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 SANTA BARBARA 
 
 FROM THE LIBRARY OF 
 MRS. H. RUSSELL AMORY. 
 
 GIFT OF HER CHILDREN 
 R. W. AND NINA PARTRIDGE 

 
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 '?. O-VT/y'^^r-H} .
 
 THE 
 
 WOMAN'S KINGDOM. 
 
 A LOVE STORY. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 . "JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN," 
 
 «&c. &c. 
 
 COriTdGET EDITIOX. 
 
 I N T W 0' VOLUME S. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LEIPZIG 
 B E R N II A R D T A U C H N 1 T Z 
 
 18 68. 
 
 The Right of Translation is reserved. 
 
 \ \
 
 TO 
 
 UDona HDacgaret Paton* 
 
 My little girl! sweet uncrowned queen 
 
 Of a fair kingdom, dim and far, 
 Whose budding life 'neath rosy screen 
 Scarce recognises yet, I ween, 
 
 What lives of other women are ; 
 
 Child, when the burden we lay down, 
 
 Thy tender hands must lift and bear; 
 The household sceptre and love-crown. 
 Green -wreathed, or hung with dead leaves brown - 
 Take courage. Both are holy wear. 
 
 Better to love than to be loved : 
 
 Better to serve, and serving guide, 
 Than wait, with idle oars unproved. 
 And flapping sail by each breath moved , 
 The turning of life's solemn tide. 
 
 Live, work, and love; as Heaven assign 
 For heaven , or man , thy sacred part ; 
 
 Ancestress of a noble line. 
 
 Or calm in maidenly decline; — • 
 
 But keep till death the woman's heart.
 
 THE WOMAN'S KINGDOM. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "Oh, Edna, I am so tired! And this is the very 
 dullest place in all the world!" 
 
 "Do you think so, dear? And yet it was the 
 place you specially wanted to go to." 
 
 Edna spoke in the soothing, yet cheerful, tone 
 which all people — • that is , people like Edna Ken- 
 derdine — instinctively use toAvards an invalid-, and, 
 laying down her work — she rarely was without 
 some sort of work in her tiny hands — looked ten- 
 derly and anxiously at her sfster. For they were 
 twin-sisters: though, as sometimes happens with 
 twins, so excessively unlike that they would scarcely 
 have been supposed akin at all. 
 
 "You know, Letty, dear, that as soon as you 
 began to get better,, the Isle of Wight was the place 
 you fancied for a change." 
 
 "Yes: but we might have found many a nicer 
 spot in the Isle of Wight than this — Ryde, for in- 
 stance, where there are plenty of houses, and a good 
 pier, and probably an esplanade. Oh, how I used 
 to enjoy the Brighton Esplanade in the days when 
 I was a little girl, and we were rich and happy!"
 
 8 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Were we happy then? I don't remember. But 
 I know I have been quite as hajjpy since." 
 
 "You always are happy," returned the invalid, 
 with a vexed air. "I think nothing in the world 
 would make you miserable." 
 
 Edna winced a little, but she Avas sitting in the 
 shadow of the window-curtain, and Avas not seen. 
 "Come, come," she said, "it is of no use quarrelling 
 with me because I will not see the black side of 
 things; time enough for that when we go home to 
 Kensington. Here we are, out on a holiday, with 
 beautiful weather, comfortable lodgings, no school to 
 teach, and nothing in the Avide world to do but to 
 amuse ourselves." 
 
 "Amuse ourselves! How can we? We don't 
 know a soul here. Indoors there is nothing to do, 
 and nobody to come and see us: and out of doors 
 there is not a creature to look at or to speak to." 
 
 "I thought we Avanted to get out of the way of 
 our fellow-creatures. Besides, they would not care 
 for us just now. It is not CA'cry lodging-house, 
 even, that Avould have taken us in, and Ave lately 
 out of scarlet-fever." 
 
 "We need not have told that." 
 
 "Oh, Letty! we must have told." 
 
 "Edna, you are so ridiculously conscientious! I 
 have no patience with you!" 
 
