, and Harold going to the
+Tyrol on Wednesday, I cannot think how I shall manage, but I suppose,"
+with a resigned smile, "I shall get through somehow." She was persuaded
+into visiting a small hospital once a fortnight for an hour, and the day
+and hour were much dreaded by her entourage, so vastly did they loom on
+the horizon, and so submissively must every other event wait on their
+convenience.
+
+Minna and Louie often came on visits with their children. The three
+sisters got on much better than formerly, though Minna and Louie were
+both too much absorbed in their own interests to give Henrietta a large
+place in their thoughts. Minna's husband failed early in health, before
+he had had time to fulfil his promising early prospects, while Louie's
+Colonel, when he retired from the army, occupied his leisure in
+speculation, and greatly diminished that attractive fortune of his. All
+three sisters had a certain amount of money left to them by their
+mother, but in spite of this Minna and Louie were now both,
+comparatively speaking, poor, while Henrietta, with no one dependent on
+her, and a large allowance from her father, was comfortably off. Louie
+and Minna quite gave up talking of "poor Henrietta," and "Really
+Henrietta has done very well for herself," was a remark frequently
+exchanged.
+
+Henrietta had always been generous, and her sisters soon came to expect
+as a right that she should rescue them in times of domestic need: pay
+for a nephew's schooling, send a delicate niece to the sea, and give
+very substantial presents at birthdays and Christmas. Their point of
+view seemed to be that if anyone had been so lucky as to keep out of the
+bothers of marriage, the least she could do was to help her unfortunate
+sisters. Still, they disliked being beholden to Henrietta, and, half
+intentionally, set their children against her to relieve their feelings.
+The children were not bad children, but Henrietta found their visits
+burdensome. She was becoming a little set and unwilling to be disturbed,
+and she said the children were spoilt. Minna and Louie had determined
+they would not be the strict parents of the elder generation, whereas
+Henrietta, who remembered all the snubbing of her youth, wanted to have
+her turn of giving snubs, and this did not make her popular. She never
+grew very fond of these children, but kept her affection for something
+else.
+
+For it is not to be supposed that a heart with such peculiar longing for
+love was to be satisfied with a life in which feeling played so little
+part. She had put aside the desire for a lover now. She was not one of
+the women whom nothing will satisfy but marriage; on the whole she did
+not care very much for men. She wanted what she had always wanted,
+something to love and something to love her. And she had good reason to
+hope that at last that wish might be realized, for it was agreed between
+her and Evelyn that if there were any children, she was to bring them up
+while Evelyn was abroad. Round this hope she built many happy schemes.
+
+Henrietta had seen very little of Evelyn all this time--the regiment
+went from one foreign station to another--but very affectionate letters
+passed between the two.
+
+For some years no children were born. Then came a little girl. "She is
+to be called Etta," said Evelyn's letter, "and you know she is your baby
+as well as ours. Do you remember what you did for me in old days? I
+think of how you will do the same for baby, and I could not bear for
+anyone else to do it but you." The baby died in the first year. Then
+came a little boy, who lived an even shorter time; then another little
+girl. The parents and Henrietta hardly dared to hope this time. But the
+perilous first year passed, then, although she was always very delicate,
+a second, third, and fourth. Then, when the plans were maturing for her
+coming home, she died too. It seems sometimes as if Death cannot leave a
+certain family alone, but comes back to it again and again.
+
+"Evelyn is broken-hearted," her husband wrote, "and if she stays in this
+horrible India I believe I shall lose her too. I am going to exchange if
+I can to a home regiment, or I shall leave the army. I do not care what
+we do as long as I get her away. In the midst of it all she keeps
+thinking of how you will feel it. I believe a good cry with you is the
+one thing that might comfort her."
+
+Henrietta took this letter to her father, and implored him to let her go
+out to India at once. But this Mr. Symons, though kind and sympathetic
+and truly sorry for Evelyn, could not bring himself to allow. He was
+getting to the age when he shrank from violent upheavals. Herbert said
+they were leaving India. By the time she arrived they would probably be
+gone, and then what a wild goose chase it would be. Then, of course, she
+could not go alone, and who was to go with her? Her brothers could not
+spare the time, and he did not feel up to going, and she must have a man
+with her. Edward? No, certainly not. Since his speculations, Edward was
+in bad odour. No, it would be much better to write a kind letter--he
+would write too--and drop this really foolish scheme, which would, among
+other things, be very costly, more costly than he felt prepared to face
+just then.
+
+She said she would go alone.
+
+"Then you would go entirely without my sanction. It is a perfectly
+impossible thing for a young lady to contemplate. You have never even
+been on the Continent, and you think of travelling to India unattended."
+
+She had never acted in opposition to her parents, though she had often
+been domineering to her father in small matters, when he had not
+resisted. She was always weak, she could only fight when the other side
+would not fight back. She said, "Oh, father, I must go," and when he
+said, "Nonsense, I couldn't think of it," she collapsed, partly from
+cowardice, partly from duty, though her father was not in the least
+strong-willed either, and with a little serious resistance would have
+been made to yield. She felt bitterly the reproach in Evelyn's letter,
+"If only you could have come."
+
+She did not feel as wildly wretched as fifteen years ago, because now in
+middle age what she passed through at the moment was not of the same
+desperate importance; but then she had a small corner of hope hidden
+away that perhaps something might happen, whereas now she realized
+clearly that the prospect which had given her her chief interest and
+delight was destroyed for ever.
+
+The trouble told on her, she caught a chill, which developed into
+pneumonia. She was dangerously ill for some weeks, and when she was
+better, she was long in getting up her strength, because she had no wish
+to get well.
+
+Minna and Louie thought it odd that Henrietta should "fret so much about
+Evelyn's children whom she had never seen. She has always seemed to make
+so much more fuss over them than over her own nephews and nieces in
+England. Of course, it was natural that dear Evelyn herself should be
+distracted, but for Henrietta it almost seemed a little exaggerated."
+
+When she was well enough to travel, the doctor recommended the South of
+France for the winter, and she went away with a married friend, the
+Carrie Bostock of the Italian readings.
+
+It was all very pleasant and entertaining to Henrietta, who had never
+been abroad, never even away from her own family. In the Riviera she
+could to a certain extent drown thought, but she counted the days with
+consternation, as each one in its flight brought her nearer to taking up
+life again at home.
+
+One afternoon she received a letter from her father.
+
+"MY DEAR HENRIETTA," it ran,
+
+"I do not know if you will be surprised to hear that I am engaged to be
+married to Mrs. Waters. We have not known one another very long, but I
+must say I very soon felt that she would be one who could take your dear
+mother's place. I think it is very possible that you may have observed
+whither matters were tending. I feel certain that we shall all be very
+happy together, and I hope you will write her a warm letter of welcome
+to our family. She will, I am sure, be both mother and sister to you,
+etc."
+
+The news was staggering to Henrietta. She had been so engrossed in her
+own trouble that she had observed nothing of what was going on around
+her. Mrs. Waters, a widow, who had lately settled in the neighbourhood,
+had been several times to their house and had entertained them at hers,
+but that she should be anything more than a friendly acquaintance had
+never entered Henrietta's head. She was to be ousted, her mother was to
+be ousted, and she was to give a warm welcome to the interloper. Her
+forgotten temper burst forth. She wrote a violent letter to her father,
+hurling at him all the ridiculous exaggerated things that most people
+feel at the beginning of a rage, but which few are so mad as to commit
+to paper. She refused altogether to write to Mrs. Waters.
+
+She also relieved herself by contradicting everything Carrie said, thus
+giving her a good excuse for those long talks to a third party, which
+frequently take place when friends have been abroad together, beginning,
+"I really had no idea she _could_."
+
+After she had written the letter, as usual she was very much ashamed.
+She wrote again unsaying all she had said, but her father had been too
+much wounded to reply.
+
+She came back just a little before the wedding to see him in quite a new
+light--a lover, for he at sixty-five and Mrs. Waters at forty-seven had
+fallen in love.
+
+When Henrietta saw more of her stepmother to be, she had in honesty to
+own that she liked her. She was not only very attractive, but she was so
+thoroughly nice and kind, so intent on making people happy, so entirely
+without airs of patronage, and Henrietta could see how everybody warmed
+under her smile.
+
+Henrietta had settled that she would not live at home after the
+marriage. Neither she nor her father could forget the letter, it was
+better that they should part. She had again asked his forgiveness, but
+neither felt at ease with the other.
+
+She stayed for a few weeks after Mr. and Mrs. Symons came back from the
+honeymoon, and saw almost with consternation, how the spirit of the
+house changed. It became peaceful, cordial, harmonious; it would not
+have been known for the same house. The whole household liked Mrs.
+Symons; even her own dog deserted Henrietta. It was not that she was
+ousted from her place, it was that Mrs. Symons created a place, which
+never had been hers. She had had no idea in all these twelve years how
+little she had made herself liked. She had had her chance, her one great
+chance, in life, and she had missed it.
+
+When she went away, there were kind good wishes for her prosperity,
+interest in her plans, many hopes that she would visit them, but no
+regret; with a clearness and honesty of sight she unfortunately
+possessed she realized that--no regret.
+
+What was the use of twelve years in which she had sincerely tried to do
+her best, if she had not built up some little memorial of affection? It
+was the old complaint of all her life, "I am not wanted." The anguish
+she had shared with Evelyn and her husband had been much sharper, but in
+the midst of it there had been consolation in the exquisite union they
+had felt with the children and with one another. Here there was nothing
+to cheer her; there is not much consolation when one fails where it
+seems quite easy for others to succeed.
+
+Now that it became evident that she would be so little missed, she was
+in haste to get the parting over and be gone. But her unadventurous
+spirit shrank from going out in the world to manage by itself. She was
+very doubtful what she should do. She would not have been welcomed by
+Minna or Louie, even if she had wished to live with them. Her second
+brother was in some inaccessible foreign place. Evelyn and Herbert were
+also far out of reach. He had exchanged into a regiment which was
+quartered at Halifax, in Canada.
+
+But the distance, however great, might have been faced, if she had
+not had a miserable quarrel with Herbert. It began with some
+misunderstanding about the tombstone on the youngest little girl's
+grave, to which Henrietta had wished to contribute. She had written to
+Evelyn from the Riviera in all the soreness of worn-out nerves and grief
+from which the sublimity has gone. The very fact that they had been
+drawn so close to one another made her specially irritable to Evelyn.
+After one or two of her letters, an answer came from Herbert:
+
+"Evelyn is very ill from all she has been through, and the doctor says
+it is most important that she should be kept from every sort of worry.
+She was so much distressed at your last letter, and answering you took
+so much out of her, that I have taken the liberty of keeping this one
+from her. You have no right to write to her in this way, and I must ask
+you to drop all correspondence for the present if your letters are to be
+in the same strain."
+
+Henrietta declared that he was trying to come between her and her
+sister, and that if that was the case she should never trouble them
+again. She did not write at all for several weeks, then she felt
+remorseful, but Herbert could not forgive her. He wrote coldly that
+Evelyn was still so unhinged as to be incapable of receiving letters
+without undue excitement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+Even now, when there is a certain amount of choice and liberty, a woman
+who is thrown on her own resources at thirty-nine, with no previous
+training, and no obvious claims and duties, does not find it very easy
+to know how to dispose of herself. But a generation ago the problem was
+far more difficult. Henrietta was well off for a single woman, but she
+was incapable, and not easy to get on with. She would have thought it
+derogatory to do any form of teaching--teaching, the natural refuge of a
+workless woman.
+
+Three or four courses presented themselves. First, philanthropy. She was
+not really more philanthropic than she had been at twenty, when her aunt
+had described to her the happiness of living for others. But she felt at
+nearly forty that charitable work was a reasonable way of filling up her
+time, on the whole, the most reasonable.
+
+She never had had much to do with poor people. Mrs. Symons had helped
+the charwoman, and the gardener, and the driver from the livery-stables,
+when they were in special difficulties, and Henrietta had continued to
+do so, and had had her hour at the hospital. That was all. There were
+the servants, of course, but with the exception of Ellen she looked on
+servants more as machines made for her convenience, liable to get out of
+order unless they were constantly watched.
+
+Entirely without enthusiasm, and with a dreary fighting against her lot,
+she made inquiries among her acquaintances as to where she might find
+charitable work. At length somebody knew somebody, who knew somebody who
+was working in London under a clergyman. After further inquiries it was
+found that the somebody was a lady, who would be very glad if Henrietta
+would come and live with her, while she saw how she liked the work.
+
+The clergyman, the lady, and all the other workers, were earnest,
+enthusiastic, high-minded, and full of common sense. Henrietta was not
+one of these things. She was also very inaccurate, unpunctual, and
+forgetful, and if her failings were pointed out to her in the gentlest
+way she took offence, not because she was conceited, but because at her
+age she was beyond having things pointed out. She stayed at the work six
+months, and during that time she was always offended with somebody, and
+sometimes with everybody.
+
+The work was conducted more on charity organization lines than was usual
+in those days; money was not given without due consideration and
+consultation. This was difficult, and required more thinking than
+Henrietta cared for, so she saved herself trouble by bestowing five
+shillings whenever she wanted, feeling at the bottom of her heart that
+if she could not be liked for herself, she would buy liking rather than
+not be liked at all. The five shillings, however, did not buy either
+gratitude or affection. She had always had a grudging way with people of
+a different class from herself, and a conviction, in spite of
+indiscriminate alms, that she was being taken in. This infringement of
+the rules drove the Vicar to exasperation. His whole heart was in his
+work, and Henrietta's disloyalty hindered him at every turn.
+
+"Can't she be asked to give up meddling in the parish?" he said to his
+wife.
+
+"No dear, you know she can't, and she is very generous, even if she is
+tiresome. She has often been very helpful to you. You ought to be
+grateful."
+
+"I'm not grateful," he said, striding about the room; "and then she is
+so petty, always these absurd squabbles. She hasn't got a spark of love
+for God or man. That's at the root of it all. We don't want a person of
+that sort here. If she cared about the people, even if she did pauperize
+them, I might think her a fool, but I could respect her; but you know
+she doesn't care for a soul but herself."
+
+"I don't think it is that, but she's in great trouble, I'm sure she is.
+When you were preaching about sorrow last Sunday, I saw her eyes were
+filled with tears."
+
+"Were they?" he said, "I'm sorry. But look here, dear, I don't think
+this sort of work ought to be used as a soothing syrup, or as a
+rubbish-shoot for loafers, who don't know what else to do. If people
+aren't doing it because they think it's the greatest privilege in the
+world to be allowed to do it, I can't see that they do much good."
+
+"I think you're too hard on her."
+
+"Am I? I expect I am. I know I'm fagged to death. She gives Mrs.
+Wilkins pounds on the sly, which the old lady's been transforming into
+gin, and then when I explain the circumstances and implore her to leave
+well alone, she talks my head off with a torrent of incoherent
+statements, which have nothing whatever to do with the point."
+
+It certainly was true that Henrietta did not do much good, and no one
+was more aware of this than herself. She stood outside the community,
+and looked in at them like a hungry beggar at a feast. How she envied
+their happiness, but she did not feel that she was, or ever could be, a
+partaker with them. As months passed on, she drew no nearer to them.
+They were all so busy, so strong in their union with one another, they
+did not seem to have time to stretch out a friendly hand to one who was
+at least as much in need of it as Mrs. Wilkins.
+
+The lady she lived with found her trying. "A very trying person" was the
+phrase that went the round about her, "always criticizing small
+arrangements about the meals and the housekeeping," for Henrietta could
+not at first reconcile herself to having no authority to exert, and this
+jangling was not a good preparation for sisterly sympathy towards her.
+
+The Vicar's wife might have become friends with her, but during the six
+months Henrietta was in the parish Mrs. Wharton was ill and hardly able
+to see anyone. Besides, she was shy, and the only time that Henrietta
+came to tea they never succeeded in getting beyond a comparison of
+foreign hotels.
+
+Henrietta would have liked to confide her troubles, but as she grew
+older she had become a great deal more reserved, and also these troubles
+she was ashamed to speak of. To think that she had made her own sister,
+ill and miserable as she was, more ill and more miserable, she could not
+forgive herself; she was even harder on herself than Herbert had been.
+
+As Mr. Wharton had said, it was useless engaging in this arduous work
+when her heart was elsewhere. When her six months of trial came to an
+end, it was clear that the only thing for her was to go. No one could
+pretend they were sorry, and as everyone imagined she was glad, there
+seemed no reason to disguise their feelings. They would have been
+surprised if they had known her thoughts as she sat at the evening
+service on her last Sunday. "Whatever I do, I fail; what is the use of
+my living? Why was I born?"
+
+She said to Mr. Wharton in her farewell interview: "I know I have been
+very stupid at learning what was to be done, and I have not been willing
+to take advice. Now I look back, I see the mistakes I have made, and I
+have done harm instead of good. I want to give you"--she named a large
+sum considering the size of her income--"to spend as you think right, I
+hope that may help to make amends. I am very sorry."
+
+He heard a quiver in her voice, and the dislike and irritation he had
+felt all the six months faded away.
+
+"This is much too generous of you," he stammered. "It is my fault, all
+my fault. I have been so irritable, I haven't made allowances. My wife
+tells me of it constantly. I wish you would forgive me and give us
+another chance. Stay six months longer."
+
+His awkwardness and distress almost disarmed her, but she had felt his
+snubs, and at nearly forty she was not going to be encouraged like a
+child. So that though for many reasons she longed to stay, she answered:
+"Thank you, it was a purely temporary arrangement; I have other plans."
+
+As she walked home she wondered what the other plans were.
+
+When in doubt, go abroad. She went abroad again for three months. Her
+companion was picked up from nowhere in particular, an odd woman like
+herself.
+
+They went to Italy. Neither of them cared in the smallest degree for
+sculpture, architecture, painting, archæology, poetry, history,
+politics, scenery, languages, or foreigners. These last Henrietta
+regarded as inferior Anglo-Indians regard natives, referring to them
+always as "those wretches."
+
+Like most women she loved certain aspects in her garden at home, which
+were connected with incidents in her life. There was a path bordered by
+roses, along which they had walked when Evelyn announced her engagement,
+and a special old apple-tree reminded her of the night her mother died.
+But to go and admire what Baedeker called a magnificent _coup d'oeil_
+was no sort of pleasure to her.
+
+However, she and Miss Gurney had one unending amusement, which Italy is
+peculiarly able to supply. They could make short visits to different
+towns, and fit sights into their days, as one fits pieces into a puzzle.
+Henrietta found this sport most satisfying.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+Just as they were getting tired of tables d'hôte dinners, there came to
+their hotel an enthusiast for learning. It was before the days of
+women's colleges; they were established, but frequented only by
+pioneers, in whose ranks no Henriettas are to be found. But courses of
+lectures were so ordinary that not even the most timid could look
+askance at them. As philanthropy had failed, and no one could pretend
+that art could be a resource for Henrietta,--her career of sketches and
+two part-songs had been phenomenally short (invaluable as it has proved
+itself for many Englishwomen suffering from her complaint)--everything
+pointed to study as the next solution on the list.
+
+Study. Henrietta had not read a book which required any mental exertion
+since her dozen chapters of "I Promessi Sposi," fifteen years ago.
+Still, the lectures sounded pleasant to her; they were a novelty, they
+were--she could not think of anything else they were--a novelty must be
+their claim to distinction.
+
+She and the travelling friend found a boarding-house near the
+lecture-room. London and the lodgings both looked dismal after the
+brightness of abroad, but they were excited at the prospect of
+establishing themselves on their own account. It was enterprising, but
+not too enterprising.
+
+Henrietta found a band of enthusiasts at the lecture; it seemed her fate
+to run up against enthusiasm she could not share. Young ladies,
+middle-aged ladies, even old ladies, all listening spellbound--at least
+if not absolutely spellbound, spellbound compared to Henrietta--to an
+elderly gentleman discoursing on Aristotle. For most of them Aristotle,
+and the satisfaction of using their minds were sufficient, but a little
+knot of middle-aged women in the front, with hair inclined to be short,
+and eyes bursting with intelligence, used learning as a symbol of
+emancipation. Lectures were their vote. Now they would be in prison.
+
+Henrietta listened for five minutes, then suddenly her thoughts darted
+to her portmanteau: she had lost the key at Dieppe. They went on to the
+incivility at the Custom-house, the incivility of the waiter at Bâle,
+the incivility of the gardener at her old home, the geranium bed in the
+garden--would her stepmother attend to it?--her father, was his eyesight
+really failing? She came back with a jump to find that the lecture had
+moved on several pages. She listened with fair success for another five
+minutes, then her mind wandered to her landlady at the lodgings; was she
+perfectly honest, did her expression inspire confidence? There was that
+pearl brooch Louie had given her; it was Louie's birthday to-morrow, she
+must write, and hear also how Tom was getting on in this his second term
+at school, she must send him a hamper. She had settled the contents of
+the hamper when she found that someone was speaking to her. The lecturer
+was asking whether she felt she would care to write a paper. He hoped as
+many ladies as possible would make an attempt at the papers; it would be
+a great pleasure and interest to him to look through them, etc.
+
+On the way back she found Miss Gurney entranced with everything; she
+seemed to have picked up a great deal more than Henrietta. They went at
+once to a library and a bookshop to get what they had been advised to
+read, and Miss Gurney bought reams of paper. She was hard at work the
+whole evening. Henrietta had one of the books open before her, but she
+found the same difficulty in concentrating herself that she had done at
+the lecture. Miss Gurney was rapidly filling an exercise book with an
+abstract, and was keeping up a conversation as well.
+
+"Ah _that_ was the piece I couldn't quite understand this morning. Yes I
+see, now it is quite clear. Look, Miss Symons. Oh, I shall learn Greek,
+I certainly shall, as he said, it will make it twenty times more
+interesting."
+
+What were they all so excited about? Henrietta had never cared about
+abstract questions, and she could not see that there was any object in
+discovering what the ancient Greeks thought about them more than two
+thousand years ago. The evening before, she and Miss Gurney had had an
+interesting conversation on the weekly averages of house-books. Then she
+felt comfortable and on the solid earth. Why then, was she attending
+lectures on Aristotle? Well, because Miss Gurney had a friend whose
+cousin had married the lecturer, Professor Amery, and in the difficult
+problem of choosing a subject, when there was nothing she really cared
+to know about, this was as good a reason as any other.
+
+Then Henrietta remembered how she and Emily Mence years ago at school,
+had argued the whole of Saturday afternoon about Mary Queen of Scots,
+and had not been on speaking terms the following day, because Emily had
+called Mary frivolous. Had she ever really been that queer little girl?
+Still she was anxious to give the lecturer a chance, most anxious, for
+she had already had to suffer from Minna and Louie's sympathy that the
+parish work was a failure. She read three chapters and fell asleep in
+the middle of the fourth, and went to bed half an hour earlier than
+usual. Next morning she could not remember a word of what she had read,
+but for two dates and one sentence, which remained in her head. "Even
+now, in the latter half of the nineteenth century, in spite of an
+unparalleled advance in our knowledge of the natural sciences, the world
+has not yet produced a mind, which can equal that of Aristotle in its
+astounding versatility and profundity of learning." She determined to
+persevere, but was it her subconscious self which discovered a vast
+arrear of letters which it was incumbent on her to answer before she
+thought of anything else?
+
+After the lecture there was a class at which everyone talked. Even the
+dear old lady next to Henrietta was asking a quavering question. Yes, a
+little delicate old lady had energy to keep the current of the lecture
+in her head. She said that Aristotle's problem whether it was possible
+for slaves to have ordinary virtues, made her think of the difference in
+the Christian teaching of St. Paul's epistles. Had any of the other
+Greek philosophers been more humane in their views on slavery? Then
+another voice struck in, and compared the ancient idea of slavery with
+the slave code of the United States. The voice was rather strident, but
+not unpleasant. It had a great deal to say, and for some minutes seemed
+likely to take the lecture altogether from the mouth of the lecturer.
+Henrietta looked in its direction, and saw a small apple-cheeked elderly
+lady. The voice and the face both set her thinking, and by the end of
+the lecture she was certain that the elderly lady was Miss Arundel. She
+spoke, and when Miss Arundel had recollected who she was (it took a
+little time), Henrietta received a most cordial invitation to tea.
+
+Miss Arundel lived with a niece in a couple of rooms quite close to
+Henrietta. Mrs. Marston was dead, and Miss Arundel had retired from the
+school with just enough to live in decent comfort.
+
+"So now, after teaching all my life, I am giving myself the treat of
+learning, and I can't tell you how I am enjoying it, Miss Symons. Ada
+and I both like Professor Amery so much." And she prosed on about the
+lecture and the books she was reading, and did not much care to talk
+over the old times, which were still very dear to Henrietta. It amazed
+Henrietta to think that she had once blushed and trembled at the look of
+this fussy, garrulous little governess.
+
+She might be something of a bore, but there was no question of her
+happiness, her interest in life. She had been getting up at six the last
+three mornings that she might finish a book, a large book in two volumes
+with close print, that had to be returned to the library. Henrietta
+could imagine nothing in the world for which she would get up at six
+o'clock. Then her thoughts went like lightning to the morning when the
+telegram had come telling of little Madeline's death. The wound she had
+thought healed burst out afresh; for a few seconds she felt as if she
+could hardly breathe. Get up at six o'clock, of course she would have
+forfeited her sleep with joy, night after night. In the midst of envy,
+she felt something like contempt for Miss Arundel as a child running
+after shadows.
+
+On her way home, she compared her past with Miss Arundel's. Miss Arundel
+could look back on busy, successful, happy years. Her room was filled
+with tributes from old pupils, they were continually writing to her and
+coming to see her, that Henrietta knew; she did not know how often they
+had thanked her, and told her what they owed her.
+
+Then she envied Miss Arundel's powers of mind. After forty years of
+unceasing and exhausting work she seemed as fresh as a schoolgirl, and
+far more capable of learning, while Henrietta after twenty years of
+rest, had not merely lost all the qualities she had had as a child, but
+had gained none from age and experience to take their place. The
+realization of this fact startled and humiliated her. If her powers had
+already declined at forty, what was to happen in the twenty years of
+life that she might reasonably count upon as still before her?
+
+She thought of Miss Arundel's words: "Etta Symons is a girl with
+possibilities; I shall be interested to see how she will turn out." Miss
+Arundel had long forgotten them, and now looked on Henrietta simply as a
+co-member of the lectures, but she said to her niece after Henrietta had
+been to tea, "What a very no-how person Miss Symons is; I should like to
+shake her."
+
+Henrietta tried her hardest to work at the lectures, to recover if
+possible what she had lost, but it was no use. A person of more
+character and determination might have succeeded, in spite of the long
+years of mental self-indulgence, so might a person more ready to take
+advice. But at forty, as I have said, she felt she was beyond advice, so
+she would not notice Miss Gurney's hints. She chose to despise her
+numberings and brackets, though she was half-envious of them. And,
+however contemptible these aids may be to a real student, they were
+evidently the one hope for Henrietta's foggy mind.
+
+She began a paper on the sly, and with much sweat of brow the following
+sentence emerged: "There are a number of celebrated writers in ancient
+Greece, and among the number we may notice Aristotle, who wrote a number
+of celebrated books, among which two called the 'Ethics' and 'Republic'
+are very celebrated. He also wrote many other works, but none are so
+celebrated as the two above mentioned." She had not written a paper for
+twenty-three years, and she felt as helpless as if she were trying to
+express herself in French. Her essays had been well thought of at
+school.
+
+As she was floundering along, up came Miss Gurney and looked over her
+shoulder. "Oh Miss Symons, I should have a margin if I were you; I know
+Professor Amery likes a margin for the corrections, he said so himself.
+Oh, and you don't mind my saying so, but Aristotle did not write a
+republic. Shall I just scratch that out? That was Plato. And I should
+have a new paragraph there; and I always find, I don't know if you will,
+that it makes it easier to underline some of the words."
+
+"I am not at all certain that I am going to write a paper," said
+Henrietta. "I just wrote a few notes down to amuse myself."
+
+"Oh, I'm so sorry, dear. Well, if you should think of doing the paper,
+you must read this article, it's such a help, it really puts all one
+wants to say."
+
+"Oh no, I shouldn't care to read that at all."
+
+"Oh do. Let me put it here, and then you can look at it."
+
+"No, thank you."
+
+Miss Gurney went out, and Henrietta sat at her paper for two hours and a
+half. It was so bad, so unintelligible, that she actually cried over it,
+and when she heard Miss Gurney's step, she carried it off to her bedroom
+and locked the door. Miss Gurney was after her in an instant.
+
+"How are you getting on with your paper, dear? Can I be of any help?"
+
+She did finish it at last, and gave it to Mr. Amery. She knew it was
+bad, but she was too ignorant to know quite how bad. Professor Amery,
+with the extreme courtesy of elderly gentlemen, wrote: "I think there
+are one or two points which I have not made quite clear. Would you care
+to talk them over with me after the class?" But this offer was so
+alarming that Henrietta "cut" her lectures for two weeks.
+
+There would have been more chance for her, if only she could have become
+in the least interested. She tried the French Revolution next term for
+a change, but liked it no better than Aristotle. Intellectual life was
+dead and buried in her long ago. What would have really suited her best
+in the present circumstances would have been shorthand and type-writing,
+but at that time no such occupation was open to her.
+
+She would perhaps have jogged on indefinitely at the lectures, if Miss
+Gurney, whose great interest was novelty and change, and whose abstracts
+of learned books had lately become much less voluminous, had not jumped
+at a suggestion to take a delicate niece abroad, and proposed that
+Henrietta should come too. So Henrietta consented, and with little
+regret they gave up the lodgings, and said good-bye to learning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+Henrietta paid her father a visit before they started abroad. The
+promise of the first days was amply fulfilled; the whole house was
+happy, and Henrietta was touched by the warmth of her welcome. After the
+squalor of lodgings home was pleasant, and her father's invitation was
+cordial: "Henrietta, why don't you stay with us? Mildred," with a fond
+look at his wife, "never will allow your room to be used; it's always
+ready waiting for you."
+
+It was a temptation to Henrietta, but she refused partly from pride,
+from a feeling that she ought not to disturb the present comfort, but
+also because it was getting a principle with her, as apparently with
+many middle-aged Englishwoman, that she must always be going abroad. Yet
+she knew that Miss Gurney did not particularly want to have her, and had
+invited her more from laziness than from anything else.
+
+They went abroad--it was to the Italian Lakes--and a life of sitting in
+the sun, walking up and down promenades, short drives, and making and
+unmaking of desultory friendships began. They grumbled a good deal to
+third parties, but still they were happy enough, according to their low
+standard of happiness.
+
+As they were abroad for an indefinite period, there was none of the
+feeling of rush, which they had enjoyed so much before, but sometimes
+they played the Italian game, and had packed-in days; called, 6.45;
+coffee, 7.30; train, 8.21; arrive at destination, 11.23; go to Croce
+d'Oro for coffee, visit churches of Santa Maria and San Giovanni, and
+museum: _table d'hôte_ luncheon, 1.30; drive to Roman remains, back to
+Croce d'Oro for tea; separate for shopping and meet at station, 5.20,
+for train, 5.30; back for special _table d'hôte_ kept for them in the
+_salle à manger_. Henrietta would settle it all with Baedeker and the
+railway guide the night before, and if she had felt apprehension at her
+failing powers in history, her grasp of this kind of day could not have
+been bettered. Everything was seen and everything was timed, and the
+only person who might have something to complain of, was the delicate
+niece, who went through her treat too exhausted to open her mouth,
+counting the hours when she might go to her bed in peace.
+
+At last Miss Gurney and the niece decided to return to England.
+Henrietta found some Americans who wanted to stay at Montreux, and they
+asked her to join them. After Montreux came Chamounix, and in the autumn
+Miss Gurney's niece came out again, and she and Henrietta stayed at
+Como, and then at Mentone till April. Then came Switzerland again. Then
+Henrietta went to England for a round of visits, and by the end of them
+she was longing to be back abroad. She said that England was depressing,
+and gave her rheumatism, and that she (in the best of health and prime
+of life) could not face an English winter. The fact was she did not care
+for the sharing of other people's lives which is expected from a
+visitor, and her long sojourn in hotels with no one but herself to
+consider, had made her less easy to live with. So without exactly
+knowing how, she drifted into spending almost all her time abroad. Every
+other year she came back for visits in the summer, but in the spring,
+autumn, and winter she wandered from one cheap _pension_ to another in
+Italy, France, Germany, Belgium, or Switzerland.
+
+If she had led a half-occupied life as keeper of her father's house, she
+now learnt the art of getting through a day in which she did absolutely
+nothing. When she became accustomed to it, the very smallest service
+required of her was regarded as a cross. Sometimes a relation would
+commission her to buy something abroad, and then the _salle à manger_
+would resound with wails, because she must go round the corner, select
+an article, and give orders to the shopman to despatch it to England.
+The friends who asked her to engage rooms for them at an hotel, had
+cause to rue their request; they never heard the end of it.
+
+Many lonely women receive great solace from their church, and give
+solace in return. Where would the church and the poor be without them?
+But Henrietta was never long enough in her caravanserais to become
+attached to the services of the chaplains in the _salle à manger_, and
+she soon gave up churchgoing. At first she spent a great deal of time
+inventing reasons to keep her conscience quiet, such as that it had
+rained in the night and therefore might rain again, or that she did not
+approve of chanting Amen, but later she did not see why there should be
+a reason, and left her conscious to its remorse.
+
+Bad health is another resource for unoccupied women, and it certainly
+occurred to her as an occupation, but she realized that it and roving
+cannot be combined, and of the two she preferred roving.
+
+Her chief pastime was to skim through novels, any novels that could be
+found, costume novels of English history by preference. This was how her
+bent for learning satisfied itself. She never remembered the author, or
+title, or anything of what she read, but at the same time she was
+obsessed with the idea that she must always have something new, and
+would constantly accuse her friends, or the library, of deceiving her
+with books she had read before. "If you can't remember, what does it
+matter?" her dreadfully reasonable nieces would exclaim, not realizing
+that her sole interest in the novels was the collector's interest of
+seeing how many new ones she could find.
+
+A second pastime was her patience, that bond which knits together our
+occidental civilization. She was always learning new patiences, and
+always mixing them up with one another. This was another source of
+annoyance to efficient nieces. "But that is not demon, Aunt Etta," they
+would explain, playing patience severely from a sense of duty. She
+cheated so persistently that there was no room for skill. "I can't
+conceive why you play," they said crossly. But the reason was perfectly
+clear. It stared one in the face. During the patience the clock had
+moved from ten minutes past eight to twenty-five minutes to ten.
+
+Henrietta also killed time now and then with sights; not churches or old
+pictures, of course she never went near masterpieces now she had ample
+leisure for seeing them, but Easter services, royal birthday
+processions, or battles of flowers. As she seldom broke her routine of
+idleness, these occasions excited her, not with pleasurable
+anticipation, but with a nervous fluster that she might somehow miss
+something; and the concierge, the porter, Madame, and the head-waiter,
+would all be flying about the hotel half an hour before it was necessary
+for her to start, sent on some perfectly useless errand connected with
+her outing. If it rained, if something went wrong, how she grumbled. And
+when she did see her show, it gave her very little pleasure. She had
+not in the least a child's mind; she was not pleased by small events,
+yet she grasped desperately after them, with an absurd, hazy idea that
+she was defrauded of her rights, if she did not see them.
+
+Another interest was an enormous collection of photographs of places,
+which she had not cared for at the time, and could not in the least
+remember; another her address-book of pensions and hotels, to which she
+was always adding new volumes; above all, grumbling. Favourite subjects
+were her kettle and her methylated spirits, whether the hotel would
+allow her to take up milk and sugar from breakfast, whether the
+chambermaid abstracted the biscuits she brought from dessert overnight.
+Everyone who came in contact with Miss Symons found they were made to
+listen to an endless story of a certain Elise who had stolen the
+biscuits and substituted other ones that were quite four days old, and
+of Elise's brazen behaviour when charged with the offence.
+
+Her standard of comfort at a hotel was so impossible that she became an
+object of terror and dislike to the waiters and chambermaids. She was
+punctual in payment, but very grasping, and wrung many concessions from
+the hotels by a persistence which no men and few women would have had
+the courage to display. She was always seeking the ideal hotel, and for
+this reason she was always wandering, and never was long enough in one
+place to strike any roots and create a feeling of home. This life
+corroded her character. She became more bad-tempered and nagging, always
+up in arms, scenting out liberties, and thinking she was taken advantage
+of. She was not a character which does well by itself, and under a
+domineering manner she concealed her weakness, vacillation, and
+timidity. She was divorced from every duty, every responsibility, every
+natural tie, with no outlet for her interest or her sympathy. It seems
+inconceivable that she should willingly have led such an existence. She
+was however, much more satisfied with herself and with things in
+general, than she had formerly been. She did not have stormy repentances
+or outbursts against her lot; she no longer desired what was
+unattainable. If she did not have a particularly high standard of
+happiness or of character, neither, in her opinion, had the rest of the
+world. Not that she thought much of these things. Over-thinking and
+over-longing had caused her much misery in early life, and she shrank
+from opening all those wounds again. She faced facts as little as she
+could. She lived from day to day, and her inner self was really very
+much what her outer self seemed, absorbed in the very small round of
+events which concerned her. The days passed, the months passed, the
+years passed. She saw them go unregretted, and when they were gone, she
+did not remember them. Nothing had happened in them, bad or good, to
+mark their course.
+
+"What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in
+faculty, in form, in moving how express and admirable, in action how
+like an angel, in apprehension how like a god, the beauty of the world,
+the paragon of animals!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+It has been shown that Henrietta had not much power of attracting
+affection to herself, and she had long ceased to desire it. She was now
+brought into contact with numbers of different people, and as travelling
+acquaintances she liked them, but when they parted, she did not want to
+see them again.
+
+There was, however, an exception to this rule. Henrietta found many
+companions in misfortune, expatriated either from health, pleasure, or
+poverty. An intelligent foreigner has inquired whether there are any
+single elderly ladies left in England, so innumerable are the hosts
+abroad. Some, like her, had worn their personalities so thin that it
+seemed likely they would eventually become shadows with no character
+left; others were nice and cheerful, and made little encampments in the
+wilderness, so that the unfortunates might gather round them, and almost
+feel they had got a home.
+
+It was in the room of a nice one that Henrietta met a Colonel. There are
+fewer occupationless Englishmen abroad, but there is a fair
+supply--half-pay officers, consumptives, and mysterious creatures, who
+have no good reason for being there. They were a strange medley for
+Henrietta to associate with, people whom in her palmy days, as mistress
+of her father's house, she would have thought unspeakable. She had none
+of this generation's tolerance and love of new sensations to attract her
+to unsatisfactory people. She only really liked conventional
+respectability.
+
+This Colonel was not respectable. He was not a Colonel in the English
+army, and never would say much about himself. He was very pleasant and
+polite, and Henrietta, as she walked back to table d'hôte, felt she had
+spent a livelier afternoon than usual. It was at the beginning of the
+season, and looking back six weeks later she was astonished to find how
+often they had met.
+
+Shortly after, the lady in whose room Henrietta had first seen him,
+asked her to tea. She did not seem quite so easy-going as usual, and at
+last began: "You know, Miss Symons, my cousin, Colonel Hilton, is rather
+a peculiar man. I've known him all my life, and I don't think there is
+any harm in him, but money is his difficulty. He ought to be well off,
+but it always seems to slip through his fingers."
+
+Henrietta realized that this was a warning.
+
+At the end of the season he proposed and she accepted him. She knew he
+proposed for her money, and she knew that, besides being mercenary, he
+was a poor creature in every way. Most people could not have borne long
+with his society, but she, unaccustomed to companionship, felt that he
+sufficed her. She did not think much of the future. When she did, she
+realized that it was hardly possible they could marry. But meanwhile it
+was something--she would have been ashamed to own how much--to have
+someone call her "dear." Once he attained to "dearest," but he was
+evidently frightened at his temerity, and did not repeat the experiment.
+
+She announced the engagement, and a letter from Minna came flying to the
+Riviera, saying that all sorts of terrible things were known about the
+Colonel, and imploring Henrietta to desist. She did not desist, but very
+soon the Colonel did, having discovered that her fortune was not so
+large as he had been given to suppose. There was a solid something it is
+true, but for Henrietta, quite middle-aged and decidedly cross (she
+imagined she was never cross with him), he felt he must have a very
+considerable something. He wrote a letter breaking off the engagement,
+and left the Riviera abruptly, having made a good thing out of his
+season. Henrietta had lent him, _he_ said--given, others said--over
+three hundred pounds.
+
+"And now we shall have a terrible piece of work," said Minna to Louie.
+"You know what Henrietta always is--what she was about that other affair
+with a man years ago, and again when Evelyn's little girl died. She gets
+so excited and overwrought."
+
+But Henrietta quite upset their expectations. This, which most people
+might have thought the most serious misfortune which had befallen her,
+affected her very little. In her heart of hearts she was saying: "Well,
+when all's said and done, I've had my offer like everyone else." She was
+grateful for the "dears" too. She did not realize that there had been
+absolutely nothing behind them. She answered the Colonel's speedy
+application for more money, and continued to send him supplies from
+time to time.
+
+Evelyn and Herbert had returned to England, and had settled on the South
+Coast. Two boys had been born in Canada, and had grown and prospered.
+Henrietta stayed with Evelyn for a fortnight whenever she was back in
+England, but somehow the visits were not the pleasure they should have
+been.
+
+Evelyn was still delicate, and Herbert had begged Henrietta when she saw
+her to make no allusion to their loss. Evelyn was delighted at showing
+her boys, and Henrietta was pleased for her that she should have them,
+but to her they did not in the least take the place of the dead. They
+were not hers; she was almost indignant with Evelyn for caring for them
+so much, and accused her in her heart of forgetfulness. This made her
+irritable, which Herbert resented, and then Evelyn was nervous because
+Herbert and Henrietta did not get on well together. Evelyn's letters to
+her were very affectionate, the only real pleasure, in any reasonable
+sense of the word, in Henrietta's life.
+
+Sometimes Evelyn and her husband and boys came out to stay with
+Henrietta. The visits were not occasions of much happiness, and a
+certain day remained for years as a mild nightmare in Evelyn's memory.
+They were all in Milan one spring, when the patron of the hotel
+announced that his lady cousin, who lived at some out-of-the-way little
+country town, had heard from her friend, a priest in that same little
+town, that on Tuesday there was to be a special festa in connection with
+a local saint. Would the English ladies and gentlemen care to go? The
+patron himself had the contempt of an enlightened man for saints and
+festas, but he knew the curious attraction which such childishness
+possesses for the English tourist.
+
+All was arranged. The railway company had never intended that the little
+town should be reached from Milan, but with an early start and much
+changing of trains it was possible to accomplish the journey in two
+hours and a half.
+
+They arrived. There was no surprise among the hotel omnibuses at their
+appearance, for the Italians have found that the English will turn up
+everywhere; but to-day they were certainly the only representatives of
+their nation.
+
+They reached the church where the festa was to take place. It was
+sleeping peacefully, brooded over by a delicious, sweet smell of dirt
+and stale incense. Not a soul was to be seen. But as the party marched
+indignantly up and down the aisles, another smell comes to join the
+incense--garlic. A merry, good-humoured little priest appears; it is the
+friend of the lady cousin.
+
+He knew no English but "Yis, Yis"; they little Italian but the
+essentials for travel: "Troppo, bello, antiquo." At the word "festa" he
+shook his head very sadly, and he said "Domani" so many times that, with
+the help of Henrietta's little phrase-book, they found it must mean
+"To-morrow." They had come the wrong day. He was very much distressed
+about it. To make up, if possible, for the disappointment, he showed
+them all over the church and sacristy; he did not miss one memorial
+tablet, not one disappearing fresco, and knowing the taste of the
+English, he said, as each new item was displayed: "Molto, _molto_
+antiquo."
+
+He was so much attracted by Evelyn's charming middle-aged beauty and her
+sweet English voice that when Santa Barbara's was exhausted, he could
+not resist showing them, what he cared for much more, his own little
+brand-new mission church, with its brilliant rosy-cheeked images and
+artificial wreaths. The boys, fifteen and seventeen, had had enough of
+churches after two days at Milan, and Evelyn could hear from Herbert's
+conscientious, stumping tread that he was examining the church because a
+soldier must always do his duty.
+
+At length it was over; they came out into the sunshine, and the big town
+clock struck a quarter to eleven. Their train home left at 5.30. The two
+churches had only used up an hour and a quarter.
+
+"Now, dearest," said Herbert firmly, "I dare say you and Etta will like
+a little rest. Suppose I and the boys get a walk in the country; and
+don't wait lunch for us, you know. I dare say we can get something at
+one of those little wine places one sees about."
