LITMIR.BIZ

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and this apology, delivered in a very honest voice, appealed to her instinct of justice. She did not like Mutimer, and consequently strove against the prejudice which the very sound of his voice aroused in her; it was her nature to aim thus at equity in her personal judgments.

      ‘To describe hard things we must use hard words,’ she replied pleasantly, ‘but you said nothing that could offend.’

      ‘I fear you haven’t much sympathy with my way of looking at the question. I seem to you to be going to work the wrong way.’

      ‘I certainly think you value too little the means of happiness that we all have within our reach, rich and poor alike.’

      ‘Ah, if you could only see into the life of the poor, you would acknowledge that those means are and can be nothing to them. Besides, my way of thinking in such things is the same as your brother’s, and I can’t expect you to see any good in it.’

      Adela shook her head slightly. She had risen and was examining the leaves upon an apple branch which she had drawn down.

      ‘But I’m sure you feel that there is need for doing something,’ he urged, quitting his seat. ‘You’re not indifferent to the hard lives of the people, as most people are who have always lived comfortable lives?’

      She let the branch spring up, and spoke more coldly.

      ‘I hope I am not indifferent; but it is not in my power to do anything.’

      ‘Will you let me say that you are mistaken in that?’ Mutimer had never before felt himself constrained to qualify and adorn his phrases; the necessity made him awkward. Not only did he aim at polite modes of speech altogether foreign to his lips, but his own voice sounded strange to him in its forced suppression. He did not as yet succeed in regarding himself from the outside and criticising the influences which had got hold upon him; he was only conscious that a young lady—the very type of young lady that a little while ago he would have held up for scorn—was subduing his nature by her mere presence and exacting homage from him to which she was wholly indifferent. ‘Everyone can give help in such a cause as this. You can work upon the minds of the people you talk with and get them to throw away their prejudices. The cause of the working classes seems so hopeless just because they’re too far away to catch the ears of those who oppress them.’

      ‘I do not oppress them, Mr. Mutimer.’

      Adela spoke with a touch of impatience. She wished to bring this conversation to an end, and the man would give her no opportunity of doing so. She was not in reality paying attention to his arguments, as was evident in her echo of his last words.

      ‘Not willingly, but none the less you do so,’ he rejoined. ‘Everyone who lives at ease and without a thought of changing the present state of society is tyrannising over the people. Every article of clothing you put on means a life worn out somewhere in a factory. What would your existence be without the toil of those men and women who live and die in want of every comfort which seems as natural to you as the air you breathe? Don’t you feel that you owe them something? It’s a debt that can very easily be forgotten, I know that, and just because the creditors are too weak to claim it. Think of it in that way, and I’m quite sure you won’t let it slip from your mind again.’

      Alfred came towards them, announcing that tea was ready, and Adela gladly moved away.

      ‘You won’t make any impression there,’ said Alfred with a shrug of good-natured contempt. ‘Argument isn’t understood by women. Now, if you were a revivalist preacher—’ Mrs. Waltham and Adela went to church. Mutimer returned to his lodgings, leaving his friend Waltham smoking in the garden.

      On the way home after service, Adela had a brief murmured conversation with Letty Tew. Her mother was walking out with Mrs. Mewling.

      ‘It was evidently pre-arranged,’ said the latter, after recounting certain details in a tone of confidence. ‘I was quite shocked. On his part such conduct is nothing less than disgraceful. Adela, of course, cannot be expected to know.’

      ‘I must tell her,’ was the reply.

      Adela was sitting rather dreamily in her bedroom a couple of hours later when her mother entered.

      ‘Little girls shouldn’t tell stories,’ Mrs. Waltham began, with playfulness which was not quite natural. ‘Who was it that wanted to go and speak a word to Letty this afternoon?’

      ‘It wasn’t altogether a story, mother,’ pleaded the girl, shamed, but with an endeavour to speak independently. ‘I did want to speak to Letty.’

      ‘And you put it off, I suppose? Really, Adela, you must remember that a girl of your age has to be mindful of her self-respect. In Wanley you can’t escape notice; besides—’

      ‘Let me explain, mother.’ Adela’s voice was made firm by the suggestion that she had behaved unbecomingly. ‘I went to Letty first of all to tell her of a difficulty I was in. Yesterday afternoon I happened to meet Mr. Eldon, and when he was saying good-bye I asked him if he wouldn’t come and see you before he left Wanley. He promised to come this afternoon. At the time of course I didn’t know that Alfred had invited Mr. Mutimer. It would have been so disagreeable for Mr. Eldon to meet him here, I made up my mind to walk towards the Manor and tell Mr. Eldon what had happened.’

      ‘Why should Mr. Eldon have found the meeting with Mr. Mutimer disagreeable?’

      ‘They don’t like each other.’

      ‘I dare say not. Perhaps it was as well Mr. Eldon didn’t come. I should most likely have refused to see him.’

      ‘Refused to see him, mother?’

      Adela gazed in the utmost astonishment.

      ‘Yes, my dear. I haven’t spoken to you about Mr. Eldon, just because I took it for granted that he would never come in your way again. That he should have dared to speak to you is something beyond what I could have imagined. When I went to see Mrs. Eldon on Friday I didn’t take you with me, for fear lest that young man should show himself. It was impossible for you to be in the same room with him.’

      ‘With Mr. Hubert Eldon? My dearest mother, what are you saying?’

      ‘Of course it surprises you, Adela. I too was surprised. I thought there might be no need to speak to you of things you ought never to hear mentioned, but now I am afraid I have no choice. The sad truth is that Mr. Eldon has utterly disgraced himself. When he ought to have been here to attend Mr. Mutimer’s funeral, he was living at Paris and other such places in the most shocking dissipation. Things are reported of him which I could not breathe to you; he is a bad young man!’

      The inclusiveness of that description! Mrs. Waltham’s head quivered as she gave utterance to the words, for at least half of the feeling she expressed was genuine. To her hearer the final phrase was like a thunderstroke. In a certain profound work on the history of her country which she had been in the habit of studying, the author, discussing the character of Oliver Cromwell, achieved a most impressive climax in the words, ‘He was a bold, bad man.’ The adjective ‘bad’ derived for Adela a dark energy from her recollection of that passage; it connoted every imaginable phase of moral degradation. ‘Dissipation’ too; to her pure mind the word had a terrible sound; it sketched in lurid outlines hideous lurking places of vice and disease. ‘Paris and other such places.’ With the name of Paris she associated a feeling of reprobation; Paris was the head-quarters of sin—at all events on earth. In Paris people went to the theatre on Sunday; that fact alone shed storm-light over the iniquitous capital.

      She stood mute with misery, appalled, horrified. It did not occur to her to doubt the truth of her mother’s accusations; the strange circumstance of Hubert’s absence when every sentiment of decency would have summoned him home corroborated the charge. And she had talked familiarly with this man a few hours ago! Her head swam.

      ‘Mr. Mutimer knew it,’ proceeded her mother, noting with satisfaction the effect she was producing. ‘That was why he destroyed the will in which he had left everything to Mr. Eldon; I have no doubt the grief killed him. And one thing more I may tell you. Mr. Eldon’s illness was the result of a wound he received in some shameful quarrel; it is believed

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