 Edna made no reply; indeed, it was useless 
 replying to the poor convalescent, whose thin face 
 betrayed that she Avas at the precise stage of re- 
 covery when everything jars against the irritable 
 nerves, and the sickly, morbid fancy changes its
 
 THE WOMAN S KINGDOM, U 
 
 moods twenty times a-day. Otherwise, to jjeojile in 
 the somewliat dreary position of these two young" 
 schoohnistresses — driven from their labours in the 
 midst of the half-year by a dangerous fever, which 
 had compelled the shutting iip of tlie school, brought 
 the one sister nearly to death's door, and the other 
 not far from it by the fatigue of sick-nursing — 
 even to them, the parlour they sat in Avas not un- 
 cheerful. It Avas very neat and clean, and it had a 
 large bay-window looking out on a verandah; be- 
 yond that a little garden; farther, a narrow strip of 
 bright, green, grassy cliff, fringed with a low hedge, 
 where the "white-blossomed sloe" was in full glory, 
 and a pair of robin-redbreasts were building and 
 singing all the day long. Below, at the cliffs foot, 
 the unseen sea was heard to tumble and roll with a 
 noisy murmur-, but fjxr away in the distance it 
 spread itself out in sleepy stillness, shimmering and 
 glancing in the sunshine of early spring. The sight 
 of it might well have gladdened many a dull heart, 
 and tlie breath of it, wliich came in salt and fresh, 
 though not cold, through the half-open Avindow, might 
 have given health to many a sick soul, as well as 
 body — granting that soul to be one of those whom 
 Nature can comfort. It is not every one Avhom she 
 can. 
 
 Poor Letty was not of those thus comforted. 
 Her eyes looked as sad as ever, and there was a 
 sharp metallic ring in her A'oice as she said — 
 
 "I can't imagine, Edna, Avhy you make so much 
 fuss about the fever. You Avould drive everybody 
 away from us as if we had had the plague. This
 
 10 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 morning I overheard you insisting that the gen- 
 tleman who wants the opposite parlour should be 
 told distinctly what had been the matter with me. 
 It is very foolish, when I am quite well now." 
 
 "Yes, dear, quite well, thank God!" returned 
 Edna, soothingly, "And the gentleman said he was 
 not in the least afraid; besides, he was a doctor." 
 
 "Was he, indeed! A real gentleman, then?" 
 
 "Supposing that a doctor is — and he certainly 
 ought to be — a real gentleman." 
 
 "Nonsense! I mean a professional man; not 
 one of those horrid shopkeepers whose children we 
 have to teach — how I hate them all! And Ave 
 must go back and begin again after mid-siunmer. 
 Oh, Edna, I wish I were dead!" 
 
 "I don't, and I doubt if you do — not just this 
 very minute. For there is your dinner coming in — 
 and you like fisli, and you declared you were so 
 frightfully hungry." 
 
 "You are always making fun of me," said 
 the sick sister, half plaintively. Nevertheless she 
 yielded to the influence of that soft, caressing, and 
 yet encouraging tone: her gloomy looks relaxed 
 into a faint smile, and she fell to her simple invalid 
 meal of fried sole and rice-pudding, witli an appetite 
 that proved she was really getting Avell, in spite of 
 her despondency and fretfulness. Edna sat by her, 
 and ate her own cold mutton with an equal relijih: 
 and then the sisters began to talk again. 
 
 "So, after to-dty, we shall not be the only 
 lodgers in the house. How very annoying!" 
 
 "I don't think the new-comers will harm us
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 11 
 
 mucli. Tliey are likely to be as quiet as ourselves. 
 Besides, they vnll liave a fellow-feeling for us. One 
 of them is also an invalid, and a great deal worse 
 than you, Letty." 
 
 "The doctor?" 
 
 "No: his brother, whom he has brought here 
 for change of air." 
 
 "Did you see them? Eeally, you might have 
 told me all this before. I should have been so glad 
 of anything to interest me. And you seem to have 
 inquired all about them." 
 
 "Of course I did. It was very important to us 
 whom we had in the next parlour, and probably to 
 them also, in the young man's sickly state. I dare- 
 say the brother took as much pains as I did to find 
 out all about his opposite neighbours." 
 
 "Did you see him?" 
 
 "No; except his back, which was rather round, 
 and the coat very shabby at the shoulders." 
 
 "He isn't a gentleman, then?" 
 
 "I can't tell. If he happened to be a poor 
 gentleman, why should not his coat be shabby at 
 the shoulders?" 
 