+
+They managed to construct a sentence for the priest, who was standing
+nodding by them: "Are there any pretty walks in the neighbourhood?"
+
+Smiling genially, he pointed to an answer which the phrase-book
+translated: "The landscape presents a grandiose panorama."
+
+Evelyn gave the priest a contribution to his mission church. He was
+overwhelmed with surprise and pleasure at this good action on the part
+of a heretic, it added to his pleasure that she was such a beautiful
+heretic, and when, as they said good-bye, Evelyn wished that they might
+meet again, he replied, with his face all over smiles, "I hope perhaps
+in Paradise"; he could not speak with absolute certainty. Something in
+the way he said it brought tears to Evelyn's eyes, and Henrietta, who
+was looking on and listening, thought with a little envy that none of
+the many priests or pastors, few even of the laity she had encountered
+in her wanderings, had ever hoped to meet _her_ again either in heaven
+or on earth. After many affectionate bows, he said good-bye.
+
+The sisters were scarcely half an hour buying picture postcards (there
+had been nothing else to do, so they had bought more picture postcards
+than it seemed possible could be bought), when rain came on--not gentle
+English rain, but the fierce cataracts of Italy, let loose for the rest
+of the day. Back came Herbert and the boys, who had somehow missed the
+grandiose panorama. It had, in fact, been created entirely out of
+politeness by the priest.
+
+After lunch, which they prolonged to its farthest limit, there was
+nothing for it but the salon, a small room, with its window darkened by
+the verandah outside. Madame brought in yesterday's _Tribuna_, and they
+found an illustrated catalogue of hotels in Dresden. Oh, that three
+hours and a half! The boys and Herbert would have been content to sit
+with their shoulders hutched up, staring at their boots, going every
+quarter of an hour to the front-door to see if it were raining as hard
+there as it was out of the salon window, and Evelyn only wanted to be
+left in silence with her headache. But Henrietta would tease the boys.
+Whatever they did do, or whatever they did not do, seemed an occasion
+for criticism. Evelyn, to divert attention, burst into long
+reminiscences of the days at Willstead. Henrietta combated each
+statement with a kind of sneer, as though whatever Evelyn said was bound
+to be worthless. Evelyn saw Herbert, who always treated her as if she
+were a wonderful queen, casting black looks at Henrietta. At last his
+anger came out:
+
+"I don't know why it seems impossible for you to talk to Evelyn with
+ordinary civility, Henrietta."
+
+"My dearest boy," said Evelyn, going and patting Herbert's shoulder,
+"Etty and I don't care about ordinary civility. We love having our
+little spars together. Sisters don't bother to be as polite as men are
+to one another; life would be much too much of a burden!"
+
+She gave Henrietta's hand a squeeze, as she went back to her seat, but
+after this Henrietta would hardly talk at all, and the reminiscences
+became a monologue from Evelyn.
+
+At last, at long last, the train came, and Henrietta forgot her
+disappointment in sleep. The happy day she had looked forward to, and
+planned, and paid for, was over.
+
+Louie and her Colonel did not thrive better as the years went on. Money
+never seemed able to stay with them. Henrietta helped them long after
+everyone else had become tired of them. She did not expect gratitude,
+nor did she get it. In spite of her dependence, Louie managed to convey
+the impression of Henrietta's inferiority, and the children spoke of her
+as a butt.
+
+"Oh, it's Aunt Etta's year; it really is rather a fag to think we shall
+have her for three weeks. Ethel, it's your turn to take her in tow; I
+had her all last time."
+
+"Poor Etta!" said Minna; "she is such an interminable talker, it does
+worry Arthur so. She means very well; we all know that."
+
+Minna's children were very much of the twentieth century, and were not
+going to bear with a dull old maid, merely because she was their aunt
+and had been kind to them. As one of them expressed it, "Never put
+yourself out for a relation, however distant. That's an axiom."
+
+Little as the younger generation thought of her, she thought something
+of them, and the second week in December, when she chose her Christmas
+presents for all her nieces and nephews, was the pleasantest week in the
+year to her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+Henrietta had been fourteen years abroad, when she came to pay her
+biennial visit to Evelyn.
+
+"Who do you think has come to live here, Henrietta?" said Evelyn, as
+they sat talking the first evening. "Ellen."
+
+"Ellen?"
+
+"Yes, our dear old Ellen--Mrs. Plumtree. She's a widow now. Her eldest
+son is working here, and she is living with him and his wife. I went to
+see her last week, and she was so delighted to talk over old times, and
+when she heard you were coming, she was so excited. You were always her
+favourite."
+
+A few days afterwards they went, to find Ellen a very hale old lady. In
+spite of having brought up a large family of her own, she had the
+clearest remembrance of apparently every incident of the childhood of
+"you two young ladies" (so she still called them) as though she had
+never had any other interest in life.
+
+"Oh, and, Miss Etta," she said, "what a sight you did think of Miss
+Evie! I never knew a child take so to anyone before. 'She's quite a
+little mother,' I often used to say to Sarah. Do you remember Sarah? She
+died only last year; she suffered dreadful with her heart. Do you
+remember how you always would go to put your hand into the water before
+I gave Miss Evie her bath, because you wanted to be sure it wasn't too
+hot? Every evening you did it; and one day you were out late, and Miss
+Evie was in bed before you came in, and you cried because you hadn't
+been able to do it."
+
+Neither sister found it easy to speak, but Ellen wanted very little
+encouragement.
+
+"Sometimes as a great treat, when you was a little older, Miss Evie, I
+let you sleep in Miss Etty's bed, and she used to lay and cuddle you so
+pretty. And the canary, Miss Etta--do you remember that? When Miss
+Evie's dickie died, you went all the way to Willstead by yourself and
+bought a new canary, so that she might never know her dickie died. Your
+mamma was very angry with you, I remember; but there was nothing you
+wouldn't do for Miss Evie."
+
+The sisters walked back in silence; their hearts were too full for
+speech. There was no time for private conversation till night, when
+Evelyn came into Henrietta's room, and flung her arms round her.
+
+"Darling, darling Etta," she said, "I could hardly bear it, when Ellen
+was talking. To think of all that you were to me, all that you did for
+me, and that I should have forgotten it. Oh, how is it that we've got
+apart?"
+
+"I don't know," said Henrietta; "I don't think there is anything much to
+like in me. No one does care for me. I think if no one likes one, one
+doesn't deserve to be liked."
+
+"Oh, nothing in this life goes by deserts."
+
+"People love you, and they're quite right; you ought to be loved. You
+did care for me once, though. Herbert wrote--you know, when we lost--'A
+good cry with you will be more comfort to Evelyn than anything else.'
+Even then, in the middle of it all, it made me happy."
+
+"Oh, Etta, what you were to me then!"
+
+Henrietta took Evelyn's hand and squeezed it convulsively. When she
+could speak, she said: "Evelyn, do you ever think of our children?"
+
+"Think of them--of course I do. Do you, Etta?"
+
+"I used to, but I tried not to--it was too bitter. The children were
+what I lived for, and I don't think of them often now. It's past and
+gone."
+
+"Oh, I couldn't live if I didn't. I don't think it is bitter now. These
+dear boys, they're not quite the same to me as the ones that were
+taken."
+
+"I thought you'd forgotten them."
+
+"I thought you had, Etta, and I couldn't help feeling it."
+
+"Herbert asked me never to speak about them to you."
+
+"Dear Herbert, he is so good--I can't tell you how good he is to me--but
+he never will mention them. First of all I was so ill, I couldn't stand
+talking of them, but now I can, and I do long for it. He doesn't forget
+them, I know, but I think men live more in the present than we do; and
+he has his work, which absorbs him very much, and it isn't quite the
+same for a man. And then they were so delicate, particularly Madeline,
+that I was wrapped up in them all their lives; and they were so small,
+he couldn't see much of them."
+
+"Do you feel that you could tell me about them?"
+
+"Yes, I should like to."
+
+They talked far into the night. Herbert was away, so that there was no
+one to stop them, and when at last the dawn drove them to bed, Evelyn
+said: "I can't tell you how much good you've done me. I seem to have
+been living for this for fifteen years."
+
+They neither of them slept at all that night. Both were full of remorse,
+but Henrietta's was the bitterest. The life which had seemed to do quite
+well enough all these years, suddenly appeared to her as it was. She
+contrasted her present self with the little girl Ellen had known. Like
+Jane Eyre, she "drew her own picture faithfully without softening one
+defect. She omitted no hard line, smoothed away no displeasing
+irregularity." She had squabbled, that very afternoon, if it is possible
+to squabble when only one party does the squabbling, all the way down to
+Ellen's about various quite unimportant dates in William's life. The
+incident was almost as much a part of her day's routine as eating her
+breakfast. Now it seemed to her a manifestation of the degradation into
+which she had fallen.
+
+The power and vividness of her memory, magnified ten times by the
+mysterious agency of midnight, brought back the words of advice of Emily
+Mence, of Minna, and of her aunt, just as if they had been spoken last
+week. She had entirely forgotten them for years. Now they kept rushing
+through her head hour after hour.
+
+Before breakfast Evelyn came into her room, her eyes shining with
+agitation, and looking so flushed that Henrietta saw what need there had
+been for Herbert's caution.
+
+"Etty," she said, "I've been thinking all night; I can't bear your
+living in this horrible way: no home, away by yourself, so that we see
+nothing of you. Come and live here, live with us. We shan't interfere
+with you; you shall come and go as you like. Or live in the village,
+there is a dear little house just made for you. Only come and be near
+us."
+
+Henrietta was sorely tempted, it was a great sacrifice to say no. But
+she knew that Herbert only tolerated her for Evelyn's sake, and that the
+boys, rather spoilt and self-important, found her a nuisance. She knew
+also that she could not trust herself to be pleasant and good-tempered.
+If she came, it would not be for Evelyn's happiness. So she refused,
+and even in her fervour of love for Henrietta, Evelyn could not help
+realizing it was best that she should.
+
+At the same time that talk was a turning-point in Henrietta's life. She
+never felt after it that she was completely unwanted. Although she would
+not live with Evelyn, she thought she might justifiably come and be much
+nearer her, and she gave up the roving life and returned to England. It
+had in fact satisfied her, only because she had felt so uncared-for that
+she became insignificant even to herself.
+
+Where should she live? She knew that every place where she had relations
+would not do, but this only ruled out four of the towns of the United
+Kingdom. It must be a town; on that point she was clear. As she cared
+for none of the special advantages of a town, its more lively society,
+its greater opportunities for entertainment and intellectual interests,
+she was particularly insistent that she could not do without them. What
+she wanted was a house with room for herself, two maids, and a couple of
+visitors. Such a house is to be found in tens and hundreds everywhere.
+She went round and round England in a fruitless search.
+
+As a _pension habituée_ the whole arrangement of her life had been
+taken out of her hands; even her clothes had been settled for her by one
+of those octopus London firms which like to reduce their customers to
+dummies; and her transit from hotel to hotel, and from English visits
+back to hotels, had become a mere automatic process. She had not made a
+decision for so many years that though her nieces and nephews were witty
+over her vacillation, and declared that she enjoyed being a nuisance, it
+was a fact that she was trying her best to be sensible and competent.
+She, with no go-between, no protector, must determine which was most
+important--gravel soil or southern aspect. She felt as she had felt
+years ago, when she wrote her paper for Professor Amery, only ten times
+more bewildered, almost delirious.
+
+Of course, her nieces constantly talked her over, shaking their heads
+and saying: "If only Aunt Etta would let us." But however weak she was,
+she was firm in this: she would _not_ be helped. The outward sign of her
+bewilderment was extreme crossness, particularly to Evelyn, who was
+allowed to accompany her in her search, and to hear her remarks without
+making any suggestions. "I will thank you to let me decide about my own
+house by myself." They had examined nine houses that day, and were both
+almost weeping with exhaustion.
+
+Evelyn could not help feeling exasperated, but when Etta stumbled the
+moment after from sheer nervousness, and Evelyn caught hold of her hand,
+she realized from its hot trembling grasp how hard it is to come back to
+life again.
+
+Henrietta would probably never have found the right spot, if a timely
+attack of rheumatism had not persuaded her to fix on Bath. When she had
+settled into her house at last, she hated it. She dismissed five
+servants in two months. She was so dull, no one called; Bath was so
+cold. If only she could let her house and go abroad for the winter.
+Happily no suitable tenant appeared, and gradually Bath grew into a
+habit and she became resigned. But it was long, very long, before she
+would own that she liked it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+And now a happier and more useful course of life began. Henrietta had
+just enough rheumatism to take a course of waters sometimes. She found a
+doctor who had a great _flair_ for elderly ladies; he knew when to bully
+them, when to flatter them, and when to neglect them. He and the waters
+made a centre round which the rest of her interests might group
+themselves. Church. She found a vicar with nothing of Mr. Wharton's
+enthusiasm and loftiness of aim, but with a greater realization of
+people's capacities. He too had made a study of elderly ladies, who are
+always such an important branch of congregations. He could see that what
+Miss Symons was in his drawing-room, touchy, incompetent, and snappish
+she would be in any work she did in the parish. But he was also made to
+see her extreme generosity, of which she herself was entirely
+unconscious. He liked and was touched by her humility. "Oh no, don't
+trouble about asking me, Mr. Vaughan, nobody will want to talk to a dull
+person like me. Get some nice young men for the girls, if you can." "No,
+I can't have that pretty Miss Allan helping at my stall, I can get along
+very well by myself. I shall bring Annie; we can manage together."
+
+The poor people, of course, did not like her, for as she grew older she
+was more convinced than ever that the lower orders must be constantly
+reproved. But poor people are very magnanimous, and they were sure of a
+good many presents. She was also for ever bickering with her servants,
+but "poor old lady" as they said, "she's getting on now, it makes her
+worry," and she found in Annie one who knew how to give at least as good
+as she got. Horror of being defrauded by servants and tradespeople was a
+great resource, and though she continually deplored the pleasure of life
+abroad, these years of muddling in and out of her house, her garden, and
+her shops, were probably the happiest in her life.
+
+A certain conversation contributed not a little to this new happiness.
+She was at a tea-party, for once she had been admitted into the circle
+of tea-parties, she became much absorbed in them, and she and a
+neighbour were tracing an attack of influenza from its source to its
+decline, when Henrietta's hostess came up to her.
+
+"I want to introduce you to Mrs. Manson," said she. "Mrs. Manson is a
+cousin of that Mr. Dockerell you told me you knew, Miss Symons."
+
+There had been no sentiment in Henrietta's telling, she had quoted Mr.
+Dockerell as an authority on Portugal laurels.
+
+"Ah, my cousin, Mr. Dockerell," said Mrs. Manson, "you knew him, did
+you? He's dead, poor man, had you heard? He died last year."
+
+And once started upon Mr. Dockerell, she rambled away with his life's
+history, being one without much feeling, who could say everything to
+anybody.
+
+"Poor Fred, his marriage was such a mistake. She was older than him, and
+a mass of nerves. She caught him. I always said it was that; anybody on
+earth could have caught him. It was at Worthing; those seaside places in
+the summer are very dangerous. My mother used to say: 'We must be
+thankful it isn't worse.' No, he wasn't happy. There was a story that
+he really liked somebody else: a Miss Simon her name was--Simon, or
+something like that. Where did she come from? Oh yes, Willstead; he had
+some work there at one time. 'The beautiful dark Miss Simon.' At least,
+she wasn't beautiful, that was our joke; there was a pretty sister, but
+she was fair. My sister always insisted he was pining after her, but
+that wasn't like Fred. We used to be hard-hearted, and declare it was
+indigestion."
+
+Mr. Dockerell's death was not very much to Henrietta, he had passed so
+entirely out of her life. But "a dark Miss Simon living at Willstead,
+not beautiful"; she thought much of that. She could not but believe it
+must be herself. "So perhaps after all he did care," she said to
+herself, as she sat over the fire that evening, she had reached the age
+when she liked a good deal of twilight thinking undisturbed by the gas.
+But the news had come so late; if only she had known before. Those
+months and years of unhappiness rose before her. Granted that Providence
+had decreed they were not to marry, and looking back she did not feel as
+if she wished they had married, it was all so far behind her, she
+thought that she might have been given the happiness of a farewell
+letter from him, telling her that she really was first in his heart. "I
+should never have seen him or heard from him again; of course I should
+not have wanted it, but it would have been so comfortable to have
+known." She fell into her childhood's habit of daydreams, if one can
+have daydreams of the past, and sat such a long time absorbed that Annie
+came in at last with her matchbox. "Don't you want the gas lit, 'm? You
+never rang, I was gettin' quite fidgettin' about you, your heart's not
+very strong."
+
+Henrietta was composing his last letter, each moment making it more and
+more tender. She came back with a start to ordinary life, and the
+magazine article on "Beauties of George II.'s Court," which lay open
+before her. She dismissed her picture of what might have been with "Of
+course it was impossible, it's ridiculous wondering about it. How can
+one be so foolish at nearly sixty?" But she did wonder, and there is no
+doubt she was very much pleased. And after all the good news was false,
+he had never thought of her again.
+
+She confided the little incident to Evelyn. Evelyn, adoring her husband
+and adored by him, had been so much accustomed to men's admiration that
+she did not attach great value to it. She had seen long ago her old
+lovers pairing happily with somebody else: that side of life had been
+over for herself many years since. Her interest now was in her sons'
+possible marriages, and it was a little painful to her that Henrietta
+should be so much excited about what had never after all been more than
+a potential love affair. To tell the truth, she thought it a trifle
+petty and not worthy the dignity of one on the verge of old age. She
+wanted to be sympathetic, and she was too kind to say anything that
+would wound, but Henrietta could see that Evelyn did not enter into her
+feelings.
+
+Louie's children were now started in life, and the sons were getting on
+so well that even Henrietta owned they might be expected to take the
+burden of their parents upon themselves. She had her nieces and nephews
+to stay; Minna and Louie also came to take the waters. One or two of the
+nieces were of course collecting second-hand furniture, and used Bath as
+a centre for expeditions to the little country towns. The visits were
+very pleasant, if they did not last more than two nights; after two
+nights there would be a danger of friction, and sometimes friction
+itself. Her nieces and nephews were all what she called "modern," the
+harshest word but one she knew. A certain nephew and niece, alas, were
+more than modern--they were the harshest word of all, "_Radical_." The
+nephew had too profound a contempt for old ladies to talk about anything
+more controversial than the local train service, but even that he
+discovered was a topic beyond Henrietta's capacity. For it turned out,
+after she had appeared to be talking very sensibly about the afternoon
+trains, that she was referring to one marked with an "N.," a Thursday
+excursion, which destroyed all the point of her remarks. Her nephew
+explained this to her, but she would stick to her train, and declare
+that the "N." was a misprint. A misprint in Bradshaw. What a mind! He
+had not realized that even an aunt could be so childish. Of course she
+knew she was wrong, but she tried to persuade herself that she was
+right, because she was so much disappointed. She had wanted to make a
+good impression on her nephew, even if he were a Radical. She thought
+men superior to women, though throughout her life her affection and
+veneration had been given to women--Miranda, Miss Arundel, Evelyn. She
+had an innocent conviction that men knew more about everything, except
+perhaps the youngest babies, and she was anxious for masculine good
+opinion. Alas, to contradict her nephew several times running was not
+the way to win him over.
+
+He felt that contradiction amply justified him in wrapping himself up in
+his paper for the rest of the evening, vouchsafing "um" and "ah"
+occasionally after imploring pressure from his aunt. He left first thing
+next morning.
+
+Then his Radical sister came. She inspected something under Government,
+and with a burning faith in womanhood hoped against hope that with time
+her aunt must be converted "to think the right things." With a mere
+niece Henrietta felt at liberty, and very competent, to correct. But she
+little knew with whom she was reckoning.
+
+"Servants belong to a Trade Union, Annie and Emma" (the cook) "join a
+Union. How perfectly ridiculous!"
+
+"But why ridiculous, Aunt Etta?"
+
+"Because it is."
+
+"No, but do tell me, Aunt Etta. I know there must be some solid reason,
+and I should be so much interested to hear it."
+
+"You should have seen Annie's hat last Sunday: enormous pink roses in
+it."
+
+"Yes," answered her niece, catching her aunt out very easily, "but as
+far as that goes some ladies have enormous pink roses."
+
+"Yes, indeed. Why, when I was young we should never----"
+
+"And you don't object to their joining Trade Unions?"
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+"But, after all, what is that Teachers' Society that Hilda belongs to"
+(Hilda was another niece) "but a Trade Union? And you went on their
+excursion, Hilda told me."
+
+"That has nothing to do with it" (a favourite refuge with old ladies
+when they are getting the worst of a discussion). "Of course, if
+Hilda----"
+
+"So I mean Annie's wearing garish hats is not really a reason against
+her joining a Trade Union. You see my point, don't you?"
+
+"I particularly dislike being interrupted. I hadn't finished what I was
+going to say."
+
+"I beg your pardon, Aunt Etta, I am so sorry. What was it you were going
+to say?"
+
+Henrietta could not remember, and branched off to something else.
+"Wearing all this jewellery in the day is so common. That girl at the
+post office had two brooches and a locket, and she kept me waiting so
+long; she always does."
+
+"Yes, but I think we must leave them to judge what they like to wear; it
+is not our business really, is it? But I did just want to speak to you
+about this Servants' Union, Aunt Etta. I wonder if I might give Annie a
+little pamphlet I have written about it. Of course, we don't want them
+to be always striking or anything of that sort. The aim of my Society is
+simply to try and rouse servants to a sense of what it is they're
+missing--this great power of organization and solidarity which they
+ought to have. I think Annie looks such a nice intelligent girl, who
+would be sure to have an influence with her friends."
+
+"No, she's most tiresome and inconsiderate. She _would_ go out this
+evening just when you were coming, because she wanted to take her mother
+to the hospital, so that I had to have Mrs. Spring, and it is all very
+well for Annie to say----"
+
+"I wonder if I might read you a little piece out of my pamphlet, Aunt
+Etta, just to make a few points clear. You see, I want to get you in
+favour of our Union so much, because we feel that mistresses ought to be
+co-operating with the servants, helping them to help themselves, and
+then we shall get a really influential body of public opinion, which
+will do valuable work in improving servants' conditions."
+
+Henrietta writhed and struggled, and went off on frivolous pretexts, but
+she could not escape the pamphlet, which was extremely able; so was the
+author extremely able, but for a complete ignorance of human nature.
+Henrietta heard all about Socialism, Land Taxes, and Adult Suffrage too,
+and the more cross she became the more kindly and patiently Agatha
+shouted, greeting any specially absurd ebullition with imperturbable
+pleasantness, and "how interesting, I am _so_ anxious to get exactly at
+your point of view." That niece was not invited again.
+
+Henrietta often thought with affection and gratitude of the little old
+aunt, who had died many years back; but, as she would have been the
+first to own, her old age was not nearly so successful. Her house was
+not a centre for everybody. She had some elderly ladies with whom she
+exchanged visits, but young people disliked her, and children were
+afraid of her.
+
+Ever since she settled in England, she had made earnest attempts to curb
+her temper. But the companion of a lifetime is not easily shaken off at
+fifty-five, and more often than not she was quite unaware of crossness,
+from which all around were suffering severely. On the very rare
+occasions that she did realize it, she went back to the self she had
+been as a child, descended from the pedestal of her age and generation,
+and said she was sorry.
+
+One day she and Annie had a long serious battle. The question in the
+first instance was whether Annie had chipped off the nose of the china
+pug-dog on the mantelpiece, a relic of the old house at Willstead;
+Henrietta always had a tender feeling for relics. The arguments
+marshalled by Annie were against Henrietta, but arguments never had much
+weight with her. Besides, the battle passed on from the definite point
+of the nose to vague but bitter attacks on character. Henrietta always
+had in her mind an ideal servant, who accepted scolding not merely with
+meekness but with gratitude, and was fond of quoting her, to the
+exasperation of the real servants. After half an hour Annie began to cry
+noisily, so that Henrietta's words were drowned. The interview came to
+an end. Annie went downstairs and told Cook, but she wasted few tears or
+thoughts on the matter, and almost at once they were laughing cheerfully
+over their young men, as they sat at needlework.
+
+Henrietta did think, fidgeting about the room while she thought, taking
+things out of their places and putting them where they ought not to be,
+in a fuss of discomfort. At last she rang the bell.
+
+"The lamp, please, Annie."
+
+"The lamp 'm," said Annie; "but you don't want it for half an hour yet,
+do you, 'm, it's such a beautiful evening?"
+
+It was impossible ever to quell Annie.
+
+"The lamp, please," repeated Henrietta, "and I should like to--I think
+you ought to--I feel that in a--what I want you to realize is that you
+should keep a great watch over your temper. When one comes to my age one
+sees that there is--and you should not put it off till too late as
+people sometimes--as I have done."
+
+Annie's sharp ears heard the last little murmur. Henrietta rather hoped
+they would not, though it was for the sake of the murmur that she had
+rung the bell.
+
+Annie said "Yes 'm," very pleasantly, and yielded about the lamp. She
+told cook afterwards, with some amusement, "She's funny, I've always
+said that, but," she added, "I've known some I should say was funnier."
+
+This opinion may be worth recording, as it was one of the highest
+tributes to her character Henrietta ever received.
+
+On the whole during those latter years she improved, and in the general
+reformation of her character she raised the standard of her reading. She
+confined herself in the mornings and afternoon to mildly scandalous
+memoirs of Frenchwomen and biographies of Church dignitaries, keeping
+her costume novels for the evening.
+
+She often saw Evelyn, and they talked of the past, but they never
+regained the almost heavenly intimacy of that night. They seldom met
+without some disagreeableness from Henrietta, and she did not like the
+boys, there was nothing of Evelyn in them, while they for their part
+could not imagine why their mother cared for their aunt Henrietta. It
+was a continual struggle for Evelyn not to be impatient with her; much
+as she longed to, she could not keep on the high plane of devotion,
+which had brought such happiness to both.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+Henrietta died when she was sixty-three. Her father and stepmother were
+long dead, also her second brother, whom none of the family had seen for
+years. When her relations were sent for, it was very cold weather in
+January, and Louie and Minna did not obey the summons. They deplored it
+continually afterwards, and explained to one another how appalling the
+wind had been, and what care they had to take for their children's sake,
+and how Henrietta had frightened them so much the year before by sending
+for them when there was no need, that they naturally could not be
+expected to realize that this time it really was important.
+
+William came, looking more benevolent than ever with his very becoming
+white hair. Henrietta said that she thought it was the last time she
+should see him, but he assured her it was just the cold which had pulled
+her down a little, and she would be all right again as soon as the wind
+changed. "It's wretched, knocks everybody up." He looked so hearty and
+mundane that it almost seemed, when he was in the room, as if there
+could not be such a thing as death.
+
+They talked about the drought last summer, and William's son, who was a
+planter in Ceylon, and the noise of the motor-buses in London, until
+William said he must go for his train. He was allowing a quarter of an
+hour too much time, for he was able to stay and talk a little while with
+the doctor, who called when he was there.
+
+"There isn't any chance, you say."
+
+"No, I am afraid not. Miss Symons' heart has been delicate for some
+years; it gives her very little strength to stand against this attack."
+
+"Um! I was afraid so," said William, and he was glad to get out of the
+house, and buy a _Pall Mall_.
+
+The inspector niece came down (uninvited), very energetic, and very kind
+in using the last few days of her holidays in nursing a disagreeable
+reactionary relation. She dominated the nurse, who was much meeker than
+nurses usually are, and quite quelled her poor aunt, too weak to protest
+even at attacks on the monarchy. But Henrietta was much happier when the
+niece's holidays came to an end, and she was left to die quietly and
+dully with the nurse.
+
+Evelyn was away in Egypt with Herbert for her health, and by a most
+unfortunate accident she did not get the first telegram announcing
+Henrietta's dangerous illness. Poor Henrietta asked constantly if there
+was nothing from her, and as she got weaker, and a little wandering, she
+kept on crying like a child: "I want Evelyn." They cabled again, and
+when the answer came, "Starting home at once," it was too late, and
+Henrietta was not sufficiently herself to understand it.
+
+As soon as Evelyn got home, she went to Bath. The little house was still
+as it was, but for some legacies which a careful nephew had already
+abstracted. But the place of the dead seemed to have been filled even
+more quickly than usual. Annie, as she said, had only waited "till the
+pore old lady was taken" to marry comfortably with a saddler, and the
+parlourmaid was already established in a very smart town situation.
+There was an unknown caretaker to look after the house, which was to
+let. Evelyn saw the doctor and the clergyman, who both spoke kindly of
+Miss Symons. "We shall miss your sister very much," said Mr. Vaughan,
+"she was always doing kind things,"--and he did miss her to a certain
+extent, but there is a ceaseless supply of generous, touchy incapable
+old ladies in England, and he could not be expected to miss her very
+much. Evelyn went to see the nurse, and could hear from her more of what
+she wanted. The nurse was a kind, sweet girl, the centre of an
+affectionate family, and engaged to a devoted young clerk.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Ferrers, if only you could have come back in time," she said,
+sobbing, "or if you could have written. She _did_ want you so; every
+time there was a ring it was, 'Is that from her?' and I heard her say to
+herself: 'I thought she would be _sure_ to come.' I simply had to go out
+in the passage, I couldn't keep back my tears, and of course one must
+always be bright before a patient; it is so bad for them if one isn't.
+Some nieces and nephews came, and one of them stayed several days, and
+two brothers, I think; and there were several members of the family
+there for the funeral, and she had some simply lovely wreaths, and the
+church was nice and full, numbers of her poor people were there,"
+brought there, as surely the kind nurse knew, not from love of
+Henrietta, but from love of funerals, "but when your wire did come I
+cried for joy, though we couldn't make her take it in, poor dear; still
+it seemed as if someone really cared for her. Oh, she looked so lovely
+and peaceful at the end, all the trouble gone."
+
+This was a comforting deception, which the nurse thought it justifiable
+to practise on relations, for in fact death had not changed Henrietta;
+there had been no transfiguration to beauty and nobility, she looked
+what she had been in life--insignificant, feeble, and unhappy.
+
+"Miss Symons asked me to give you this box," said the nurse. "She made
+me promise I would give it you over and over again."
+
+Evelyn found it was an inlaid sandalwood box, which she had sent from
+India as a present from the first baby. In it she found Herbert's letter
+announcing the death of little Madeline, hers and the other two babies'
+photographs, and a sheet of notepaper, tied with blue ribbon. On it was
+written, "I can't tell you how much good you have done me, I seem to
+have been living for this for fifteen years. EVELYN, September 23,
+1890." As she read it, Evelyn remembered, what she had long forgotten,
+that this was what she had once said to Henrietta.
+
+When she walked to the hotel, it was a bright, sunny afternoon, and snow
+was on the ground. She went to her room to take off her things, but she
+stood instead at the window, too intent on what she had heard to be
+capable of anything. Her heart was almost bursting to think that
+Henrietta should have treasured all these years the little love she had
+given her, crumbs, which she had as it were left over from her husband
+and boys, love not even for Henrietta's own sake, but for the sake of
+the dead children. She with all the riches of love poured on her, and
+Henrietta with so little. "I was cold, selfish, self-absorbed, I didn't
+think of her, I forgot her, I criticized her; it was all my fault."
+
+But even at this moment of exaltation Evelyn realized that it was not
+her fault, but Henrietta's own; that it was because she was so unlovable
+that she was so little loved.
+
+"But if she had had the chance she wouldn't have been unlovable. She was
+capable of greater love than any of us, and she never had the chance. If
+there is any justice and mercy in the world how can they allow a poor,
+weak human creature to have so few opportunities, such hard temptations,
+and when it yields to temptation to suffer so cruelly? And now I am to
+go back, and be happy with Herbert and the boys, and to feel quite truly
+that I did everything I could, _I can't bear it_."
+
+She was so much filled with her thoughts that she had not observed the
+flight of time. She looked up, and was suddenly aware that the night had
+come, and that the sky was shining with innumerable stars. At the same
+moment she felt inextricably mingled with the stars, a rush of the most
+exquisite sensation, emotion, replenishment she had ever known. She felt
+through every fibre of her being that it was all perfectly well with
+Henrietta, and that the bitterness, aimlessness, and emptiness of her
+life was made up to her. This conviction was a thousand times more real
+to her than the room in which she was standing, more real than the
+stars, more real than herself. Tears of delight came raining down her
+cheeks, and she found that she was saying over and over again, "Darling,
+I am so glad"; poor childish words, but no more inadequate than the
+noblest in the language to express her unspeakable comfort, beyond all
+utterance, even beyond thought. How often she said these words, or how
+long this bliss lasted she could not tell.
+
+A strange dream-like remembrance of it stayed with her for some days.
+She told her husband, and he said, "I am very glad of anything that can
+be a comfort to you, dearest;" but he looked at her anxiously, and
+thought it was a sign that she was to be ill again. However, she
+continued well and strong. She told no one else, but from henceforth she
+was perfectly happy about Henrietta.
+
+
+    +----------------------------------------------------+
+    | Transcriber's Note:                                |
+    |                                                    |
+    | Changes to the original have been made as follows: |
+    |                                                    |
+    | Page 42 accumalation of years changed to           |
+    | accumulation                                       |
+    |                                                    |
+    | Page 48 teazing of a kind changed to               |
+    | teasing                                            |
+    |                                                    |
+    | Page 60 two much absorbed changed to               |
+    | too                                                |
+    |                                                    |
+    | Page 64 then he felt prepared changed to           |
+    | than                                               |
+    |                                                    |
+    | Page 70 inacessible foreign place changed to       |
+    | inaccessible                                       |
+    +----------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Third Miss Symons, by Flora Macdonald Mayor
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's The Third Miss Symons, by Flora Macdonald Mayor
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Third Miss Symons
+
+Author: Flora Macdonald Mayor
+
+Release Date: October 28, 2008 [EBook #27071]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THIRD MISS SYMONS ***
+
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+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
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+
+</pre>
+
+
+<h3>Contents</h3>
+
+<table summary="Table of Contents" style="width: 10em;">
+<colgroup>
+<col width="50%" />
+<col width="50%" />
+</colgroup>
+<tr>
+<td class="right" colspan="2"><a href="#preface">Preface</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Chapter</td>
+<td class="right"><a href="#i">I</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Chapter</td>
+<td class="right"><a href="#ii">II</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Chapter</td>
+<td class="right"><a href="#iii">III</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Chapter</td>
+<td class="right"><a href="#iv">IV</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Chapter</td>
+<td class="right"><a href="#v">V</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Chapter</td>
+<td class="right"><a href="#vi">VI</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Chapter</td>
+<td class="right"><a href="#vii">VII</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Chapter</td>
+<td class="right"><a href="#viii">VIII</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Chapter</td>
+<td class="right"><a href="#ix">IX</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Chapter</td>
+<td class="right"><a href="#x">X</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Chapter</td>
+<td class="right"><a href="#xi">XI</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Chapter</td>
+<td class="right"><a href="#xii">XII</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Chapter</td>
+<td class="right"><a href="#xiii">XIII</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h1>THE THIRD MISS SYMONS</h1>
+<hr class="hr2" />
+<h2>F. M. Mayor</h2>
+<h3><em>With a Preface by John Masefield<br />
+First published in Great Britain 1913</em></h3>
+
+<h5>Copyright F. M. Mayor 1913</h5>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><a name="preface" id="preface"></a>PREFACE</h2>
+
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Miss Mayor</span>'s story is of a delicate quality, not common here, though
+occurring at intervals, and always sure of a choice, if not very large,
+audience among those who like in art the refined movement and the gentle
+line. Her subject, like her method, is one not commonly chosen by women
+writers; it is simply the life of an unmarried idle woman of the last
+generation, a life (to some eyes) of wasted leisure and deep futility,
+but common enough, and getting from its permitted commonness a
+justification from life, who is wasteful but roughly just. Miss Mayor
+tells this story with singular skill, more by contrast than by drama,
+bringing her chief character into relief against her world, as it passes
+in swift procession. Her tale is in a form becoming common among our
+best writers; it is compressed into a space about a third as long as the
+ordinary novel, yet form and manner are so closely suited that all is
+told and nothing seems slightly done, or worked with too rapid a hand.
+Much that is tiresome in the modern novel, the pages of analysis and of
+comment, the long descriptions and the nervous pathology, are omitted by
+Miss Mayor's method, which is all for the swift movement and against the
+temptations to delay which obstruct those whose eyes are not upon life;
+she condenses her opportunities for psychology and platitude into a
+couple of shrewd lines and goes on with her story, keeping her freshness
+and the reader's interest unabated. The method is to draw the central
+figure rapidly past a succession of bright lights, keeping the lights
+various and of many colours and allowing none of them to shine too long.
+This comparatively passive creative method suits the subject; for her
+heroine has the fate to be born in a land where myriads of women of her
+station go passively like poultry along all the tramways of their
+parishes; life is something that happens to them, it is their duty to
+keep to the tracks, and having enough to eat and enough to put on
+therewith to be content, or if not content, sour, but in any case to
+seek no further over the parochial bounds. Her heroine, born into such a
+tradition, continues in it, partly by the pressure of custom and family
+habit, both always very powerful and often deadly in this country, and
+partly from a want of illumination in herself, her instructors, and in
+the life about her. The latter want is the fatal defect in her: it is
+the national defect, "the everlasting prison remediless" into which so
+many thousands of our idle are yearly thrown; it is from this that she
+really suffers; it is to this that she succumbs, while the ivy of her
+disposition grows over and smothers whatever light may be in her. Like
+water in flood-time revolving muddily over the choked outlet, her life
+revolves over the evil in it without resolution or escape; her brain,
+like so many of the brains in civilization, is but slightly drawn upon
+or exercised; she is not so much wasted as not used. Having by fortune
+and tradition nothing to do, she remains passive till events and time
+make her incapable of doing, while the world glitters past in its
+various activity, throwing her incapacity into ever stronger relief,
+till her time is over and the general muddle is given a kind of
+sacredness, even of beauty, by ceasing. She has done nothing but live
+and been nothing but alive, both to such passive purpose that the
+ceasing is pitiful; and it is by pushing on to this end, instead of
+shirking it, and by marking the last tragical fact which puts a dignity
+upon even the meanest being, that Miss Mayor raises her story above the
+plane of social criticism, and keeps it sincere. A lesser writer would
+have been content with less, and having imagined her central figure
+would have continued to stick pins into it, till the result would have
+been no living figure, but a record of personal judgments, perhaps even,
+as sometimes happens, of personal pettiness, a witch's waxen figure
+plentifully pricked before the consuming flame. Miss Mayor keeps on the
+side of justice, with the real creators, to whom there is nothing simple
+and no one unmixed, and in this way gets beauty, and through beauty the
+only reality worth having.</p>
+
+<p>In a land like England, where there is great wealth, little education
+and little general thought, people like Miss Mayor's heroine are common;
+we have all met not one or two but dozens of her; we know her emptiness,
+her tenacity, her futility, savagery and want of light; all circles
+contain some examples of her, all people some of her shortcomings; and
+judgment of her, even the isolation of her in portraiture, is dangerous,
+since the world does not consist of her and life needs her. In life as
+in art those who condemn are those who do not understand; and it is
+always a sign of a writer's power, that he or she keeps from direct
+praise or blame of imagined character. Miss Mayor arrives at an
+understanding of her heroine's character by looking at her through a
+multitude of different eyes, not as though she were her creator, but as
+if she were her world, looking on and happening, infinitely active and
+various, coming into infinite contrast, not without tragedy, but also
+never without fun. The world is, of course, the comparatively passive
+feminine world, but few modern books (if any) have treated of that
+world so happily, with such complete acceptance, unbiassed and
+unprejudiced, yet with such selective tact and variety of gaiety. She
+comes to the complete understanding of Henrietta by illuminating all the
+facets in her character and all the threads of her destiny, and this is
+an unusual achievement, made all the more remarkable by a brightness and
+quickness of mind which give delightful life to a multitude of incidents
+which are in themselves new to fiction. Her touch upon all her world is
+both swift and unerring; but the great charm of her work is its
+brightness and unexpectedness; it lights up so many little unsuspected
+corners in a world that is too plentifully curtained.</p>
+
+<p class="i2">JOHN MASEFIELD, 1913</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span><big>THE THIRD MISS SYMONS</big></h2>
+
+<h2><a name="i" id="i"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Henrietta</span> was the third daughter and fifth child of Mr. and Mrs. Symons,
+so that enthusiasm for babies had declined in both parents by the time
+she arrived. Still, in her first few months she was bound to be
+important and take up a great deal of time. When she was two, another
+boy was born, and she lost the honourable position of youngest. At five
+her life attained its zenith. She became a very pretty, charming little
+girl, as her two elder sisters had done before her. It was not merely
+that she was pretty, but she suddenly assumed an air of graciousness and
+dignity which captivated everyone. Some very little girls do acquire
+this air: what its source is no one knows. In this case certainly not
+Mr. and Mrs. Symons, who were particularly clumsy. Etta, as she was
+called, was often summoned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> from the nursery when visitors came; so were
+Minna and Louie her elder sisters, but all the ladies wanted to talk to
+Etta. Minna and Louie had by this time, at nine and eleven, advanced to
+the ugly, uninteresting stage, and they owed Henrietta a grudge because
+she had annexed the petting that used to fall to them. They had their
+revenge in whispering interminable secrets to one another, of which Etta
+could hear stray sentences. "Ellen says she knows Arthur was very
+naughty, because ... But we won't tell Etta." She was very susceptible
+to notice, and the petting was not good for her.</p>
+
+<p>When she was eight her zenith was past, and her plain stage began. Her
+charm departed never to return, and she slipped back into
+insignificance. At eight she could no longer be considered a baby to
+play with, and a good deal of fault-finding was deemed necessary to
+counteract the previous spoiling. In Henrietta's youth, sixty years ago,
+fault-finding was administered unsparingly. She did not understand why
+she was more scolded than the others, and decided that it was because
+Ellen and Miss Weston and her mother had a spite against her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Symons was not fond of children, and throughout Henrietta's
+childhood she was delicate, so that Henrietta saw very little of her.
+Her chief recollections of her mother were of scoldings in the
+drawing-room when she had done anything specially naughty.</p>
+
+<p>If she had been one of two or one of three in a present-day family she
+would have been more precious. But as one of four daughters&mdash;another
+girl was born when she was eight&mdash;she was not much wanted. Mr. Symons
+was a solicitor in a country town, and the problem of providing for his
+seven, darkened the years of childhood for the whole Symons family. The
+children felt that their parents found them something of a burden, and
+in those days there was no cult of childhood to soften the hard reality.</p>
+
+<p>The two older boys had a partnership together, into which they
+occasionally admitted Minna and Louie. Minna and Louie had, beside their
+secrets, a friend named Rosa. Harold, the youngest boy, did not want any
+person&mdash;only toy engines. He and Etta should have been companions, but
+he said she cried and told tales, though she told no more tales than he
+did.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>A large family should be such a specially happy community, but it
+sometimes occurs that there is a girl or boy who is nothing but a middle
+one, fitting in nowhere. So it was with Henrietta, till the youngest
+child was born.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately she had an almost morbid longing, unusual in a child, to
+be loved and of importance. Now she would have given anything to have
+heard Minna and Louie's secrets, not for the sake of the secrets, but as
+a sign that she was thought worthy of confidence. She ran everyone's
+errands continually, but she broke the head off Arthur's carnation as
+she was bringing it from his bedroom to the garden, and she let out
+William's secret, which he had told her in an unusual fit of affability,
+in order that she might curry favour with Minna. This infuriated
+William, and did not conciliate Minna. She grew fast and was a little
+delicate. It made her irritable, but her brothers and sisters, who were
+all growing with great regularity, could not be expected to understand
+delicacy. She always said she was sorry after she had been cross, but
+they, who did not have tempers, could not see that that made things any
+better.</p>
+
+<p>In her loneliness she made for herself, like many other forlorn
+children, a phantom friend.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> It was a little girl two years older than
+she was, for Henrietta preferred to look up, and be herself in an
+inferior position. For this reason she did not much care for dolls,
+where she was decidedly the superior. She called her friend Amy. Amy
+slept with her, helped her with her lessons, told her secrets
+perpetually, and grumbled about the other children.</p>
+
+<p>One day they all had a game at Hide and Seek. The lot fell on her and
+William, now fourteen, to hide. They ensconced themselves in a dark spot
+in a little grove at the end of the garden. The others could not find
+them, and there was plenty of time for talk. William was a kind boy and
+rather a chatterbox, ready to expand to any listener, even a sister of
+nine. Henrietta never knew how it was that she told him about Amy. It
+had always been her firm resolve that this was to be her own dead
+secret, never revealed. But the unusual warmth of the interview went to
+her head. It was in a kind of intoxication of happiness that she poured
+out her confidence. The shrubbery was so dark that William's face could
+not be seen, but he began fidgeting, and soon broke in: "I say, what
+hours the others are, it must be tea-time. Let's go and find them."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>It was kind of William to snub her confidence so gently, but the
+disappointment was cruel. She had been lifted up to such a height of
+happiness. When Ellen brushed her hair at night she noticed her dismal
+looks, and being really concerned at Henrietta's want of control, she
+said bracingly that little girls must never be whiney-piney. When the
+lamp was put out, Henrietta sobbed herself to sleep, and she looked back
+on that evening as the most miserable of her childhood.</p>
+
+<p>It was not long after this that the last child was born, the baby girl.