 "I don't like poverty," said Letty, with a slight 
 shrug-, and drawing round her the soft rich shawl, 
 relic of the "happy" days she i-egretted, when the 
 little twins were expected to be co-heiresses, and 
 not schoolmistresses. Those days were dim enough 
 now. The orphans had been brought up for gover- 
 nesses, and had gone out as governesses, until dif- 
 ficulties, arising from Letty's extreme beauty on the 
 one hand, and Edna's fond clinging to her sister on
 
 12 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 the otlier, tliey had resolved to make themselves a 
 home, by setting up one of those middle-class day- 
 schools which are so plentiful in the immediate 
 suburbs of London. It had done well on the whole; 
 at least it had sufficed to maintain them. They 
 were still young women — only twenty-six — though 
 both, Edna es^jecially, had a certain air of formality 
 and authority which all schoolmistresses seem gradu- 
 ally to acquire. But they were, as could be seen 
 at a glance, well-bred, well-educated women: and, 
 besides, Letitia was one of those remarkably hand- 
 some persons of whom one scarcely sees half-a- 
 dozen in a lifetime, and about whose beauty there 
 cannot be two opinions. You might not fancy her 
 style, you might have some ideal of your own quite 
 contrary to it, but if you had eyes in your head you 
 must acknoAvledge that she was beautiful, and woidd 
 remain so, more or less, to the last day of her life. 
 Hers Avas a combination very rarely to be met witlr, 
 of form and colour, figure and face — enough com- 
 pletely to satisfy the artist-eye, and indicate to the 
 poetical imagination plenty of loveliness spiritual 
 beneath the hjvelincss external. Even her illness 
 had scarcely clouded it; and with her tall figure 
 slirouded in shawls, lier magnificent broAvn hair cut 
 sliort under a cap, and her graceful hands, white 
 and wasted, lying on her lap, she was "interesting" 
 to the last degree. 
 
 Indeed, to tell tlie truth, Letty Kenderdine's 
 beauty had been the real liindrancc to her governess- 
 ship. Wliercvcr she Avcnt everybody fell in love 
 Avith lier. Mothers dreaded her for their groAA^n-up
 
 THK woman's kingdom. 13 
 
 sons; weak-minded wives were uneasy concerning 
 their husbands. Not that Letty was in the least to 
 blame; slie was so used to admiration that she took 
 it all quite calmly. Too cold for passion, too practi- 
 cal for philandering, there Avas no fear of her ex- 
 citing any unlawful jealousies; and as for regular 
 love-affairs, though she generally had one or more 
 on hand, it was a very mild form of the article. 
 She never "committed" herself. She might have 
 married twenty times over — poor tutors, country 
 clergymen, and struggling men of business; even a 
 few younger sons of good families; but she had, as 
 she said, a dislike to poverty, especially matrimonial 
 poverty. 
 
 "Will tlie flame that you're so rich in 
 Light a fire iu the kitchen, 
 Or the little god of love turn the spit , spit, spit?" 
 
 was the burthen of her sweet, smiling refusals, 
 which sent her lovers away twice as mad as they 
 came. But though she smiled, Letty never relented. 
 So, though she had been once or twice on the 
 brink of an engagement, she had never fallen over 
 the precipice; and as she confided all her difficulties 
 to Edna, and Edna (who had never any of her oAvn) 
 helped her out of them, they came to nothing worse 
 than "difficulties." True, they had lost her a situa- 
 tion or two, and, indeed, had determined Edna to 
 the point which she carried out — as she did most 
 of her determinations, in her oAvn quiet way — the 
 setting up of a school; but they never weighed 
 seriously upon either sister's mind. Only some- 
 times, when the school duties Averc hard, Letty
 
 14 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 would sigh over the comparatively easy days when 
 she was residing in "high" families, well treated, 
 as somehow she always had been, for there were a 
 grace and dignity in her which compelled respectful 
 treatment. She Avould regret the lost luxuries — a 
 carriage to drive in and a park to walk in with her 
 pupils; large rooms, plenty of servants, and dainty 
 feeding; recapitulating all the good things she used 
 to have, balancing them against the ill things she 
 had now, until she fancied she had made a change 
 for the worse; complained that her present life was 
 not half so pleasant as that of a resident governess, 
 and lamented pathetically over the cause of all — 
 what she called "my unfortunate appearance." 
 