+They had all been sent away, and Henrietta, who had gone by herself to
+an aunt, came back later than the others; they had seen the new arrival,
+and had got over their very moderate excitement. Ellen asked Henrietta
+if she would like to have a peep at her little sister. When Henrietta
+saw it, she determined that it should be her own baby. "Oh, you little
+darling, you darling, darling baby!" she murmured over and over again.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you are happy, aren't you, Miss Etta?" said Ellen; she had always
+felt sorry for Henrietta out in the cold.</p>
+
+<p>The baby very much improved Etta's circumstances. Ellen allowed her to
+help, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> she had something to care for, so she had less occasion for
+interviews with her phantom friend. As she grew older the baby Evelyn
+requited her affection with a gratifying preference, but she was very
+sweet-natured and would like everybody, and not make a party against
+Minna and Louie as Henrietta desired. She came to the pretty age, and
+was prettier and more charming than any of them. When the pretty age
+ought to have passed she remained as attractive as ever, and continued
+to enjoy a universal popularity. This was disappointing to Henrietta;
+she would have preferred them to be pariahs together. Still, it was
+always Etta that Evelyn liked best.</p>
+
+<p>When Evelyn was four and Henrietta thirteen, Evelyn was given a canary.
+It never became interesting, for it would not eat off her finger, but
+she cared for it as much as a child of four can be considered to care
+for anything. The canary died and was buried when Evelyn had a cold and
+was in bed, and Henrietta went by herself into the town, contrary to
+rules, and spent all her savings at a little, low bird-shop getting a
+mangey canary. She brought it back and put it into the cage, and when
+Evelyn, convalescent, came into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> nursery, she attempted to palm off
+the new canary as Evelyn's original bird. This strange behaviour brought
+her to great disgrace. Her only explanation was, "I didn't want Evelyn
+to know that Dickie was dead. I think death is so dreadful, and I don't
+want her to know anything dreadful." Mrs. Symons and the governess
+thought this most inexplicable.</p>
+
+<p>"Etta is a very difficult child," said Mrs. Symons; "she always has been
+so unlike the others, and now this dreadful untruth. I always feel an
+untruth is very different from anything else. Going into that horrid,
+dirty little shop! You must watch her most carefully, Miss Weston, and
+let me know if there is any further deceit."</p>
+
+<p>"I never had noticed anything before, Mrs. Symons, but I will be
+particularly careful." And Miss Weston took the most elaborate
+precautions that there should be no cheating at lessons, which Henrietta
+resented keenly, having, like the majority of girls, an extreme horror
+of cheating.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span><a name="ii" id="ii"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Soon</span> after the incident of the canary, the three older girls went to
+school. When her first home-sickness was passed, Henrietta enjoyed the
+life. It was strict, but home had been strict, and there was much more
+variety here. She was clever, and took eager delight in her lessons;
+dull, stupid Miss Weston had found her beyond her.</p>
+
+<p>She would have liked school even more if her temper had been under
+better control. But at thirteen she had settled down to bad temper as a
+habit. She did not exactly put her feelings into thoughts, but there was
+an impression in her mind that as she had been out of it so much of her
+life she should be allowed to be bad-tempered as a consolation. This
+brought her into constant conflicts, which made no one so unhappy as
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>She had two great interests at school, Miranda Hardcastle and Miss
+Arundel. Miranda was the kind of girl whom everybody<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> is always going to
+adore, very pretty, very amusing, and with much cordiality of manner.
+Henrietta fell a victim at once, and Miranda, who drank in all
+adoration, gave Henrietta some good-natured friendship in return.
+Henrietta fagged for her, did as many of her lessons as she could,
+applauded all her remarks, amply rewarded by Miranda's welcoming smile
+and her, "I've been simply pining for you, my child; come and hear me my
+French at once, like a seraphim."</p>
+
+<p>This happy state of things continued until unfortunately Henrietta's
+temper, over which she had kept an anxious guard in Miranda's presence,
+showed signs of activity. The first time this occurred Miranda opened
+her large eyes very wide and said, "What's come over my young friend,
+has it got the hydrophobia? I shall try and cure it by kindness and give
+it some chocolate."</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta's clouds dispersed, but she was not always so easily restored
+to good-humour; and Miranda, with the whole school at her feet, was not
+going to stand bad temper, the fault on the whole least easily forgiven
+by girls. Henrietta had a heartrending scene with her: at fifteen she
+liked heartrending scenes. Miranda<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> was too fond of popularity to give
+Henrietta up entirely, so the two remained friendly, but they were no
+longer intimate.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Arundel was the head-mistress's sister, and undertook all the
+serious teaching that was not in the hands of masters. She did not have
+many outward attractions of face and form, but schoolgirls will know
+that that is not of much importance. She was adored, possibly because
+she had a bad temper (bad temper is an asset in a teacher), which was
+liable to burst forth unexpectedly; then she was clever and
+enthusiastic, and gave good lessons. She marked out Henrietta, and it
+came round that she had said, "Etta Symons is an interesting girl, she
+has possibilities. I wonder how she will turn out." It came round also
+that Miss Arundel had said, "I only wish she had more control and
+tenacity of purpose," but this sentence Henrietta put out of her head.
+The first sentence she thought of for hours on end, and set to work to
+be more interesting than ever; in fact for some days she was so affected
+and exasperating that Miss Arundel could hardly contain herself. Still,
+even Miss Arundel's sarcasm was endurable, anything was endurable, after
+that gratifying remark.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>When Miranda ceased to be her special friend, she transferred her whole
+heart and soul to Miss Arundel. She waylaid her with flowers, hung about
+in the passage on the chance of seeing her walk by, and waited on her as
+much as she dared. Some teachers apparently enjoy girl adorations, and
+even take pains to secure them. Miss Arundel had had enough of them to
+find them disagreeable. She therefore gave out in the presence of two or
+three of Henrietta's circle that she thought it was a pity Etta Symons
+wasted so much of her pocket-money on buttonholes which gave very little
+pleasure to anyone, certainly not to her, who particularly disliked
+strong scents; she thought the money could be much better expended.</p>
+
+<p>Jessie Winsley repeated this speech to Henrietta, little thinking what
+anguish it would cause. Henrietta had very little pride, very little
+proper pride some people might have said; she did not at all mind giving
+a great deal more than she got. But this speech, which was not, after
+all, so very malignant, drove her to despair. She went to Miranda, who
+hugged her, and said: "Old cat! barbaric old cat! Never think of her
+again, she isn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> worth it. Try dear little Stanley, he's a pet; men are
+much nicer." Stanley was the drawing-master.</p>
+
+<p>But after all one must have a little encouragement to start an
+adoration, and as Henrietta never could draw, she got none from Stanley.
+Besides she was constant, so instead, she brooded over Miss Arundel. She
+had not been so unhappy, when she had her Miranda and her Arundel. Now
+she had lost them both. Miss Arundel, with her cool, unaffectionate
+interest, had, of course, never been "had" at all, but Henrietta had
+imagined that when Miss Arundel said "Yes, quite right, that's a good
+answer," it was a kind of beginning of friendship. She, Henrietta, small
+and insignificant, was singled out for Miss Arundel's friendship; that
+was what she thought. She did not realize that it was possible to care
+merely for intellectual development.</p>
+
+<p>When she was prepared for Confirmation, there were serious talks about
+her character. The Vicar, whose classes she attended, was mostly
+concerned with doctrines, and Mrs. Marston with what one might call a
+list of ideal vices and temptations which pupils must guard themselves
+against. Miss Arundel talked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> to her about her untidy exercise books,
+her unpunctuality, her loud voice in the corridor, and her round
+shoulders, and explained very properly that inattention in these
+comparatively small matters showed a general want of self-control. She
+did not speak about bad temper, for Henrietta was much too frightened of
+her to show any signs of temper in her proximity. Miss Arundel did not
+give her an opportunity of unburdening herself of the problem that
+weighed on her mind, not that she would have taken the opportunity if it
+had occurred, not after that speech about the buttonholes. This was the
+problem: Why was it that people did not love her?&mdash;she to whom love was
+so much that if she did not have it, nothing else in the world was worth
+having. There had been Evelyn, it is true, but now Evelyn did lessons
+with a little friend of her own age, and she and the friend were all in
+all, and did not want Henrietta in the holidays. Henrietta reflected
+that she was not uglier, or stupider, or duller than anyone else. There
+was a large set at school who were ugly, stupid, and dull, and they were
+devoted to one another, though they none of them cared about her. Why
+had God sent her into the world, if she was not wanted?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> She found the
+problem insoluble, but a certain amount of light was thrown on it by one
+of the girls.</p>
+
+<p>She had been snarling with two or three of her classmates over the
+afternoon preparation, and had flounced off in a rage by herself. She
+felt a touch on her arm, and turning round saw Emily Mence, a rather
+uncouth, clever girl, whom she hardly knew.</p>
+
+<p>"I just came to say, Why <em>are</em> you such an idiot?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, why do you lose your temper like that? All the girls are laughing
+at you; they always do when you get cross."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I think it's horrid of them."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you can't be surprised; of course people won't stand you, if
+you're so cross."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't they?" said Henrietta. "And the one thing I want in the world is
+to be liked."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really? Fancy wanting these girls to like you; they're such
+silly little things."</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't mind that if only they liked me."</p>
+
+<p>"<em>I</em> like you," said Emily. "Do you remember you said Charles I.
+deserved to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> his head cut off because he was so stupid, and all the
+others gushed over him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Did I?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like the other girls to laugh at you; that's why I thought I
+would tell you."</p>
+
+<p>They walked up and down the path and talked about Charles I. Here there
+seemed the beginning of a friendship, but it was nipped in the bud, for
+Emily left unexpectedly at the end of the term. Henrietta received no
+further overtures from any of the girls.</p>
+
+<p>Emily's words had made an impression however, and for six weeks
+Henrietta took a great deal of pains with her temper. For this
+concession on her part she expected Providence to give her an immediate
+and abundant measure of popularity. It did not. The Symons family had
+not the friend-making quality&mdash;a capricious quality, which withholds
+itself from those who have the greatest desire, and even apparently the
+best right, to possess it. The girls were kind, kinder, on the whole,
+than the grown-up world, and they were perfectly willing to give her
+their left arms round the garden, but their right would be occupied by
+their real friends, to whom they would be telling their experiences, and
+Henrietta would only come in for a, "Wasn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> it sickening, Etta?" now
+and then. She was disappointed, and she relaxed her efforts. She had
+missed the excitement of saying disagreeable things. The day had become
+chilly without them. By the middle of the term she was as disagreeable
+as ever.</p>
+
+<p>She very rarely received good advice in her life, and now that she had
+got it, she made no use of it. If she had, it might have changed the
+whole of her future. But from henceforth, on birthdays, New Year's Eves,
+and other anniversaries, when she took stock of herself and her
+character, she ignored her temper, and would not count it as a factor
+that could be modified. There were others as lonely as herself at
+school, there are always many lonely in a community; but she did not
+realize this, and felt herself exceptional. She imagined that she was
+overwhelmed with misery at this time, but really the life was so busy,
+and she was so fond of the lessons, and did them so well, that she was
+not to be pitied as much as she thought.</p>
+
+<p>It was clear she was to be lonely at school and lonely at home. Where
+was she to find relief? There was a supply of innocuous story-books for
+the perusal of Mrs. Marston's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> pupils on Saturday half-holidays,
+innocuous, that is to say, but for the fact that they gave a completely
+erroneous view of life, and from them Henrietta discovered that heroines
+after the sixteenth birthday are likely to be pestered with adorers. The
+heroines, it is true, were exquisitely beautiful, which Henrietta knew
+she was not, but from a study of "Jane Eyre" and "Villette" in the
+holidays, Charlotte Bront&euml; was forbidden at school owing to her excess
+of passion, Henrietta realized that the plain may be adored too, so she
+had a modest hope that when the magic season of young ladyhood arrived,
+a Prince Charming would come and fall in love with her. This hope filled
+more and more of her thoughts, and all her last term, when other girls
+were crying at the thought of leaving, she was counting the days to her
+departure.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span><a name="iii" id="iii"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Henrietta</span> was eighteen when she left school. Minna and Louie had gone
+two or three years before, and by the time Henrietta came home, Minna
+was engaged to be married. There was nothing particular about Minna. She
+was capable, and clear-headed, and rather good-looking, and could dress
+well on a little money. She was not much of a talker, but what she said
+was to the point. On these qualifications she married a barrister with
+most satisfactory prospects. They were both extremely fond of one
+another in a quiet way, and fond they remained. She was disposed of
+satisfactorily.</p>
+
+<p>Louie was prettier and more lively. She was having a gay career of
+flirtations, when Henrietta joined her. She did not at all want a
+younger sister, particularly a sister with a pretty complexion. Three
+years of parties had begun to tell on her own, which was of special
+delicacy. She and Henrietta had never grown to like one another, and now
+there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> went on a sort of silent war, an unnecessary war on Louie's side,
+for she had a much greater gift with partners than Henrietta, and her
+captives were not annexed.</p>
+
+<p>But for her complexion there was nothing very taking in Henrietta.
+Whoever travels in the Tube must have seen many women with dark-brown
+hair, brown eyes, and too-strongly-marked eyebrows; their features are
+neither good nor bad; their whole aspect is uninteresting. They have no
+winning dimples, no speaking lines about the mouth. All that one can
+notice is a disappointed, somewhat peevish look in the eyes. Such was
+Henrietta. The fact that she had not been much wanted or appreciated
+hitherto began to show now she was eighteen. She was either shy and
+silent, or talked with too much positiveness for fear she should not be
+listened to; so that though she was not a failure at dances and managed
+to find plenty of partners, there were none of the interesting episodes
+that were continually occurring on Louie's evenings, and for a year or
+two her hopes were not realized. The Prince Charming she was waiting for
+came not.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes Louie was away on visits, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> Henrietta went to dances
+without her. At one of these, as usual a strange young man was
+introduced. There was nothing special about him. They had the usual talk
+of first dances. Then he asked for a second, then for a third. He was
+introduced to her mother. She asked him to call. He came. He talked
+mostly to her mother, but it was clear that it was Henrietta he came to
+see. Another dance, another call, and meetings at friends' houses, and
+wherever she was he wanted to be beside her. It was an exquisitely happy
+month. He was a commonplace young man, but what did that matter? There
+was nothing in Henrietta to attract anyone very superior. And perhaps
+she loved him all the more because he was not soaring high above her,
+like all her previous divinities, but walking side by side with her.
+Yes, she loved him; by the time he had asked her for the third dance she
+loved him. She did not think much of his proposing, of their marrying,
+just that someone cared for her. At first she could not believe it, but
+by the end of the month the signs clearly resembled those of Louie's
+young men. Flowers, a note about a book he had lent her, a note about a
+mistake he had made in his last note; she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> was sure he must care for
+her. The other girls at the dances noticed his devotion, and asked
+Henrietta when it was to be announced. She laughed off their questions,
+but they gave her a thrill of delight. All must be well.</p>
+
+<p>And if they had married all would have been well. There might have been
+jars and rubs, with Henrietta's jealous disposition there probably would
+have been, but they would have been as happy as the majority of married
+couples; she would have been happier, for to many people, even to some
+women, it is not, as it was to her, the all-sufficing condition of
+existence to love and be loved.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the month Louie came home. Henrietta had dreaded her
+return. She had no confidence in herself when Louie was by. Louie made
+her cold and awkward. She would have liked to have asked her not to come
+into the room when he called, but she was too shy; there had never been
+any intimacy between the sisters. Mrs. Symons however, spoke to Louie.
+"A very nice young fellow, with perfectly good connections, not making
+much yet, but sufficient for a start. It would do very well."</p>
+
+<p>Louie would not have considered herself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> more heartless than other
+people, but she was a coquette, and she did not want Henrietta to be
+settled before her. The next time the young man came, he found in the
+drawing-room not merely a very much prettier Miss Symons, that in itself
+was not of much consequence, but a Miss Symons who was well aware of her
+advantages, and knew moreover from successful practice exactly how to
+rouse a desire for pursuit in the ordinary young man.</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta saw at once, though she fought hard, that she had no chance.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going to the Humphreys to-morrow?" he said to Louie.</p>
+
+<p>"If Henrietta's crinoline will leave any room in the carriage," answered
+Louie, "I shall try to get a little corner, perhaps under the seat, or
+one could always run behind. I crushed&mdash;see, what did I crush?&mdash;a little
+teeny-tiny piece of flounce one terrible evening; didn't I, Henrietta?
+And I was never allowed to hear the last of it."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled a special smile, only given to the most favoured of her
+partners. The young man thought how pretty this sisterly teasing was on
+the part of the lovely Miss Symons; Henrietta saw it in another light.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>"My crinolines are not larger than yours, you know they are not."</p>
+
+<p>"Methinks the lady doth protest too much, don't you, Mr. Dockerell?"</p>
+
+<p>"And you always take the best seat in the carriage, so it is nonsense to
+say ..."</p>
+
+<p>He noticed for the first time how loud her voice was.</p>
+
+<p>"Please let us change the conversation," said Louie gently, "it can't be
+at all interesting for Mr. Dockerell. I am ready to own anything you
+like, that you don't wear crinolines at all, if that will please you."</p>
+
+<p>"If there is any difficulty, could not my mother take one of you
+to-morrow night?" (It was Louie he looked at.) "She is staying with me
+for a week. Couldn't we call for you? It would be a great pleasure."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you," began Henrietta.</p>
+
+<p>"Really," said Louie, "you make me quite ashamed of my poor little joke.
+I don't think we have come quite to such a state of things that two
+sisters can't sit in the same carriage. I hear you are a most alarmingly
+good archer, Mr. Dockerell, and I want to ask you to advise me about my
+bow, if you will be so kind." To be asked advice, of course, completed
+the conquest.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>Mr. Dockerell had not been so much in love with Etta as with marrying.
+It took him a very short time to change, but when he had made his offer
+and Louie had discovered that he was too dull a young man for her, he
+did not transfer his affections back to Henrietta. She would gladly have
+taken him if he had. He left the neighbourhood, and not long after
+married someone else.</p>
+
+<p>In this grievous trouble Henrietta did not know where to turn for
+comfort. Mrs. Symons was one of those women who are much more a wife
+than a mother. She could enter into all Mr. Symons' feelings quite
+remarkably, even his most out-of-the-way masculine feelings, but her
+daughters, who on the whole were very ordinary young women, she did not
+understand. Perhaps Henrietta was not altogether ordinary, but after all
+it is not exceptional to want to be loved. Nor did Mrs. Symons care
+particularly for her daughters; she liked her sons much better, she
+would perhaps have been happier without daughters; and she liked
+Henrietta the least, connecting her still with those disagreeable
+childish interviews when Henrietta had been brought down, black and
+sulky, to be scolded.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>Henrietta was now passing through what is not an extraordinary
+experience in a woman's life. She had loved and been loved, and then had
+been disappointed. Her mother in her distress was no more comfort than,
+I was going to say, the servants, but she was much less, for Ellen, now
+Mrs. Symons' maid, gave poor Henrietta some of the sympathy for which
+she hungered.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn was away, her parents had consented to her being educated with
+the little friend abroad, and if she had been at home, she was only
+fourteen, too young to be of much use. However Henrietta poured out her
+bitterness to her in a long letter, and Evelyn wrote back full of loving
+sentiment and sentimentality. Henrietta wrote also to Miranda, and had a
+sympathetic letter in answer, most sympathetic, considering that Miranda
+had just consummated a triumphant engagement to the son of an earl.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Symons could not help thinking that Henrietta had stupidly muddled
+her affairs, and wasted the good chance which had been contrived for
+her. This was the view she presented to her husband, so that though they
+tried not to show it in their manner, they both felt a little
+aggrieved.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>It was to William that she turned, though she remembered clearly the
+disappointing interview of her childhood. William, now a solicitor in
+London, came home for a few days' holiday. The Sunday of his visit was
+wet. When Mr. and Mrs. Symons were both asleep in the drawing-room, he
+and Henrietta sat in the former school-room, and kept up friendly
+small-talk about the neighbourhood. There was something so solid and
+comfortable about his face that she felt she must tell him. She wanted
+to lean on someone; she had not, she never had, any satisfaction, any
+pride in battling for herself. Yet she knew that William's face was
+deceptive; it would be much better not to speak. She determined,
+therefore, that she would say very little, and speak as coolly as she
+could. She began, but before she could stop herself, the whole story was
+out, and much more than the story, unbridled abuse of Louie, who was
+William's favourite sister. She only stopped at last, because her sobs
+made it impossible to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"It does seem unlucky," said William, "very unlucky. I should talk it
+over with mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother thinks it was my own fault. I know she does."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>"Well&mdash;um&mdash;write to Minna; yes, you might write to Minna."</p>
+
+<p>"Minna is only interested in the baby. She hardly ever writes; besides,
+she never cared about me at all. She would be glad."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, I shouldn't think it was worth while taking it to heart. Just
+go out to plenty of dances and be jolly; you mustn't mope. If you can
+get Aunt Mercer to give you a bed, I'll take you to the play. That will
+do you all the good in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"It's very kind of you, William."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's all right. Well," going to the window, "it's no good staying
+in all the afternoon, it makes one so hipped. I shall take a turn and
+look in on Beardsley on my way back. Tell mother not to wait supper for
+me."</p>
+
+<p>She knew she had better have said nothing. He hated the recesses of the
+heart being revealed, particularly those special recesses of a woman's
+heart; he had thought her unmaidenly. But he was sorry for her; he took
+her to the play, a rousing farce, for he was one of those who naively
+consider that two hours of laughing can compensate for months of misery,
+and even be a remedy. He gave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> her a brooch also, and said to his
+mother, "I think Etta gets low by herself, now Minna is married and
+Louie is away. Why shouldn't she go for some visits?"</p>
+
+<p>It may seem strange that Henrietta should have spread broadcast a grief
+which most people would keep hidden in their own hearts. But it is one
+of the saddest things about lonely people, that, having no proper
+confidant, they tell to all and sundry what ought never to be told to
+more than one. When, however, the overmastering desire for sympathy had
+passed, words cannot express her regret that she had spoken. For years
+and years afterwards it would suddenly come upon her, "I told him and he
+despised me," and she would beat her foot on the floor with all her
+might, in a useless transport of remorse.</p>
+
+<p>Both Louie and Henrietta had felt it was wiser not to see too much of
+one another after Mr. Dockerell's proposal. Louie had gone away for a
+month or six weeks, and when she came back, Henrietta went for a long
+visit to Minna.</p>
+
+<p>With two babies, the youngest very delicate, Minna was completely
+absorbed. She was emphatically Mrs. Willard now, not Minna<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> Symons. Mrs.
+Symons had told her something of Henrietta's circumstances, and Minna
+considered that the best balm would be her babies. So they might have
+been for people with a natural admiration for babies, but this Henrietta
+had not got. If Minna's children had been neglected she would have loved
+them dearly, but when they were surrounded by the jealous care of
+mother, nurse, nursemaid, and (if any space was left for him) father,
+there was nothing for her but to look on as an outsider.</p>
+
+<p>It was during this visit that she heard of the young man's engagement.
+She did not realize, till she heard, how tightly she had been clinging
+to the hope that he might come back. Close following on that came the
+news that Louie was engaged to a most amiable and agreeable colonel.
+This made her more bitter, if it was possible to be more bitter, against
+Louie than before. Louie was not merely let off scot-free for what she
+did, but was to have every happiness given to her. Why? The old problem
+of her Confirmation year pressed itself on her, only now she felt less
+mournful and more acrid.</p>
+
+<p>Her troubles made her peevish and disagreeable,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> as was apparent from
+Minna's kindly admonition.</p>
+
+<p>"I think," said she, as they sat sewing one morning, "that I really
+ought to warn you not to talk quite so loud and so positively. I don't
+like saying anything, but of course I am older than you, and that is the
+sort of thing that spoils a girl's chances. Men don't like it. And your
+temper&mdash;even Arthur noticed it, and he is not at all an observant man. I
+daresay you hardly realize the importance of a good temper, Etta, but in
+my opinion it makes more difference in life than anything else."</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta came back three days before Louie's wedding. Louie repented
+the injury she had done, and on the last night she came into Henrietta's
+room and apologized. "You know, Etty, I am very sorry, very, very sorry.
+Of course I had no idea how you felt about him. He wasn't the sort of
+man one could take very seriously, at least that was what I thought.
+Anyhow I wouldn't worry about it any more, for you know I think he
+cannot have been very seriously touched, or he would have made some
+effort to see you again, surely, after his little episode with me."</p>
+
+<p>Louie felt more than her words conveyed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> but she could not demean
+herself to show too much.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you didn't mean it unkindly," said Henrietta; "I shall try to
+believe you, but you've wrecked my life."</p>
+
+<p>"Etta is so exaggerated and hysterical," said Louie afterwards, talking
+things over. But as a matter of fact Henrietta spoke only the sober
+truth.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span><a name="iv" id="iv"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">After</span> Louie's wedding Henrietta went to stay with an aunt, her father's
+eldest sister, almost a generation older than he was. She lived in a
+little white house in the country, with a green verandah and French
+windows. She was a kind, nice old lady, not well off, a humble
+great-aunt to the whole village. Children continually came to eat her
+mulberries; girls were found places; sick people were sent jelly, and
+there was always a great deal of sewing and knitting for poor friends.</p>
+
+<p>She did her best to make the visit pass cheerfully; she had some little
+scheme of pleasure for each day, and so many people came and went that,
+though not exciting, the life could not possibly be called dull.</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta did not know whether Mrs. Symons had mentioned her trouble to
+her aunt; she hoped not. Now that the first shock was over, she had
+become sensitive on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> subject, and did not wish to speak about it.
+From a little speech her aunt made, it is possible that Mrs. Symons had
+said something.</p>
+
+<p>One day as they sat talking comfortably and confidentially over the
+fire, the conversation turned on her aunt's past days. She had been left
+motherless, the eldest of a large family, when she was nineteen or
+twenty. It was evidently her duty to devote herself to the younger ones,
+and when a man presented himself whom she loved and by whom she was
+loved, she felt that she could not be spared from home.</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta saw that she was bracing herself to say something. At last out
+it came:</p>
+
+<p>"You know, my dear, I think in spite of&mdash;I mean that there are many
+things besides&mdash;though when one has hoped&mdash;still life can be very happy,
+very peaceful, without. Why, there is this garden, and there are those
+three darling little children next door."</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta knew that this unanalysable sentence was meant to comfort her.
+She felt grateful, but she was not comforted. Her aunt's life was the
+sweetest and happiest possible for old age, but could she at twenty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
+settle down to devising treats for other people's children, or sewing
+garments for the poor? It made her feel sick and dismal to think of it.
+Besides, their circumstances were not similar. Her aunt, fortified by
+the spirit of self-sacrifice, had resigned what she loved, but she had
+the reward of being the most necessary member of her circle. Henrietta
+had had no scope for self-sacrifice, for she had never had anything to
+give up. In fact she envied her aunt, for she realized now that Mr.
+Dockerell could never have cared for her. And far from being the most
+necessary member of her family, her difficulty was to squeeze into a
+place at all.</p>
+
+<p>The visit came to an end. She went home, and regular life began again.
+Since one ordinary young man had been attracted to her when she was
+twenty, there seemed no reason why other ordinary men should not
+continue to be attracted. As he had been in love with marrying rather
+than with her, so she had been in love with being loved rather than with
+him. She would have accepted almost any pleasant young man, provided he
+had had the supreme merit of caring for her. But the inscrutable fate
+which rules these matters,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> decreed that it was not to be. No other
+suitor presented himself.</p>
+
+<p>For one thing, she went to fewer parties now. After Louie's marriage,
+Mrs. Symons, who had worked hard in the good cause of finding husbands,
+began to flag. Henrietta was not so gratifying to take out as Louie had
+been, particularly as her complexion went off early, and without her
+complexion she had nothing to fall back on. So Mrs. Symons gave herself
+up to the luxury of bad health, and said she could not stand late hours.
+When Henrietta did go out, her experience made her feel that she was
+unlikely to please; and though no one can define what produces
+attractiveness, it is safe to say that one of the most necessary
+elements is to believe oneself attractive.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Symons had not hitherto taken great interest in his daughters, but
+when Minna and Louie were married, he became fonder of them. He was one
+of those men whose good opinion of a woman is much strengthened if
+confirmed by another man. His daughters' husbands had confirmed his
+opinion in the most satisfactory way by marrying them, whereas his good
+opinion of Henrietta, far<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> from being confirmed, had been rather
+weakened. Minna and Louie's virtues, husbands, and houses were often
+extolled now, and there was nothing to extol in her. Henrietta felt this
+continually. Her parents did not speak to her of her misfortunes; she
+was left alone, which is perhaps what most girls would have liked best.
+Not so Henrietta.</p>
+
+<p>The three years after Louie's marriage were the most miserable of
+Henrietta's life. If she did not go out to parties, what was she to do?
+The housekeeping? The housekeeping, as in many cases, was not nearly
+enough to provide her mother with occupation. It certainly could not be
+divided into occupation for two. Nursing her mother? Her mother much
+preferred that Ellen, on whom she had become very dependent, should do
+what was necessary, and for companionship she had all she wanted in her
+husband. He was away for several hours in the day however, and during
+his absence Henrietta did drive out with her mother, read to her, and
+sit with her, and as they were so much together and shared the small
+events of the country town, they were to a certain extent drawn
+together. But Mrs. Symons always treated Henrietta <em>de haut en bas</em>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+and snubbed her when she thought necessary, as if she had been a child
+of ten, so that Henrietta was constrained and a little timid with her.
+There was the suggestion of a feeling that Mrs. Symons was to be pitied
+for having Henrietta still on her hands. If Henrietta had refused to be
+snubbed, there would have been none of that suggestion. Evelyn was still
+away at school. There were a certain number of girls of Henrietta's age
+whom she saw from time to time, but as her mother did not wish to be
+disturbed by entertaining, they were not asked to the house, and
+therefore did not ask Henrietta to theirs. Besides, she was sensitive,
+thinking, truly, that they were discussing her misfortune, and did not
+want to see them.</p>
+
+<p>In addition to the poignancy of disappointment, of present dulness and
+aimlessness, Henrietta realized forcibly, though perhaps not forcibly
+enough for the truth, that the years between eighteen and thirty were
+her marrying years, which, slowly as they passed from the point of view
+of her happiness, went only too fast, when she considered that once gone
+they could never come back, and that as they fled, they took her chances
+with them.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>Fifty years ago the large majority of the girls of her class married
+early, and the years of home life after school were arranged on the
+supposition that they were a short period of preparation for marriage.
+It did not matter to Minna and Louie that they had no interests to fill
+their days, that their life had been nothing but parties and intervals
+of waiting for parties, because it had only lasted four or five years.
+It had done what it was intended to do, it had settled them very
+comfortably with husbands. But with Henrietta, the condition which was
+meant to be temporary, seemed spreading itself out to be permanent, and
+with the parties taken away, she was hard put to it to fill up her days.
+She longed inexpressibly for school, for its restrictions, its monotony
+and variety. And to think that when she had the luck to be there, she
+had counted the days to being a young lady. When she remembered how she
+had almost wept at Miss Arundel's description of Joan of Arc, her mouth
+watered for lessons. As for Miss Arundel herself, she hungered and
+thirsted after her.</p>
+
+<p>At last she had a happy thought; she decided that she would read
+Italian, read Dante. Miss Arundel had taught her Italian,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> and she would
+write to Miss Arundel, and ask her to recommend a good translation. She
+remembered that Miss Arundel and Mrs. Marston had occasionally had
+favourite old pupils to stay with them. She imagined how one letter
+might lead to another, and how at last Miss Arundel might invite her to
+stay too. She wrote her letter with great care and great delight,
+constantly changing her words, for none seemed good enough for Miss
+Arundel, and making a fair copy, as if it were an exercise to be sent up
+for correction.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Arundel received the letter, read it through, came to the
+signature, and could not for the life of her remember who Henrietta
+Symons was. So many girls had passed through her hands, and she lived in
+the present rather than the past. A teacher was ill, she was very busy,
+the letter slipped her memory. One evening it came into her head, and
+she asked her sister, "By the by, who was Henrietta Symons?"</p>
+
+<p>"I recollect the name perfectly," said Mrs. Marston. "Let me see; yes,
+now I know. There were three of them, one was Minnie, I believe, and I
+think Etta had a bad headache at the picnic. It was a blazing day that
+year,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> the hottest I ever remember, and I had to come back early with
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course; I remember now," said Miss Arundel. "A girl with very marked
+eyebrows." And she wrote back a postcard, "Tr. of D.'s D. C. Carey, 2
+vols., Ward and Linsell. M. Arundel."</p>
+
+<p>The postcard made Henrietta inclined to back out of Dante. But by this
+time she had arranged to read with a neighbour, Carrie Bostock, so she
+had to make a start. They did start, but as they neither understood the
+Italian, nor the translation, nor the notes, they found continual
+excuses for not reading, till Carrie boldly suggested "I Promessi
+Sposi," which went much better. They did not read for long, however, for
+Carrie became engaged, it seemed to Henrietta that everybody she knew
+was becoming engaged, and Carrie considered her engagement an occupation
+which gave her no time for anything else, certainly no time for Italian.</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta found she did not read by herself. The two years away from
+school made it difficult to start. Perhaps it may seem strange that a
+girl who had been so eager at school, should not care to work by herself
+at home.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> But when there are no competitors and no Miss Arundel, work
+loses much of its zest for everyone except the real student, who is
+rarely to be found among men, still more rarely among women. And the
+last thing Henrietta would ever be was unusual.</p>
+
+<p>Clever, interesting schoolgirls are not at all uncommon, though not so
+general as clever, interesting children. But there are few who remain
+clever and interesting when they grow up. Uninspiring surroundings, and
+contact with life, or mere <a name="accumalation" id="accumalation"></a><ins title="original had accumalation">accumulation</ins> of years, take something away.
+Or perhaps it simply is that when they are grown up they are judged by a
+more severe standard. Miss Arundel had been disappointed again and
+again. But she would not have been surprised that Henrietta let
+everything go, for she had always observed in her an unfortunate strain
+of weakness.</p>
+
+<p>Besides being weak, Henrietta was always affected by the people she was
+with, and the atmosphere of home life was not encouraging to study.
+"Reading Italian, my dear?" her mother would say. "Oh, can't you find
+anything better to do than that? Surely there must be some mending;"
+while her father advised her, through her mother, "not to become too
+clever;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> it was a great pity for a girl to get too clever."</p>
+
+<p>After all, there seemed no earthly reason why she should read Italian;
+it gave no pleasure to herself or to anyone else. So she spent most of
+the long leisure hours sitting by the window and thinking. She often
+said to herself the verse of a poem then just published by Christina
+Rossetti. She had seen it on a visit, copied it out, and learned it:</p>
+
+<div class="block">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="io">"Downstairs I laugh and sport and jest with all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in my solitary room above<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I turn my face in silence to the wall:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My heart is breaking for a little love."<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>It did not quite apply to Henrietta, for she was not sporting and
+jesting downstairs with anyone, but that verse was the greatest comfort
+to her of those dreary years. The writer <em>must</em> have been through it
+all, she thought; she knows what it is. Not to be alone, to have
+someone, though an unknown one, who could share it, lightened her
+burden, when she was in a mood that it should be lightened.</p>
+
+<p>She made up verses too, and wrote them in a pretty album she bought for
+the purpose. They relieved her heart a little&mdash;at any rate it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> was a
+distraction to think of the rhymes. She would have shown them to Carrie,
+if she had had the slightest encouragement, but as Carrie gave no
+encouragement, there was no one to see them.</p>
+
+<div class="block">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="io">"While Nature op'ed her lavish hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fairest flowers displayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas his to taste of sunny joys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas mine to sit in shade.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="io">"Oh, talk not to me of a lasting devotion!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It shrivels, it ceases, it fades and it dies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the heart of a man 'tis a fleeting emotion;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alas, in a woman eternal it lies!"<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>A poet would have said that anyone capable of writing that was incapable
+of feeling, but he would have been wrong.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes Henrietta used to have a phantom lover like the phantom friend
+of her childhood, but now&mdash;had she more or less imagination as a
+child?&mdash;she could not bear it. She imagined the phantom, and then she
+wanted him so intensely that she had to forget him. The aspect of
+certain days would be connected with some peculiarly mournful moments.
+She wondered which was the most depressing, the dark setting in at four
+o'clock and leaving her seven hours of drawing-room fancy work (for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> it
+disturbed her mother if she went to bed before eleven), or the summer
+sun that would not go down.</p>
+
+<p>If only some kind stroke of misfortune had taken away all Mr. Symons'
+money. Disagreeable poverty would have been a great comfort to her. She
+would have been forced to make an effort; not to brood and concentrate
+herself on her misery. But Mr. Symons, on the contrary, continued to get
+richer, and throughout her fairly long, dull life, Henrietta was always
+cursed with her tidy little income.</p>
+
+<p>But interminable as the time seemed, it passed. It passed, so that
+reading her old journal with the record of her happy month, she found
+that it had all happened five years ago, and was beginning to be
+forgotten. She felt as if it had not happened to her, but to some
+ordinary girl who had ordinary prosperity. At the same time her lot did
+not seem so bitter as it had done; she had become used to it. Though she
+herself hardly realized it, and certainly could not have said when the
+change had come, she was not now particularly unhappy. It was an
+alleviation that her mother was more of an invalid, so that some of the
+responsibilities of the household devolved on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> her, and her mother
+leaned on her a little. She was certainly not the prop of the house, or
+the lodestar to which they all turned for guidance, none of the
+satisfactory things women are called in poetry, but she was not such an
+odd-man-out as she had been.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span><a name="v" id="v"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">And</span> now the even course of Henrietta's life was interrupted. Evelyn
+returned home. She and her friend were both grown up into young ladies.
+Many letters had passed between the sisters, but it was so long since
+they had seen one another that each felt a little shy at the meeting.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn was very lovely, made to please and be pleased, a regular
+mid-Victorian heroine, universally courted. Though always courted she
+was never spoilt, and was a most affectionate sister and daughter. But
+the old particular bond which had attached her and Henrietta no longer
+existed. She was equally affectionate to Minna and Louie.</p>
+
+<p>Still, her coming made a great difference to Henrietta. There was a
+person of her own generation and way of thinking to converse with; they
+could have jokes together, and Evelyn was still full of schoolgirl
+enthusiasm. She had numberless schemes of occupation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> duets, French
+readings, and splashwork. And when she went away on visits, there were
+her letters, much more intimate than those of a year or two earlier,
+full of allusions to their new occupations, and <a name="teazing" id="teazing"></a><ins title="original had teazing">teasing</ins> of a kind,
+complimentary sort, which was new and very delightful to Henrietta.</p>
+
+<p>They were arranging flowers in the school-room one afternoon, roses
+which had been brought to Evelyn by an admirer. They dropped some on the
+floor, both stooped to pick them up, and they knocked their heads
+together. Evelyn got up laughing, but felt her hand suddenly snatched,
+and kissed with a long, eager kiss. She turned round, startled. "What is
+it?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't help it," said Henrietta, half hysterically. "If you knew
+what it is to me to have you back. I can't tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it, dear?" said Evelyn. "I'm so glad." And she smoothed Henrietta's
+forehead with a pretty gesture full of sweetness, but with a touch of
+condescension in it. She had listened already to so many passionate
+declarations about herself (one that very afternoon) that she was not so
+much impressed by Henrietta's as most younger sisters would have been.
+Still she could not help contrasting herself in her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> triumphant youth
+with Henrietta, disregarded by everyone and snubbed. Mr. and Mrs. Symons
+never snubbed Evelyn, and she thought for a moment, "Oh, I'm thankful
+I'm not her"; but she put the thought away as unkind, and supposed
+vaguely that Henrietta was so good she did not mind.</p>
+
+<p>Now that Evelyn was come back, Mrs. Symons roused herself from her
+invalidism to provide amusements for her. So little was possible at home
+that almost at once a round of gay visits was arranged. Minna was less
+engrossed now that the babies were older, and took her out to parties;
+and Louie had all the officers of her husband's regiment at command.
+These same attractions had been offered to Henrietta. Louie had been
+most sincerely anxious to atone for the past, and had invited her again
+and again, but Henrietta had always refused; for though the original
+wound was healed, she still cherished resentment against Louie.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn's was a career of triumph. Her letters, and Louie's and Minna's
+were full of officers and parties. This roused Henrietta's old
+discontent. Why was Evelyn to have everything and she nothing? She
+promptly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> answered herself, "Because Evelyn is so sweet and beautiful,
+she deserves everything she can get." But the question refused to be
+snubbed, and asked itself again. She hated herself for envying, and
+continued to envy.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn came home from her visits very much excited and interested about
+herself, but still not unmindful of Henrietta.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me come in to your room, Etty, and tell you everything. I had a
+perfect time with Louie; she was a dear. She was always saying, 'Now,
+who shall we have to dinner? You must settle;' so I just gave the word,
+and whoever I wanted was produced. Louie wishes you would go too. Do go,
+you would have such fun. She gave me a note for you."</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Etta</span>," the note ran,</p>
+
+<p>"The 9th is having a dance on the 28th. I wish you would come and stay
+with us for it. Come, and bring Evelyn. I particularly want to have her
+for it. There is a special reason. Everyone is enchanted with the dear
+little thing. I shall be disappointed if you don't come too. It all
+happened such years ago, surely we may forget it; and Edward is always
+asking me why I do not have you, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> it seems so absurd, when I have no
+proper reason to give. I shall really think it too bad of you, if you
+don't come.</p>
+
+<p class="i4">Your affec.,<br />
+<span class="i2 smcap">L. N. Carrington.</span>"</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta, thinking over the matter, found there was no reason why she
+should not go. At twenty-seven she felt herself rather older than this
+generation at forty-eight, and thought it ridiculous that she should be
+going to a dance. But once she was there, Louie made her feel so much at
+home, she found her remarks were so warmly welcomed, and her few
+hesitating sallies so much enjoyed, that she began to think that after
+all she was not completely on the shelf.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't go to-morrow, Etta&mdash;stay here. There's the Steeplechase on
+Friday; I want you to see that."</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you, Louie," said Henrietta; "I can't leave mother longer.
+It's been very delightful, more delightful than you can realize,
+perhaps&mdash;you're so much accustomed to it; but I must get back."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, that really is nonsense, Etta. Mother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> has Ellen, and she has
+father, and she is pretty well for her; you said so yourself."</p>
+
+<p>But Henrietta persisted in her refusal, for she had all the strong,
+though sometimes unthinking, sense of duty of her generation.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you will go, you must. But now you have begun coming, come
+often. Write a line whenever you like and propose yourself."</p>
+
+<p>As they said good-night, Louie whispered, "Have you forgiven me, Etty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Henrietta, "that's all past and gone."</p>
+
+<p>"For a matter of fact," said Louie, "he is not very happy with her; they
+don't get on. The Moffats know him, and Mrs. Moffatt told me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I am sorry," said Henrietta, but she was not displeased.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn stayed behind, and Louie talked Henrietta over with her. "Poor,"
+ever since her marriage Henrietta had been "poor" to Louie, "Poor Etta
+really isn't bad-looking, and when she gets animated she isn't
+unattractive. If I could have her here often, I believe I could do
+something for her."</p>
+
+<p>When Evelyn came home a week or so later, she had an announcement to
+make. She had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> become engaged to an officer, a friend of the
+Carringtons, who had been staying in the house. He was delightful, the
+engagement was everything that was to be desired, and Evelyn was
+radiant.</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta knew that such an announcement was bound to come sooner or
+later, but she had so longed for a few years' happy intercourse
+together. She tried to think only of Evelyn, but she could not keep back
+all that was in her mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Think of me left all alone. It was so dreary, and when you came you
+made everything different. Now it will go back to what it was before."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, Etty darling; you will come and stay with us for months and
+months."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I shan't. When you have got him you won't want me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I shall. I shall want you all the more. I love you more than I've
+ever done in my life, my darling sister. We've always been special, we
+two, haven't we, ever since I can remember?"</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta was a little comforted, and did not realize that though
+Evelyn's tenderness was absolutely sincere, it came from the strange<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+expansion of the heart which accompanies true love, and was not
+habitual.</p>
+
+<p>The marriage took place almost at once, for the Captain's regiment was
+ordered on foreign service, and Evelyn went away to regions where it was
+not possible for Henrietta to visit her.</p>
+
+<p>But if she had lived in England, Henrietta would not have felt herself
+at liberty to go away for long. After she got home, she felt glad she
+had not extended her visit to the Carringtons, for Mrs. Symons was not
+so well, and she died shortly afterwards, and Henrietta reigned in her
+stead.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span><a name="vi" id="vi"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">The</span> household changed now; two new elements were introduced: William
+came from London to be a partner in his father's firm, and lived at
+home, and Harold, who had been employed by an engineer in the North,
+found work in the neighbourhood and came back too. So that Henrietta's
+life became at once much fuller of interest and importance than it had
+been for years. As the only lady of the house, she was bound to be
+considered, to make decisions, to have much authority in her own hands,
+and at twenty-seven she greatly appreciated authority. If she was not to
+have love, she would at any rate have position, and the servants found
+her an exacting mistress. Mrs. Symons, though she had given over certain
+duties to Henrietta, had kept herself head of the house to the time of
+her death. She had a way with servants: they always liked her, and
+stayed with her; but latterly she had let things slide, and when
+Henrietta took her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> place she found much to criticize. Most of the
+servants left, but some stayed, and agreed with Ellen that it was "just
+Miss Henrietta's way; she was funny sometimes." However, they got used
+to her, and things jogged along pretty quietly.</p>
+
+<p>When Ellen left to be married, and there was no one in the kitchen to
+make allowances for her, she had much more difficulty, and Mr. Symons
+was occasionally disturbed in his comfortable library by an indignant
+apparition, which declared amid gulps that it had "no wish whatever to
+make complaints, but really Miss Henrietta&mdash;&mdash;!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Symons thought this very hard. "Can't you manage to make them
+decently contented? We never used to have this sort of thing," he would
+say. Henrietta would defend herself by counter-charges, and on the whole
+felt the incident was creditable to her, as showing that she was a
+power, and a rather dreaded power, in the house.</p>
+
+<p>The men thought also that they were under a needlessly harsh yoke.
+Henrietta grumbled when they were late for meals, or creased the
+chintzes, or let the dog in with muddy paws. From a combination of
+kindness, weakness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> and letting things slide, they made no complaints.
+Mr. Symons always remembered and felt sorry for the episode which
+Henrietta herself had almost forgotten, and he was determined to make up
+to her by letting her be as unpleasant as she liked at home.</p>
+
+<p>If only they had spoken strongly while there was yet time. They did not
+realize, it is difficult for those in the same house to realize, where
+things were tending. Henrietta's temper became less violent; there are
+fewer occasions for losing a temper when one is grown up, but she took
+to nagging like a duck to water.</p>
+
+<p>But if they made no complaints, the men left her to herself. Mr. Symons
+spent many hours at his club, and her brothers entertained their friends
+in the smoking-room. She was vaguely disappointed; she had an idea,
+gleaned from novels and magazines, that as the home daughter to a
+widowed father, the home sister to two brothers, she would be consulted,
+leant on, confided in. Mr. Symons missed his wife at every turn, but he
+never felt Henrietta could take her place. Her nagging shut up his heart
+against her. He thought it silly, rather unfairly, perhaps, for she
+inherited the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> habit from her mother, and he had never thought <em>her</em>
+nagging silly.</p>
+
+<p>As to William and Harold, they had come to the ages of thirty-five and
+twenty-six without any wish for confidence, and why should they wish to
+confide in Henrietta? She was not wise and she was not sympathetic. The
+mere fact that they lived in the same house with her caused no automatic
+opening of the heart. Well on in middle life, William became engaged,
+and suddenly poured out everything to his love, but for the present he
+and Harold were content to go through life never saying anything about
+themselves to anybody. In fact, they hardly ever thought of Henrietta.
+She would have been astonished if she had known what an infinitesimal
+difference she made in their lives.</p>
+
+<p>As mistress of the house, Henrietta was promoted to the circle of the
+married ladies, and the happiest hours of her life were spent in visits
+she and they interchanged, when they talked about servants,
+arrangements, prices, and health.</p>
+
+<p>They were not intimate friends. Perhaps the women of fifty years ago did
+not have the faculty of staunch and close friend-making<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> possessed by
+our generation. And now Henrietta did not very much want to make
+friends. She would have thought intimacy a little schoolgirlish, a
+little beneath a middle-aged lady's dignity.</p>
+
+<p>Her parents had been a very ordinary couple in a country town. They and
+the society they frequented were uncultivated, and uninterested in
+everything that was going on in the world outside. The men, of course,
+were occupied with their professions, and almost all the ladies had
+large growing families, which gave full scope for their energies.
+Henrietta had not their duties, and was better off than the majority of
+them, but she did not find time hang heavy on her hands. Long ere this
+she had learnt the art of getting through the day with the minimum of
+employment. Now, of course, her various duties gave her a certain amount
+to do, but not enough to occupy her mind profitably. She often said, "I
+am so busy I really haven't a moment to spare," and quite sincerely
+declined the charge of a district, because she had no time. If any
+visitors were coming to stay, she spoke of the preparations and the work
+they entailed, as if all was performed by her single pair of hands.
+"What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> with Louie and Edward coming to-morrow, and Harold going to the
+Tyrol on Wednesday, I cannot think how I shall manage, but I suppose,"
+with a resigned smile, "I shall get through somehow." She was persuaded
+into visiting a small hospital once a fortnight for an hour, and the day
+and hour were much dreaded by her entourage, so vastly did they loom on
+the horizon, and so submissively must every other event wait on their
+convenience.</p>
+
+<p>Minna and Louie often came on visits with their children. The three
+sisters got on much better than formerly, though Minna and Louie were
+both <a name="two" id="two"></a><ins title="original had two">too</ins> much absorbed in their own interests to give Henrietta a large
+place in their thoughts. Minna's husband failed early in health, before
+he had had time to fulfil his promising early prospects, while Louie's
+Colonel, when he retired from the army, occupied his leisure in
+speculation, and greatly diminished that attractive fortune of his. All
+three sisters had a certain amount of money left to them by their
+mother, but in spite of this Minna and Louie were now both,
+comparatively speaking, poor, while Henrietta, with no one dependent on
+her, and a large allowance from her father, was comfortably off. Louie
+and Minna quite gave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> up talking of "poor Henrietta," and "Really
+Henrietta has done very well for herself," was a remark frequently
+exchanged.</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta had always been generous, and her sisters soon came to expect
+as a right that she should rescue them in times of domestic need: pay
+for a nephew's schooling, send a delicate niece to the sea, and give
+very substantial presents at birthdays and Christmas. Their point of
+view seemed to be that if anyone had been so lucky as to keep out of the
+bothers of marriage, the least she could do was to help her unfortunate
+sisters. Still, they disliked being beholden to Henrietta, and, half
+intentionally, set their children against her to relieve their feelings.
+The children were not bad children, but Henrietta found their visits
+burdensome. She was becoming a little set and unwilling to be disturbed,
+and she said the children were spoilt. Minna and Louie had determined
+they would not be the strict parents of the elder generation, whereas
+Henrietta, who remembered all the snubbing of her youth, wanted to have
+her turn of giving snubs, and this did not make her popular. She never
+grew very fond of these children, but kept her affection for something
+else.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>For it is not to be supposed that a heart with such peculiar longing for
+love was to be satisfied with a life in which feeling played so little
+part. She had put aside the desire for a lover now. She was not one of
+the women whom nothing will satisfy but marriage; on the whole she did
+not care very much for men. She wanted what she had always wanted,
+something to love and something to love her. And she had good reason to
+hope that at last that wish might be realized, for it was agreed between
+her and Evelyn that if there were any children, she was to bring them up
+while Evelyn was abroad. Round this hope she built many happy schemes.</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta had seen very little of Evelyn all this time&mdash;the regiment
+went from one foreign station to another&mdash;but very affectionate letters
+passed between the two.</p>
+
+<p>For some years no children were born. Then came a little girl. "She is
+to be called Etta," said Evelyn's letter, "and you know she is your baby
+as well as ours. Do you remember what you did for me in old days? I
+think of how you will do the same for baby, and I could not bear for
+anyone else to do it but you." The baby died in the first year.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> Then
+came a little boy, who lived an even shorter time; then another little
+girl. The parents and Henrietta hardly dared to hope this time. But the
+perilous first year passed, then, although she was always very delicate,
+a second, third, and fourth. Then, when the plans were maturing for her
+coming home, she died too. It seems sometimes as if Death cannot leave a
+certain family alone, but comes back to it again and again.</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn is broken-hearted," her husband wrote, "and if she stays in this
+horrible India I believe I shall lose her too. I am going to exchange if
+I can to a home regiment, or I shall leave the army. I do not care what
+we do as long as I get her away. In the midst of it all she keeps
+thinking of how you will feel it. I believe a good cry with you is the
+one thing that might comfort her."</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta took this letter to her father, and implored him to let her go
+out to India at once. But this Mr. Symons, though kind and sympathetic
+and truly sorry for Evelyn, could not bring himself to allow. He was
+getting to the age when he shrank from violent upheavals. Herbert said
+they were leaving India. By the time she arrived they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> would probably be
+gone, and then what a wild goose chase it would be. Then, of course, she
+could not go alone, and who was to go with her? Her brothers could not
+spare the time, and he did not feel up to going, and she must have a man
+with her. Edward? No, certainly not. Since his speculations, Edward was
+in bad odour. No, it would be much better to write a kind letter&mdash;he
+would write too&mdash;and drop this really foolish scheme, which would, among
+other things, be very costly, more costly <a name="then" id="then"></a><ins title="original had then">than</ins> he felt prepared to face
+just then.</p>
+
+<p>She said she would go alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you would go entirely without my sanction. It is a perfectly
+impossible thing for a young lady to contemplate. You have never even
+been on the Continent, and you think of travelling to India unattended."</p>
+
+<p>She had never acted in opposition to her parents, though she had often
+been domineering to her father in small matters, when he had not
+resisted. She was always weak, she could only fight when the other side
+would not fight back. She said, "Oh, father, I must go," and when he
+said, "Nonsense, I couldn't think of it," she collapsed, partly from
+cowardice, partly from duty, though her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> father was not in the least
+strong-willed either, and with a little serious resistance would have
+been made to yield. She felt bitterly the reproach in Evelyn's letter,
+"If only you could have come."</p>
+
+<p>She did not feel as wildly wretched as fifteen years ago, because now in
+middle age what she passed through at the moment was not of the same
+desperate importance; but then she had a small corner of hope hidden
+away that perhaps something might happen, whereas now she realized
+clearly that the prospect which had given her her chief interest and
+delight was destroyed for ever.</p>
+
+<p>The trouble told on her, she caught a chill, which developed into
+pneumonia. She was dangerously ill for some weeks, and when she was
+better, she was long in getting up her strength, because she had no wish
+to get well.</p>
+
+<p>Minna and Louie thought it odd that Henrietta should "fret so much about
+Evelyn's children whom she had never seen. She has always seemed to make
+so much more fuss over them than over her own nephews and nieces in
+England. Of course, it was natural that dear Evelyn herself should be
+distracted,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> but for Henrietta it almost seemed a little exaggerated."</p>
+
+<p>When she was well enough to travel, the doctor recommended the South of
+France for the winter, and she went away with a married friend, the
+Carrie Bostock of the Italian readings.</p>
+
+<p>It was all very pleasant and entertaining to Henrietta, who had never
+been abroad, never even away from her own family. In the Riviera she
+could to a certain extent drown thought, but she counted the days with
+consternation, as each one in its flight brought her nearer to taking up
+life again at home.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon she received a letter from her father.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Henrietta</span>," it ran,</p>
+
+<p><span class="i2">"I</span> do not know if you will be surprised to hear that I am
+engaged to be married to Mrs. Waters. We have not known one another very
+long, but I must say I very soon felt that she would be one who could
+take your dear mother's place. I think it is very possible that you may
+have observed whither matters were tending. I feel certain that we shall
+all be very happy together, and I hope you will write her a warm letter
+of welcome<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> to our family. She will, I am sure, be both mother and
+sister to you, etc."</p>
+
+<p>The news was staggering to Henrietta. She had been so engrossed in her
+own trouble that she had observed nothing of what was going on around
+her. Mrs. Waters, a widow, who had lately settled in the neighbourhood,
+had been several times to their house and had entertained them at hers,
+but that she should be anything more than a friendly acquaintance had
+never entered Henrietta's head. She was to be ousted, her mother was to
+be ousted, and she was to give a warm welcome to the interloper. Her
+forgotten temper burst forth. She wrote a violent letter to her father,
+hurling at him all the ridiculous exaggerated things that most people
+feel at the beginning of a rage, but which few are so mad as to commit
+to paper. She refused altogether to write to Mrs. Waters.</p>
+
+<p>She also relieved herself by contradicting everything Carrie said, thus
+giving her a good excuse for those long talks to a third party, which
+frequently take place when friends have been abroad together, beginning,
+"I really had no idea she <em>could</em>."</p>
+
+<p>After she had written the letter, as usual she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> was very much ashamed.
+She wrote again unsaying all she had said, but her father had been too
+much wounded to reply.</p>
+
+<p>She came back just a little before the wedding to see him in quite a new
+light&mdash;a lover, for he at sixty-five and Mrs. Waters at forty-seven had
+fallen in love.</p>
+
+<p>When Henrietta saw more of her stepmother to be, she had in honesty to
+own that she liked her. She was not only very attractive, but she was so
+thoroughly nice and kind, so intent on making people happy, so entirely
+without airs of patronage, and Henrietta could see how everybody warmed
+under her smile.</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta had settled that she would not live at home after the
+marriage. Neither she nor her father could forget the letter, it was
+better that they should part. She had again asked his forgiveness, but
+neither felt at ease with the other.</p>
+
+<p>She stayed for a few weeks after Mr. and Mrs. Symons came back from the
+honeymoon, and saw almost with consternation, how the spirit of the
+house changed. It became peaceful, cordial, harmonious; it would not
+have been known for the same house. The whole household liked Mrs.
+Symons; even her own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> dog deserted Henrietta. It was not that she was
+ousted from her place, it was that Mrs. Symons created a place, which
+never had been hers. She had had no idea in all these twelve years how
+little she had made herself liked. She had had her chance, her one great
+chance, in life, and she had missed it.</p>
+
+<p>When she went away, there were kind good wishes for her prosperity,
+interest in her plans, many hopes that she would visit them, but no
+regret; with a clearness and honesty of sight she unfortunately
+possessed she realized that&mdash;no regret.</p>
+
+<p>What was the use of twelve years in which she had sincerely tried to do
+her best, if she had not built up some little memorial of affection? It
+was the old complaint of all her life, "I am not wanted." The anguish
+she had shared with Evelyn and her husband had been much sharper, but in
+the midst of it there had been consolation in the exquisite union they
+had felt with the children and with one another. Here there was nothing
+to cheer her; there is not much consolation when one fails where it
+seems quite easy for others to succeed.</p>
+
+<p>Now that it became evident that she would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> be so little missed, she was
+in haste to get the parting over and be gone. But her unadventurous
+spirit shrank from going out in the world to manage by itself. She was
+very doubtful what she should do. She would not have been welcomed by
+Minna or Louie, even if she had wished to live with them. Her second
+brother was in some <a name="inacessible" id="inacessible"></a><ins title="original had inacessible">inaccessible</ins> foreign place. Evelyn and Herbert were
+also far out of reach. He had exchanged into a regiment which was
+quartered at Halifax, in Canada.</p>
+
+<p>But the distance, however great, might have been faced, if she had not
+had a miserable quarrel with Herbert. It began with some
+misunderstanding about the tombstone on the youngest little girl's
+grave, to which Henrietta had wished to contribute. She had written to
+Evelyn from the Riviera in all the soreness of worn-out nerves and grief
+from which the sublimity has gone. The very fact that they had been
+drawn so close to one another made her specially irritable to Evelyn.
+After one or two of her letters, an answer came from Herbert:</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn is very ill from all she has been through, and the doctor says
+it is most important that she should be kept from every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> sort of worry.
+She was so much distressed at your last letter, and answering you took
+so much out of her, that I have taken the liberty of keeping this one
+from her. You have no right to write to her in this way, and I must ask
+you to drop all correspondence for the present if your letters are to be
+in the same strain."</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta declared that he was trying to come between her and her
+sister, and that if that was the case she should never trouble them
+again. She did not write at all for several weeks, then she felt
+remorseful, but Herbert could not forgive her. He wrote coldly that
+Evelyn was still so unhinged as to be incapable of receiving letters
+without undue excitement.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span><a name="vii" id="vii"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Even</span> now, when there is a certain amount of choice and liberty, a woman
+who is thrown on her own resources at thirty-nine, with no previous
+training, and no obvious claims and duties, does not find it very easy
+to know how to dispose of herself. But a generation ago the problem was
+far more difficult. Henrietta was well off for a single woman, but she
+was incapable, and not easy to get on with. She would have thought it
+derogatory to do any form of teaching&mdash;teaching, the natural refuge of a
+workless woman.</p>
+
+<p>Three or four courses presented themselves. First, philanthropy. She was
+not really more philanthropic than she had been at twenty, when her aunt
+had described to her the happiness of living for others. But she felt at
+nearly forty that charitable work was a reasonable way of filling up her
+time, on the whole, the most reasonable.</p>
+
+<p>She never had had much to do with poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> people. Mrs. Symons had helped
+the charwoman, and the gardener, and the driver from the livery-stables,
+when they were in special difficulties, and Henrietta had continued to
+do so, and had had her hour at the hospital. That was all. There were
+the servants, of course, but with the exception of Ellen she looked on
+servants more as machines made for her convenience, liable to get out of
+order unless they were constantly watched.</p>
+
+<p>Entirely without enthusiasm, and with a dreary fighting against her lot,
+she made inquiries among her acquaintances as to where she might find
+charitable work. At length somebody knew somebody, who knew somebody who
+was working in London under a clergyman. After further inquiries it was
+found that the somebody was a lady, who would be very glad if Henrietta
+would come and live with her, while she saw how she liked the work.</p>
+
+<p>The clergyman, the lady, and all the other workers, were earnest,
+enthusiastic, high-minded, and full of common sense. Henrietta was not
+one of these things. She was also very inaccurate, unpunctual, and
+forgetful, and if her failings were pointed out to her in the gentlest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
+way she took offence, not because she was conceited, but because at her
+age she was beyond having things pointed out. She stayed at the work six
+months, and during that time she was always offended with somebody, and
+sometimes with everybody.</p>
+
+<p>The work was conducted more on charity organization lines than was usual
+in those days; money was not given without due consideration and
+consultation. This was difficult, and required more thinking than
+Henrietta cared for, so she saved herself trouble by bestowing five
+shillings whenever she wanted, feeling at the bottom of her heart that
+if she could not be liked for herself, she would buy liking rather than
+not be liked at all. The five shillings, however, did not buy either
+gratitude or affection. She had always had a grudging way with people of
+a different class from herself, and a conviction, in spite of
+indiscriminate alms, that she was being taken in. This infringement of
+the rules drove the Vicar to exasperation. His whole heart was in his
+work, and Henrietta's disloyalty hindered him at every turn.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't she be asked to give up meddling in the parish?" he said to his
+wife.</p>
+
+<p>"No dear, you know she can't, and she is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> very generous, even if she is
+tiresome. She has often been very helpful to you. You ought to be
+grateful."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not grateful," he said, striding about the room; "and then she is
+so petty, always these absurd squabbles. She hasn't got a spark of love
+for God or man. That's at the root of it all. We don't want a person of
+that sort here. If she cared about the people, even if she did pauperize
+them, I might think her a fool, but I could respect her; but you know
+she doesn't care for a soul but herself."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think it is that, but she's in great trouble, I'm sure she is.
+When you were preaching about sorrow last Sunday, I saw her eyes were
+filled with tears."</p>
+
+<p>"Were they?" he said, "I'm sorry. But look here, dear, I don't think
+this sort of work ought to be used as a soothing syrup, or as a
+rubbish-shoot for loafers, who don't know what else to do. If people
+aren't doing it because they think it's the greatest privilege in the
+world to be allowed to do it, I can't see that they do much good."</p>
+
+<p>"I think you're too hard on her."</p>
+
+<p>"Am I? I expect I am. I know I'm fagged to death. She gives Mrs.
+Wilkins<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> pounds on the sly, which the old lady's been transforming into
+gin, and then when I explain the circumstances and implore her to leave
+well alone, she talks my head off with a torrent of incoherent
+statements, which have nothing whatever to do with the point."</p>
+
+<p>It certainly was true that Henrietta did not do much good, and no one
+was more aware of this than herself. She stood outside the community,
+and looked in at them like a hungry beggar at a feast. How she envied
+their happiness, but she did not feel that she was, or ever could be, a
+partaker with them. As months passed on, she drew no nearer to them.
+They were all so busy, so strong in their union with one another, they
+did not seem to have time to stretch out a friendly hand to one who was
+at least as much in need of it as Mrs. Wilkins.</p>
+
+<p>The lady she lived with found her trying. "A very trying person" was the
+phrase that went the round about her, "always criticizing small
+arrangements about the meals and the housekeeping," for Henrietta could
+not at first reconcile herself to having no authority to exert, and this
+jangling was not a good preparation for sisterly sympathy towards her.</p>
+
+<p>The Vicar's wife might have become friends<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> with her, but during the six
+months Henrietta was in the parish Mrs. Wharton was ill and hardly able
+to see anyone. Besides, she was shy, and the only time that Henrietta
+came to tea they never succeeded in getting beyond a comparison of
+foreign hotels.</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta would have liked to confide her troubles, but as she grew
+older she had become a great deal more reserved, and also these troubles
+she was ashamed to speak of. To think that she had made her own sister,
+ill and miserable as she was, more ill and more miserable, she could not
+forgive herself; she was even harder on herself than Herbert had been.</p>
+
+<p>As Mr. Wharton had said, it was useless engaging in this arduous work
+when her heart was elsewhere. When her six months of trial came to an
+end, it was clear that the only thing for her was to go. No one could
+pretend they were sorry, and as everyone imagined she was glad, there
+seemed no reason to disguise their feelings. They would have been
+surprised if they had known her thoughts as she sat at the evening
+service on her last Sunday. "Whatever I do, I fail; what is the use of
+my living? Why was I born?"</p>
+
+<p>She said to Mr. Wharton in her farewell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> interview: "I know I have been
+very stupid at learning what was to be done, and I have not been willing
+to take advice. Now I look back, I see the mistakes I have made, and I
+have done harm instead of good. I want to give you"&mdash;she named a large
+sum considering the size of her income&mdash;"to spend as you think right, I
+hope that may help to make amends. I am very sorry."</p>
+
+<p>He heard a quiver in her voice, and the dislike and irritation he had
+felt all the six months faded away.</p>
+
+<p>"This is much too generous of you," he stammered. "It is my fault, all
+my fault. I have been so irritable, I haven't made allowances. My wife
+tells me of it constantly. I wish you would forgive me and give us
+another chance. Stay six months longer."</p>
+
+<p>His awkwardness and distress almost disarmed her, but she had felt his
+snubs, and at nearly forty she was not going to be encouraged like a
+child. So that though for many reasons she longed to stay, she answered:
+"Thank you, it was a purely temporary arrangement; I have other plans."</p>
+
+<p>As she walked home she wondered what the other plans were.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>When in doubt, go abroad. She went abroad again for three months. Her
+companion was picked up from nowhere in particular, an odd woman like
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>They went to Italy. Neither of them cared in the smallest degree for
+sculpture, architecture, painting, arch&aelig;ology, poetry, history,
+politics, scenery, languages, or foreigners. These last Henrietta
+regarded as inferior Anglo-Indians regard natives, referring to them
+always as "those wretches."</p>
+
+<p>Like most women she loved certain aspects in her garden at home, which
+were connected with incidents in her life. There was a path bordered by
+roses, along which they had walked when Evelyn announced her engagement,
+and a special old apple-tree reminded her of the night her mother died.
+But to go and admire what Baedeker called a magnificent <em>coup d'&oelig;il</em>
+was no sort of pleasure to her.</p>
+
+<p>However, she and Miss Gurney had one unending amusement, which Italy is
+peculiarly able to supply. They could make short visits to different
+towns, and fit sights into their days, as one fits pieces into a puzzle.
+Henrietta found this sport most satisfying.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span><a name="viii" id="viii"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Just</span> as they were getting tired of tables d'h&ocirc;te dinners, there came to
+their hotel an enthusiast for learning. It was before the days of
+women's colleges; they were established, but frequented only by
+pioneers, in whose ranks no Henriettas are to be found. But courses of
+lectures were so ordinary that not even the most timid could look
+askance at them. As philanthropy had failed, and no one could pretend
+that art could be a resource for Henrietta,&mdash;her career of sketches and
+two part-songs had been phenomenally short (invaluable as it has proved
+itself for many Englishwomen suffering from her complaint)&mdash;everything
+pointed to study as the next solution on the list.</p>
+
+<p>Study. Henrietta had not read a book which required any mental exertion
+since her dozen chapters of "I Promessi Sposi," fifteen years ago.
+Still, the lectures sounded pleasant to her; they were a novelty, they
+were&mdash;she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> could not think of anything else they were&mdash;a novelty must be
+their claim to distinction.</p>
+
+<p>She and the travelling friend found a boarding-house near the
+lecture-room. London and the lodgings both looked dismal after the
+brightness of abroad, but they were excited at the prospect of
+establishing themselves on their own account. It was enterprising, but
+not too enterprising.</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta found a band of enthusiasts at the lecture; it seemed her fate
+to run up against enthusiasm she could not share. Young ladies,
+middle-aged ladies, even old ladies, all listening spellbound&mdash;at least
+if not absolutely spellbound, spellbound compared to Henrietta&mdash;to an
+elderly gentleman discoursing on Aristotle. For most of them Aristotle,
+and the satisfaction of using their minds were sufficient, but a little
+knot of middle-aged women in the front, with hair inclined to be short,
+and eyes bursting with intelligence, used learning as a symbol of
+emancipation. Lectures were their vote. Now they would be in prison.</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta listened for five minutes, then suddenly her thoughts darted
+to her portmanteau: she had lost the key at Dieppe. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> went on to the
+incivility at the Custom-house, the incivility of the waiter at B&acirc;le,
+the incivility of the gardener at her old home, the geranium bed in the
+garden&mdash;would her stepmother attend to it?&mdash;her father, was his eyesight
+really failing? She came back with a jump to find that the lecture had
+moved on several pages. She listened with fair success for another five
+minutes, then her mind wandered to her landlady at the lodgings; was she
+perfectly honest, did her expression inspire confidence? There was that
+pearl brooch Louie had given her; it was Louie's birthday to-morrow, she
+must write, and hear also how Tom was getting on in this his second term
+at school, she must send him a hamper. She had settled the contents of
+the hamper when she found that someone was speaking to her. The lecturer
+was asking whether she felt she would care to write a paper. He hoped as
+many ladies as possible would make an attempt at the papers; it would be
+a great pleasure and interest to him to look through them, etc.</p>
+
+<p>On the way back she found Miss Gurney entranced with everything; she
+seemed to have picked up a great deal more than Henrietta. They went at
+once to a library and a bookshop<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> to get what they had been advised to
+read, and Miss Gurney bought reams of paper. She was hard at work the
+whole evening. Henrietta had one of the books open before her, but she
+found the same difficulty in concentrating herself that she had done at
+the lecture. Miss Gurney was rapidly filling an exercise book with an
+abstract, and was keeping up a conversation as well.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah <em>that</em> was the piece I couldn't quite understand this morning. Yes I
+see, now it is quite clear. Look, Miss Symons. Oh, I shall learn Greek,
+I certainly shall, as he said, it will make it twenty times more
+interesting."</p>
+
+<p>What were they all so excited about? Henrietta had never cared about
+abstract questions, and she could not see that there was any object in
+discovering what the ancient Greeks thought about them more than two
+thousand years ago. The evening before, she and Miss Gurney had had an
+interesting conversation on the weekly averages of house-books. Then she
+felt comfortable and on the solid earth. Why then, was she attending
+lectures on Aristotle? Well, because Miss Gurney had a friend whose
+cousin had married the lecturer, Professor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> Amery, and in the difficult
+problem of choosing a subject, when there was nothing she really cared
+to know about, this was as good a reason as any other.</p>
+
+<p>Then Henrietta remembered how she and Emily Mence years ago at school,
+had argued the whole of Saturday afternoon about Mary Queen of Scots,
+and had not been on speaking terms the following day, because Emily had
+called Mary frivolous. Had she ever really been that queer little girl?
+Still she was anxious to give the lecturer a chance, most anxious, for
+she had already had to suffer from Minna and Louie's sympathy that the
+parish work was a failure. She read three chapters and fell asleep in
+the middle of the fourth, and went to bed half an hour earlier than
+usual. Next morning she could not remember a word of what she had read,
+but for two dates and one sentence, which remained in her head. "Even
+now, in the latter half of the nineteenth century, in spite of an
+unparalleled advance in our knowledge of the natural sciences, the world
+has not yet produced a mind, which can equal that of Aristotle in its
+astounding versatility and profundity of learning." She determined to
+persevere, but was it her subconscious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> self which discovered a vast
+arrear of letters which it was incumbent on her to answer before she
+thought of anything else?</p>
+
+<p>After the lecture there was a class at which everyone talked. Even the
+dear old lady next to Henrietta was asking a quavering question. Yes, a
+little delicate old lady had energy to keep the current of the lecture
+in her head. She said that Aristotle's problem whether it was possible
+for slaves to have ordinary virtues, made her think of the difference in
+the Christian teaching of St. Paul's epistles. Had any of the other
+Greek philosophers been more humane in their views on slavery? Then
+another voice struck in, and compared the ancient idea of slavery with
+the slave code of the United States. The voice was rather strident, but
+not unpleasant. It had a great deal to say, and for some minutes seemed
+likely to take the lecture altogether from the mouth of the lecturer.
+Henrietta looked in its direction, and saw a small apple-cheeked elderly
+lady. The voice and the face both set her thinking, and by the end of
+the lecture she was certain that the elderly lady was Miss Arundel. She
+spoke, and when Miss Arundel had recollected who she was (it took a
+little time),<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> Henrietta received a most cordial invitation to tea.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Arundel lived with a niece in a couple of rooms quite close to
+Henrietta. Mrs. Marston was dead, and Miss Arundel had retired from the
+school with just enough to live in decent comfort.</p>
+
+<p>"So now, after teaching all my life, I am giving myself the treat of
+learning, and I can't tell you how I am enjoying it, Miss Symons. Ada
+and I both like Professor Amery so much." And she prosed on about the
+lecture and the books she was reading, and did not much care to talk
+over the old times, which were still very dear to Henrietta. It amazed
+Henrietta to think that she had once blushed and trembled at the look of
+this fussy, garrulous little governess.</p>
+
+<p>She might be something of a bore, but there was no question of her
+happiness, her interest in life. She had been getting up at six the last
+three mornings that she might finish a book, a large book in two volumes
+with close print, that had to be returned to the library. Henrietta
+could imagine nothing in the world for which she would get up at six
+o'clock. Then her thoughts went like lightning to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> morning when the
+telegram had come telling of little Madeline's death. The wound she had
+thought healed burst out afresh; for a few seconds she felt as if she
+could hardly breathe. Get up at six o'clock, of course she would have
+forfeited her sleep with joy, night after night. In the midst of envy,
+she felt something like contempt for Miss Arundel as a child running
+after shadows.</p>
+
+<p>On her way home, she compared her past with Miss Arundel's. Miss Arundel
+could look back on busy, successful, happy years. Her room was filled
+with tributes from old pupils, they were continually writing to her and
+coming to see her, that Henrietta knew; she did not know how often they
+had thanked her, and told her what they owed her.</p>
+
+<p>Then she envied Miss Arundel's powers of mind. After forty years of
+unceasing and exhausting work she seemed as fresh as a schoolgirl, and
+far more capable of learning, while Henrietta after twenty years of
+rest, had not merely lost all the qualities she had had as a child, but
+had gained none from age and experience to take their place. The
+realization of this fact startled and humiliated her. If her powers had
+already declined at forty, what was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> to happen in the twenty years of
+life that she might reasonably count upon as still before her?</p>
+
+<p>She thought of Miss Arundel's words: "Etta Symons is a girl with
+possibilities; I shall be interested to see how she will turn out." Miss
+Arundel had long forgotten them, and now looked on Henrietta simply as a
+co-member of the lectures, but she said to her niece after Henrietta had
+been to tea, "What a very no-how person Miss Symons is; I should like to
+shake her."</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta tried her hardest to work at the lectures, to recover if
+possible what she had lost, but it was no use. A person of more
+character and determination might have succeeded, in spite of the long
+years of mental self-indulgence, so might a person more ready to take
+advice. But at forty, as I have said, she felt she was beyond advice, so
+she would not notice Miss Gurney's hints. She chose to despise her
+numberings and brackets, though she was half-envious of them. And,
+however contemptible these aids may be to a real student, they were
+evidently the one hope for Henrietta's foggy mind.</p>
+
+<p>She began a paper on the sly, and with much sweat of brow the following
+sentence emerged:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> "There are a number of celebrated writers in ancient
+Greece, and among the number we may notice Aristotle, who wrote a number
+of celebrated books, among which two called the 'Ethics' and 'Republic'
+are very celebrated. He also wrote many other works, but none are so
+celebrated as the two above mentioned." She had not written a paper for
+twenty-three years, and she felt as helpless as if she were trying to
+express herself in French. Her essays had been well thought of at
+school.</p>
+
+<p>As she was floundering along, up came Miss Gurney and looked over her
+shoulder. "Oh Miss Symons, I should have a margin if I were you; I know
+Professor Amery likes a margin for the corrections, he said so himself.
+Oh, and you don't mind my saying so, but Aristotle did not write a
+republic. Shall I just scratch that out? That was Plato. And I should
+have a new paragraph there; and I always find, I don't know if you will,
+that it makes it easier to underline some of the words."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not at all certain that I am going to write a paper," said
+Henrietta. "I just wrote a few notes down to amuse myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm so sorry, dear. Well, if you should think of doing the paper,
+you must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> read this article, it's such a help, it really puts all one
+wants to say."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, I shouldn't care to read that at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh do. Let me put it here, and then you can look at it."</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gurney went out, and Henrietta sat at her paper for two hours and a
+half. It was so bad, so unintelligible, that she actually cried over it,
+and when she heard Miss Gurney's step, she carried it off to her bedroom
+and locked the door. Miss Gurney was after her in an instant.</p>
+
+<p>"How are you getting on with your paper, dear? Can I be of any help?"</p>
+
+<p>She did finish it at last, and gave it to Mr. Amery. She knew it was
+bad, but she was too ignorant to know quite how bad. Professor Amery,
+with the extreme courtesy of elderly gentlemen, wrote: "I think there
+are one or two points which I have not made quite clear. Would you care
+to talk them over with me after the class?" But this offer was so
+alarming that Henrietta "cut" her lectures for two weeks.</p>
+
+<p>There would have been more chance for her, if only she could have become
+in the least<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> interested. She tried the French Revolution next term for
+a change, but liked it no better than Aristotle. Intellectual life was
+dead and buried in her long ago. What would have really suited her best
+in the present circumstances would have been shorthand and type-writing,
+but at that time no such occupation was open to her.</p>
+
+<p>She would perhaps have jogged on indefinitely at the lectures, if Miss
+Gurney, whose great interest was novelty and change, and whose abstracts
+of learned books had lately become much less voluminous, had not jumped
+at a suggestion to take a delicate niece abroad, and proposed that
+Henrietta should come too. So Henrietta consented, and with little
+regret they gave up the lodgings, and said good-bye to learning.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span><a name="ix" id="ix"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Henrietta</span> paid her father a visit before they started abroad. The
+promise of the first days was amply fulfilled; the whole house was
+happy, and Henrietta was touched by the warmth of her welcome. After the
+squalor of lodgings home was pleasant, and her father's invitation was
+cordial: "Henrietta, why don't you stay with us? Mildred," with a fond
+look at his wife, "never will allow your room to be used; it's always
+ready waiting for you."</p>
+
+<p>It was a temptation to Henrietta, but she refused partly from pride,
+from a feeling that she ought not to disturb the present comfort, but
+also because it was getting a principle with her, as apparently with
+many middle-aged Englishwoman, that she must always be going abroad. Yet
+she knew that Miss Gurney did not particularly want to have her, and had
+invited her more from laziness than from anything else.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>They went abroad&mdash;it was to the Italian Lakes&mdash;and a life of sitting in
+the sun, walking up and down promenades, short drives, and making and
+unmaking of desultory friendships began. They grumbled a good deal to
+third parties, but still they were happy enough, according to their low
+standard of happiness.</p>
+
+<p>As they were abroad for an indefinite period, there was none of the
+feeling of rush, which they had enjoyed so much before, but sometimes
+they played the Italian game, and had packed-in days; called, 6.45;
+coffee, 7.30; train, 8.21; arrive at destination, 11.23; go to Croce
+d'Oro for coffee, visit churches of Santa Maria and San Giovanni, and
+museum: <em>table d'h&ocirc;te</em> luncheon, 1.30; drive to Roman remains, back to
+Croce d'Oro for tea; separate for shopping and meet at station, 5.20,
+for train, 5.30; back for special <em>table d'h&ocirc;te</em> kept for them in the
+<em>salle &agrave; manger</em>. Henrietta would settle it all with Baedeker and the
+railway guide the night before, and if she had felt apprehension at her
+failing powers in history, her grasp of this kind of day could not have
+been bettered. Everything was seen and everything was timed, and the
+only person who might have something to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> complain of, was the delicate
+niece, who went through her treat too exhausted to open her mouth,
+counting the hours when she might go to her bed in peace.</p>
+
+<p>At last Miss Gurney and the niece decided to return to England.
+Henrietta found some Americans who wanted to stay at Montreux, and they
+asked her to join them. After Montreux came Chamounix, and in the autumn
+Miss Gurney's niece came out again, and she and Henrietta stayed at
+Como, and then at Mentone till April. Then came Switzerland again. Then
+Henrietta went to England for a round of visits, and by the end of them
+she was longing to be back abroad. She said that England was depressing,
+and gave her rheumatism, and that she (in the best of health and prime
+of life) could not face an English winter. The fact was she did not care
+for the sharing of other people's lives which is expected from a
+visitor, and her long sojourn in hotels with no one but herself to
+consider, had made her less easy to live with. So without exactly
+knowing how, she drifted into spending almost all her time abroad. Every
+other year she came back for visits in the summer, but in the spring,
+autumn, and winter she wandered from one cheap <em>pension</em><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> to another in
+Italy, France, Germany, Belgium, or Switzerland.</p>
+
+<p>If she had led a half-occupied life as keeper of her father's house, she
+now learnt the art of getting through a day in which she did absolutely
+nothing. When she became accustomed to it, the very smallest service
+required of her was regarded as a cross. Sometimes a relation would
+commission her to buy something abroad, and then the <em>salle &agrave; manger</em>
+would resound with wails, because she must go round the corner, select
+an article, and give orders to the shopman to despatch it to England.
+The friends who asked her to engage rooms for them at an hotel, had
+cause to rue their request; they never heard the end of it.</p>
+
+<p>Many lonely women receive great solace from their church, and give
+solace in return. Where would the church and the poor be without them?
+But Henrietta was never long enough in her caravanserais to become
+attached to the services of the chaplains in the <em>salle &agrave; manger</em>, and
+she soon gave up churchgoing. At first she spent a great deal of time
+inventing reasons to keep her conscience quiet, such as that it had
+rained in the night and therefore might rain again, or that she did not
+approve of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> chanting Amen, but later she did not see why there should be
+a reason, and left her conscious to its remorse.</p>
+
+<p>Bad health is another resource for unoccupied women, and it certainly
+occurred to her as an occupation, but she realized that it and roving
+cannot be combined, and of the two she preferred roving.</p>
+
+<p>Her chief pastime was to skim through novels, any novels that could be
+found, costume novels of English history by preference. This was how her
+bent for learning satisfied itself. She never remembered the author, or
+title, or anything of what she read, but at the same time she was
+obsessed with the idea that she must always have something new, and
+would constantly accuse her friends, or the library, of deceiving her
+with books she had read before. "If you can't remember, what does it
+matter?" her dreadfully reasonable nieces would exclaim, not realizing
+that her sole interest in the novels was the collector's interest of
+seeing how many new ones she could find.</p>
+
+<p>A second pastime was her patience, that bond which knits together our
+occidental civilization. She was always learning new patiences, and
+always mixing them up with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> one another. This was another source of
+annoyance to efficient nieces. "But that is not demon, Aunt Etta," they
+would explain, playing patience severely from a sense of duty. She
+cheated so persistently that there was no room for skill. "I can't
+conceive why you play," they said crossly. But the reason was perfectly
+clear. It stared one in the face. During the patience the clock had
+moved from ten minutes past eight to twenty-five minutes to ten.</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta also killed time now and then with sights; not churches or old
+pictures, of course she never went near masterpieces now she had ample
+leisure for seeing them, but Easter services, royal birthday
+processions, or battles of flowers. As she seldom broke her routine of
+idleness, these occasions excited her, not with pleasurable
+anticipation, but with a nervous fluster that she might somehow miss
+something; and the concierge, the porter, Madame, and the head-waiter,
+would all be flying about the hotel half an hour before it was necessary
+for her to start, sent on some perfectly useless errand connected with
+her outing. If it rained, if something went wrong, how she grumbled. And
+when she did see her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> show, it gave her very little pleasure. She had
+not in the least a child's mind; she was not pleased by small events,
+yet she grasped desperately after them, with an absurd, hazy idea that
+she was defrauded of her rights, if she did not see them.</p>
+
+<p>Another interest was an enormous collection of photographs of places,
+which she had not cared for at the time, and could not in the least
+remember; another her address-book of pensions and hotels, to which she
+was always adding new volumes; above all, grumbling. Favourite subjects
+were her kettle and her methylated spirits, whether the hotel would
+allow her to take up milk and sugar from breakfast, whether the
+chambermaid abstracted the biscuits she brought from dessert overnight.