 Still the fact was patent — neither to be sighed 
 down or laughed down — and it had a laughable 
 side — Letty was much too handsome for a governess. 
 Too handsome, indeed, for most of the useful pur- 
 poses of life. She could not pass anywhere un- 
 noticed; to send her out shopping was a thing diffi- 
 cult enougli, and as for her taking a walk alone in 
 pleasant Kensington Gardens, or the lonely Brompton 
 Road, it was a thing quite impossible. Edna often 
 said, with a queer mixture of pcr2)lcxity and pride, 
 that her beautiful sister was as much trouble to her 
 as any baby. And, invalid as Letty now was, it 
 must be confessed that not without a secret alarm 
 had Edna heard of and made inquiries about the 
 im])eiiding lodgers. 
 
 Letty half guessed this, tlioiigh she was not 
 very vain; for slic had long become used to her 
 "unr<)r(iuiate appearance:" and besides, your super-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 15 
 
 latively liandsome people generally take tlieir uni- 
 versally acknowledged honours as comj^osedly as a 
 millionnaire takes his money, or a poet-laureate his 
 crown. When, after Edna's communication respecting 
 the gentleman's shabby shoulders, the two sisters' 
 eyes met, Letty broke into an actual smile. 
 
 "How old is he? Are you afraid that some- 
 thing will happen?" 
 
 "Perhajjs. Something of that sort always is 
 happening, you know," said Edna, dolefully, and 
 then both sisters burst out laughing, which quite 
 restored Letty's good humoixr. 
 
 "Come, dear, don't be alarmed. He will not 
 fall in love with me — I'm getting too ugly and too 
 old. And as for myself, no harm will come to me. 
 I don't like shabbiness, and of all people alive the 
 person I should least like to marry would be a 
 doctor. Only fancy, having one's husband at every- 
 body's beck and call — out at all hours , day and 
 night. Never able to take me to a party — or give 
 me a party at home, without being fetched away in 
 the middle of it. Going to all sorts of nasty places, 
 and nasty people — bringing home fevers, and small- 
 pox, and the like — oh! what a dreadful life!" 
 
 "Do you think so?" said Edna. "Why, when 
 I was a girl I used to fancy that had I been a boy, 
 and could choose my profession, of all professions I 
 should choose a doctor's. There is something in it 
 so grand, and yet so useful. He has so much poAver 
 in his hands. Such unlimited influence over souls 
 as well as bodies. Of course it would be a hard 
 life — nothing smooth or pleasant about it — but it
 
 16 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 would be a life full of interest, witli endless opportu- 
 nities of usefulness. I don't mean merely of saving 
 people's lives, but of putting their lives right, both 
 mentally and physically, as nobody but a doctor 
 can do. Hardly even a clergyman coiild come so 
 near my ideal of the perfect existence — 'he went 
 about doing good.'" 
 
 Edna spoke earnestly, as sometimes, though not 
 often, she was roused to speak, and then her plain 
 little face lighted up, and her tiny form took an un- 
 wonted grace and dignity. Plain as she was — as 
 noticeably so as her sister was handsome — there 
 was a certain character about her, in her small, 
 firm mouth, and babyish, yet determined little 
 chin — in her quick motions and active ways, and 
 especially in her hands, the only decided beauty 
 she possessed — which though they flitted hither 
 and hither, light as snow-flakes, and pretty as rose- 
 leaves, had an air of strength, purpose, and practi- 
 cability, Avhich indicated fully what she was — this 
 merry, busy, bee-like little woman — who 
 
 " Gathered honey all the day 
 
 From every openiug flower;" 
 
 but yet, on occasions, could be (lie very soul of the 
 household — the referee, and judge, and decisive 
 voice in all matters, great or small. 
 
 "Edna, you are preaching me quite a sermon," 
 said Tjotty, yawning. "And I really don't deserve 
 it. Did 1 ever say I wouldn't marry a doctor? — 
 even this very doctor of yours, if he Avishos it parti- 
 cularly. I am sure," she added, plaintively, with
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 17 
 
 an anxious glance towards the mirror, "it is time I 
 should make up my mind to marry somebody. 
 Another illness like the last would altogether de- 
 stroy my appearance." 
 
 "What nonsense you talk!" 
 