+Everyone who came in contact with Miss Symons found they were made to
+listen to an endless story of a certain Elise who had stolen the
+biscuits and substituted other ones that were quite four days old, and
+of Elise's brazen behaviour when charged with the offence.</p>
+
+<p>Her standard of comfort at a hotel was so impossible that she became an
+object of terror and dislike to the waiters and chambermaids. She was
+punctual in payment, but very grasping,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> and wrung many concessions from
+the hotels by a persistence which no men and few women would have had
+the courage to display. She was always seeking the ideal hotel, and for
+this reason she was always wandering, and never was long enough in one
+place to strike any roots and create a feeling of home. This life
+corroded her character. She became more bad-tempered and nagging, always
+up in arms, scenting out liberties, and thinking she was taken advantage
+of. She was not a character which does well by itself, and under a
+domineering manner she concealed her weakness, vacillation, and
+timidity. She was divorced from every duty, every responsibility, every
+natural tie, with no outlet for her interest or her sympathy. It seems
+inconceivable that she should willingly have led such an existence. She
+was however, much more satisfied with herself and with things in
+general, than she had formerly been. She did not have stormy repentances
+or outbursts against her lot; she no longer desired what was
+unattainable. If she did not have a particularly high standard of
+happiness or of character, neither, in her opinion, had the rest of the
+world. Not that she thought much of these things. Over-thinking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> and
+over-longing had caused her much misery in early life, and she shrank
+from opening all those wounds again. She faced facts as little as she
+could. She lived from day to day, and her inner self was really very
+much what her outer self seemed, absorbed in the very small round of
+events which concerned her. The days passed, the months passed, the
+years passed. She saw them go unregretted, and when they were gone, she
+did not remember them. Nothing had happened in them, bad or good, to
+mark their course.</p>
+
+<p>"What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in
+faculty, in form, in moving how express and admirable, in action how
+like an angel, in apprehension how like a god, the beauty of the world,
+the paragon of animals!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span><a name="x" id="x"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">It</span> has been shown that Henrietta had not much power of attracting
+affection to herself, and she had long ceased to desire it. She was now
+brought into contact with numbers of different people, and as travelling
+acquaintances she liked them, but when they parted, she did not want to
+see them again.</p>
+
+<p>There was, however, an exception to this rule. Henrietta found many
+companions in misfortune, expatriated either from health, pleasure, or
+poverty. An intelligent foreigner has inquired whether there are any
+single elderly ladies left in England, so innumerable are the hosts
+abroad. Some, like her, had worn their personalities so thin that it
+seemed likely they would eventually become shadows with no character
+left; others were nice and cheerful, and made little encampments in the
+wilderness, so that the unfortunates might gather round them, and almost
+feel they had got a home.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>It was in the room of a nice one that Henrietta met a Colonel. There are
+fewer occupationless Englishmen abroad, but there is a fair
+supply&mdash;half-pay officers, consumptives, and mysterious creatures, who
+have no good reason for being there. They were a strange medley for
+Henrietta to associate with, people whom in her palmy days, as mistress
+of her father's house, she would have thought unspeakable. She had none
+of this generation's tolerance and love of new sensations to attract her
+to unsatisfactory people. She only really liked conventional
+respectability.</p>
+
+<p>This Colonel was not respectable. He was not a Colonel in the English
+army, and never would say much about himself. He was very pleasant and
+polite, and Henrietta, as she walked back to table d'h&ocirc;te, felt she had
+spent a livelier afternoon than usual. It was at the beginning of the
+season, and looking back six weeks later she was astonished to find how
+often they had met.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly after, the lady in whose room Henrietta had first seen him,
+asked her to tea. She did not seem quite so easy-going as usual, and at
+last began: "You know, Miss Symons, my cousin, Colonel Hilton, is rather
+a peculiar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> man. I've known him all my life, and I don't think there is
+any harm in him, but money is his difficulty. He ought to be well off,
+but it always seems to slip through his fingers."</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta realized that this was a warning.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the season he proposed and she accepted him. She knew he
+proposed for her money, and she knew that, besides being mercenary, he
+was a poor creature in every way. Most people could not have borne long
+with his society, but she, unaccustomed to companionship, felt that he
+sufficed her. She did not think much of the future. When she did, she
+realized that it was hardly possible they could marry. But meanwhile it
+was something&mdash;she would have been ashamed to own how much&mdash;to have
+someone call her "dear." Once he attained to "dearest," but he was
+evidently frightened at his temerity, and did not repeat the experiment.</p>
+
+<p>She announced the engagement, and a letter from Minna came flying to the
+Riviera, saying that all sorts of terrible things were known about the
+Colonel, and imploring Henrietta to desist. She did not desist, but very
+soon the Colonel did, having discovered that her fortune<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> was not so
+large as he had been given to suppose. There was a solid something it is
+true, but for Henrietta, quite middle-aged and decidedly cross (she
+imagined she was never cross with him), he felt he must have a very
+considerable something. He wrote a letter breaking off the engagement,
+and left the Riviera abruptly, having made a good thing out of his
+season. Henrietta had lent him, <em>he</em> said&mdash;given, others said&mdash;over
+three hundred pounds.</p>
+
+<p>"And now we shall have a terrible piece of work," said Minna to Louie.
+"You know what Henrietta always is&mdash;what she was about that other affair
+with a man years ago, and again when Evelyn's little girl died. She gets
+so excited and overwrought."</p>
+
+<p>But Henrietta quite upset their expectations. This, which most people
+might have thought the most serious misfortune which had befallen her,
+affected her very little. In her heart of hearts she was saying: "Well,
+when all's said and done, I've had my offer like everyone else." She was
+grateful for the "dears" too. She did not realize that there had been
+absolutely nothing behind them. She answered the Colonel's speedy
+application for more money,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> and continued to send him supplies from
+time to time.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn and Herbert had returned to England, and had settled on the South
+Coast. Two boys had been born in Canada, and had grown and prospered.
+Henrietta stayed with Evelyn for a fortnight whenever she was back in
+England, but somehow the visits were not the pleasure they should have
+been.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn was still delicate, and Herbert had begged Henrietta when she saw
+her to make no allusion to their loss. Evelyn was delighted at showing
+her boys, and Henrietta was pleased for her that she should have them,
+but to her they did not in the least take the place of the dead. They
+were not hers; she was almost indignant with Evelyn for caring for them
+so much, and accused her in her heart of forgetfulness. This made her
+irritable, which Herbert resented, and then Evelyn was nervous because
+Herbert and Henrietta did not get on well together. Evelyn's letters to
+her were very affectionate, the only real pleasure, in any reasonable
+sense of the word, in Henrietta's life.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes Evelyn and her husband and boys came out to stay with
+Henrietta. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> visits were not occasions of much happiness, and a
+certain day remained for years as a mild nightmare in Evelyn's memory.
+They were all in Milan one spring, when the patron of the hotel
+announced that his lady cousin, who lived at some out-of-the-way little
+country town, had heard from her friend, a priest in that same little
+town, that on Tuesday there was to be a special festa in connection with
+a local saint. Would the English ladies and gentlemen care to go? The
+patron himself had the contempt of an enlightened man for saints and
+festas, but he knew the curious attraction which such childishness
+possesses for the English tourist.</p>
+
+<p>All was arranged. The railway company had never intended that the little
+town should be reached from Milan, but with an early start and much
+changing of trains it was possible to accomplish the journey in two
+hours and a half.</p>
+
+<p>They arrived. There was no surprise among the hotel omnibuses at their
+appearance, for the Italians have found that the English will turn up
+everywhere; but to-day they were certainly the only representatives of
+their nation.</p>
+
+<p>They reached the church where the festa was to take place. It was
+sleeping peacefully,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> brooded over by a delicious, sweet smell of dirt
+and stale incense. Not a soul was to be seen. But as the party marched
+indignantly up and down the aisles, another smell comes to join the
+incense&mdash;garlic. A merry, good-humoured little priest appears; it is the
+friend of the lady cousin.</p>
+
+<p>He knew no English but "Yis, Yis"; they little Italian but the
+essentials for travel: "Troppo, bello, antiquo." At the word "festa" he
+shook his head very sadly, and he said "Domani" so many times that, with
+the help of Henrietta's little phrase-book, they found it must mean
+"To-morrow." They had come the wrong day. He was very much distressed
+about it. To make up, if possible, for the disappointment, he showed
+them all over the church and sacristy; he did not miss one memorial
+tablet, not one disappearing fresco, and knowing the taste of the
+English, he said, as each new item was displayed: "Molto, <em>molto</em>
+antiquo."</p>
+
+<p>He was so much attracted by Evelyn's charming middle-aged beauty and her
+sweet English voice that when Santa Barbara's was exhausted, he could
+not resist showing them, what he cared for much more, his own little
+brand-new mission church, with its brilliant rosy-cheeked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> images and
+artificial wreaths. The boys, fifteen and seventeen, had had enough of
+churches after two days at Milan, and Evelyn could hear from Herbert's
+conscientious, stumping tread that he was examining the church because a
+soldier must always do his duty.</p>
+
+<p>At length it was over; they came out into the sunshine, and the big town
+clock struck a quarter to eleven. Their train home left at 5.30. The two
+churches had only used up an hour and a quarter.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, dearest," said Herbert firmly, "I dare say you and Etta will like
+a little rest. Suppose I and the boys get a walk in the country; and
+don't wait lunch for us, you know. I dare say we can get something at
+one of those little wine places one sees about."</p>
+
+<p>They managed to construct a sentence for the priest, who was standing
+nodding by them: "Are there any pretty walks in the neighbourhood?"</p>
+
+<p>Smiling genially, he pointed to an answer which the phrase-book
+translated: "The landscape presents a grandiose panorama."</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn gave the priest a contribution to his mission church. He was
+overwhelmed with surprise and pleasure at this good action on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> part
+of a heretic, it added to his pleasure that she was such a beautiful
+heretic, and when, as they said good-bye, Evelyn wished that they might
+meet again, he replied, with his face all over smiles, "I hope perhaps
+in Paradise"; he could not speak with absolute certainty. Something in
+the way he said it brought tears to Evelyn's eyes, and Henrietta, who
+was looking on and listening, thought with a little envy that none of
+the many priests or pastors, few even of the laity she had encountered
+in her wanderings, had ever hoped to meet <em>her</em> again either in heaven
+or on earth. After many affectionate bows, he said good-bye.</p>
+
+<p>The sisters were scarcely half an hour buying picture postcards (there
+had been nothing else to do, so they had bought more picture postcards
+than it seemed possible could be bought), when rain came on&mdash;not gentle
+English rain, but the fierce cataracts of Italy, let loose for the rest
+of the day. Back came Herbert and the boys, who had somehow missed the
+grandiose panorama. It had, in fact, been created entirely out of
+politeness by the priest.</p>
+
+<p>After lunch, which they prolonged to its farthest limit, there was
+nothing for it but the salon, a small room, with its window darkened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> by
+the verandah outside. Madame brought in yesterday's <em>Tribuna</em>, and they
+found an illustrated catalogue of hotels in Dresden. Oh, that three
+hours and a half! The boys and Herbert would have been content to sit
+with their shoulders hutched up, staring at their boots, going every
+quarter of an hour to the front-door to see if it were raining as hard
+there as it was out of the salon window, and Evelyn only wanted to be
+left in silence with her headache. But Henrietta would tease the boys.
+Whatever they did do, or whatever they did not do, seemed an occasion
+for criticism. Evelyn, to divert attention, burst into long
+reminiscences of the days at Willstead. Henrietta combated each
+statement with a kind of sneer, as though whatever Evelyn said was bound
+to be worthless. Evelyn saw Herbert, who always treated her as if she
+were a wonderful queen, casting black looks at Henrietta. At last his
+anger came out:</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know why it seems impossible for you to talk to Evelyn with
+ordinary civility, Henrietta."</p>
+
+<p>"My dearest boy," said Evelyn, going and patting Herbert's shoulder,
+"Etty and I don't care about ordinary civility. We love having our
+little spars together. Sisters don't bother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> to be as polite as men are
+to one another; life would be much too much of a burden!"</p>
+
+<p>She gave Henrietta's hand a squeeze, as she went back to her seat, but
+after this Henrietta would hardly talk at all, and the reminiscences
+became a monologue from Evelyn.</p>
+
+<p>At last, at long last, the train came, and Henrietta forgot her
+disappointment in sleep. The happy day she had looked forward to, and
+planned, and paid for, was over.</p>
+
+<p>Louie and her Colonel did not thrive better as the years went on. Money
+never seemed able to stay with them. Henrietta helped them long after
+everyone else had become tired of them. She did not expect gratitude,
+nor did she get it. In spite of her dependence, Louie managed to convey
+the impression of Henrietta's inferiority, and the children spoke of her
+as a butt.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's Aunt Etta's year; it really is rather a fag to think we shall
+have her for three weeks. Ethel, it's your turn to take her in tow; I
+had her all last time."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Etta!" said Minna; "she is such an interminable talker, it does
+worry Arthur so. She means very well; we all know that."</p>
+
+<p>Minna's children were very much of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> twentieth century, and were not
+going to bear with a dull old maid, merely because she was their aunt
+and had been kind to them. As one of them expressed it, "Never put
+yourself out for a relation, however distant. That's an axiom."</p>
+
+<p>Little as the younger generation thought of her, she thought something
+of them, and the second week in December, when she chose her Christmas
+presents for all her nieces and nephews, was the pleasantest week in the
+year to her.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span><a name="xi" id="xi"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Henrietta</span> had been fourteen years abroad, when she came to pay her
+biennial visit to Evelyn.</p>
+
+<p>"Who do you think has come to live here, Henrietta?" said Evelyn, as
+they sat talking the first evening. "Ellen."</p>
+
+<p>"Ellen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, our dear old Ellen&mdash;Mrs. Plumtree. She's a widow now. Her eldest
+son is working here, and she is living with him and his wife. I went to
+see her last week, and she was so delighted to talk over old times, and
+when she heard you were coming, she was so excited. You were always her
+favourite."</p>
+
+<p>A few days afterwards they went, to find Ellen a very hale old lady. In
+spite of having brought up a large family of her own, she had the
+clearest remembrance of apparently every incident of the childhood of
+"you two young ladies" (so she still called them) as though she had
+never had any other interest in life.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>"Oh, and, Miss Etta," she said, "what a sight you did think of Miss
+Evie! I never knew a child take so to anyone before. 'She's quite a
+little mother,' I often used to say to Sarah. Do you remember Sarah? She
+died only last year; she suffered dreadful with her heart. Do you
+remember how you always would go to put your hand into the water before
+I gave Miss Evie her bath, because you wanted to be sure it wasn't too
+hot? Every evening you did it; and one day you were out late, and Miss
+Evie was in bed before you came in, and you cried because you hadn't
+been able to do it."</p>
+
+<p>Neither sister found it easy to speak, but Ellen wanted very little
+encouragement.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes as a great treat, when you was a little older, Miss Evie, I
+let you sleep in Miss Etty's bed, and she used to lay and cuddle you so
+pretty. And the canary, Miss Etta&mdash;do you remember that? When Miss
+Evie's dickie died, you went all the way to Willstead by yourself and
+bought a new canary, so that she might never know her dickie died. Your
+mamma was very angry with you, I remember; but there was nothing you
+wouldn't do for Miss Evie."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>The sisters walked back in silence; their hearts were too full for
+speech. There was no time for private conversation till night, when
+Evelyn came into Henrietta's room, and flung her arms round her.</p>
+
+<p>"Darling, darling Etta," she said, "I could hardly bear it, when Ellen
+was talking. To think of all that you were to me, all that you did for
+me, and that I should have forgotten it. Oh, how is it that we've got
+apart?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said Henrietta; "I don't think there is anything much to
+like in me. No one does care for me. I think if no one likes one, one
+doesn't deserve to be liked."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing in this life goes by deserts."</p>
+
+<p>"People love you, and they're quite right; you ought to be loved. You
+did care for me once, though. Herbert wrote&mdash;you know, when we lost&mdash;'A
+good cry with you will be more comfort to Evelyn than anything else.'
+Even then, in the middle of it all, it made me happy."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Etta, what you were to me then!"</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta took Evelyn's hand and squeezed it convulsively. When she
+could speak, she said: "Evelyn, do you ever think of our children?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>"Think of them&mdash;of course I do. Do you, Etta?"</p>
+
+<p>"I used to, but I tried not to&mdash;it was too bitter. The children were
+what I lived for, and I don't think of them often now. It's past and
+gone."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I couldn't live if I didn't. I don't think it is bitter now. These
+dear boys, they're not quite the same to me as the ones that were
+taken."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you'd forgotten them."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you had, Etta, and I couldn't help feeling it."</p>
+
+<p>"Herbert asked me never to speak about them to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Herbert, he is so good&mdash;I can't tell you how good he is to me&mdash;but
+he never will mention them. First of all I was so ill, I couldn't stand
+talking of them, but now I can, and I do long for it. He doesn't forget
+them, I know, but I think men live more in the present than we do; and
+he has his work, which absorbs him very much, and it isn't quite the
+same for a man. And then they were so delicate, particularly Madeline,
+that I was wrapped up in them all their lives; and they were so small,
+he couldn't see much of them."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>"Do you feel that you could tell me about them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I should like to."</p>
+
+<p>They talked far into the night. Herbert was away, so that there was no
+one to stop them, and when at last the dawn drove them to bed, Evelyn
+said: "I can't tell you how much good you've done me. I seem to have
+been living for this for fifteen years."</p>
+
+<p>They neither of them slept at all that night. Both were full of remorse,
+but Henrietta's was the bitterest. The life which had seemed to do quite
+well enough all these years, suddenly appeared to her as it was. She
+contrasted her present self with the little girl Ellen had known. Like
+Jane Eyre, she "drew her own picture faithfully without softening one
+defect. She omitted no hard line, smoothed away no displeasing
+irregularity." She had squabbled, that very afternoon, if it is possible
+to squabble when only one party does the squabbling, all the way down to
+Ellen's about various quite unimportant dates in William's life. The
+incident was almost as much a part of her day's routine as eating her
+breakfast. Now it seemed to her a manifestation of the degradation into
+which she had fallen.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>The power and vividness of her memory, magnified ten times by the
+mysterious agency of midnight, brought back the words of advice of Emily
+Mence, of Minna, and of her aunt, just as if they had been spoken last
+week. She had entirely forgotten them for years. Now they kept rushing
+through her head hour after hour.</p>
+
+<p>Before breakfast Evelyn came into her room, her eyes shining with
+agitation, and looking so flushed that Henrietta saw what need there had
+been for Herbert's caution.</p>
+
+<p>"Etty," she said, "I've been thinking all night; I can't bear your
+living in this horrible way: no home, away by yourself, so that we see
+nothing of you. Come and live here, live with us. We shan't interfere
+with you; you shall come and go as you like. Or live in the village,
+there is a dear little house just made for you. Only come and be near
+us."</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta was sorely tempted, it was a great sacrifice to say no. But
+she knew that Herbert only tolerated her for Evelyn's sake, and that the
+boys, rather spoilt and self-important, found her a nuisance. She knew
+also that she could not trust herself to be pleasant and good-tempered.
+If she came, it would not be for Evelyn's happiness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> So she refused,
+and even in her fervour of love for Henrietta, Evelyn could not help
+realizing it was best that she should.</p>
+
+<p>At the same time that talk was a turning-point in Henrietta's life. She
+never felt after it that she was completely unwanted. Although she would
+not live with Evelyn, she thought she might justifiably come and be much
+nearer her, and she gave up the roving life and returned to England. It
+had in fact satisfied her, only because she had felt so uncared-for that
+she became insignificant even to herself.</p>
+
+<p>Where should she live? She knew that every place where she had relations
+would not do, but this only ruled out four of the towns of the United
+Kingdom. It must be a town; on that point she was clear. As she cared
+for none of the special advantages of a town, its more lively society,
+its greater opportunities for entertainment and intellectual interests,
+she was particularly insistent that she could not do without them. What
+she wanted was a house with room for herself, two maids, and a couple of
+visitors. Such a house is to be found in tens and hundreds everywhere.
+She went round and round England in a fruitless search.</p>
+
+<p>As a <em>pension habitu&eacute;e</em> the whole arrangement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> of her life had been
+taken out of her hands; even her clothes had been settled for her by one
+of those octopus London firms which like to reduce their customers to
+dummies; and her transit from hotel to hotel, and from English visits
+back to hotels, had become a mere automatic process. She had not made a
+decision for so many years that though her nieces and nephews were witty
+over her vacillation, and declared that she enjoyed being a nuisance, it
+was a fact that she was trying her best to be sensible and competent.
+She, with no go-between, no protector, must determine which was most
+important&mdash;gravel soil or southern aspect. She felt as she had felt
+years ago, when she wrote her paper for Professor Amery, only ten times
+more bewildered, almost delirious.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, her nieces constantly talked her over, shaking their heads
+and saying: "If only Aunt Etta would let us." But however weak she was,
+she was firm in this: she would <em>not</em> be helped. The outward sign of her
+bewilderment was extreme crossness, particularly to Evelyn, who was
+allowed to accompany her in her search, and to hear her remarks without
+making any suggestions. "I will thank you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> to let me decide about my own
+house by myself." They had examined nine houses that day, and were both
+almost weeping with exhaustion.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn could not help feeling exasperated, but when Etta stumbled the
+moment after from sheer nervousness, and Evelyn caught hold of her hand,
+she realized from its hot trembling grasp how hard it is to come back to
+life again.</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta would probably never have found the right spot, if a timely
+attack of rheumatism had not persuaded her to fix on Bath. When she had
+settled into her house at last, she hated it. She dismissed five
+servants in two months. She was so dull, no one called; Bath was so
+cold. If only she could let her house and go abroad for the winter.
+Happily no suitable tenant appeared, and gradually Bath grew into a
+habit and she became resigned. But it was long, very long, before she
+would own that she liked it.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span><a name="xii" id="xii"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">And</span> now a happier and more useful course of life began. Henrietta had
+just enough rheumatism to take a course of waters sometimes. She found a
+doctor who had a great <em>flair</em> for elderly ladies; he knew when to bully
+them, when to flatter them, and when to neglect them. He and the waters
+made a centre round which the rest of her interests might group
+themselves. Church. She found a vicar with nothing of Mr. Wharton's
+enthusiasm and loftiness of aim, but with a greater realization of
+people's capacities. He too had made a study of elderly ladies, who are
+always such an important branch of congregations. He could see that what
+Miss Symons was in his drawing-room, touchy, incompetent, and snappish
+she would be in any work she did in the parish. But he was also made to
+see her extreme generosity, of which she herself was entirely
+unconscious. He liked and was touched by her humility. "Oh no,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> don't
+trouble about asking me, Mr. Vaughan, nobody will want to talk to a dull
+person like me. Get some nice young men for the girls, if you can." "No,
+I can't have that pretty Miss Allan helping at my stall, I can get along
+very well by myself. I shall bring Annie; we can manage together."</p>
+
+<p>The poor people, of course, did not like her, for as she grew older she
+was more convinced than ever that the lower orders must be constantly
+reproved. But poor people are very magnanimous, and they were sure of a
+good many presents. She was also for ever bickering with her servants,
+but "poor old lady" as they said, "she's getting on now, it makes her
+worry," and she found in Annie one who knew how to give at least as good
+as she got. Horror of being defrauded by servants and tradespeople was a
+great resource, and though she continually deplored the pleasure of life
+abroad, these years of muddling in and out of her house, her garden, and
+her shops, were probably the happiest in her life.</p>
+
+<p>A certain conversation contributed not a little to this new happiness.
+She was at a tea-party, for once she had been admitted into the circle
+of tea-parties, she became much absorbed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> in them, and she and a
+neighbour were tracing an attack of influenza from its source to its
+decline, when Henrietta's hostess came up to her.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to introduce you to Mrs. Manson," said she. "Mrs. Manson is a
+cousin of that Mr. Dockerell you told me you knew, Miss Symons."</p>
+
+<p>There had been no sentiment in Henrietta's telling, she had quoted Mr.
+Dockerell as an authority on Portugal laurels.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, my cousin, Mr. Dockerell," said Mrs. Manson, "you knew him, did
+you? He's dead, poor man, had you heard? He died last year."</p>
+
+<p>And once started upon Mr. Dockerell, she rambled away with his life's
+history, being one without much feeling, who could say everything to
+anybody.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Fred, his marriage was such a mistake. She was older than him, and
+a mass of nerves. She caught him. I always said it was that; anybody on
+earth could have caught him. It was at Worthing; those seaside places in
+the summer are very dangerous. My mother used to say: 'We must be
+thankful it isn't worse.' No, he wasn't happy. There was a story that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
+he really liked somebody else: a Miss Simon her name was&mdash;Simon, or
+something like that. Where did she come from? Oh yes, Willstead; he had
+some work there at one time. 'The beautiful dark Miss Simon.' At least,
+she wasn't beautiful, that was our joke; there was a pretty sister, but
+she was fair. My sister always insisted he was pining after her, but
+that wasn't like Fred. We used to be hard-hearted, and declare it was
+indigestion."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dockerell's death was not very much to Henrietta, he had passed so
+entirely out of her life. But "a dark Miss Simon living at Willstead,
+not beautiful"; she thought much of that. She could not but believe it
+must be herself. "So perhaps after all he did care," she said to
+herself, as she sat over the fire that evening, she had reached the age
+when she liked a good deal of twilight thinking undisturbed by the gas.
+But the news had come so late; if only she had known before. Those
+months and years of unhappiness rose before her. Granted that Providence
+had decreed they were not to marry, and looking back she did not feel as
+if she wished they had married, it was all so far behind her, she
+thought that she might have been given the happiness of a farewell
+letter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> from him, telling her that she really was first in his heart. "I
+should never have seen him or heard from him again; of course I should
+not have wanted it, but it would have been so comfortable to have
+known." She fell into her childhood's habit of daydreams, if one can
+have daydreams of the past, and sat such a long time absorbed that Annie
+came in at last with her matchbox. "Don't you want the gas lit, 'm? You
+never rang, I was gettin' quite fidgettin' about you, your heart's not
+very strong."</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta was composing his last letter, each moment making it more and
+more tender. She came back with a start to ordinary life, and the
+magazine article on "Beauties of George II.'s Court," which lay open
+before her. She dismissed her picture of what might have been with "Of
+course it was impossible, it's ridiculous wondering about it. How can
+one be so foolish at nearly sixty?" But she did wonder, and there is no
+doubt she was very much pleased. And after all the good news was false,
+he had never thought of her again.</p>
+
+<p>She confided the little incident to Evelyn. Evelyn, adoring her husband
+and adored by him, had been so much accustomed to men's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> admiration that
+she did not attach great value to it. She had seen long ago her old
+lovers pairing happily with somebody else: that side of life had been
+over for herself many years since. Her interest now was in her sons'
+possible marriages, and it was a little painful to her that Henrietta
+should be so much excited about what had never after all been more than
+a potential love affair. To tell the truth, she thought it a trifle
+petty and not worthy the dignity of one on the verge of old age. She
+wanted to be sympathetic, and she was too kind to say anything that
+would wound, but Henrietta could see that Evelyn did not enter into her
+feelings.</p>
+
+<p>Louie's children were now started in life, and the sons were getting on
+so well that even Henrietta owned they might be expected to take the
+burden of their parents upon themselves. She had her nieces and nephews
+to stay; Minna and Louie also came to take the waters. One or two of the
+nieces were of course collecting second-hand furniture, and used Bath as
+a centre for expeditions to the little country towns. The visits were
+very pleasant, if they did not last more than two nights; after two
+nights there would be a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> danger of friction, and sometimes friction
+itself. Her nieces and nephews were all what she called "modern," the
+harshest word but one she knew. A certain nephew and niece, alas, were
+more than modern&mdash;they were the harshest word of all, "<em>Radical</em>." The
+nephew had too profound a contempt for old ladies to talk about anything
+more controversial than the local train service, but even that he
+discovered was a topic beyond Henrietta's capacity. For it turned out,
+after she had appeared to be talking very sensibly about the afternoon
+trains, that she was referring to one marked with an "N.," a Thursday
+excursion, which destroyed all the point of her remarks. Her nephew
+explained this to her, but she would stick to her train, and declare
+that the "N." was a misprint. A misprint in Bradshaw. What a mind! He
+had not realized that even an aunt could be so childish. Of course she
+knew she was wrong, but she tried to persuade herself that she was
+right, because she was so much disappointed. She had wanted to make a
+good impression on her nephew, even if he were a Radical. She thought
+men superior to women, though throughout her life her affection and
+veneration had been given to women&mdash;Miranda,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> Miss Arundel, Evelyn. She
+had an innocent conviction that men knew more about everything, except
+perhaps the youngest babies, and she was anxious for masculine good
+opinion. Alas, to contradict her nephew several times running was not
+the way to win him over.</p>
+
+<p>He felt that contradiction amply justified him in wrapping himself up in
+his paper for the rest of the evening, vouchsafing "um" and "ah"
+occasionally after imploring pressure from his aunt. He left first thing
+next morning.</p>
+
+<p>Then his Radical sister came. She inspected something under Government,
+and with a burning faith in womanhood hoped against hope that with time
+her aunt must be converted "to think the right things." With a mere
+niece Henrietta felt at liberty, and very competent, to correct. But she
+little knew with whom she was reckoning.</p>
+
+<p>"Servants belong to a Trade Union, Annie and Emma" (the cook) "join a
+Union. How perfectly ridiculous!"</p>
+
+<p>"But why ridiculous, Aunt Etta?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because it is."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but do tell me, Aunt Etta. I know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> there must be some solid reason,
+and I should be so much interested to hear it."</p>
+
+<p>"You should have seen Annie's hat last Sunday: enormous pink roses in
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered her niece, catching her aunt out very easily, "but as
+far as that goes some ladies have enormous pink roses."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed. Why, when I was young we should never&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And you don't object to their joining Trade Unions?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do."</p>
+
+<p>"But, after all, what is that Teachers' Society that Hilda belongs to"
+(Hilda was another niece) "but a Trade Union? And you went on their
+excursion, Hilda told me."</p>
+
+<p>"That has nothing to do with it" (a favourite refuge with old ladies
+when they are getting the worst of a discussion). "Of course, if
+Hilda&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"So I mean Annie's wearing garish hats is not really a reason against
+her joining a Trade Union. You see my point, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I particularly dislike being interrupted. I hadn't finished what I was
+going to say."</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, Aunt Etta, I am so sorry. What was it you were going
+to say?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>Henrietta could not remember, and branched off to something else.
+"Wearing all this jewellery in the day is so common. That girl at the
+post office had two brooches and a locket, and she kept me waiting so
+long; she always does."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but I think we must leave them to judge what they like to wear; it
+is not our business really, is it? But I did just want to speak to you
+about this Servants' Union, Aunt Etta. I wonder if I might give Annie a
+little pamphlet I have written about it. Of course, we don't want them
+to be always striking or anything of that sort. The aim of my Society is
+simply to try and rouse servants to a sense of what it is they're
+missing&mdash;this great power of organization and solidarity which they
+ought to have. I think Annie looks such a nice intelligent girl, who
+would be sure to have an influence with her friends."</p>
+
+<p>"No, she's most tiresome and inconsiderate. She <em>would</em> go out this
+evening just when you were coming, because she wanted to take her mother
+to the hospital, so that I had to have Mrs. Spring, and it is all very
+well for Annie to say&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if I might read you a little piece<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> out of my pamphlet, Aunt
+Etta, just to make a few points clear. You see, I want to get you in
+favour of our Union so much, because we feel that mistresses ought to be
+co-operating with the servants, helping them to help themselves, and
+then we shall get a really influential body of public opinion, which
+will do valuable work in improving servants' conditions."</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta writhed and struggled, and went off on frivolous pretexts, but
+she could not escape the pamphlet, which was extremely able; so was the
+author extremely able, but for a complete ignorance of human nature.
+Henrietta heard all about Socialism, Land Taxes, and Adult Suffrage too,
+and the more cross she became the more kindly and patiently Agatha
+shouted, greeting any specially absurd ebullition with imperturbable
+pleasantness, and "how interesting, I am <em>so</em> anxious to get exactly at
+your point of view." That niece was not invited again.</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta often thought with affection and gratitude of the little old
+aunt, who had died many years back; but, as she would have been the
+first to own, her old age was not nearly so successful. Her house was
+not a centre for everybody. She had some elderly ladies<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> with whom she
+exchanged visits, but young people disliked her, and children were
+afraid of her.</p>
+
+<p>Ever since she settled in England, she had made earnest attempts to curb
+her temper. But the companion of a lifetime is not easily shaken off at
+fifty-five, and more often than not she was quite unaware of crossness,
+from which all around were suffering severely. On the very rare
+occasions that she did realize it, she went back to the self she had
+been as a child, descended from the pedestal of her age and generation,
+and said she was sorry.</p>
+
+<p>One day she and Annie had a long serious battle. The question in the
+first instance was whether Annie had chipped off the nose of the china
+pug-dog on the mantelpiece, a relic of the old house at Willstead;
+Henrietta always had a tender feeling for relics. The arguments
+marshalled by Annie were against Henrietta, but arguments never had much
+weight with her. Besides, the battle passed on from the definite point
+of the nose to vague but bitter attacks on character. Henrietta always
+had in her mind an ideal servant, who accepted scolding not merely with
+meekness but with gratitude, and was fond of quoting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> her, to the
+exasperation of the real servants. After half an hour Annie began to cry
+noisily, so that Henrietta's words were drowned. The interview came to
+an end. Annie went downstairs and told Cook, but she wasted few tears or
+thoughts on the matter, and almost at once they were laughing cheerfully
+over their young men, as they sat at needlework.</p>
+
+<p>Henrietta did think, fidgeting about the room while she thought, taking
+things out of their places and putting them where they ought not to be,
+in a fuss of discomfort. At last she rang the bell.</p>
+
+<p>"The lamp, please, Annie."</p>
+
+<p>"The lamp 'm," said Annie; "but you don't want it for half an hour yet,
+do you, 'm, it's such a beautiful evening?"</p>
+
+<p>It was impossible ever to quell Annie.</p>
+
+<p>"The lamp, please," repeated Henrietta, "and I should like to&mdash;I think
+you ought to&mdash;I feel that in a&mdash;what I want you to realize is that you
+should keep a great watch over your temper. When one comes to my age one
+sees that there is&mdash;and you should not put it off till too late as
+people sometimes&mdash;as I have done."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>Annie's sharp ears heard the last little murmur. Henrietta rather hoped
+they would not, though it was for the sake of the murmur that she had
+rung the bell.</p>
+
+<p>Annie said "Yes 'm," very pleasantly, and yielded about the lamp. She
+told cook afterwards, with some amusement, "She's funny, I've always
+said that, but," she added, "I've known some I should say was funnier."</p>
+
+<p>This opinion may be worth recording, as it was one of the highest
+tributes to her character Henrietta ever received.</p>
+
+<p>On the whole during those latter years she improved, and in the general
+reformation of her character she raised the standard of her reading. She
+confined herself in the mornings and afternoon to mildly scandalous
+memoirs of Frenchwomen and biographies of Church dignitaries, keeping
+her costume novels for the evening.</p>
+
+<p>She often saw Evelyn, and they talked of the past, but they never
+regained the almost heavenly intimacy of that night. They seldom met
+without some disagreeableness from Henrietta, and she did not like the
+boys, there was nothing of Evelyn in them, while they for their part
+could not imagine why their mother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> cared for their aunt Henrietta. It
+was a continual struggle for Evelyn not to be impatient with her; much
+as she longed to, she could not keep on the high plane of devotion,
+which had brought such happiness to both.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span><a name="xiii" id="xiii"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Henrietta</span> died when she was sixty-three. Her father and stepmother were
+long dead, also her second brother, whom none of the family had seen for
+years. When her relations were sent for, it was very cold weather in
+January, and Louie and Minna did not obey the summons. They deplored it
+continually afterwards, and explained to one another how appalling the
+wind had been, and what care they had to take for their children's sake,
+and how Henrietta had frightened them so much the year before by sending
+for them when there was no need, that they naturally could not be
+expected to realize that this time it really was important.</p>
+
+<p>William came, looking more benevolent than ever with his very becoming
+white hair. Henrietta said that she thought it was the last time she
+should see him, but he assured her it was just the cold which had pulled
+her down a little, and she would be all right again as soon as the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> wind
+changed. "It's wretched, knocks everybody up." He looked so hearty and
+mundane that it almost seemed, when he was in the room, as if there
+could not be such a thing as death.</p>
+
+<p>They talked about the drought last summer, and William's son, who was a
+planter in Ceylon, and the noise of the motor-buses in London, until
+William said he must go for his train. He was allowing a quarter of an
+hour too much time, for he was able to stay and talk a little while with
+the doctor, who called when he was there.</p>
+
+<p>"There isn't any chance, you say."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I am afraid not. Miss Symons' heart has been delicate for some
+years; it gives her very little strength to stand against this attack."</p>
+
+<p>"Um! I was afraid so," said William, and he was glad to get out of the
+house, and buy a <em>Pall Mall</em>.</p>
+
+<p>The inspector niece came down (uninvited), very energetic, and very kind
+in using the last few days of her holidays in nursing a disagreeable
+reactionary relation. She dominated the nurse, who was much meeker than
+nurses usually are, and quite quelled her poor aunt, too weak to protest
+even at attacks on the monarchy. But Henrietta was much happier when the
+niece's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> holidays came to an end, and she was left to die quietly and
+dully with the nurse.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn was away in Egypt with Herbert for her health, and by a most
+unfortunate accident she did not get the first telegram announcing
+Henrietta's dangerous illness. Poor Henrietta asked constantly if there
+was nothing from her, and as she got weaker, and a little wandering, she
+kept on crying like a child: "I want Evelyn." They cabled again, and
+when the answer came, "Starting home at once," it was too late, and
+Henrietta was not sufficiently herself to understand it.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Evelyn got home, she went to Bath. The little house was still
+as it was, but for some legacies which a careful nephew had already
+abstracted. But the place of the dead seemed to have been filled even
+more quickly than usual. Annie, as she said, had only waited "till the
+pore old lady was taken" to marry comfortably with a saddler, and the
+parlourmaid was already established in a very smart town situation.
+There was an unknown caretaker to look after the house, which was to
+let. Evelyn saw the doctor and the clergyman, who both spoke kindly of
+Miss Symons. "We shall miss your sister very much," said Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> Vaughan,
+"she was always doing kind things,"&mdash;and he did miss her to a certain
+extent, but there is a ceaseless supply of generous, touchy incapable
+old ladies in England, and he could not be expected to miss her very
+much. Evelyn went to see the nurse, and could hear from her more of what
+she wanted. The nurse was a kind, sweet girl, the centre of an
+affectionate family, and engaged to a devoted young clerk.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mrs. Ferrers, if only you could have come back in time," she said,
+sobbing, "or if you could have written. She <em>did</em> want you so; every
+time there was a ring it was, 'Is that from her?' and I heard her say to
+herself: 'I thought she would be <em>sure</em> to come.' I simply had to go out
+in the passage, I couldn't keep back my tears, and of course one must
+always be bright before a patient; it is so bad for them if one isn't.
+Some nieces and nephews came, and one of them stayed several days, and
+two brothers, I think; and there were several members of the family
+there for the funeral, and she had some simply lovely wreaths, and the
+church was nice and full, numbers of her poor people were there,"
+brought there, as surely the kind nurse knew, not from love of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>
+Henrietta, but from love of funerals, "but when your wire did come I
+cried for joy, though we couldn't make her take it in, poor dear; still
+it seemed as if someone really cared for her. Oh, she looked so lovely
+and peaceful at the end, all the trouble gone."</p>
+
+<p>This was a comforting deception, which the nurse thought it justifiable
+to practise on relations, for in fact death had not changed Henrietta;
+there had been no transfiguration to beauty and nobility, she looked
+what she had been in life&mdash;insignificant, feeble, and unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Symons asked me to give you this box," said the nurse. "She made
+me promise I would give it you over and over again."</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn found it was an inlaid sandalwood box, which she had sent from
+India as a present from the first baby. In it she found Herbert's letter
+announcing the death of little Madeline, hers and the other two babies'
+photographs, and a sheet of notepaper, tied with blue ribbon. On it was
+written, "I can't tell you how much good you have done me, I seem to
+have been living for this for fifteen years. <span class="smcap">Evelyn</span>, September 23,
+1890." As she read it, Evelyn remembered, what she had long forgotten,
+that this was what she had once said to Henrietta.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>When she walked to the hotel, it was a bright, sunny afternoon, and snow
+was on the ground. She went to her room to take off her things, but she
+stood instead at the window, too intent on what she had heard to be
+capable of anything. Her heart was almost bursting to think that
+Henrietta should have treasured all these years the little love she had
+given her, crumbs, which she had as it were left over from her husband
+and boys, love not even for Henrietta's own sake, but for the sake of
+the dead children. She with all the riches of love poured on her, and
+Henrietta with so little. "I was cold, selfish, self-absorbed, I didn't
+think of her, I forgot her, I criticized her; it was all my fault."</p>
+
+<p>But even at this moment of exaltation Evelyn realized that it was not
+her fault, but Henrietta's own; that it was because she was so unlovable
+that she was so little loved.</p>
+
+<p>"But if she had had the chance she wouldn't have been unlovable. She was
+capable of greater love than any of us, and she never had the chance. If
+there is any justice and mercy in the world how can they allow a poor,
+weak human creature to have so few opportunities, such hard temptations,
+and when it yields to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> temptation to suffer so cruelly? And now I am to
+go back, and be happy with Herbert and the boys, and to feel quite truly
+that I did everything I could, <em>I can't bear it</em>."</p>
+
+<p>She was so much filled with her thoughts that she had not observed the
+flight of time. She looked up, and was suddenly aware that the night had
+come, and that the sky was shining with innumerable stars. At the same
+moment she felt inextricably mingled with the stars, a rush of the most
+exquisite sensation, emotion, replenishment she had ever known. She felt
+through every fibre of her being that it was all perfectly well with
+Henrietta, and that the bitterness, aimlessness, and emptiness of her
+life was made up to her. This conviction was a thousand times more real
+to her than the room in which she was standing, more real than the
+stars, more real than herself. Tears of delight came raining down her
+cheeks, and she found that she was saying over and over again, "Darling,
+I am so glad"; poor childish words, but no more inadequate than the
+noblest in the language to express her unspeakable comfort, beyond all
+utterance, even beyond thought. How often she said these words, or how
+long this bliss lasted she could not tell.</p>
+
+<p>A strange dream-like remembrance of it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> stayed with her for some days.
+She told her husband, and he said, "I am very glad of anything that can
+be a comfort to you, dearest;" but he looked at her anxiously, and
+thought it was a sign that she was to be ill again. However, she
+continued well and strong. She told no one else, but from henceforth she
+was perfectly happy about Henrietta.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="noi center"><strong>Transcriber's Note</strong>:</p>
+
+<p class="noi center">
+Changes to the original have been made as follows:</p>
+
+<table summary="Changes to original">
+<tr >
+<td class="left" colspan="2">Contents added.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Page 42</td>
+<td class="left"><a href="#accumalation">accumalation</a> of years changed to accumulation</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Page 48</td>
+<td class="left"><a href="#teazing">teazing</a> of a kind changed to teasing</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Page 60</td>
+<td class="left"><a href="#two">two</a> much absorbed changed to too</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Page 64</td>
+<td class="left"><a href="#then">then</a> he felt prepared changed to than</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="left">Page 70</td>
+<td class="left"><a href="#inacessible">inacessible</a> foreign place changed to inaccessible</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Third Miss Symons, by Flora Macdonald Mayor
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+</body>
+</html>
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+Project Gutenberg's The Third Miss Symons, by Flora Macdonald Mayor
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Third Miss Symons
+
+Author: Flora Macdonald Mayor
+
+Release Date: October 28, 2008 [EBook #27071]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THIRD MISS SYMONS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    THE THIRD
+    MISS SYMONS
+
+    F. M. Mayor
+
+    _With a Preface by John Masefield_
+
+    First published in Great Britain 1913
+
+    Copyright F. M. Mayor 1913
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+Miss Mayor's story is of a delicate quality, not common here, though
+occurring at intervals, and always sure of a choice, if not very large,
+audience among those who like in art the refined movement and the gentle
+line. Her subject, like her method, is one not commonly chosen by women
+writers; it is simply the life of an unmarried idle woman of the last
+generation, a life (to some eyes) of wasted leisure and deep futility,
+but common enough, and getting from its permitted commonness a
+justification from life, who is wasteful but roughly just. Miss Mayor
+tells this story with singular skill, more by contrast than by drama,
+bringing her chief character into relief against her world, as it passes
+in swift procession. Her tale is in a form becoming common among our
+best writers; it is compressed into a space about a third as long as the
+ordinary novel, yet form and manner are so closely suited that all is
+told and nothing seems slightly done, or worked with too rapid a hand.
+Much that is tiresome in the modern novel, the pages of analysis and of
+comment, the long descriptions and the nervous pathology, are omitted by
+Miss Mayor's method, which is all for the swift movement and against the
+temptations to delay which obstruct those whose eyes are not upon life;
+she condenses her opportunities for psychology and platitude into a
+couple of shrewd lines and goes on with her story, keeping her freshness
+and the reader's interest unabated. The method is to draw the central
+figure rapidly past a succession of bright lights, keeping the lights
+various and of many colours and allowing none of them to shine too long.
+This comparatively passive creative method suits the subject; for her
+heroine has the fate to be born in a land where myriads of women of her
+station go passively like poultry along all the tramways of their
+parishes; life is something that happens to them, it is their duty to
+keep to the tracks, and having enough to eat and enough to put on
+therewith to be content, or if not content, sour, but in any case to
+seek no further over the parochial bounds. Her heroine, born into such a
+tradition, continues in it, partly by the pressure of custom and family
+habit, both always very powerful and often deadly in this country, and
+partly from a want of illumination in herself, her instructors, and in
+the life about her. The latter want is the fatal defect in her: it is
+the national defect, "the everlasting prison remediless" into which so
+many thousands of our idle are yearly thrown; it is from this that she
+really suffers; it is to this that she succumbs, while the ivy of her
+disposition grows over and smothers whatever light may be in her. Like
+water in flood-time revolving muddily over the choked outlet, her life
+revolves over the evil in it without resolution or escape; her brain,
+like so many of the brains in civilization, is but slightly drawn upon
+or exercised; she is not so much wasted as not used. Having by fortune
+and tradition nothing to do, she remains passive till events and time
+make her incapable of doing, while the world glitters past in its
+various activity, throwing her incapacity into ever stronger relief,
+till her time is over and the general muddle is given a kind of
+sacredness, even of beauty, by ceasing. She has done nothing but live
+and been nothing but alive, both to such passive purpose that the
+ceasing is pitiful; and it is by pushing on to this end, instead of
+shirking it, and by marking the last tragical fact which puts a dignity
+upon even the meanest being, that Miss Mayor raises her story above the
+plane of social criticism, and keeps it sincere. A lesser writer would
+have been content with less, and having imagined her central figure
+would have continued to stick pins into it, till the result would have
+been no living figure, but a record of personal judgments, perhaps even,
+as sometimes happens, of personal pettiness, a witch's waxen figure
+plentifully pricked before the consuming flame. Miss Mayor keeps on the
+side of justice, with the real creators, to whom there is nothing simple
+and no one unmixed, and in this way gets beauty, and through beauty the
+only reality worth having.
+
+In a land like England, where there is great wealth, little education
+and little general thought, people like Miss Mayor's heroine are common;
+we have all met not one or two but dozens of her; we know her emptiness,
+her tenacity, her futility, savagery and want of light; all circles
+contain some examples of her, all people some of her shortcomings; and
+judgment of her, even the isolation of her in portraiture, is dangerous,
+since the world does not consist of her and life needs her. In life as
+in art those who condemn are those who do not understand; and it is
+always a sign of a writer's power, that he or she keeps from direct
+praise or blame of imagined character. Miss Mayor arrives at an
+understanding of her heroine's character by looking at her through a
+multitude of different eyes, not as though she were her creator, but as
+if she were her world, looking on and happening, infinitely active and
+various, coming into infinite contrast, not without tragedy, but also
+never without fun. The world is, of course, the comparatively passive
+feminine world, but few modern books (if any) have treated of that
+world so happily, with such complete acceptance, unbiassed and
+unprejudiced, yet with such selective tact and variety of gaiety. She
+comes to the complete understanding of Henrietta by illuminating all the
+facets in her character and all the threads of her destiny, and this is
+an unusual achievement, made all the more remarkable by a brightness and
+quickness of mind which give delightful life to a multitude of incidents
+which are in themselves new to fiction. Her touch upon all her world is
+both swift and unerring; but the great charm of her work is its
+brightness and unexpectedness; it lights up so many little unsuspected
+corners in a world that is too plentifully curtained.
+
+    JOHN MASEFIELD, 1913
+
+
+
+
+THE THIRD MISS SYMONS
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Henrietta was the third daughter and fifth child of Mr. and Mrs. Symons,
+so that enthusiasm for babies had declined in both parents by the time
+she arrived. Still, in her first few months she was bound to be
+important and take up a great deal of time. When she was two, another
+boy was born, and she lost the honourable position of youngest. At five
+her life attained its zenith. She became a very pretty, charming little
+girl, as her two elder sisters had done before her. It was not merely
+that she was pretty, but she suddenly assumed an air of graciousness and
+dignity which captivated everyone. Some very little girls do acquire
+this air: what its source is no one knows. In this case certainly not
+Mr. and Mrs. Symons, who were particularly clumsy. Etta, as she was
+called, was often summoned from the nursery when visitors came; so were
+Minna and Louie her elder sisters, but all the ladies wanted to talk to
+Etta. Minna and Louie had by this time, at nine and eleven, advanced to
+the ugly, uninteresting stage, and they owed Henrietta a grudge because
+she had annexed the petting that used to fall to them. They had their
+revenge in whispering interminable secrets to one another, of which Etta
+could hear stray sentences. "Ellen says she knows Arthur was very
+naughty, because ... But we won't tell Etta." She was very susceptible
+to notice, and the petting was not good for her.
+
+When she was eight her zenith was past, and her plain stage began. Her
+charm departed never to return, and she slipped back into
+insignificance. At eight she could no longer be considered a baby to
+play with, and a good deal of fault-finding was deemed necessary to
+counteract the previous spoiling. In Henrietta's youth, sixty years ago,
+fault-finding was administered unsparingly. She did not understand why
+she was more scolded than the others, and decided that it was because
+Ellen and Miss Weston and her mother had a spite against her.
+
+Mrs. Symons was not fond of children, and throughout Henrietta's
+childhood she was delicate, so that Henrietta saw very little of her.
+Her chief recollections of her mother were of scoldings in the
+drawing-room when she had done anything specially naughty.
+
+If she had been one of two or one of three in a present-day family she
+would have been more precious. But as one of four daughters--another
+girl was born when she was eight--she was not much wanted. Mr. Symons
+was a solicitor in a country town, and the problem of providing for his
+seven, darkened the years of childhood for the whole Symons family. The
+children felt that their parents found them something of a burden, and
+in those days there was no cult of childhood to soften the hard reality.
+
+The two older boys had a partnership together, into which they
+occasionally admitted Minna and Louie. Minna and Louie had, beside their
+secrets, a friend named Rosa. Harold, the youngest boy, did not want any
+person--only toy engines. He and Etta should have been companions, but
+he said she cried and told tales, though she told no more tales than he
+did.
+
+A large family should be such a specially happy community, but it
+sometimes occurs that there is a girl or boy who is nothing but a middle
+one, fitting in nowhere. So it was with Henrietta, till the youngest
+child was born.
+
+Unfortunately she had an almost morbid longing, unusual in a child, to
+be loved and of importance. Now she would have given anything to have
+heard Minna and Louie's secrets, not for the sake of the secrets, but as
+a sign that she was thought worthy of confidence. She ran everyone's
+errands continually, but she broke the head off Arthur's carnation as
+she was bringing it from his bedroom to the garden, and she let out
+William's secret, which he had told her in an unusual fit of affability,
+in order that she might curry favour with Minna. This infuriated
+William, and did not conciliate Minna. She grew fast and was a little
+delicate. It made her irritable, but her brothers and sisters, who were
+all growing with great regularity, could not be expected to understand
+delicacy. She always said she was sorry after she had been cross, but
+they, who did not have tempers, could not see that that made things any
+better.
+
+In her loneliness she made for herself, like many other forlorn
+children, a phantom friend. It was a little girl two years older than
+she was, for Henrietta preferred to look up, and be herself in an
+inferior position. For this reason she did not much care for dolls,
+where she was decidedly the superior. She called her friend Amy. Amy
+slept with her, helped her with her lessons, told her secrets
+perpetually, and grumbled about the other children.
+
+One day they all had a game at Hide and Seek. The lot fell on her and
+William, now fourteen, to hide. They ensconced themselves in a dark spot
+in a little grove at the end of the garden. The others could not find
+them, and there was plenty of time for talk. William was a kind boy and
+rather a chatterbox, ready to expand to any listener, even a sister of
+nine. Henrietta never knew how it was that she told him about Amy. It
+had always been her firm resolve that this was to be her own dead
+secret, never revealed. But the unusual warmth of the interview went to
+her head. It was in a kind of intoxication of happiness that she poured
+out her confidence. The shrubbery was so dark that William's face could
+not be seen, but he began fidgeting, and soon broke in: "I say, what
+hours the others are, it must be tea-time. Let's go and find them."
+
+It was kind of William to snub her confidence so gently, but the
+disappointment was cruel. She had been lifted up to such a height of
+happiness. When Ellen brushed her hair at night she noticed her dismal
+looks, and being really concerned at Henrietta's want of control, she
+said bracingly that little girls must never be whiney-piney. When the
+lamp was put out, Henrietta sobbed herself to sleep, and she looked back
+on that evening as the most miserable of her childhood.
+
+It was not long after this that the last child was born, the baby girl.
+They had all been sent away, and Henrietta, who had gone by herself to
+an aunt, came back later than the others; they had seen the new arrival,
+and had got over their very moderate excitement. Ellen asked Henrietta
+if she would like to have a peep at her little sister. When Henrietta
+saw it, she determined that it should be her own baby. "Oh, you little
+darling, you darling, darling baby!" she murmured over and over again.
+
+"Now you are happy, aren't you, Miss Etta?" said Ellen; she had always
+felt sorry for Henrietta out in the cold.
+
+The baby very much improved Etta's circumstances. Ellen allowed her to
+help, and she had something to care for, so she had less occasion for
+interviews with her phantom friend. As she grew older the baby Evelyn
+requited her affection with a gratifying preference, but she was very
+sweet-natured and would like everybody, and not make a party against
+Minna and Louie as Henrietta desired. She came to the pretty age, and
+was prettier and more charming than any of them. When the pretty age
+ought to have passed she remained as attractive as ever, and continued
+to enjoy a universal popularity. This was disappointing to Henrietta;
+she would have preferred them to be pariahs together. Still, it was
+always Etta that Evelyn liked best.
+
+When Evelyn was four and Henrietta thirteen, Evelyn was given a canary.
+It never became interesting, for it would not eat off her finger, but
+she cared for it as much as a child of four can be considered to care
+for anything. The canary died and was buried when Evelyn had a cold and
+was in bed, and Henrietta went by herself into the town, contrary to
+rules, and spent all her savings at a little, low bird-shop getting a
+mangey canary. She brought it back and put it into the cage, and when
+Evelyn, convalescent, came into the nursery, she attempted to palm off
+the new canary as Evelyn's original bird. This strange behaviour brought
+her to great disgrace. Her only explanation was, "I didn't want Evelyn
+to know that Dickie was dead. I think death is so dreadful, and I don't
+want her to know anything dreadful." Mrs. Symons and the governess
+thought this most inexplicable.
+
+"Etta is a very difficult child," said Mrs. Symons; "she always has been
+so unlike the others, and now this dreadful untruth. I always feel an
+untruth is very different from anything else. Going into that horrid,
+dirty little shop! You must watch her most carefully, Miss Weston, and
+let me know if there is any further deceit."
+
+"I never had noticed anything before, Mrs. Symons, but I will be
+particularly careful." And Miss Weston took the most elaborate
+precautions that there should be no cheating at lessons, which Henrietta
+resented keenly, having, like the majority of girls, an extreme horror
+of cheating.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+Soon after the incident of the canary, the three older girls went to
+school. When her first home-sickness was passed, Henrietta enjoyed the
+life. It was strict, but home had been strict, and there was much more
+variety here. She was clever, and took eager delight in her lessons;
+dull, stupid Miss Weston had found her beyond her.
+
+She would have liked school even more if her temper had been under
+better control. But at thirteen she had settled down to bad temper as a
+habit. She did not exactly put her feelings into thoughts, but there was
+an impression in her mind that as she had been out of it so much of her
+life she should be allowed to be bad-tempered as a consolation. This
+brought her into constant conflicts, which made no one so unhappy as
+herself.
+
+She had two great interests at school, Miranda Hardcastle and Miss
+Arundel. Miranda was the kind of girl whom everybody is always going to
+adore, very pretty, very amusing, and with much cordiality of manner.
+Henrietta fell a victim at once, and Miranda, who drank in all
+adoration, gave Henrietta some good-natured friendship in return.
+Henrietta fagged for her, did as many of her lessons as she could,
+applauded all her remarks, amply rewarded by Miranda's welcoming smile
+and her, "I've been simply pining for you, my child; come and hear me my
+French at once, like a seraphim."
+
+This happy state of things continued until unfortunately Henrietta's
+temper, over which she had kept an anxious guard in Miranda's presence,
+showed signs of activity. The first time this occurred Miranda opened
+her large eyes very wide and said, "What's come over my young friend,
+has it got the hydrophobia? I shall try and cure it by kindness and give
+it some chocolate."
+
+Henrietta's clouds dispersed, but she was not always so easily restored
+to good-humour; and Miranda, with the whole school at her feet, was not
+going to stand bad temper, the fault on the whole least easily forgiven
+by girls. Henrietta had a heartrending scene with her: at fifteen she
+liked heartrending scenes. Miranda was too fond of popularity to give
+Henrietta up entirely, so the two remained friendly, but they were no
+longer intimate.
+
+Miss Arundel was the head-mistress's sister, and undertook all the
+serious teaching that was not in the hands of masters. She did not have
+many outward attractions of face and form, but schoolgirls will know
+that that is not of much importance. She was adored, possibly because
+she had a bad temper (bad temper is an asset in a teacher), which was
+liable to burst forth unexpectedly; then she was clever and
+enthusiastic, and gave good lessons. She marked out Henrietta, and it
+came round that she had said, "Etta Symons is an interesting girl, she
+has possibilities. I wonder how she will turn out." It came round also
+that Miss Arundel had said, "I only wish she had more control and
+tenacity of purpose," but this sentence Henrietta put out of her head.
+The first sentence she thought of for hours on end, and set to work to
+be more interesting than ever; in fact for some days she was so affected
+and exasperating that Miss Arundel could hardly contain herself. Still,
+even Miss Arundel's sarcasm was endurable, anything was endurable, after
+that gratifying remark.
+
+When Miranda ceased to be her special friend, she transferred her whole
+heart and soul to Miss Arundel. She waylaid her with flowers, hung about
+in the passage on the chance of seeing her walk by, and waited on her as
+much as she dared. Some teachers apparently enjoy girl adorations, and
+even take pains to secure them. Miss Arundel had had enough of them to
+find them disagreeable. She therefore gave out in the presence of two or
+three of Henrietta's circle that she thought it was a pity Etta Symons
+wasted so much of her pocket-money on buttonholes which gave very little
+pleasure to anyone, certainly not to her, who particularly disliked
+strong scents; she thought the money could be much better expended.
+
+Jessie Winsley repeated this speech to Henrietta, little thinking what
+anguish it would cause. Henrietta had very little pride, very little
+proper pride some people might have said; she did not at all mind giving
+a great deal more than she got. But this speech, which was not, after
+all, so very malignant, drove her to despair. She went to Miranda, who
+hugged her, and said: "Old cat! barbaric old cat! Never think of her
+again, she isn't worth it. Try dear little Stanley, he's a pet; men are
+much nicer." Stanley was the drawing-master.
+
+But after all one must have a little encouragement to start an
+adoration, and as Henrietta never could draw, she got none from Stanley.
+Besides she was constant, so instead, she brooded over Miss Arundel. She
+had not been so unhappy, when she had her Miranda and her Arundel. Now
+she had lost them both. Miss Arundel, with her cool, unaffectionate
+interest, had, of course, never been "had" at all, but Henrietta had
+imagined that when Miss Arundel said "Yes, quite right, that's a good
+answer," it was a kind of beginning of friendship. She, Henrietta, small
+and insignificant, was singled out for Miss Arundel's friendship; that
+was what she thought. She did not realize that it was possible to care
+merely for intellectual development.
+
+When she was prepared for Confirmation, there were serious talks about
+her character. The Vicar, whose classes she attended, was mostly
+concerned with doctrines, and Mrs. Marston with what one might call a
+list of ideal vices and temptations which pupils must guard themselves
+against. Miss Arundel talked to her about her untidy exercise books,
+her unpunctuality, her loud voice in the corridor, and her round
+shoulders, and explained very properly that inattention in these
+comparatively small matters showed a general want of self-control. She
+did not speak about bad temper, for Henrietta was much too frightened of
+her to show any signs of temper in her proximity. Miss Arundel did not
+give her an opportunity of unburdening herself of the problem that
+weighed on her mind, not that she would have taken the opportunity if it
+had occurred, not after that speech about the buttonholes. This was the
+problem: Why was it that people did not love her?--she to whom love was
+so much that if she did not have it, nothing else in the world was worth
+having. There had been Evelyn, it is true, but now Evelyn did lessons
+with a little friend of her own age, and she and the friend were all in
+all, and did not want Henrietta in the holidays. Henrietta reflected
+that she was not uglier, or stupider, or duller than anyone else. There
+was a large set at school who were ugly, stupid, and dull, and they were
+devoted to one another, though they none of them cared about her. Why
+had God sent her into the world, if she was not wanted? She found the
+problem insoluble, but a certain amount of light was thrown on it by one
+of the girls.
+
+She had been snarling with two or three of her classmates over the
+afternoon preparation, and had flounced off in a rage by herself. She
+felt a touch on her arm, and turning round saw Emily Mence, a rather
+uncouth, clever girl, whom she hardly knew.
+
+"I just came to say, Why _are_ you such an idiot?"
+
+"Me?"
+
+"Yes, why do you lose your temper like that? All the girls are laughing
+at you; they always do when you get cross."
+
+"Then I think it's horrid of them."
+
+"Well, you can't be surprised; of course people won't stand you, if
+you're so cross."
+
+"Won't they?" said Henrietta. "And the one thing I want in the world is
+to be liked."
+
+"Do you really? Fancy wanting these girls to like you; they're such
+silly little things."
+
+"I shouldn't mind that if only they liked me."
+
+"_I_ like you," said Emily. "Do you remember you said Charles I.
+deserved to have his head cut off because he was so stupid, and all the
+others gushed over him?"
+
+"Did I?"
+
+"I don't like the other girls to laugh at you; that's why I thought I
+would tell you."
+
+They walked up and down the path and talked about Charles I. Here there
+seemed the beginning of a friendship, but it was nipped in the bud, for
+Emily left unexpectedly at the end of the term. Henrietta received no
+further overtures from any of the girls.
+
+Emily's words had made an impression however, and for six weeks
+Henrietta took a great deal of pains with her temper. For this
+concession on her part she expected Providence to give her an immediate
+and abundant measure of popularity. It did not. The Symons family had
+not the friend-making quality--a capricious quality, which withholds
+itself from those who have the greatest desire, and even apparently the
+best right, to possess it. The girls were kind, kinder, on the whole,
+than the grown-up world, and they were perfectly willing to give her
+their left arms round the garden, but their right would be occupied by
+their real friends, to whom they would be telling their experiences, and
+Henrietta would only come in for a, "Wasn't it sickening, Etta?" now
+and then. She was disappointed, and she relaxed her efforts. She had
+missed the excitement of saying disagreeable things. The day had become
+chilly without them. By the middle of the term she was as disagreeable
+as ever.
+
+She very rarely received good advice in her life, and now that she had
+got it, she made no use of it. If she had, it might have changed the
+whole of her future. But from henceforth, on birthdays, New Year's Eves,
+and other anniversaries, when she took stock of herself and her
+character, she ignored her temper, and would not count it as a factor
+that could be modified. There were others as lonely as herself at
+school, there are always many lonely in a community; but she did not
+realize this, and felt herself exceptional. She imagined that she was
+overwhelmed with misery at this time, but really the life was so busy,
+and she was so fond of the lessons, and did them so well, that she was
+not to be pitied as much as she thought.
+
+It was clear she was to be lonely at school and lonely at home. Where
+was she to find relief? There was a supply of innocuous story-books for
+the perusal of Mrs. Marston's pupils on Saturday half-holidays,
+innocuous, that is to say, but for the fact that they gave a completely
+erroneous view of life, and from them Henrietta discovered that heroines
+after the sixteenth birthday are likely to be pestered with adorers. The
+heroines, it is true, were exquisitely beautiful, which Henrietta knew
+she was not, but from a study of "Jane Eyre" and "Villette" in the
+holidays, Charlotte Bronte was forbidden at school owing to her excess
+of passion, Henrietta realized that the plain may be adored too, so she
+had a modest hope that when the magic season of young ladyhood arrived,
+a Prince Charming would come and fall in love with her. This hope filled
+more and more of her thoughts, and all her last term, when other girls
+were crying at the thought of leaving, she was counting the days to her
+departure.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Henrietta was eighteen when she left school. Minna and Louie had gone
+two or three years before, and by the time Henrietta came home, Minna
+was engaged to be married. There was nothing particular about Minna. She
+was capable, and clear-headed, and rather good-looking, and could dress
+well on a little money. She was not much of a talker, but what she said
+was to the point. On these qualifications she married a barrister with
+most satisfactory prospects. They were both extremely fond of one
+another in a quiet way, and fond they remained. She was disposed of
+satisfactorily.
+
+Louie was prettier and more lively. She was having a gay career of
+flirtations, when Henrietta joined her. She did not at all want a
+younger sister, particularly a sister with a pretty complexion. Three
+years of parties had begun to tell on her own, which was of special
+delicacy. She and Henrietta had never grown to like one another, and now
+there went on a sort of silent war, an unnecessary war on Louie's side,
+for she had a much greater gift with partners than Henrietta, and her
+captives were not annexed.
+
+But for her complexion there was nothing very taking in Henrietta.
+Whoever travels in the Tube must have seen many women with dark-brown
+hair, brown eyes, and too-strongly-marked eyebrows; their features are
+neither good nor bad; their whole aspect is uninteresting. They have no
+winning dimples, no speaking lines about the mouth. All that one can
+notice is a disappointed, somewhat peevish look in the eyes. Such was
+Henrietta. The fact that she had not been much wanted or appreciated
+hitherto began to show now she was eighteen. She was either shy and
+silent, or talked with too much positiveness for fear she should not be
+listened to; so that though she was not a failure at dances and managed
+to find plenty of partners, there were none of the interesting episodes
+that were continually occurring on Louie's evenings, and for a year or
+two her hopes were not realized. The Prince Charming she was waiting for
+came not.
+
+Sometimes Louie was away on visits, and Henrietta went to dances
+without her. At one of these, as usual a strange young man was
+introduced. There was nothing special about him. They had the usual talk
+of first dances. Then he asked for a second, then for a third. He was
+introduced to her mother. She asked him to call. He came. He talked
+mostly to her mother, but it was clear that it was Henrietta he came to
+see. Another dance, another call, and meetings at friends' houses, and
+wherever she was he wanted to be beside her. It was an exquisitely happy
+month. He was a commonplace young man, but what did that matter? There
+was nothing in Henrietta to attract anyone very superior. And perhaps
+she loved him all the more because he was not soaring high above her,
+like all her previous divinities, but walking side by side with her.
+Yes, she loved him; by the time he had asked her for the third dance she
+loved him. She did not think much of his proposing, of their marrying,
+just that someone cared for her. At first she could not believe it, but
+by the end of the month the signs clearly resembled those of Louie's
+young men. Flowers, a note about a book he had lent her, a note about a
+mistake he had made in his last note; she was sure he must care for
+her. The other girls at the dances noticed his devotion, and asked
+Henrietta when it was to be announced. She laughed off their questions,
+but they gave her a thrill of delight. All must be well.
+
+And if they had married all would have been well. There might have been
+jars and rubs, with Henrietta's jealous disposition there probably would
+have been, but they would have been as happy as the majority of married
+couples; she would have been happier, for to many people, even to some
+women, it is not, as it was to her, the all-sufficing condition of
+existence to love and be loved.
+
+At the end of the month Louie came home. Henrietta had dreaded her
+return. She had no confidence in herself when Louie was by. Louie made
+her cold and awkward. She would have liked to have asked her not to come
+into the room when he called, but she was too shy; there had never been
+any intimacy between the sisters. Mrs. Symons however, spoke to Louie.
+"A very nice young fellow, with perfectly good connections, not making
+much yet, but sufficient for a start. It would do very well."
+
+Louie would not have considered herself more heartless than other
+people, but she was a coquette, and she did not want Henrietta to be
+settled before her. The next time the young man came, he found in the
+drawing-room not merely a very much prettier Miss Symons, that in itself
+was not of much consequence, but a Miss Symons who was well aware of her
+advantages, and knew moreover from successful practice exactly how to
+rouse a desire for pursuit in the ordinary young man.
+
+Henrietta saw at once, though she fought hard, that she had no chance.
+
+"Are you going to the Humphreys to-morrow?" he said to Louie.
+
+"If Henrietta's crinoline will leave any room in the carriage," answered
+Louie, "I shall try to get a little corner, perhaps under the seat, or
+one could always run behind. I crushed--see, what did I crush?--a little
+teeny-tiny piece of flounce one terrible evening; didn't I, Henrietta?
+And I was never allowed to hear the last of it."
+
+She smiled a special smile, only given to the most favoured of her
+partners. The young man thought how pretty this sisterly teasing was on
+the part of the lovely Miss Symons; Henrietta saw it in another light.
+
+"My crinolines are not larger than yours, you know they are not."
+
+"Methinks the lady doth protest too much, don't you, Mr. Dockerell?"
+
+"And you always take the best seat in the carriage, so it is nonsense to
+say ..."
+
+He noticed for the first time how loud her voice was.
+
+"Please let us change the conversation," said Louie gently, "it can't be
+at all interesting for Mr. Dockerell. I am ready to own anything you
+like, that you don't wear crinolines at all, if that will please you."
+
+"If there is any difficulty, could not my mother take one of you
+to-morrow night?" (It was Louie he looked at.) "She is staying with me
+for a week. Couldn't we call for you? It would be a great pleasure."
+
+"Oh, thank you," began Henrietta.
+
+"Really," said Louie, "you make me quite ashamed of my poor little joke.
+I don't think we have come quite to such a state of things that two
+sisters can't sit in the same carriage. I hear you are a most alarmingly
+good archer, Mr. Dockerell, and I want to ask you to advise me about my
+bow, if you will be so kind." To be asked advice, of course, completed
+the conquest.
+
+Mr. Dockerell had not been so much in love with Etta as with marrying.
+It took him a very short time to change, but when he had made his offer
+and Louie had discovered that he was too dull a young man for her, he
+did not transfer his affections back to Henrietta. She would gladly have
+taken him if he had. He left the neighbourhood, and not long after
+married someone else.
+
+In this grievous trouble Henrietta did not know where to turn for
+comfort. Mrs. Symons was one of those women who are much more a wife
+than a mother. She could enter into all Mr. Symons' feelings quite
+remarkably, even his most out-of-the-way masculine feelings, but her
+daughters, who on the whole were very ordinary young women, she did not
+understand. Perhaps Henrietta was not altogether ordinary, but after all
+it is not exceptional to want to be loved. Nor did Mrs. Symons care
+particularly for her daughters; she liked her sons much better, she
+would perhaps have been happier without daughters; and she liked
+Henrietta the least, connecting her still with those disagreeable
+childish interviews when Henrietta had been brought down, black and
+sulky, to be scolded.
+
+Henrietta was now passing through what is not an extraordinary
+experience in a woman's life. She had loved and been loved, and then had
+been disappointed. Her mother in her distress was no more comfort than,
+I was going to say, the servants, but she was much less, for Ellen, now
+Mrs. Symons' maid, gave poor Henrietta some of the sympathy for which
+she hungered.
+
+Evelyn was away, her parents had consented to her being educated with
+the little friend abroad, and if she had been at home, she was only
+fourteen, too young to be of much use. However Henrietta poured out her
+bitterness to her in a long letter, and Evelyn wrote back full of loving
+sentiment and sentimentality. Henrietta wrote also to Miranda, and had a
+sympathetic letter in answer, most sympathetic, considering that Miranda
+had just consummated a triumphant engagement to the son of an earl.
+
+Mrs. Symons could not help thinking that Henrietta had stupidly muddled
+her affairs, and wasted the good chance which had been contrived for
+her. This was the view she presented to her husband, so that though they
+tried not to show it in their manner, they both felt a little
+aggrieved.
+
+It was to William that she turned, though she remembered clearly the
+disappointing interview of her childhood. William, now a solicitor in
+London, came home for a few days' holiday. The Sunday of his visit was
+wet. When Mr. and Mrs. Symons were both asleep in the drawing-room, he
+and Henrietta sat in the former school-room, and kept up friendly
+small-talk about the neighbourhood. There was something so solid and
+comfortable about his face that she felt she must tell him. She wanted
+to lean on someone; she had not, she never had, any satisfaction, any
+pride in battling for herself. Yet she knew that William's face was
+deceptive; it would be much better not to speak. She determined,
+therefore, that she would say very little, and speak as coolly as she
+could. She began, but before she could stop herself, the whole story was
+out, and much more than the story, unbridled abuse of Louie, who was
+William's favourite sister. She only stopped at last, because her sobs
+made it impossible to speak.
+
+"It does seem unlucky," said William, "very unlucky. I should talk it
+over with mother."
+
+"Mother thinks it was my own fault. I know she does."
+
+"Well--um--write to Minna; yes, you might write to Minna."
+
+"Minna is only interested in the baby. She hardly ever writes; besides,
+she never cared about me at all. She would be glad."
+
+"Oh, well, I shouldn't think it was worth while taking it to heart. Just
+go out to plenty of dances and be jolly; you mustn't mope. If you can
+get Aunt Mercer to give you a bed, I'll take you to the play. That will
+do you all the good in the world."
+
+"It's very kind of you, William."
+
+"Oh, that's all right. Well," going to the window, "it's no good staying
+in all the afternoon, it makes one so hipped. I shall take a turn and
+look in on Beardsley on my way back. Tell mother not to wait supper for
+me."
+
+She knew she had better have said nothing. He hated the recesses of the
+heart being revealed, particularly those special recesses of a woman's
+heart; he had thought her unmaidenly. But he was sorry for her; he took
+her to the play, a rousing farce, for he was one of those who naively
+consider that two hours of laughing can compensate for months of misery,
+and even be a remedy. He gave her a brooch also, and said to his
+mother, "I think Etta gets low by herself, now Minna is married and
+Louie is away. Why shouldn't she go for some visits?"
+
+It may seem strange that Henrietta should have spread broadcast a grief
+which most people would keep hidden in their own hearts. But it is one
+of the saddest things about lonely people, that, having no proper
+confidant, they tell to all and sundry what ought never to be told to
+more than one. When, however, the overmastering desire for sympathy had
+passed, words cannot express her regret that she had spoken. For years
+and years afterwards it would suddenly come upon her, "I told him and he
+despised me," and she would beat her foot on the floor with all her
+might, in a useless transport of remorse.
+
+Both Louie and Henrietta had felt it was wiser not to see too much of
+one another after Mr. Dockerell's proposal. Louie had gone away for a
+month or six weeks, and when she came back, Henrietta went for a long
+visit to Minna.
+
+With two babies, the youngest very delicate, Minna was completely
+absorbed. She was emphatically Mrs. Willard now, not Minna Symons. Mrs.
+Symons had told her something of Henrietta's circumstances, and Minna
+considered that the best balm would be her babies. So they might have
+been for people with a natural admiration for babies, but this Henrietta
+had not got. If Minna's children had been neglected she would have loved
+them dearly, but when they were surrounded by the jealous care of
+mother, nurse, nursemaid, and (if any space was left for him) father,
+there was nothing for her but to look on as an outsider.
+
+It was during this visit that she heard of the young man's engagement.
+She did not realize, till she heard, how tightly she had been clinging
+to the hope that he might come back. Close following on that came the
+news that Louie was engaged to a most amiable and agreeable colonel.
+This made her more bitter, if it was possible to be more bitter, against
+Louie than before. Louie was not merely let off scot-free for what she
+did, but was to have every happiness given to her. Why? The old problem
+of her Confirmation year pressed itself on her, only now she felt less
+mournful and more acrid.
+
+Her troubles made her peevish and disagreeable, as was apparent from
+Minna's kindly admonition.
+
+"I think," said she, as they sat sewing one morning, "that I really
+ought to warn you not to talk quite so loud and so positively. I don't
+like saying anything, but of course I am older than you, and that is the
+sort of thing that spoils a girl's chances. Men don't like it. And your
+temper--even Arthur noticed it, and he is not at all an observant man. I
+daresay you hardly realize the importance of a good temper, Etta, but in
+my opinion it makes more difference in life than anything else."
+
+Henrietta came back three days before Louie's wedding. Louie repented
+the injury she had done, and on the last night she came into Henrietta's
+room and apologized. "You know, Etty, I am very sorry, very, very sorry.
+Of course I had no idea how you felt about him. He wasn't the sort of
+man one could take very seriously, at least that was what I thought.
+Anyhow I wouldn't worry about it any more, for you know I think he
+cannot have been very seriously touched, or he would have made some
+effort to see you again, surely, after his little episode with me."
+
+Louie felt more than her words conveyed, but she could not demean
+herself to show too much.
+
+"Perhaps you didn't mean it unkindly," said Henrietta; "I shall try to
+believe you, but you've wrecked my life."
+
+"Etta is so exaggerated and hysterical," said Louie afterwards, talking
+things over. But as a matter of fact Henrietta spoke only the sober
+truth.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+After Louie's wedding Henrietta went to stay with an aunt, her father's
+eldest sister, almost a generation older than he was. She lived in a
+little white house in the country, with a green verandah and French
+windows. She was a kind, nice old lady, not well off, a humble
+great-aunt to the whole village. Children continually came to eat her
+mulberries; girls were found places; sick people were sent jelly, and
+there was always a great deal of sewing and knitting for poor friends.
+
+She did her best to make the visit pass cheerfully; she had some little
+scheme of pleasure for each day, and so many people came and went that,
+though not exciting, the life could not possibly be called dull.
+
+Henrietta did not know whether Mrs. Symons had mentioned her trouble to
+her aunt; she hoped not. Now that the first shock was over, she had
+become sensitive on the subject, and did not wish to speak about it.
+From a little speech her aunt made, it is possible that Mrs. Symons had
+said something.
+
+One day as they sat talking comfortably and confidentially over the
+fire, the conversation turned on her aunt's past days. She had been left
+motherless, the eldest of a large family, when she was nineteen or
+twenty. It was evidently her duty to devote herself to the younger ones,
+and when a man presented himself whom she loved and by whom she was
+loved, she felt that she could not be spared from home.
+
+Henrietta saw that she was bracing herself to say something. At last out
+it came:
+
+"You know, my dear, I think in spite of--I mean that there are many
+things besides--though when one has hoped--still life can be very happy,
+very peaceful, without. Why, there is this garden, and there are those
+three darling little children next door."
+
+Henrietta knew that this unanalysable sentence was meant to comfort her.
+She felt grateful, but she was not comforted. Her aunt's life was the
+sweetest and happiest possible for old age, but could she at twenty
+settle down to devising treats for other people's children, or sewing
+garments for the poor? It made her feel sick and dismal to think of it.
+Besides, their circumstances were not similar. Her aunt, fortified by
+the spirit of self-sacrifice, had resigned what she loved, but she had
+the reward of being the most necessary member of her circle. Henrietta
+had had no scope for self-sacrifice, for she had never had anything to
+give up. In fact she envied her aunt, for she realized now that Mr.
+Dockerell could never have cared for her. And far from being the most
+necessary member of her family, her difficulty was to squeeze into a
+place at all.
+
+The visit came to an end. She went home, and regular life began again.
+Since one ordinary young man had been attracted to her when she was
+twenty, there seemed no reason why other ordinary men should not
+continue to be attracted. As he had been in love with marrying rather
+than with her, so she had been in love with being loved rather than with
+him. She would have accepted almost any pleasant young man, provided he
+had had the supreme merit of caring for her. But the inscrutable fate
+which rules these matters, decreed that it was not to be. No other
+suitor presented himself.
+
+For one thing, she went to fewer parties now. After Louie's marriage,
+Mrs. Symons, who had worked hard in the good cause of finding husbands,
+began to flag. Henrietta was not so gratifying to take out as Louie had
+been, particularly as her complexion went off early, and without her
+complexion she had nothing to fall back on. So Mrs. Symons gave herself
+up to the luxury of bad health, and said she could not stand late hours.
+When Henrietta did go out, her experience made her feel that she was
+unlikely to please; and though no one can define what produces
+attractiveness, it is safe to say that one of the most necessary
+elements is to believe oneself attractive.
+
+Mr. Symons had not hitherto taken great interest in his daughters, but
+when Minna and Louie were married, he became fonder of them. He was one
+of those men whose good opinion of a woman is much strengthened if
+confirmed by another man. His daughters' husbands had confirmed his
+opinion in the most satisfactory way by marrying them, whereas his good
+opinion of Henrietta, far from being confirmed, had been rather
+weakened. Minna and Louie's virtues, husbands, and houses were often
+extolled now, and there was nothing to extol in her. Henrietta felt this
+continually. Her parents did not speak to her of her misfortunes; she
+was left alone, which is perhaps what most girls would have liked best.
+Not so Henrietta.
+
+The three years after Louie's marriage were the most miserable of
+Henrietta's life. If she did not go out to parties, what was she to do?
+The housekeeping? The housekeeping, as in many cases, was not nearly
+enough to provide her mother with occupation. It certainly could not be
+divided into occupation for two. Nursing her mother? Her mother much
+preferred that Ellen, on whom she had become very dependent, should do
+what was necessary, and for companionship she had all she wanted in her
+husband. He was away for several hours in the day however, and during
+his absence Henrietta did drive out with her mother, read to her, and
+sit with her, and as they were so much together and shared the small
+events of the country town, they were to a certain extent drawn
+together. But Mrs. Symons always treated Henrietta _de haut en bas_,
+and snubbed her when she thought necessary, as if she had been a child
+of ten, so that Henrietta was constrained and a little timid with her.
+There was the suggestion of a feeling that Mrs. Symons was to be pitied
+for having Henrietta still on her hands. If Henrietta had refused to be
+snubbed, there would have been none of that suggestion. Evelyn was still
+away at school. There were a certain number of girls of Henrietta's age
+whom she saw from time to time, but as her mother did not wish to be
+disturbed by entertaining, they were not asked to the house, and
+therefore did not ask Henrietta to theirs. Besides, she was sensitive,
+thinking, truly, that they were discussing her misfortune, and did not
+want to see them.
+
+In addition to the poignancy of disappointment, of present dulness and
+aimlessness, Henrietta realized forcibly, though perhaps not forcibly
+enough for the truth, that the years between eighteen and thirty were
+her marrying years, which, slowly as they passed from the point of view
+of her happiness, went only too fast, when she considered that once gone
+they could never come back, and that as they fled, they took her chances
+with them.
+
+Fifty years ago the large majority of the girls of her class married
+early, and the years of home life after school were arranged on the
+supposition that they were a short period of preparation for marriage.
+It did not matter to Minna and Louie that they had no interests to fill
+their days, that their life had been nothing but parties and intervals
+of waiting for parties, because it had only lasted four or five years.
+It had done what it was intended to do, it had settled them very
+comfortably with husbands. But with Henrietta, the condition which was
+meant to be temporary, seemed spreading itself out to be permanent, and
+with the parties taken away, she was hard put to it to fill up her days.
+She longed inexpressibly for school, for its restrictions, its monotony
+and variety. And to think that when she had the luck to be there, she
+had counted the days to being a young lady. When she remembered how she
+had almost wept at Miss Arundel's description of Joan of Arc, her mouth
+watered for lessons. As for Miss Arundel herself, she hungered and
+thirsted after her.
+
+At last she had a happy thought; she decided that she would read
+Italian, read Dante. Miss Arundel had taught her Italian, and she would
+write to Miss Arundel, and ask her to recommend a good translation. She
+remembered that Miss Arundel and Mrs. Marston had occasionally had
+favourite old pupils to stay with them. She imagined how one letter
+might lead to another, and how at last Miss Arundel might invite her to
+stay too. She wrote her letter with great care and great delight,
+constantly changing her words, for none seemed good enough for Miss
+Arundel, and making a fair copy, as if it were an exercise to be sent up
+for correction.
+
+Miss Arundel received the letter, read it through, came to the
+signature, and could not for the life of her remember who Henrietta
+Symons was. So many girls had passed through her hands, and she lived in
+the present rather than the past. A teacher was ill, she was very busy,
+the letter slipped her memory. One evening it came into her head, and
+she asked her sister, "By the by, who was Henrietta Symons?"
+
+"I recollect the name perfectly," said Mrs. Marston. "Let me see; yes,
+now I know. There were three of them, one was Minnie, I believe, and I
+think Etta had a bad headache at the picnic. It was a blazing day that
+year, the hottest I ever remember, and I had to come back early with
+her."
+
+"Of course; I remember now," said Miss Arundel. "A girl with very marked
+eyebrows." And she wrote back a postcard, "Tr. of D.'s D. C. Carey, 2
+vols., Ward and Linsell. M. Arundel."
+
+The postcard made Henrietta inclined to back out of Dante. But by this
+time she had arranged to read with a neighbour, Carrie Bostock, so she
+had to make a start. They did start, but as they neither understood the
+Italian, nor the translation, nor the notes, they found continual
+excuses for not reading, till Carrie boldly suggested "I Promessi
+Sposi," which went much better. They did not read for long, however, for
+Carrie became engaged, it seemed to Henrietta that everybody she knew
+was becoming engaged, and Carrie considered her engagement an occupation
+which gave her no time for anything else, certainly no time for Italian.
+
+Henrietta found she did not read by herself. The two years away from
+school made it difficult to start. Perhaps it may seem strange that a
+girl who had been so eager at school, should not care to work by herself
+at home. But when there are no competitors and no Miss Arundel, work
+loses much of its zest for everyone except the real student, who is
+rarely to be found among men, still more rarely among women. And the
+last thing Henrietta would ever be was unusual.
+
+Clever, interesting schoolgirls are not at all uncommon, though not so
+general as clever, interesting children. But there are few who remain
+clever and interesting when they grow up. Uninspiring surroundings, and
+contact with life, or mere accumulation of years, take something away.
+Or perhaps it simply is that when they are grown up they are judged by a
+more severe standard. Miss Arundel had been disappointed again and
+again. But she would not have been surprised that Henrietta let
+everything go, for she had always observed in her an unfortunate strain
+of weakness.
+
+Besides being weak, Henrietta was always affected by the people she was
+with, and the atmosphere of home life was not encouraging to study.
+"Reading Italian, my dear?" her mother would say. "Oh, can't you find
+anything better to do than that? Surely there must be some mending;"
+while her father advised her, through her mother, "not to become too
+clever; it was a great pity for a girl to get too clever."
+
+After all, there seemed no earthly reason why she should read Italian;
+it gave no pleasure to herself or to anyone else. So she spent most of
+the long leisure hours sitting by the window and thinking. She often
+said to herself the verse of a poem then just published by Christina
+Rossetti. She had seen it on a visit, copied it out, and learned it:
+
+    "Downstairs I laugh and sport and jest with all,
+       But in my solitary room above
+     I turn my face in silence to the wall:
+       My heart is breaking for a little love."
+
+It did not quite apply to Henrietta, for she was not sporting and
+jesting downstairs with anyone, but that verse was the greatest comfort
+to her of those dreary years. The writer _must_ have been through it
+all, she thought; she knows what it is. Not to be alone, to have
+someone, though an unknown one, who could share it, lightened her
+burden, when she was in a mood that it should be lightened.
+
+She made up verses too, and wrote them in a pretty album she bought for
+the purpose. They relieved her heart a little--at any rate it was a
+distraction to think of the rhymes. She would have shown them to Carrie,
+if she had had the slightest encouragement, but as Carrie gave no
+encouragement, there was no one to see them.
+
+    "While Nature op'ed her lavish hand
+     And fairest flowers displayed,
+     'Twas his to taste of sunny joys,
+     'Twas mine to sit in shade.
+
+    "Oh, talk not to me of a lasting devotion!
+     It shrivels, it ceases, it fades and it dies.
+     In the heart of a man 'tis a fleeting emotion;
+     Alas, in a woman eternal it lies!"
+
+A poet would have said that anyone capable of writing that was incapable
+of feeling, but he would have been wrong.
+
+Sometimes Henrietta used to have a phantom lover like the phantom friend
+of her childhood, but now--had she more or less imagination as a
+child?--she could not bear it. She imagined the phantom, and then she
+wanted him so intensely that she had to forget him. The aspect of
+certain days would be connected with some peculiarly mournful moments.
+She wondered which was the most depressing, the dark setting in at four
+o'clock and leaving her seven hours of drawing-room fancy work (for it
+disturbed her mother if she went to bed before eleven), or the summer
+sun that would not go down.
+
+If only some kind stroke of misfortune had taken away all Mr. Symons'
+money. Disagreeable poverty would have been a great comfort to her. She
+would have been forced to make an effort; not to brood and concentrate
+herself on her misery. But Mr. Symons, on the contrary, continued to get
+richer, and throughout her fairly long, dull life, Henrietta was always
+cursed with her tidy little income.
+
+But interminable as the time seemed, it passed. It passed, so that
+reading her old journal with the record of her happy month, she found
+that it had all happened five years ago, and was beginning to be
+forgotten. She felt as if it had not happened to her, but to some
+ordinary girl who had ordinary prosperity. At the same time her lot did
+not seem so bitter as it had done; she had become used to it. Though she
+herself hardly realized it, and certainly could not have said when the
+change had come, she was not now particularly unhappy. It was an
+alleviation that her mother was more of an invalid, so that some of the
+responsibilities of the household devolved on her, and her mother
+leaned on her a little. She was certainly not the prop of the house, or
+the lodestar to which they all turned for guidance, none of the
+satisfactory things women are called in poetry, but she was not such an
+odd-man-out as she had been.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+And now the even course of Henrietta's life was interrupted. Evelyn
+returned home. She and her friend were both grown up into young ladies.
+Many letters had passed between the sisters, but it was so long since
+they had seen one another that each felt a little shy at the meeting.
+
+Evelyn was very lovely, made to please and be pleased, a regular
+mid-Victorian heroine, universally courted. Though always courted she
+was never spoilt, and was a most affectionate sister and daughter. But
+the old particular bond which had attached her and Henrietta no longer
+existed. She was equally affectionate to Minna and Louie.
+
+Still, her coming made a great difference to Henrietta. There was a
+person of her own generation and way of thinking to converse with; they
+could have jokes together, and Evelyn was still full of schoolgirl
+enthusiasm. She had numberless schemes of occupation, duets, French
+readings, and splashwork. And when she went away on visits, there were
+her letters, much more intimate than those of a year or two earlier,
+full of allusions to their new occupations, and teasing of a kind,
+complimentary sort, which was new and very delightful to Henrietta.
+
+They were arranging flowers in the school-room one afternoon, roses
+which had been brought to Evelyn by an admirer. They dropped some on the
+floor, both stooped to pick them up, and they knocked their heads
+together. Evelyn got up laughing, but felt her hand suddenly snatched,
+and kissed with a long, eager kiss. She turned round, startled. "What is
+it?" she said.
+
+"I couldn't help it," said Henrietta, half hysterically. "If you knew
+what it is to me to have you back. I can't tell you."
+
+"Is it, dear?" said Evelyn. "I'm so glad." And she smoothed Henrietta's
+forehead with a pretty gesture full of sweetness, but with a touch of
+condescension in it. She had listened already to so many passionate
+declarations about herself (one that very afternoon) that she was not so
+much impressed by Henrietta's as most younger sisters would have been.
+Still she could not help contrasting herself in her triumphant youth
+with Henrietta, disregarded by everyone and snubbed. Mr. and Mrs. Symons
+never snubbed Evelyn, and she thought for a moment, "Oh, I'm thankful
+I'm not her"; but she put the thought away as unkind, and supposed
+vaguely that Henrietta was so good she did not mind.
+
+Now that Evelyn was come back, Mrs. Symons roused herself from her
+invalidism to provide amusements for her. So little was possible at home
+that almost at once a round of gay visits was arranged. Minna was less
+engrossed now that the babies were older, and took her out to parties;
+and Louie had all the officers of her husband's regiment at command.
+These same attractions had been offered to Henrietta. Louie had been
+most sincerely anxious to atone for the past, and had invited her again
+and again, but Henrietta had always refused; for though the original
+wound was healed, she still cherished resentment against Louie.
+
+Evelyn's was a career of triumph. Her letters, and Louie's and Minna's
+were full of officers and parties. This roused Henrietta's old
+discontent. Why was Evelyn to have everything and she nothing? She
+promptly answered herself, "Because Evelyn is so sweet and beautiful,
+she deserves everything she can get." But the question refused to be
+snubbed, and asked itself again. She hated herself for envying, and
+continued to envy.
+
+Evelyn came home from her visits very much excited and interested about
+herself, but still not unmindful of Henrietta.
+
+"Let me come in to your room, Etty, and tell you everything. I had a
+perfect time with Louie; she was a dear. She was always saying, 'Now,
+who shall we have to dinner? You must settle;' so I just gave the word,
+and whoever I wanted was produced. Louie wishes you would go too. Do go,
+you would have such fun. She gave me a note for you."
+
+"MY DEAR ETTA," the note ran,
+
+"The 9th is having a dance on the 28th. I wish you would come and stay
+with us for it. Come, and bring Evelyn. I particularly want to have her
+for it. There is a special reason. Everyone is enchanted with the dear
+little thing. I shall be disappointed if you don't come too. It all
+happened such years ago, surely we may forget it; and Edward is always
+asking me why I do not have you, and it seems so absurd, when I have no
+proper reason to give. I shall really think it too bad of you, if you
+don't come.
+
+    Your affec.,
+        L. N. CARRINGTON."
+
+Henrietta, thinking over the matter, found there was no reason why she
+should not go. At twenty-seven she felt herself rather older than this
+generation at forty-eight, and thought it ridiculous that she should be
+going to a dance. But once she was there, Louie made her feel so much at
+home, she found her remarks were so warmly welcomed, and her few
+hesitating sallies so much enjoyed, that she began to think that after
+all she was not completely on the shelf.
+
+"Don't go to-morrow, Etta--stay here. There's the Steeplechase on
+Friday; I want you to see that."
+
+"No, thank you, Louie," said Henrietta; "I can't leave mother longer.
+It's been very delightful, more delightful than you can realize,
+perhaps--you're so much accustomed to it; but I must get back."
+
+"Now, that really is nonsense, Etta. Mother has Ellen, and she has
+father, and she is pretty well for her; you said so yourself."
+
+But Henrietta persisted in her refusal, for she had all the strong,
+though sometimes unthinking, sense of duty of her generation.
+
+"Well, if you will go, you must. But now you have begun coming, come
+often. Write a line whenever you like and propose yourself."
+
+As they said good-night, Louie whispered, "Have you forgiven me, Etty?"
+
+"Yes," said Henrietta, "that's all past and gone."
+
+"For a matter of fact," said Louie, "he is not very happy with her; they
+don't get on. The Moffats know him, and Mrs. Moffatt told me."
+
+"Oh, I am sorry," said Henrietta, but she was not displeased.
+
+Evelyn stayed behind, and Louie talked Henrietta over with her. "Poor,"
+ever since her marriage Henrietta had been "poor" to Louie, "Poor Etta
+really isn't bad-looking, and when she gets animated she isn't
+unattractive. If I could have her here often, I believe I could do
+something for her."
+
+When Evelyn came home a week or so later, she had an announcement to
+make. She had become engaged to an officer, a friend of the
+Carringtons, who had been staying in the house. He was delightful, the
+engagement was everything that was to be desired, and Evelyn was
+radiant.
+
+Henrietta knew that such an announcement was bound to come sooner or
+later, but she had so longed for a few years' happy intercourse
+together. She tried to think only of Evelyn, but she could not keep back
+all that was in her mind.
+
+"Think of me left all alone. It was so dreary, and when you came you
+made everything different. Now it will go back to what it was before."
+
+"No, no, Etty darling; you will come and stay with us for months and
+months."
+
+"No, I shan't. When you have got him you won't want me."
+
+"Yes, I shall. I shall want you all the more. I love you more than I've
+ever done in my life, my darling sister. We've always been special, we
+two, haven't we, ever since I can remember?"
+
+Henrietta was a little comforted, and did not realize that though
+Evelyn's tenderness was absolutely sincere, it came from the strange
+expansion of the heart which accompanies true love, and was not
+habitual.
+
+The marriage took place almost at once, for the Captain's regiment was
+ordered on foreign service, and Evelyn went away to regions where it was
+not possible for Henrietta to visit her.
+
+But if she had lived in England, Henrietta would not have felt herself
+at liberty to go away for long. After she got home, she felt glad she
+had not extended her visit to the Carringtons, for Mrs. Symons was not
+so well, and she died shortly afterwards, and Henrietta reigned in her
+stead.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+The household changed now; two new elements were introduced: William
+came from London to be a partner in his father's firm, and lived at
+home, and Harold, who had been employed by an engineer in the North,
+found work in the neighbourhood and came back too. So that Henrietta's
+life became at once much fuller of interest and importance than it had
+been for years. As the only lady of the house, she was bound to be
+considered, to make decisions, to have much authority in her own hands,
+and at twenty-seven she greatly appreciated authority. If she was not to
+have love, she would at any rate have position, and the servants found
+her an exacting mistress. Mrs. Symons, though she had given over certain
+duties to Henrietta, had kept herself head of the house to the time of
+her death. She had a way with servants: they always liked her, and
+stayed with her; but latterly she had let things slide, and when
+Henrietta took her place she found much to criticize. Most of the
+servants left, but some stayed, and agreed with Ellen that it was "just
+Miss Henrietta's way; she was funny sometimes." However, they got used
+to her, and things jogged along pretty quietly.
+
+When Ellen left to be married, and there was no one in the kitchen to
+make allowances for her, she had much more difficulty, and Mr. Symons
+was occasionally disturbed in his comfortable library by an indignant
+apparition, which declared amid gulps that it had "no wish whatever to
+make complaints, but really Miss Henrietta----!"
+
+Mr. Symons thought this very hard. "Can't you manage to make them
+decently contented? We never used to have this sort of thing," he would
+say. Henrietta would defend herself by counter-charges, and on the whole
+felt the incident was creditable to her, as showing that she was a
+power, and a rather dreaded power, in the house.
+
+The men thought also that they were under a needlessly harsh yoke.
+Henrietta grumbled when they were late for meals, or creased the
+chintzes, or let the dog in with muddy paws. From a combination of
+kindness, weakness, and letting things slide, they made no complaints.
+Mr. Symons always remembered and felt sorry for the episode which
+Henrietta herself had almost forgotten, and he was determined to make up
+to her by letting her be as unpleasant as she liked at home.
+
+If only they had spoken strongly while there was yet time. They did not
+realize, it is difficult for those in the same house to realize, where
+things were tending. Henrietta's temper became less violent; there are
+fewer occasions for losing a temper when one is grown up, but she took
+to nagging like a duck to water.
+
+But if they made no complaints, the men left her to herself. Mr. Symons
+spent many hours at his club, and her brothers entertained their friends
+in the smoking-room. She was vaguely disappointed; she had an idea,
+gleaned from novels and magazines, that as the home daughter to a
+widowed father, the home sister to two brothers, she would be consulted,
+leant on, confided in. Mr. Symons missed his wife at every turn, but he
+never felt Henrietta could take her place. Her nagging shut up his heart
+against her. He thought it silly, rather unfairly, perhaps, for she
+inherited the habit from her mother, and he had never thought _her_
+nagging silly.
+
+As to William and Harold, they had come to the ages of thirty-five and
+twenty-six without any wish for confidence, and why should they wish to
+confide in Henrietta? She was not wise and she was not sympathetic. The
+mere fact that they lived in the same house with her caused no automatic
+opening of the heart. Well on in middle life, William became engaged,
+and suddenly poured out everything to his love, but for the present he
+and Harold were content to go through life never saying anything about
+themselves to anybody. In fact, they hardly ever thought of Henrietta.
+She would have been astonished if she had known what an infinitesimal
+difference she made in their lives.
+
+As mistress of the house, Henrietta was promoted to the circle of the
+married ladies, and the happiest hours of her life were spent in visits
+she and they interchanged, when they talked about servants,
+arrangements, prices, and health.
+
+They were not intimate friends. Perhaps the women of fifty years ago did
+not have the faculty of staunch and close friend-making possessed by
+our generation. And now Henrietta did not very much want to make
+friends. She would have thought intimacy a little schoolgirlish, a
+little beneath a middle-aged lady's dignity.
+
+Her parents had been a very ordinary couple in a country town. They and
+the society they frequented were uncultivated, and uninterested in
+everything that was going on in the world outside. The men, of course,
+were occupied with their professions, and almost all the ladies had
+large growing families, which gave full scope for their energies.
+Henrietta had not their duties, and was better off than the majority of
+them, but she did not find time hang heavy on her hands. Long ere this
+she had learnt the art of getting through the day with the minimum of
+employment. Now, of course, her various duties gave her a certain amount
+to do, but not enough to occupy her mind profitably. She often said, "I
+am so busy I really haven't a moment to spare," and quite sincerely
+declined the charge of a district, because she had no time. If any
+visitors were coming to stay, she spoke of the preparations and the work
+they entailed, as if all was performed by her single pair of hands.
+"What with Louie and Edward coming to-morrow, and Harold going to the
+Tyrol on Wednesday, I cannot think how I shall manage, but I suppose,"
+with a resigned smile, "I shall get through somehow." She was persuaded
+into visiting a small hospital once a fortnight for an hour, and the day
+and hour were much dreaded by her entourage, so vastly did they loom on
+the horizon, and so submissively must every other event wait on their
+convenience.
+
+Minna and Louie often came on visits with their children. The three
+sisters got on much better than formerly, though Minna and Louie were
+both too much absorbed in their own interests to give Henrietta a large
+place in their thoughts. Minna's husband failed early in health, before
+he had had time to fulfil his promising early prospects, while Louie's
+Colonel, when he retired from the army, occupied his leisure in
+speculation, and greatly diminished that attractive fortune of his. All
+three sisters had a certain amount of money left to them by their
+mother, but in spite of this Minna and Louie were now both,
+comparatively speaking, poor, while Henrietta, with no one dependent on
+her, and a large allowance from her father, was comfortably off. Louie
+and Minna quite gave up talking of "poor Henrietta," and "Really
+Henrietta has done very well for herself," was a remark frequently
+exchanged.
+
+Henrietta had always been generous, and her sisters soon came to expect
+as a right that she should rescue them in times of domestic need: pay
+for a nephew's schooling, send a delicate niece to the sea, and give
+very substantial presents at birthdays and Christmas. Their point of
+view seemed to be that if anyone had been so lucky as to keep out of the
+bothers of marriage, the least she could do was to help her unfortunate
+sisters. Still, they disliked being beholden to Henrietta, and, half
+intentionally, set their children against her to relieve their feelings.
+The children were not bad children, but Henrietta found their visits
+burdensome. She was becoming a little set and unwilling to be disturbed,
+and she said the children were spoilt. Minna and Louie had determined
+they would not be the strict parents of the elder generation, whereas
+Henrietta, who remembered all the snubbing of her youth, wanted to have
+her turn of giving snubs, and this did not make her popular. She never
+grew very fond of these children, but kept her affection for something
+else.
+
+For it is not to be supposed that a heart with such peculiar longing for
+love was to be satisfied with a life in which feeling played so little
+part. She had put aside the desire for a lover now. She was not one of
+the women whom nothing will satisfy but marriage; on the whole she did
+not care very much for men. She wanted what she had always wanted,
+something to love and something to love her. And she had good reason to
+hope that at last that wish might be realized, for it was agreed between
+her and Evelyn that if there were any children, she was to bring them up
+while Evelyn was abroad. Round this hope she built many happy schemes.
+
+Henrietta had seen very little of Evelyn all this time--the regiment
+went from one foreign station to another--but very affectionate letters
+passed between the two.
+
+For some years no children were born. Then came a little girl. "She is
+to be called Etta," said Evelyn's letter, "and you know she is your baby
+as well as ours. Do you remember what you did for me in old days? I
+think of how you will do the same for baby, and I could not bear for
+anyone else to do it but you." The baby died in the first year. Then
+came a little boy, who lived an even shorter time; then another little
+girl. The parents and Henrietta hardly dared to hope this time. But the
+perilous first year passed, then, although she was always very delicate,
+a second, third, and fourth. Then, when the plans were maturing for her
+coming home, she died too. It seems sometimes as if Death cannot leave a
+certain family alone, but comes back to it again and again.
+
+"Evelyn is broken-hearted," her husband wrote, "and if she stays in this
+horrible India I believe I shall lose her too. I am going to exchange if
+I can to a home regiment, or I shall leave the army. I do not care what
+we do as long as I get her away. In the midst of it all she keeps
+thinking of how you will feel it. I believe a good cry with you is the
+one thing that might comfort her."
+
+Henrietta took this letter to her father, and implored him to let her go
+out to India at once. But this Mr. Symons, though kind and sympathetic
+and truly sorry for Evelyn, could not bring himself to allow. He was
+getting to the age when he shrank from violent upheavals. Herbert said
+they were leaving India. By the time she arrived they would probably be
+gone, and then what a wild goose chase it would be. Then, of course, she
+could not go alone, and who was to go with her? Her brothers could not
+spare the time, and he did not feel up to going, and she must have a man
+with her. Edward? No, certainly not. Since his speculations, Edward was
+in bad odour. No, it would be much better to write a kind letter--he
+would write too--and drop this really foolish scheme, which would, among
+other things, be very costly, more costly than he felt prepared to face
+just then.
+
+She said she would go alone.
+
+"Then you would go entirely without my sanction. It is a perfectly
+impossible thing for a young lady to contemplate. You have never even
+been on the Continent, and you think of travelling to India unattended."
+
+She had never acted in opposition to her parents, though she had often
+been domineering to her father in small matters, when he had not
+resisted. She was always weak, she could only fight when the other side
+would not fight back. She said, "Oh, father, I must go," and when he
+said, "Nonsense, I couldn't think of it," she collapsed, partly from
+cowardice, partly from duty, though her father was not in the least
+strong-willed either, and with a little serious resistance would have
+been made to yield. She felt bitterly the reproach in Evelyn's letter,
+"If only you could have come."
+
+She did not feel as wildly wretched as fifteen years ago, because now in
+middle age what she passed through at the moment was not of the same
+desperate importance; but then she had a small corner of hope hidden
+away that perhaps something might happen, whereas now she realized
+clearly that the prospect which had given her her chief interest and
+delight was destroyed for ever.
+
+The trouble told on her, she caught a chill, which developed into
+pneumonia. She was dangerously ill for some weeks, and when she was
+better, she was long in getting up her strength, because she had no wish
+to get well.
+
+Minna and Louie thought it odd that Henrietta should "fret so much about
+Evelyn's children whom she had never seen. She has always seemed to make
+so much more fuss over them than over her own nephews and nieces in
+England. Of course, it was natural that dear Evelyn herself should be
+distracted, but for Henrietta it almost seemed a little exaggerated."
+
+When she was well enough to travel, the doctor recommended the South of
+France for the winter, and she went away with a married friend, the
+Carrie Bostock of the Italian readings.
+
+It was all very pleasant and entertaining to Henrietta, who had never
+been abroad, never even away from her own family. In the Riviera she
+could to a certain extent drown thought, but she counted the days with
+consternation, as each one in its flight brought her nearer to taking up
+life again at home.
+
+One afternoon she received a letter from her father.
+
+"MY DEAR HENRIETTA," it ran,
+
+"I do not know if you will be surprised to hear that I am engaged to be
+married to Mrs. Waters. We have not known one another very long, but I
+must say I very soon felt that she would be one who could take your dear
+mother's place. I think it is very possible that you may have observed
+whither matters were tending. I feel certain that we shall all be very
+happy together, and I hope you will write her a warm letter of welcome
+to our family. She will, I am sure, be both mother and sister to you,
+etc."
+
+The news was staggering to Henrietta. She had been so engrossed in her
+own trouble that she had observed nothing of what was going on around
+her. Mrs. Waters, a widow, who had lately settled in the neighbourhood,
+had been several times to their house and had entertained them at hers,
+but that she should be anything more than a friendly acquaintance had
+never entered Henrietta's head. She was to be ousted, her mother was to
+be ousted, and she was to give a warm welcome to the interloper. Her
+forgotten temper burst forth. She wrote a violent letter to her father,
+hurling at him all the ridiculous exaggerated things that most people
+feel at the beginning of a rage, but which few are so mad as to commit
+to paper. She refused altogether to write to Mrs. Waters.
+
+She also relieved herself by contradicting everything Carrie said, thus
+giving her a good excuse for those long talks to a third party, which
+frequently take place when friends have been abroad together, beginning,
+"I really had no idea she _could_."
+
+After she had written the letter, as usual she was very much ashamed.
+She wrote again unsaying all she had said, but her father had been too
+much wounded to reply.
+
+She came back just a little before the wedding to see him in quite a new
+light--a lover, for he at sixty-five and Mrs. Waters at forty-seven had
+fallen in love.
+
+When Henrietta saw more of her stepmother to be, she had in honesty to
+own that she liked her. She was not only very attractive, but she was so
+thoroughly nice and kind, so intent on making people happy, so entirely
+without airs of patronage, and Henrietta could see how everybody warmed
+under her smile.
+
+Henrietta had settled that she would not live at home after the
+marriage. Neither she nor her father could forget the letter, it was
+better that they should part. She had again asked his forgiveness, but
+neither felt at ease with the other.
+
+She stayed for a few weeks after Mr. and Mrs. Symons came back from the
+honeymoon, and saw almost with consternation, how the spirit of the
+house changed. It became peaceful, cordial, harmonious; it would not
+have been known for the same house. The whole household liked Mrs.
+Symons; even her own dog deserted Henrietta. It was not that she was
+ousted from her place, it was that Mrs. Symons created a place, which
+never had been hers. She had had no idea in all these twelve years how
+little she had made herself liked. She had had her chance, her one great
+chance, in life, and she had missed it.
+
+When she went away, there were kind good wishes for her prosperity,
+interest in her plans, many hopes that she would visit them, but no
+regret; with a clearness and honesty of sight she unfortunately
+possessed she realized that--no regret.
+
+What was the use of twelve years in which she had sincerely tried to do
+her best, if she had not built up some little memorial of affection? It
+was the old complaint of all her life, "I am not wanted." The anguish
+she had shared with Evelyn and her husband had been much sharper, but in
+the midst of it there had been consolation in the exquisite union they
+had felt with the children and with one another. Here there was nothing
+to cheer her; there is not much consolation when one fails where it
+seems quite easy for others to succeed.
+
+Now that it became evident that she would be so little missed, she was
+in haste to get the parting over and be gone. But her unadventurous
+spirit shrank from going out in the world to manage by itself. She was
+very doubtful what she should do. She would not have been welcomed by
+Minna or Louie, even if she had wished to live with them. Her second
+brother was in some inaccessible foreign place. Evelyn and Herbert were
+also far out of reach. He had exchanged into a regiment which was
+quartered at Halifax, in Canada.
+
+But the distance, however great, might have been faced, if she had
+not had a miserable quarrel with Herbert. It began with some
+misunderstanding about the tombstone on the youngest little girl's
+grave, to which Henrietta had wished to contribute. She had written to
+Evelyn from the Riviera in all the soreness of worn-out nerves and grief
+from which the sublimity has gone. The very fact that they had been
+drawn so close to one another made her specially irritable to Evelyn.
+After one or two of her letters, an answer came from Herbert:
+
+"Evelyn is very ill from all she has been through, and the doctor says
+it is most important that she should be kept from every sort of worry.
+She was so much distressed at your last letter, and answering you took
+so much out of her, that I have taken the liberty of keeping this one
+from her. You have no right to write to her in this way, and I must ask
+you to drop all correspondence for the present if your letters are to be
+in the same strain."
+
+Henrietta declared that he was trying to come between her and her
+sister, and that if that was the case she should never trouble them
+again. She did not write at all for several weeks, then she felt
+remorseful, but Herbert could not forgive her. He wrote coldly that
+Evelyn was still so unhinged as to be incapable of receiving letters
+without undue excitement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+Even now, when there is a certain amount of choice and liberty, a woman
+who is thrown on her own resources at thirty-nine, with no previous
+training, and no obvious claims and duties, does not find it very easy
+to know how to dispose of herself. But a generation ago the problem was
+far more difficult. Henrietta was well off for a single woman, but she
+was incapable, and not easy to get on with. She would have thought it
+derogatory to do any form of teaching--teaching, the natural refuge of a
+workless woman.
+
+Three or four courses presented themselves. First, philanthropy. She was
+not really more philanthropic than she had been at twenty, when her aunt
+had described to her the happiness of living for others. But she felt at
+nearly forty that charitable work was a reasonable way of filling up her
+time, on the whole, the most reasonable.
+
+She never had had much to do with poor people. Mrs. Symons had helped
+the charwoman, and the gardener, and the driver from the livery-stables,
+when they were in special difficulties, and Henrietta had continued to
+do so, and had had her hour at the hospital. That was all. There were
+the servants, of course, but with the exception of Ellen she looked on
+servants more as machines made for her convenience, liable to get out of
+order unless they were constantly watched.
+
+Entirely without enthusiasm, and with a dreary fighting against her lot,
+she made inquiries among her acquaintances as to where she might find
+charitable work. At length somebody knew somebody, who knew somebody who
+was working in London under a clergyman. After further inquiries it was
+found that the somebody was a lady, who would be very glad if Henrietta
+would come and live with her, while she saw how she liked the work.
+
+The clergyman, the lady, and all the other workers, were earnest,
+enthusiastic, high-minded, and full of common sense. Henrietta was not
+one of these things. She was also very inaccurate, unpunctual, and
+forgetful, and if her failings were pointed out to her in the gentlest
+way she took offence, not because she was conceited, but because at her
+age she was beyond having things pointed out. She stayed at the work six
+months, and during that time she was always offended with somebody, and
+sometimes with everybody.
+
+The work was conducted more on charity organization lines than was usual
+in those days; money was not given without due consideration and
+consultation. This was difficult, and required more thinking than
+Henrietta cared for, so she saved herself trouble by bestowing five
+shillings whenever she wanted, feeling at the bottom of her heart that
+if she could not be liked for herself, she would buy liking rather than
+not be liked at all. The five shillings, however, did not buy either
+gratitude or affection. She had always had a grudging way with people of
+a different class from herself, and a conviction, in spite of
+indiscriminate alms, that she was being taken in. This infringement of
+the rules drove the Vicar to exasperation. His whole heart was in his
+work, and Henrietta's disloyalty hindered him at every turn.
+
+"Can't she be asked to give up meddling in the parish?" he said to his
+wife.
+
+"No dear, you know she can't, and she is very generous, even if she is
+tiresome. She has often been very helpful to you. You ought to be
+grateful."
+
+"I'm not grateful," he said, striding about the room; "and then she is
+so petty, always these absurd squabbles. She hasn't got a spark of love
+for God or man. That's at the root of it all. We don't want a person of
+that sort here. If she cared about the people, even if she did pauperize
+them, I might think her a fool, but I could respect her; but you know
+she doesn't care for a soul but herself."
+
+"I don't think it is that, but she's in great trouble, I'm sure she is.
+When you were preaching about sorrow last Sunday, I saw her eyes were
+filled with tears."
+
+"Were they?" he said, "I'm sorry. But look here, dear, I don't think
+this sort of work ought to be used as a soothing syrup, or as a
+rubbish-shoot for loafers, who don't know what else to do. If people
+aren't doing it because they think it's the greatest privilege in the
+world to be allowed to do it, I can't see that they do much good."
+
+"I think you're too hard on her."
+
+"Am I? I expect I am. I know I'm fagged to death. She gives Mrs.
+Wilkins pounds on the sly, which the old lady's been transforming into
+gin, and then when I explain the circumstances and implore her to leave
+well alone, she talks my head off with a torrent of incoherent
+statements, which have nothing whatever to do with the point."
+
+It certainly was true that Henrietta did not do much good, and no one
+was more aware of this than herself. She stood outside the community,
+and looked in at them like a hungry beggar at a feast. How she envied
+their happiness, but she did not feel that she was, or ever could be, a
+partaker with them. As months passed on, she drew no nearer to them.
+They were all so busy, so strong in their union with one another, they
+did not seem to have time to stretch out a friendly hand to one who was
+at least as much in need of it as Mrs. Wilkins.
+
+The lady she lived with found her trying. "A very trying person" was the
+phrase that went the round about her, "always criticizing small
+arrangements about the meals and the housekeeping," for Henrietta could
+not at first reconcile herself to having no authority to exert, and this
+jangling was not a good preparation for sisterly sympathy towards her.
+
+The Vicar's wife might have become friends with her, but during the six
+months Henrietta was in the parish Mrs. Wharton was ill and hardly able
+to see anyone. Besides, she was shy, and the only time that Henrietta
+came to tea they never succeeded in getting beyond a comparison of
+foreign hotels.
+
+Henrietta would have liked to confide her troubles, but as she grew
+older she had become a great deal more reserved, and also these troubles
+she was ashamed to speak of. To think that she had made her own sister,
+ill and miserable as she was, more ill and more miserable, she could not
+forgive herself; she was even harder on herself than Herbert had been.
+
+As Mr. Wharton had said, it was useless engaging in this arduous work
+when her heart was elsewhere. When her six months of trial came to an
+end, it was clear that the only thing for her was to go. No one could
+pretend they were sorry, and as everyone imagined she was glad, there
+seemed no reason to disguise their feelings. They would have been
+surprised if they had known her thoughts as she sat at the evening
+service on her last Sunday. "Whatever I do, I fail; what is the use of
+my living? Why was I born?"
+
+She said to Mr. Wharton in her farewell interview: "I know I have been
+very stupid at learning what was to be done, and I have not been willing
+to take advice. Now I look back, I see the mistakes I have made, and I
+have done harm instead of good. I want to give you"--she named a large
+sum considering the size of her income--"to spend as you think right, I
+hope that may help to make amends. I am very sorry."
+
+He heard a quiver in her voice, and the dislike and irritation he had
+felt all the six months faded away.
+
+"This is much too generous of you," he stammered. "It is my fault, all
+my fault. I have been so irritable, I haven't made allowances. My wife
+tells me of it constantly. I wish you would forgive me and give us
+another chance. Stay six months longer."
+
+His awkwardness and distress almost disarmed her, but she had felt his
+snubs, and at nearly forty she was not going to be encouraged like a
+child. So that though for many reasons she longed to stay, she answered:
+"Thank you, it was a purely temporary arrangement; I have other plans."
+
+As she walked home she wondered what the other plans were.
+
+When in doubt, go abroad. She went abroad again for three months. Her
+companion was picked up from nowhere in particular, an odd woman like
+herself.
+
+They went to Italy. Neither of them cared in the smallest degree for
+sculpture, architecture, painting, archaeology, poetry, history,
+politics, scenery, languages, or foreigners. These last Henrietta
+regarded as inferior Anglo-Indians regard natives, referring to them
+always as "those wretches."
+
+Like most women she loved certain aspects in her garden at home, which
+were connected with incidents in her life. There was a path bordered by
+roses, along which they had walked when Evelyn announced her engagement,
+and a special old apple-tree reminded her of the night her mother died.
+But to go and admire what Baedeker called a magnificent _coup d'oeil_
+was no sort of pleasure to her.
+
+However, she and Miss Gurney had one unending amusement, which Italy is
+peculiarly able to supply. They could make short visits to different
+towns, and fit sights into their days, as one fits pieces into a puzzle.
+Henrietta found this sport most satisfying.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+Just as they were getting tired of tables d'hote dinners, there came to
+their hotel an enthusiast for learning. It was before the days of
+women's colleges; they were established, but frequented only by
+pioneers, in whose ranks no Henriettas are to be found. But courses of
+lectures were so ordinary that not even the most timid could look
+askance at them. As philanthropy had failed, and no one could pretend
+that art could be a resource for Henrietta,--her career of sketches and
+two part-songs had been phenomenally short (invaluable as it has proved
+itself for many Englishwomen suffering from her complaint)--everything
+pointed to study as the next solution on the list.
+
+Study. Henrietta had not read a book which required any mental exertion
+since her dozen chapters of "I Promessi Sposi," fifteen years ago.
+Still, the lectures sounded pleasant to her; they were a novelty, they
+were--she could not think of anything else they were--a novelty must be
+their claim to distinction.
+
+She and the travelling friend found a boarding-house near the
+lecture-room. London and the lodgings both looked dismal after the
+brightness of abroad, but they were excited at the prospect of
+establishing themselves on their own account. It was enterprising, but
+not too enterprising.
+
+Henrietta found a band of enthusiasts at the lecture; it seemed her fate
+to run up against enthusiasm she could not share. Young ladies,
+middle-aged ladies, even old ladies, all listening spellbound--at least
+if not absolutely spellbound, spellbound compared to Henrietta--to an
+elderly gentleman discoursing on Aristotle. For most of them Aristotle,
+and the satisfaction of using their minds were sufficient, but a little
+knot of middle-aged women in the front, with hair inclined to be short,
+and eyes bursting with intelligence, used learning as a symbol of
+emancipation. Lectures were their vote. Now they would be in prison.
+
+Henrietta listened for five minutes, then suddenly her thoughts darted
+to her portmanteau: she had lost the key at Dieppe. They went on to the
+incivility at the Custom-house, the incivility of the waiter at Bale,
+the incivility of the gardener at her old home, the geranium bed in the
+garden--would her stepmother attend to it?--her father, was his eyesight
+really failing? She came back with a jump to find that the lecture had
+moved on several pages. She listened with fair success for another five
+minutes, then her mind wandered to her landlady at the lodgings; was she
+perfectly honest, did her expression inspire confidence? There was that
+pearl brooch Louie had given her; it was Louie's birthday to-morrow, she
+must write, and hear also how Tom was getting on in this his second term
+at school, she must send him a hamper. She had settled the contents of
+the hamper when she found that someone was speaking to her. The lecturer
+was asking whether she felt she would care to write a paper. He hoped as
+many ladies as possible would make an attempt at the papers; it would be
+a great pleasure and interest to him to look through them, etc.
+
+On the way back she found Miss Gurney entranced with everything; she
+seemed to have picked up a great deal more than Henrietta. They went at
+once to a library and a bookshop to get what they had been advised to
+read, and Miss Gurney bought reams of paper. She was hard at work the
+whole evening. Henrietta had one of the books open before her, but she
+found the same difficulty in concentrating herself that she had done at
+the lecture. Miss Gurney was rapidly filling an exercise book with an
+abstract, and was keeping up a conversation as well.
+
+"Ah _that_ was the piece I couldn't quite understand this morning. Yes I
+see, now it is quite clear. Look, Miss Symons. Oh, I shall learn Greek,
+I certainly shall, as he said, it will make it twenty times more
+interesting."
+
+What were they all so excited about? Henrietta had never cared about
+abstract questions, and she could not see that there was any object in
+discovering what the ancient Greeks thought about them more than two
+thousand years ago. The evening before, she and Miss Gurney had had an
+interesting conversation on the weekly averages of house-books. Then she
+felt comfortable and on the solid earth. Why then, was she attending
+lectures on Aristotle? Well, because Miss Gurney had a friend whose
+cousin had married the lecturer, Professor Amery, and in the difficult
+problem of choosing a subject, when there was nothing she really cared
+to know about, this was as good a reason as any other.
+
+Then Henrietta remembered how she and Emily Mence years ago at school,
+had argued the whole of Saturday afternoon about Mary Queen of Scots,
+and had not been on speaking terms the following day, because Emily had
+called Mary frivolous. Had she ever really been that queer little girl?
+Still she was anxious to give the lecturer a chance, most anxious, for
+she had already had to suffer from Minna and Louie's sympathy that the
+parish work was a failure. She read three chapters and fell asleep in
+the middle of the fourth, and went to bed half an hour earlier than
+usual. Next morning she could not remember a word of what she had read,
+but for two dates and one sentence, which remained in her head. "Even
+now, in the latter half of the nineteenth century, in spite of an
+unparalleled advance in our knowledge of the natural sciences, the world
+has not yet produced a mind, which can equal that of Aristotle in its
+astounding versatility and profundity of learning." She determined to
+persevere, but was it her subconscious self which discovered a vast
+arrear of letters which it was incumbent on her to answer before she
+thought of anything else?
+
+After the lecture there was a class at which everyone talked. Even the
+dear old lady next to Henrietta was asking a quavering question. Yes, a
+little delicate old lady had energy to keep the current of the lecture
+in her head. She said that Aristotle's problem whether it was possible
+for slaves to have ordinary virtues, made her think of the difference in
+the Christian teaching of St. Paul's epistles. Had any of the other
+Greek philosophers been more humane in their views on slavery? Then
+another voice struck in, and compared the ancient idea of slavery with
+the slave code of the United States. The voice was rather strident, but
+not unpleasant. It had a great deal to say, and for some minutes seemed
+likely to take the lecture altogether from the mouth of the lecturer.
+Henrietta looked in its direction, and saw a small apple-cheeked elderly
+lady. The voice and the face both set her thinking, and by the end of
+the lecture she was certain that the elderly lady was Miss Arundel. She
+spoke, and when Miss Arundel had recollected who she was (it took a
+little time), Henrietta received a most cordial invitation to tea.
+
+Miss Arundel lived with a niece in a couple of rooms quite close to
+Henrietta. Mrs. Marston was dead, and Miss Arundel had retired from the
+school with just enough to live in decent comfort.
+
+"So now, after teaching all my life, I am giving myself the treat of
+learning, and I can't tell you how I am enjoying it, Miss Symons. Ada
+and I both like Professor Amery so much." And she prosed on about the
+lecture and the books she was reading, and did not much care to talk
+over the old times, which were still very dear to Henrietta. It amazed
+Henrietta to think that she had once blushed and trembled at the look of
+this fussy, garrulous little governess.
+
+She might be something of a bore, but there was no question of her
+happiness, her interest in life. She had been getting up at six the last
+three mornings that she might finish a book, a large book in two volumes
+with close print, that had to be returned to the library. Henrietta
+could imagine nothing in the world for which she would get up at six
+o'clock. Then her thoughts went like lightning to the morning when the
+telegram had come telling of little Madeline's death. The wound she had
+thought healed burst out afresh; for a few seconds she felt as if she
+could hardly breathe. Get up at six o'clock, of course she would have
+forfeited her sleep with joy, night after night. In the midst of envy,
+she felt something like contempt for Miss Arundel as a child running
+after shadows.
+
+On her way home, she compared her past with Miss Arundel's. Miss Arundel
+could look back on busy, successful, happy years. Her room was filled
+with tributes from old pupils, they were continually writing to her and
+coming to see her, that Henrietta knew; she did not know how often they
+had thanked her, and told her what they owed her.
+
+Then she envied Miss Arundel's powers of mind. After forty years of
+unceasing and exhausting work she seemed as fresh as a schoolgirl, and
+far more capable of learning, while Henrietta after twenty years of
+rest, had not merely lost all the qualities she had had as a child, but
+had gained none from age and experience to take their place. The
+realization of this fact startled and humiliated her. If her powers had
+already declined at forty, what was to happen in the twenty years of
+life that she might reasonably count upon as still before her?
+
+She thought of Miss Arundel's words: "Etta Symons is a girl with
+possibilities; I shall be interested to see how she will turn out." Miss
+Arundel had long forgotten them, and now looked on Henrietta simply as a
+co-member of the lectures, but she said to her niece after Henrietta had
+been to tea, "What a very no-how person Miss Symons is; I should like to
+shake her."
+
+Henrietta tried her hardest to work at the lectures, to recover if
+possible what she had lost, but it was no use. A person of more
+character and determination might have succeeded, in spite of the long
+years of mental self-indulgence, so might a person more ready to take
+advice. But at forty, as I have said, she felt she was beyond advice, so
+she would not notice Miss Gurney's hints. She chose to despise her
+numberings and brackets, though she was half-envious of them. And,
+however contemptible these aids may be to a real student, they were
+evidently the one hope for Henrietta's foggy mind.
+
+She began a paper on the sly, and with much sweat of brow the following
+sentence emerged: "There are a number of celebrated writers in ancient
+Greece, and among the number we may notice Aristotle, who wrote a number
+of celebrated books, among which two called the 'Ethics' and 'Republic'
+are very celebrated. He also wrote many other works, but none are so
+celebrated as the two above mentioned." She had not written a paper for
+twenty-three years, and she felt as helpless as if she were trying to
+express herself in French. Her essays had been well thought of at
+school.
+
+As she was floundering along, up came Miss Gurney and looked over her
+shoulder. "Oh Miss Symons, I should have a margin if I were you; I know
+Professor Amery likes a margin for the corrections, he said so himself.
+Oh, and you don't mind my saying so, but Aristotle did not write a
+republic. Shall I just scratch that out? That was Plato. And I should
+have a new paragraph there; and I always find, I don't know if you will,
+that it makes it easier to underline some of the words."
+
+"I am not at all certain that I am going to write a paper," said
+Henrietta. "I just wrote a few notes down to amuse myself."
+
+"Oh, I'm so sorry, dear. Well, if you should think of doing the paper,
+you must read this article, it's such a help, it really puts all one
+wants to say."
+
+"Oh no, I shouldn't care to read that at all."
+
+"Oh do. Let me put it here, and then you can look at it."
+
+"No, thank you."
+
+Miss Gurney went out, and Henrietta sat at her paper for two hours and a
+half. It was so bad, so unintelligible, that she actually cried over it,
+and when she heard Miss Gurney's step, she carried it off to her bedroom
+and locked the door. Miss Gurney was after her in an instant.
+
+"How are you getting on with your paper, dear? Can I be of any help?"
+
+She did finish it at last, and gave it to Mr. Amery. She knew it was
+bad, but she was too ignorant to know quite how bad. Professor Amery,
+with the extreme courtesy of elderly gentlemen, wrote: "I think there
+are one or two points which I have not made quite clear. Would you care
+to talk them over with me after the class?" But this offer was so
+alarming that Henrietta "cut" her lectures for two weeks.
+
+There would have been more chance for her, if only she could have become
+in the least interested. She tried the French Revolution next term for
+a change, but liked it no better than Aristotle. Intellectual life was
+dead and buried in her long ago. What would have really suited her best
+in the present circumstances would have been shorthand and type-writing,
+but at that time no such occupation was open to her.
+
+She would perhaps have jogged on indefinitely at the lectures, if Miss
+Gurney, whose great interest was novelty and change, and whose abstracts
+of learned books had lately become much less voluminous, had not jumped
+at a suggestion to take a delicate niece abroad, and proposed that
+Henrietta should come too. So Henrietta consented, and with little
+regret they gave up the lodgings, and said good-bye to learning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+Henrietta paid her father a visit before they started abroad. The
+promise of the first days was amply fulfilled; the whole house was
+happy, and Henrietta was touched by the warmth of her welcome. After the
+squalor of lodgings home was pleasant, and her father's invitation was
+cordial: "Henrietta, why don't you stay with us? Mildred," with a fond
+look at his wife, "never will allow your room to be used; it's always
+ready waiting for you."
+
+It was a temptation to Henrietta, but she refused partly from pride,
+from a feeling that she ought not to disturb the present comfort, but
+also because it was getting a principle with her, as apparently with
+many middle-aged Englishwoman, that she must always be going abroad. Yet
+she knew that Miss Gurney did not particularly want to have her, and had
+invited her more from laziness than from anything else.
+
+They went abroad--it was to the Italian Lakes--and a life of sitting in
+the sun, walking up and down promenades, short drives, and making and
+unmaking of desultory friendships began. They grumbled a good deal to
+third parties, but still they were happy enough, according to their low
+standard of happiness.
+
+As they were abroad for an indefinite period, there was none of the
+feeling of rush, which they had enjoyed so much before, but sometimes
+they played the Italian game, and had packed-in days; called, 6.45;
+coffee, 7.30; train, 8.21; arrive at destination, 11.23; go to Croce
+d'Oro for coffee, visit churches of Santa Maria and San Giovanni, and
+museum: _table d'hote_ luncheon, 1.30; drive to Roman remains, back to
+Croce d'Oro for tea; separate for shopping and meet at station, 5.20,
+for train, 5.30; back for special _table d'hote_ kept for them in the
+_salle a manger_. Henrietta would settle it all with Baedeker and the
+railway guide the night before, and if she had felt apprehension at her
+failing powers in history, her grasp of this kind of day could not have
+been bettered. Everything was seen and everything was timed, and the
+only person who might have something to complain of, was the delicate
+niece, who went through her treat too exhausted to open her mouth,
+counting the hours when she might go to her bed in peace.
+
+At last Miss Gurney and the niece decided to return to England.
+Henrietta found some Americans who wanted to stay at Montreux, and they
+asked her to join them. After Montreux came Chamounix, and in the autumn
+Miss Gurney's niece came out again, and she and Henrietta stayed at
+Como, and then at Mentone till April. Then came Switzerland again. Then
+Henrietta went to England for a round of visits, and by the end of them
+she was longing to be back abroad. She said that England was depressing,
+and gave her rheumatism, and that she (in the best of health and prime
+of life) could not face an English winter. The fact was she did not care
+for the sharing of other people's lives which is expected from a
+visitor, and her long sojourn in hotels with no one but herself to
+consider, had made her less easy to live with. So without exactly
+knowing how, she drifted into spending almost all her time abroad. Every
+other year she came back for visits in the summer, but in the spring,
+autumn, and winter she wandered from one cheap _pension_ to another in
+Italy, France, Germany, Belgium, or Switzerland.
+
+If she had led a half-occupied life as keeper of her father's house, she
+now learnt the art of getting through a day in which she did absolutely
+nothing. When she became accustomed to it, the very smallest service
+required of her was regarded as a cross. Sometimes a relation would
+commission her to buy something abroad, and then the _salle a manger_
+would resound with wails, because she must go round the corner, select
+an article, and give orders to the shopman to despatch it to England.
+The friends who asked her to engage rooms for them at an hotel, had
+cause to rue their request; they never heard the end of it.
+
+Many lonely women receive great solace from their church, and give
+solace in return. Where would the church and the poor be without them?
+But Henrietta was never long enough in her caravanserais to become
+attached to the services of the chaplains in the _salle a manger_, and
+she soon gave up churchgoing. At first she spent a great deal of time
+inventing reasons to keep her conscience quiet, such as that it had
+rained in the night and therefore might rain again, or that she did not
+approve of chanting Amen, but later she did not see why there should be
+a reason, and left her conscious to its remorse.
+
+Bad health is another resource for unoccupied women, and it certainly
+occurred to her as an occupation, but she realized that it and roving
+cannot be combined, and of the two she preferred roving.
+
+Her chief pastime was to skim through novels, any novels that could be
+found, costume novels of English history by preference. This was how her
+bent for learning satisfied itself. She never remembered the author, or
+title, or anything of what she read, but at the same time she was
+obsessed with the idea that she must always have something new, and
+would constantly accuse her friends, or the library, of deceiving her
+with books she had read before. "If you can't remember, what does it
+matter?" her dreadfully reasonable nieces would exclaim, not realizing
+that her sole interest in the novels was the collector's interest of
+seeing how many new ones she could find.
+
+A second pastime was her patience, that bond which knits together our
+occidental civilization. She was always learning new patiences, and
+always mixing them up with one another. This was another source of
+annoyance to efficient nieces. "But that is not demon, Aunt Etta," they
+would explain, playing patience severely from a sense of duty. She
+cheated so persistently that there was no room for skill. "I can't
+conceive why you play," they said crossly. But the reason was perfectly
+clear. It stared one in the face. During the patience the clock had
+moved from ten minutes past eight to twenty-five minutes to ten.
+
+Henrietta also killed time now and then with sights; not churches or old
+pictures, of course she never went near masterpieces now she had ample
+leisure for seeing them, but Easter services, royal birthday
+processions, or battles of flowers. As she seldom broke her routine of
+idleness, these occasions excited her, not with pleasurable
+anticipation, but with a nervous fluster that she might somehow miss
+something; and the concierge, the porter, Madame, and the head-waiter,
+would all be flying about the hotel half an hour before it was necessary
+for her to start, sent on some perfectly useless errand connected with
+her outing. If it rained, if something went wrong, how she grumbled. And
+when she did see her show, it gave her very little pleasure. She had
+not in the least a child's mind; she was not pleased by small events,
+yet she grasped desperately after them, with an absurd, hazy idea that
+she was defrauded of her rights, if she did not see them.
+
+Another interest was an enormous collection of photographs of places,
+which she had not cared for at the time, and could not in the least
+remember; another her address-book of pensions and hotels, to which she
+was always adding new volumes; above all, grumbling. Favourite subjects
+were her kettle and her methylated spirits, whether the hotel would
+allow her to take up milk and sugar from breakfast, whether the
+chambermaid abstracted the biscuits she brought from dessert overnight.
+Everyone who came in contact with Miss Symons found they were made to
+listen to an endless story of a certain Elise who had stolen the
+biscuits and substituted other ones that were quite four days old, and
+of Elise's brazen behaviour when charged with the offence.
+
+Her standard of comfort at a hotel was so impossible that she became an
+object of terror and dislike to the waiters and chambermaids. She was
+punctual in payment, but very grasping, and wrung many concessions from
+the hotels by a persistence which no men and few women would have had
+the courage to display. She was always seeking the ideal hotel, and for
+this reason she was always wandering, and never was long enough in one
+place to strike any roots and create a feeling of home. This life
+corroded her character. She became more bad-tempered and nagging, always
+up in arms, scenting out liberties, and thinking she was taken advantage
+of. She was not a character which does well by itself, and under a
+domineering manner she concealed her weakness, vacillation, and
+timidity. She was divorced from every duty, every responsibility, every
+natural tie, with no outlet for her interest or her sympathy. It seems
+inconceivable that she should willingly have led such an existence. She
+was however, much more satisfied with herself and with things in
+general, than she had formerly been. She did not have stormy repentances
+or outbursts against her lot; she no longer desired what was
+unattainable. If she did not have a particularly high standard of
+happiness or of character, neither, in her opinion, had the rest of the
+world. Not that she thought much of these things. Over-thinking and
+over-longing had caused her much misery in early life, and she shrank
+from opening all those wounds again. She faced facts as little as she
+could. She lived from day to day, and her inner self was really very
+much what her outer self seemed, absorbed in the very small round of
+events which concerned her. The days passed, the months passed, the
+years passed. She saw them go unregretted, and when they were gone, she
+did not remember them. Nothing had happened in them, bad or good, to
+mark their course.
+
+"What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in
+faculty, in form, in moving how express and admirable, in action how
+like an angel, in apprehension how like a god, the beauty of the world,
+the paragon of animals!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+It has been shown that Henrietta had not much power of attracting
+affection to herself, and she had long ceased to desire it. She was now
+brought into contact with numbers of different people, and as travelling
+acquaintances she liked them, but when they parted, she did not want to
+see them again.
+
+There was, however, an exception to this rule. Henrietta found many
+companions in misfortune, expatriated either from health, pleasure, or
+poverty. An intelligent foreigner has inquired whether there are any
+single elderly ladies left in England, so innumerable are the hosts
+abroad. Some, like her, had worn their personalities so thin that it
+seemed likely they would eventually become shadows with no character
+left; others were nice and cheerful, and made little encampments in the
+wilderness, so that the unfortunates might gather round them, and almost
+feel they had got a home.
+
+It was in the room of a nice one that Henrietta met a Colonel. There are
+fewer occupationless Englishmen abroad, but there is a fair
+supply--half-pay officers, consumptives, and mysterious creatures, who
+have no good reason for being there. They were a strange medley for
+Henrietta to associate with, people whom in her palmy days, as mistress
+of her father's house, she would have thought unspeakable. She had none
+of this generation's tolerance and love of new sensations to attract her
+to unsatisfactory people. She only really liked conventional
+respectability.
+
+This Colonel was not respectable. He was not a Colonel in the English
+army, and never would say much about himself. He was very pleasant and
+polite, and Henrietta, as she walked back to table d'hote, felt she had
+spent a livelier afternoon than usual. It was at the beginning of the
+season, and looking back six weeks later she was astonished to find how
+often they had met.
+
+Shortly after, the lady in whose room Henrietta had first seen him,
+asked her to tea. She did not seem quite so easy-going as usual, and at
+last began: "You know, Miss Symons, my cousin, Colonel Hilton, is rather
+a peculiar man. I've known him all my life, and I don't think there is
+any harm in him, but money is his difficulty. He ought to be well off,
+but it always seems to slip through his fingers."
+
+Henrietta realized that this was a warning.
+
+At the end of the season he proposed and she accepted him. She knew he
+proposed for her money, and she knew that, besides being mercenary, he
+was a poor creature in every way. Most people could not have borne long
+with his society, but she, unaccustomed to companionship, felt that he
+sufficed her. She did not think much of the future. When she did, she
+realized that it was hardly possible they could marry. But meanwhile it
+was something--she would have been ashamed to own how much--to have
+someone call her "dear." Once he attained to "dearest," but he was
+evidently frightened at his temerity, and did not repeat the experiment.
+
+She announced the engagement, and a letter from Minna came flying to the
+Riviera, saying that all sorts of terrible things were known about the
+Colonel, and imploring Henrietta to desist. She did not desist, but very
+soon the Colonel did, having discovered that her fortune was not so
+large as he had been given to suppose. There was a solid something it is
+true, but for Henrietta, quite middle-aged and decidedly cross (she
+imagined she was never cross with him), he felt he must have a very
+considerable something. He wrote a letter breaking off the engagement,
+and left the Riviera abruptly, having made a good thing out of his
+season. Henrietta had lent him, _he_ said--given, others said--over
+three hundred pounds.
+
+"And now we shall have a terrible piece of work," said Minna to Louie.
+"You know what Henrietta always is--what she was about that other affair
+with a man years ago, and again when Evelyn's little girl died. She gets
+so excited and overwrought."
+
+But Henrietta quite upset their expectations. This, which most people
+might have thought the most serious misfortune which had befallen her,
+affected her very little. In her heart of hearts she was saying: "Well,
+when all's said and done, I've had my offer like everyone else." She was
+grateful for the "dears" too. She did not realize that there had been
+absolutely nothing behind them. She answered the Colonel's speedy
+application for more money, and continued to send him supplies from
+time to time.
+
+Evelyn and Herbert had returned to England, and had settled on the South
+Coast. Two boys had been born in Canada, and had grown and prospered.
+Henrietta stayed with Evelyn for a fortnight whenever she was back in
+England, but somehow the visits were not the pleasure they should have
+been.
+
+Evelyn was still delicate, and Herbert had begged Henrietta when she saw
+her to make no allusion to their loss. Evelyn was delighted at showing
+her boys, and Henrietta was pleased for her that she should have them,
+but to her they did not in the least take the place of the dead. They
+were not hers; she was almost indignant with Evelyn for caring for them
+so much, and accused her in her heart of forgetfulness. This made her
+irritable, which Herbert resented, and then Evelyn was nervous because
+Herbert and Henrietta did not get on well together. Evelyn's letters to
+her were very affectionate, the only real pleasure, in any reasonable
+sense of the word, in Henrietta's life.
+
+Sometimes Evelyn and her husband and boys came out to stay with
+Henrietta. The visits were not occasions of much happiness, and a
+certain day remained for years as a mild nightmare in Evelyn's memory.
+They were all in Milan one spring, when the patron of the hotel
+announced that his lady cousin, who lived at some out-of-the-way little
+country town, had heard from her friend, a priest in that same little
+town, that on Tuesday there was to be a special festa in connection with
+a local saint. Would the English ladies and gentlemen care to go? The
+patron himself had the contempt of an enlightened man for saints and
+festas, but he knew the curious attraction which such childishness
+possesses for the English tourist.
+
+All was arranged. The railway company had never intended that the little
+town should be reached from Milan, but with an early start and much
+changing of trains it was possible to accomplish the journey in two
+hours and a half.
+
+They arrived. There was no surprise among the hotel omnibuses at their
+appearance, for the Italians have found that the English will turn up
+everywhere; but to-day they were certainly the only representatives of
+their nation.
+
+They reached the church where the festa was to take place. It was
+sleeping peacefully, brooded over by a delicious, sweet smell of dirt
+and stale incense. Not a soul was to be seen. But as the party marched
+indignantly up and down the aisles, another smell comes to join the
+incense--garlic. A merry, good-humoured little priest appears; it is the
+friend of the lady cousin.
+
+He knew no English but "Yis, Yis"; they little Italian but the
+essentials for travel: "Troppo, bello, antiquo." At the word "festa" he
+shook his head very sadly, and he said "Domani" so many times that, with
+the help of Henrietta's little phrase-book, they found it must mean
+"To-morrow." They had come the wrong day. He was very much distressed
+about it. To make up, if possible, for the disappointment, he showed
+them all over the church and sacristy; he did not miss one memorial
+tablet, not one disappearing fresco, and knowing the taste of the
+English, he said, as each new item was displayed: "Molto, _molto_
+antiquo."
+
+He was so much attracted by Evelyn's charming middle-aged beauty and her
+sweet English voice that when Santa Barbara's was exhausted, he could
+not resist showing them, what he cared for much more, his own little
+brand-new mission church, with its brilliant rosy-cheeked images and
+artificial wreaths. The boys, fifteen and seventeen, had had enough of
+churches after two days at Milan, and Evelyn could hear from Herbert's
+conscientious, stumping tread that he was examining the church because a
+soldier must always do his duty.
+
+At length it was over; they came out into the sunshine, and the big town
+clock struck a quarter to eleven. Their train home left at 5.30. The two
+churches had only used up an hour and a quarter.
+
+"Now, dearest," said Herbert firmly, "I dare say you and Etta will like
+a little rest. Suppose I and the boys get a walk in the country; and
+don't wait lunch for us, you know. I dare say we can get something at
+one of those little wine places one sees about."
+
+They managed to construct a sentence for the priest, who was standing
+nodding by them: "Are there any pretty walks in the neighbourhood?"
+
+Smiling genially, he pointed to an answer which the phrase-book
+translated: "The landscape presents a grandiose panorama."
+
+Evelyn gave the priest a contribution to his mission church. He was
+overwhelmed with surprise and pleasure at this good action on the part
+of a heretic, it added to his pleasure that she was such a beautiful
+heretic, and when, as they said good-bye, Evelyn wished that they might
+meet again, he replied, with his face all over smiles, "I hope perhaps
+in Paradise"; he could not speak with absolute certainty. Something in
+the way he said it brought tears to Evelyn's eyes, and Henrietta, who
+was looking on and listening, thought with a little envy that none of
+the many priests or pastors, few even of the laity she had encountered
+in her wanderings, had ever hoped to meet _her_ again either in heaven
+or on earth. After many affectionate bows, he said good-bye.
+
+The sisters were scarcely half an hour buying picture postcards (there
+had been nothing else to do, so they had bought more picture postcards
+than it seemed possible could be bought), when rain came on--not gentle
+English rain, but the fierce cataracts of Italy, let loose for the rest
+of the day. Back came Herbert and the boys, who had somehow missed the
+grandiose panorama. It had, in fact, been created entirely out of
+politeness by the priest.
+
+After lunch, which they prolonged to its farthest limit, there was
+nothing for it but the salon, a small room, with its window darkened by
+the verandah outside. Madame brought in yesterday's _Tribuna_, and they
+found an illustrated catalogue of hotels in Dresden. Oh, that three
+hours and a half! The boys and Herbert would have been content to sit
+with their shoulders hutched up, staring at their boots, going every
+quarter of an hour to the front-door to see if it were raining as hard
+there as it was out of the salon window, and Evelyn only wanted to be
+left in silence with her headache. But Henrietta would tease the boys.
+Whatever they did do, or whatever they did not do, seemed an occasion
+for criticism. Evelyn, to divert attention, burst into long
+reminiscences of the days at Willstead. Henrietta combated each
+statement with a kind of sneer, as though whatever Evelyn said was bound
+to be worthless. Evelyn saw Herbert, who always treated her as if she
+were a wonderful queen, casting black looks at Henrietta. At last his
+anger came out:
+
+"I don't know why it seems impossible for you to talk to Evelyn with
+ordinary civility, Henrietta."
+
+"My dearest boy," said Evelyn, going and patting Herbert's shoulder,
+"Etty and I don't care about ordinary civility. We love having our
+little spars together. Sisters don't bother to be as polite as men are
+to one another; life would be much too much of a burden!"
+
+She gave Henrietta's hand a squeeze, as she went back to her seat, but
+after this Henrietta would hardly talk at all, and the reminiscences
+became a monologue from Evelyn.
+
+At last, at long last, the train came, and Henrietta forgot her
+disappointment in sleep. The happy day she had looked forward to, and
+planned, and paid for, was over.
+
+Louie and her Colonel did not thrive better as the years went on. Money
+never seemed able to stay with them. Henrietta helped them long after
+everyone else had become tired of them. She did not expect gratitude,
+nor did she get it. In spite of her dependence, Louie managed to convey
+the impression of Henrietta's inferiority, and the children spoke of her
+as a butt.
+
+"Oh, it's Aunt Etta's year; it really is rather a fag to think we shall
+have her for three weeks. Ethel, it's your turn to take her in tow; I
+had her all last time."
+
+"Poor Etta!" said Minna; "she is such an interminable talker, it does
+worry Arthur so. She means very well; we all know that."
+
+Minna's children were very much of the twentieth century, and were not
+going to bear with a dull old maid, merely because she was their aunt
+and had been kind to them. As one of them expressed it, "Never put
+yourself out for a relation, however distant. That's an axiom."
+
+Little as the younger generation thought of her, she thought something
+of them, and the second week in December, when she chose her Christmas
+presents for all her nieces and nephews, was the pleasantest week in the
+year to her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+Henrietta had been fourteen years abroad, when she came to pay her
+biennial visit to Evelyn.
+
+"Who do you think has come to live here, Henrietta?" said Evelyn, as
+they sat talking the first evening. "Ellen."
+
+"Ellen?"
+
+"Yes, our dear old Ellen--Mrs. Plumtree. She's a widow now. Her eldest
+son is working here, and she is living with him and his wife. I went to
+see her last week, and she was so delighted to talk over old times, and
+when she heard you were coming, she was so excited. You were always her
+favourite."
+
+A few days afterwards they went, to find Ellen a very hale old lady. In
+spite of having brought up a large family of her own, she had the
+clearest remembrance of apparently every incident of the childhood of
+"you two young ladies" (so she still called them) as though she had
+never had any other interest in life.
+
+"Oh, and, Miss Etta," she said, "what a sight you did think of Miss
+Evie! I never knew a child take so to anyone before. 'She's quite a
+little mother,' I often used to say to Sarah. Do you remember Sarah? She
+died only last year; she suffered dreadful with her heart. Do you
+remember how you always would go to put your hand into the water before
+I gave Miss Evie her bath, because you wanted to be sure it wasn't too
+hot? Every evening you did it; and one day you were out late, and Miss
+Evie was in bed before you came in, and you cried because you hadn't
+been able to do it."
+
+Neither sister found it easy to speak, but Ellen wanted very little
+encouragement.
+
+"Sometimes as a great treat, when you was a little older, Miss Evie, I
+let you sleep in Miss Etty's bed, and she used to lay and cuddle you so
+pretty. And the canary, Miss Etta--do you remember that? When Miss
+Evie's dickie died, you went all the way to Willstead by yourself and
+bought a new canary, so that she might never know her dickie died. Your
+mamma was very angry with you, I remember; but there was nothing you
+wouldn't do for Miss Evie."
+
+The sisters walked back in silence; their hearts were too full for
+speech. There was no time for private conversation till night, when
+Evelyn came into Henrietta's room, and flung her arms round her.
+
+"Darling, darling Etta," she said, "I could hardly bear it, when Ellen
+was talking. To think of all that you were to me, all that you did for
+me, and that I should have forgotten it. Oh, how is it that we've got
+apart?"
+
+"I don't know," said Henrietta; "I don't think there is anything much to
+like in me. No one does care for me. I think if no one likes one, one
+doesn't deserve to be liked."
+
+"Oh, nothing in this life goes by deserts."
+
+"People love you, and they're quite right; you ought to be loved. You
+did care for me once, though. Herbert wrote--you know, when we lost--'A
+good cry with you will be more comfort to Evelyn than anything else.'
+Even then, in the middle of it all, it made me happy."
+
+"Oh, Etta, what you were to me then!"
+
+Henrietta took Evelyn's hand and squeezed it convulsively. When she
+could speak, she said: "Evelyn, do you ever think of our children?"
+
+"Think of them--of course I do. Do you, Etta?"
+
+"I used to, but I tried not to--it was too bitter. The children were
+what I lived for, and I don't think of them often now. It's past and
+gone."
+
+"Oh, I couldn't live if I didn't. I don't think it is bitter now. These
+dear boys, they're not quite the same to me as the ones that were
+taken."
+
+"I thought you'd forgotten them."
+
+"I thought you had, Etta, and I couldn't help feeling it."
+
+"Herbert asked me never to speak about them to you."
+
+"Dear Herbert, he is so good--I can't tell you how good he is to me--but
+he never will mention them. First of all I was so ill, I couldn't stand
+talking of them, but now I can, and I do long for it. He doesn't forget
+them, I know, but I think men live more in the present than we do; and
+he has his work, which absorbs him very much, and it isn't quite the
+same for a man. And then they were so delicate, particularly Madeline,
+that I was wrapped up in them all their lives; and they were so small,
+he couldn't see much of them."
+
+"Do you feel that you could tell me about them?"
+
+"Yes, I should like to."
+
+They talked far into the night. Herbert was away, so that there was no
+one to stop them, and when at last the dawn drove them to bed, Evelyn
+said: "I can't tell you how much good you've done me. I seem to have
+been living for this for fifteen years."
+
+They neither of them slept at all that night. Both were full of remorse,
+but Henrietta's was the bitterest. The life which had seemed to do quite
+well enough all these years, suddenly appeared to her as it was. She
+contrasted her present self with the little girl Ellen had known. Like
+Jane Eyre, she "drew her own picture faithfully without softening one
+defect. She omitted no hard line, smoothed away no displeasing
+irregularity." She had squabbled, that very afternoon, if it is possible
+to squabble when only one party does the squabbling, all the way down to
+Ellen's about various quite unimportant dates in William's life. The
+incident was almost as much a part of her day's routine as eating her
+breakfast. Now it seemed to her a manifestation of the degradation into
+which she had fallen.
+
+The power and vividness of her memory, magnified ten times by the
+mysterious agency of midnight, brought back the words of advice of Emily
+Mence, of Minna, and of her aunt, just as if they had been spoken last
+week. She had entirely forgotten them for years. Now they kept rushing
+through her head hour after hour.
+
+Before breakfast Evelyn came into her room, her eyes shining with
+agitation, and looking so flushed that Henrietta saw what need there had
+been for Herbert's caution.
+
+"Etty," she said, "I've been thinking all night; I can't bear your
+living in this horrible way: no home, away by yourself, so that we see
+nothing of you. Come and live here, live with us. We shan't interfere
+with you; you shall come and go as you like. Or live in the village,
+there is a dear little house just made for you. Only come and be near
+us."
+
+Henrietta was sorely tempted, it was a great sacrifice to say no. But
+she knew that Herbert only tolerated her for Evelyn's sake, and that the
+boys, rather spoilt and self-important, found her a nuisance. She knew
+also that she could not trust herself to be pleasant and good-tempered.
+If she came, it would not be for Evelyn's happiness. So she refused,
+and even in her fervour of love for Henrietta, Evelyn could not help
+realizing it was best that she should.
+
+At the same time that talk was a turning-point in Henrietta's life. She
+never felt after it that she was completely unwanted. Although she would
+not live with Evelyn, she thought she might justifiably come and be much
+nearer her, and she gave up the roving life and returned to England. It
+had in fact satisfied her, only because she had felt so uncared-for that
+she became insignificant even to herself.
+
+Where should she live? She knew that every place where she had relations
+would not do, but this only ruled out four of the towns of the United
+Kingdom. It must be a town; on that point she was clear. As she cared
+for none of the special advantages of a town, its more lively society,
+its greater opportunities for entertainment and intellectual interests,
+she was particularly insistent that she could not do without them. What
+she wanted was a house with room for herself, two maids, and a couple of
+visitors. Such a house is to be found in tens and hundreds everywhere.
+She went round and round England in a fruitless search.
+
+As a _pension habituee_ the whole arrangement of her life had been
+taken out of her hands; even her clothes had been settled for her by one
+of those octopus London firms which like to reduce their customers to
+dummies; and her transit from hotel to hotel, and from English visits
+back to hotels, had become a mere automatic process. She had not made a
+decision for so many years that though her nieces and nephews were witty
+over her vacillation, and declared that she enjoyed being a nuisance, it
+was a fact that she was trying her best to be sensible and competent.
+She, with no go-between, no protector, must determine which was most
+important--gravel soil or southern aspect. She felt as she had felt
+years ago, when she wrote her paper for Professor Amery, only ten times
+more bewildered, almost delirious.
+
+Of course, her nieces constantly talked her over, shaking their heads
+and saying: "If only Aunt Etta would let us." But however weak she was,
+she was firm in this: she would _not_ be helped. The outward sign of her
+bewilderment was extreme crossness, particularly to Evelyn, who was
+allowed to accompany her in her search, and to hear her remarks without
+making any suggestions. "I will thank you to let me decide about my own
+house by myself." They had examined nine houses that day, and were both
+almost weeping with exhaustion.
+
+Evelyn could not help feeling exasperated, but when Etta stumbled the
+moment after from sheer nervousness, and Evelyn caught hold of her hand,
+she realized from its hot trembling grasp how hard it is to come back to
+life again.
+
+Henrietta would probably never have found the right spot, if a timely
+attack of rheumatism had not persuaded her to fix on Bath. When she had
+settled into her house at last, she hated it. She dismissed five
+servants in two months. She was so dull, no one called; Bath was so
+cold. If only she could let her house and go abroad for the winter.
+Happily no suitable tenant appeared, and gradually Bath grew into a
+habit and she became resigned. But it was long, very long, before she
+would own that she liked it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+And now a happier and more useful course of life began. Henrietta had
+just enough rheumatism to take a course of waters sometimes. She found a
+doctor who had a great _flair_ for elderly ladies; he knew when to bully
+them, when to flatter them, and when to neglect them. He and the waters
+made a centre round which the rest of her interests might group
+themselves. Church. She found a vicar with nothing of Mr. Wharton's
+enthusiasm and loftiness of aim, but with a greater realization of
+people's capacities. He too had made a study of elderly ladies, who are
+always such an important branch of congregations. He could see that what
+Miss Symons was in his drawing-room, touchy, incompetent, and snappish
+she would be in any work she did in the parish. But he was also made to
+see her extreme generosity, of which she herself was entirely
+unconscious. He liked and was touched by her humility. "Oh no, don't
+trouble about asking me, Mr. Vaughan, nobody will want to talk to a dull
+person like me. Get some nice young men for the girls, if you can." "No,
+I can't have that pretty Miss Allan helping at my stall, I can get along
+very well by myself. I shall bring Annie; we can manage together."
+
+The poor people, of course, did not like her, for as she grew older she
+was more convinced than ever that the lower orders must be constantly
+reproved. But poor people are very magnanimous, and they were sure of a
+good many presents. She was also for ever bickering with her servants,
+but "poor old lady" as they said, "she's getting on now, it makes her
+worry," and she found in Annie one who knew how to give at least as good
+as she got. Horror of being defrauded by servants and tradespeople was a
+great resource, and though she continually deplored the pleasure of life
+abroad, these years of muddling in and out of her house, her garden, and
+her shops, were probably the happiest in her life.
+
+A certain conversation contributed not a little to this new happiness.
+She was at a tea-party, for once she had been admitted into the circle
+of tea-parties, she became much absorbed in them, and she and a
+neighbour were tracing an attack of influenza from its source to its
+decline, when Henrietta's hostess came up to her.
+
+"I want to introduce you to Mrs. Manson," said she. "Mrs. Manson is a
+cousin of that Mr. Dockerell you told me you knew, Miss Symons."
+
+There had been no sentiment in Henrietta's telling, she had quoted Mr.
+Dockerell as an authority on Portugal laurels.
+
+"Ah, my cousin, Mr. Dockerell," said Mrs. Manson, "you knew him, did
+you? He's dead, poor man, had you heard? He died last year."
+
+And once started upon Mr. Dockerell, she rambled away with his life's
+history, being one without much feeling, who could say everything to
+anybody.
+
+"Poor Fred, his marriage was such a mistake. She was older than him, and
+a mass of nerves. She caught him. I always said it was that; anybody on
+earth could have caught him. It was at Worthing; those seaside places in
+the summer are very dangerous. My mother used to say: 'We must be
+thankful it isn't worse.' No, he wasn't happy. There was a story that
+he really liked somebody else: a Miss Simon her name was--Simon, or
+something like that. Where did she come from? Oh yes, Willstead; he had
+some work there at one time. 'The beautiful dark Miss Simon.' At least,
+she wasn't beautiful, that was our joke; there was a pretty sister, but
+she was fair. My sister always insisted he was pining after her, but
+that wasn't like Fred. We used to be hard-hearted, and declare it was
+indigestion."
+
+Mr. Dockerell's death was not very much to Henrietta, he had passed so
+entirely out of her life. But "a dark Miss Simon living at Willstead,
+not beautiful"; she thought much of that. She could not but believe it
+must be herself. "So perhaps after all he did care," she said to
+herself, as she sat over the fire that evening, she had reached the age
+when she liked a good deal of twilight thinking undisturbed by the gas.
+But the news had come so late; if only she had known before. Those
+months and years of unhappiness rose before her. Granted that Providence
+had decreed they were not to marry, and looking back she did not feel as
+if she wished they had married, it was all so far behind her, she
+thought that she might have been given the happiness of a farewell
+letter from him, telling her that she really was first in his heart. "I
+should never have seen him or heard from him again; of course I should
+not have wanted it, but it would have been so comfortable to have
+known." She fell into her childhood's habit of daydreams, if one can
+have daydreams of the past, and sat such a long time absorbed that Annie
+came in at last with her matchbox. "Don't you want the gas lit, 'm? You
+never rang, I was gettin' quite fidgettin' about you, your heart's not
+very strong."
+
+Henrietta was composing his last letter, each moment making it more and
+more tender. She came back with a start to ordinary life, and the
+magazine article on "Beauties of George II.'s Court," which lay open
+before her. She dismissed her picture of what might have been with "Of
+course it was impossible, it's ridiculous wondering about it. How can
+one be so foolish at nearly sixty?" But she did wonder, and there is no
+doubt she was very much pleased. And after all the good news was false,
+he had never thought of her again.
+
+She confided the little incident to Evelyn. Evelyn, adoring her husband
+and adored by him, had been so much accustomed to men's admiration that
+she did not attach great value to it. She had seen long ago her old
+lovers pairing happily with somebody else: that side of life had been
+over for herself many years since. Her interest now was in her sons'
+possible marriages, and it was a little painful to her that Henrietta
+should be so much excited about what had never after all been more than
+a potential love affair. To tell the truth, she thought it a trifle
+petty and not worthy the dignity of one on the verge of old age. She
+wanted to be sympathetic, and she was too kind to say anything that
+would wound, but Henrietta could see that Evelyn did not enter into her
+feelings.
+
+Louie's children were now started in life, and the sons were getting on
+so well that even Henrietta owned they might be expected to take the
+burden of their parents upon themselves. She had her nieces and nephews
+to stay; Minna and Louie also came to take the waters. One or two of the
+nieces were of course collecting second-hand furniture, and used Bath as
+a centre for expeditions to the little country towns. The visits were
+very pleasant, if they did not last more than two nights; after two
+nights there would be a danger of friction, and sometimes friction
+itself. Her nieces and nephews were all what she called "modern," the
+harshest word but one she knew. A certain nephew and niece, alas, were
+more than modern--they were the harshest word of all, "_Radical_." The
+nephew had too profound a contempt for old ladies to talk about anything
+more controversial than the local train service, but even that he
+discovered was a topic beyond Henrietta's capacity. For it turned out,
+after she had appeared to be talking very sensibly about the afternoon
+trains, that she was referring to one marked with an "N.," a Thursday
+excursion, which destroyed all the point of her remarks. Her nephew
+explained this to her, but she would stick to her train, and declare
+that the "N." was a misprint. A misprint in Bradshaw. What a mind! He
+had not realized that even an aunt could be so childish. Of course she
+knew she was wrong, but she tried to persuade herself that she was
+right, because she was so much disappointed. She had wanted to make a
+good impression on her nephew, even if he were a Radical. She thought
+men superior to women, though throughout her life her affection and
+veneration had been given to women--Miranda, Miss Arundel, Evelyn. She
+had an innocent conviction that men knew more about everything, except
+perhaps the youngest babies, and she was anxious for masculine good
+opinion. Alas, to contradict her nephew several times running was not
+the way to win him over.
+
+He felt that contradiction amply justified him in wrapping himself up in
+his paper for the rest of the evening, vouchsafing "um" and "ah"
+occasionally after imploring pressure from his aunt. He left first thing
+next morning.
+
+Then his Radical sister came. She inspected something under Government,
+and with a burning faith in womanhood hoped against hope that with time
+her aunt must be converted "to think the right things." With a mere
+niece Henrietta felt at liberty, and very competent, to correct. But she
+little knew with whom she was reckoning.
+
+"Servants belong to a Trade Union, Annie and Emma" (the cook) "join a
+Union. How perfectly ridiculous!"
+
+"But why ridiculous, Aunt Etta?"
+
+"Because it is."
+
+"No, but do tell me, Aunt Etta. I know there must be some solid reason,
+and I should be so much interested to hear it."
+
+"You should have seen Annie's hat last Sunday: enormous pink roses in
+it."
+
+"Yes," answered her niece, catching her aunt out very easily, "but as
+far as that goes some ladies have enormous pink roses."
+
+"Yes, indeed. Why, when I was young we should never----"
+
+"And you don't object to their joining Trade Unions?"
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+"But, after all, what is that Teachers' Society that Hilda belongs to"
+(Hilda was another niece) "but a Trade Union? And you went on their
+excursion, Hilda told me."
+
+"That has nothing to do with it" (a favourite refuge with old ladies
+when they are getting the worst of a discussion). "Of course, if
+Hilda----"
+
+"So I mean Annie's wearing garish hats is not really a reason against
+her joining a Trade Union. You see my point, don't you?"
+
+"I particularly dislike being interrupted. I hadn't finished what I was
+going to say."
+
+"I beg your pardon, Aunt Etta, I am so sorry. What was it you were going
+to say?"
+
+Henrietta could not remember, and branched off to something else.
+"Wearing all this jewellery in the day is so common. That girl at the
+post office had two brooches and a locket, and she kept me waiting so
+long; she always does."
+
+"Yes, but I think we must leave them to judge what they like to wear; it
+is not our business really, is it? But I did just want to speak to you
+about this Servants' Union, Aunt Etta. I wonder if I might give Annie a
+little pamphlet I have written about it. Of course, we don't want them
+to be always striking or anything of that sort. The aim of my Society is
+simply to try and rouse servants to a sense of what it is they're
+missing--this great power of organization and solidarity which they
+ought to have. I think Annie looks such a nice intelligent girl, who
+would be sure to have an influence with her friends."
+
+"No, she's most tiresome and inconsiderate. She _would_ go out this
+evening just when you were coming, because she wanted to take her mother
+to the hospital, so that I had to have Mrs. Spring, and it is all very
+well for Annie to say----"
+
+"I wonder if I might read you a little piece out of my pamphlet, Aunt
+Etta, just to make a few points clear. You see, I want to get you in
+favour of our Union so much, because we feel that mistresses ought to be
+co-operating with the servants, helping them to help themselves, and
+then we shall get a really influential body of public opinion, which
+will do valuable work in improving servants' conditions."
+
+Henrietta writhed and struggled, and went off on frivolous pretexts, but
+she could not escape the pamphlet, which was extremely able; so was the
+author extremely able, but for a complete ignorance of human nature.
+Henrietta heard all about Socialism, Land Taxes, and Adult Suffrage too,
+and the more cross she became the more kindly and patiently Agatha
+shouted, greeting any specially absurd ebullition with imperturbable
+pleasantness, and "how interesting, I am _so_ anxious to get exactly at
+your point of view." That niece was not invited again.
+
+Henrietta often thought with affection and gratitude of the little old
+aunt, who had died many years back; but, as she would have been the
+first to own, her old age was not nearly so successful. Her house was
+not a centre for everybody. She had some elderly ladies with whom she
+exchanged visits, but young people disliked her, and children were
+afraid of her.
+
+Ever since she settled in England, she had made earnest attempts to curb
+her temper. But the companion of a lifetime is not easily shaken off at
+fifty-five, and more often than not she was quite unaware of crossness,
+from which all around were suffering severely. On the very rare
+occasions that she did realize it, she went back to the self she had
+been as a child, descended from the pedestal of her age and generation,
+and said she was sorry.
+
+One day she and Annie had a long serious battle. The question in the
+first instance was whether Annie had chipped off the nose of the china
+pug-dog on the mantelpiece, a relic of the old house at Willstead;
+Henrietta always had a tender feeling for relics. The arguments
+marshalled by Annie were against Henrietta, but arguments never had much
+weight with her. Besides, the battle passed on from the definite point
+of the nose to vague but bitter attacks on character. Henrietta always
+had in her mind an ideal servant, who accepted scolding not merely with
+meekness but with gratitude, and was fond of quoting her, to the
+exasperation of the real servants. After half an hour Annie began to cry
+noisily, so that Henrietta's words were drowned. The interview came to
+an end. Annie went downstairs and told Cook, but she wasted few tears or
+thoughts on the matter, and almost at once they were laughing cheerfully
+over their young men, as they sat at needlework.
+
+Henrietta did think, fidgeting about the room while she thought, taking
+things out of their places and putting them where they ought not to be,
+in a fuss of discomfort. At last she rang the bell.
+
+"The lamp, please, Annie."
+
+"The lamp 'm," said Annie; "but you don't want it for half an hour yet,
+do you, 'm, it's such a beautiful evening?"
+
+It was impossible ever to quell Annie.
+
+"The lamp, please," repeated Henrietta, "and I should like to--I think
+you ought to--I feel that in a--what I want you to realize is that you
+should keep a great watch over your temper. When one comes to my age one
+sees that there is--and you should not put it off till too late as
+people sometimes--as I have done."
+
+Annie's sharp ears heard the last little murmur. Henrietta rather hoped
+they would not, though it was for the sake of the murmur that she had
+rung the bell.
+
+Annie said "Yes 'm," very pleasantly, and yielded about the lamp. She
+told cook afterwards, with some amusement, "She's funny, I've always
+said that, but," she added, "I've known some I should say was funnier."
+
+This opinion may be worth recording, as it was one of the highest
+tributes to her character Henrietta ever received.
+
+On the whole during those latter years she improved, and in the general
+reformation of her character she raised the standard of her reading. She
+confined herself in the mornings and afternoon to mildly scandalous
+memoirs of Frenchwomen and biographies of Church dignitaries, keeping
+her costume novels for the evening.
+
+She often saw Evelyn, and they talked of the past, but they never
+regained the almost heavenly intimacy of that night. They seldom met
+without some disagreeableness from Henrietta, and she did not like the
+boys, there was nothing of Evelyn in them, while they for their part
+could not imagine why their mother cared for their aunt Henrietta. It
+was a continual struggle for Evelyn not to be impatient with her; much
+as she longed to, she could not keep on the high plane of devotion,
+which had brought such happiness to both.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+Henrietta died when she was sixty-three. Her father and stepmother were
+long dead, also her second brother, whom none of the family had seen for
+years. When her relations were sent for, it was very cold weather in
+January, and Louie and Minna did not obey the summons. They deplored it
+continually afterwards, and explained to one another how appalling the
+wind had been, and what care they had to take for their children's sake,
+and how Henrietta had frightened them so much the year before by sending
+for them when there was no need, that they naturally could not be
+expected to realize that this time it really was important.
+
+William came, looking more benevolent than ever with his very becoming
+white hair. Henrietta said that she thought it was the last time she
+should see him, but he assured her it was just the cold which had pulled
+her down a little, and she would be all right again as soon as the wind
+changed. "It's wretched, knocks everybody up." He looked so hearty and
+mundane that it almost seemed, when he was in the room, as if there
+could not be such a thing as death.
+
+They talked about the drought last summer, and William's son, who was a
+planter in Ceylon, and the noise of the motor-buses in London, until
+William said he must go for his train. He was allowing a quarter of an
+hour too much time, for he was able to stay and talk a little while with
+the doctor, who called when he was there.
+
+"There isn't any chance, you say."
+
+"No, I am afraid not. Miss Symons' heart has been delicate for some
+years; it gives her very little strength to stand against this attack."
+
+"Um! I was afraid so," said William, and he was glad to get out of the
+house, and buy a _Pall Mall_.
+
+The inspector niece came down (uninvited), very energetic, and very kind
+in using the last few days of her holidays in nursing a disagreeable
+reactionary relation. She dominated the nurse, who was much meeker than
+nurses usually are, and quite quelled her poor aunt, too weak to protest
+even at attacks on the monarchy. But Henrietta was much happier when the
+niece's holidays came to an end, and she was left to die quietly and
+dully with the nurse.
+
+Evelyn was away in Egypt with Herbert for her health, and by a most
+unfortunate accident she did not get the first telegram announcing
+Henrietta's dangerous illness. Poor Henrietta asked constantly if there
+was nothing from her, and as she got weaker, and a little wandering, she
+kept on crying like a child: "I want Evelyn." They cabled again, and
+when the answer came, "Starting home at once," it was too late, and
+Henrietta was not sufficiently herself to understand it.
+
+As soon as Evelyn got home, she went to Bath. The little house was still
+as it was, but for some legacies which a careful nephew had already
+abstracted. But the place of the dead seemed to have been filled even
+more quickly than usual. Annie, as she said, had only waited "till the
+pore old lady was taken" to marry comfortably with a saddler, and the
+parlourmaid was already established in a very smart town situation.
+There was an unknown caretaker to look after the house, which was to
+let. Evelyn saw the doctor and the clergyman, who both spoke kindly of
+Miss Symons. "We shall miss your sister very much," said Mr. Vaughan,
+"she was always doing kind things,"--and he did miss her to a certain
+extent, but there is a ceaseless supply of generous, touchy incapable
+old ladies in England, and he could not be expected to miss her very
+much. Evelyn went to see the nurse, and could hear from her more of what
+she wanted. The nurse was a kind, sweet girl, the centre of an
+affectionate family, and engaged to a devoted young clerk.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Ferrers, if only you could have come back in time," she said,
+sobbing, "or if you could have written. She _did_ want you so; every
+time there was a ring it was, 'Is that from her?' and I heard her say to
+herself: 'I thought she would be _sure_ to come.' I simply had to go out
+in the passage, I couldn't keep back my tears, and of course one must
+always be bright before a patient; it is so bad for them if one isn't.
+Some nieces and nephews came, and one of them stayed several days, and
+two brothers, I think; and there were several members of the family
+there for the funeral, and she had some simply lovely wreaths, and the
+church was nice and full, numbers of her poor people were there,"
+brought there, as surely the kind nurse knew, not from love of
+Henrietta, but from love of funerals, "but when your wire did come I
+cried for joy, though we couldn't make her take it in, poor dear; still
+it seemed as if someone really cared for her. Oh, she looked so lovely
+and peaceful at the end, all the trouble gone."
+
+This was a comforting deception, which the nurse thought it justifiable
+to practise on relations, for in fact death had not changed Henrietta;
+there had been no transfiguration to beauty and nobility, she looked
+what she had been in life--insignificant, feeble, and unhappy.
+
+"Miss Symons asked me to give you this box," said the nurse. "She made
+me promise I would give it you over and over again."
+
+Evelyn found it was an inlaid sandalwood box, which she had sent from
+India as a present from the first baby. In it she found Herbert's letter
+announcing the death of little Madeline, hers and the other two babies'
+photographs, and a sheet of notepaper, tied with blue ribbon. On it was
+written, "I can't tell you how much good you have done me, I seem to
+have been living for this for fifteen years. EVELYN, September 23,
+1890." As she read it, Evelyn remembered, what she had long forgotten,
+that this was what she had once said to Henrietta.
+
+When she walked to the hotel, it was a bright, sunny afternoon, and snow
+was on the ground. She went to her room to take off her things, but she
+stood instead at the window, too intent on what she had heard to be
+capable of anything. Her heart was almost bursting to think that
+Henrietta should have treasured all these years the little love she had
+given her, crumbs, which she had as it were left over from her husband
+and boys, love not even for Henrietta's own sake, but for the sake of
+the dead children. She with all the riches of love poured on her, and
+Henrietta with so little. "I was cold, selfish, self-absorbed, I didn't
+think of her, I forgot her, I criticized her; it was all my fault."
+
+But even at this moment of exaltation Evelyn realized that it was not
+her fault, but Henrietta's own; that it was because she was so unlovable
+that she was so little loved.
+
+"But if she had had the chance she wouldn't have been unlovable. She was
+capable of greater love than any of us, and she never had the chance. If
+there is any justice and mercy in the world how can they allow a poor,
+weak human creature to have so few opportunities, such hard temptations,
+and when it yields to temptation to suffer so cruelly? And now I am to
+go back, and be happy with Herbert and the boys, and to feel quite truly
+that I did everything I could, _I can't bear it_."
+
+She was so much filled with her thoughts that she had not observed the
+flight of time. She looked up, and was suddenly aware that the night had
+come, and that the sky was shining with innumerable stars. At the same
+moment she felt inextricably mingled with the stars, a rush of the most
+exquisite sensation, emotion, replenishment she had ever known. She felt
+through every fibre of her being that it was all perfectly well with
+Henrietta, and that the bitterness, aimlessness, and emptiness of her
+life was made up to her. This conviction was a thousand times more real
+to her than the room in which she was standing, more real than the
+stars, more real than herself. Tears of delight came raining down her
+cheeks, and she found that she was saying over and over again, "Darling,
+I am so glad"; poor childish words, but no more inadequate than the
+noblest in the language to express her unspeakable comfort, beyond all
+utterance, even beyond thought. How often she said these words, or how
+long this bliss lasted she could not tell.
+
+A strange dream-like remembrance of it stayed with her for some days.
+She told her husband, and he said, "I am very glad of anything that can
+be a comfort to you, dearest;" but he looked at her anxiously, and
+thought it was a sign that she was to be ill again. However, she
+continued well and strong. She told no one else, but from henceforth she
+was perfectly happy about Henrietta.
+
+
+    +----------------------------------------------------+
+    | Transcriber's Note:                                |
+    |                                                    |
+    | Changes to the original have been made as follows: |
+    |                                                    |
+    | Page 42 accumalation of years changed to           |
+    | accumulation                                       |
+    |                                                    |
+    | Page 48 teazing of a kind changed to               |
+    | teasing                                            |
+    |                                                    |
+    | Page 60 two much absorbed changed to               |
+    | too                                                |
+    |                                                    |
+    | Page 64 then he felt prepared changed to           |
+    | than                                               |
+    |                                                    |
+    | Page 70 inacessible foreign place changed to       |
+    | inaccessible                                       |
+    +----------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Third Miss Symons, by Flora Macdonald Mayor
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