 "No, it isn't nonsense," said Letty, with a queer 
 humility. "It is all very well for you, who are 
 clever and can talk, and do things prettily and 
 ]>ractically, and make yourself happy in your own 
 way, so that, indeed, it is little matter whether you 
 are ever married or not. But if anybody marries 
 me, it will be only for my appearance. I must 
 make my hay while the sun shines. Heigho! I 
 wish something would happen — something to amuse 
 us in this dull place. Do tell me a little more 
 about the new lodgers." 
 
 "I have nothing to tell; and besides — there 
 they are!" 
 
 At that moment, coming round the corner of 
 the house (the Misses Kenderdine's parlour window 
 had to be passed in reaching the front door), ap- 
 ])eared a porter and two portmanteaus, and immedi- 
 ately afterwards a bath-chair. Therein sat a figure, 
 so muffled up, in spite of the sunshiny day, as to 
 awaken a feeling of compassion in any beholder. 
 
 "Do come away, Letty. It is the sick brotlier. 
 He may not like to be looked at." 
 
 "But I must look at him. I have not had the 
 least thing to interest me all day. Don't be cross. 
 He shall not see me. I will hide behind the window- 
 curtains." 
 
 The Woman's Kinjdum. 1, a
 
 18 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 And curiosity quite overcoming lier languor, slie 
 left her easy chair, and crouched down in a very 
 uncomfortable attitude to watch the proceedings 
 outside. 
 
 "Do come and look too, Edna. I wonder — is 
 he a man or a boy? He has got no whiskers, and 
 he is so very thin. He looks a walking skeleton 
 beside his stout brother. Do say if that big, awkward 
 man is the brother, the doctor, I mean, whom you 
 are so extremely anxious for me to marry." 
 
 "Letty, what foolishness!" 
 
 "Well, I'll promise to think about him if he 
 ever gives me the chance. He does look like a 
 gentleman, in sjiite of his shabby coat. But, as for 
 the other, you need not be alarmed about him. He 
 seems to have one foot in the grave already. Just 
 come and peep at him. No one can see you, I am 
 sure." 
 
 Edna looked — she hardly knew why, unless 
 out of pure compassion. It was a face that any 
 woman's heart, old or yo^^ng', would have melted 
 over — white, wan, with heavy circles under the 
 large eyes; and a drawn look of jiermanent pain 
 round the mouth. One of those faces, so delicately 
 outlined, so almost feminine in contour, as to make 
 one say instinctively, "He must be very like his 
 mother," and to wish likewise that he might always 
 have his motlier or his wife close at hand to take 
 care of him. For it was undoiibtedly one of those 
 sensitive yet passionate faces, which indicate a 
 temperament that requires incessant taking care of 
 — the care that only a woman can take. Though
 
 THE AYOMAn's kingdom. 19 
 
 tlie big brother seemed tender enough. He wrapped 
 him, and lifted him, and talked to him gently, as if 
 he had been a child. Something tonchiugly child- 
 like — the poetic natitre is ahvays young — was in 
 the poor fellow's looks, as he wearily obeyed; doing 
 all he was told to do, though every movement seemed 
 a pain. 
 
 "I wonder what his illness has been," said Edna, 
 won into a sympathy that deadened even her sense 
 of propriety. "Not consumption, I fancy. I should 
 rather say he was just recovering from rheumatic 
 fever." 
 
 "Never mind his illness. What do you think of 
 himself?" 
 
 "I think it is one of the most interesting faces 
 I ever saw. But if ever I saw death written in a 
 face — Poor fellow — ■ and so young too ! " 
 
 "Not much above twenty, certainly." 
 
 "There, he has turned, and is looking right in 
 at our window. Come away — you must come, or 
 he will certainly see you, Letty." 
 
 It was too late. He had seen her; for the poor 
 sensitive youth started violently, and a sudden flush 
 came over his wan cheek. He di-ew back hastily, 
 and pulled his fur cap closer down over his face. 
 
 Edna rose q\iickly, and shut the Venetian blind. 
 "It is cruel — absolutely cruel — to stare at a 
 jjerson who is in that sickly, nervous state. How 
 angry I should have been if anybody had done it 
 to you when you were ill; and I am certain he saw 
 you." 
 
 "Never mind; the sight is not so very dreadful; 
 
 2*
 
 20 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 it won't kill him, probably," laughed Letty, whose 
 spirits had quite risen under this unwonted excite- 
 ment. "Perhaps it will even do him good, if he 
 wants amusement as much as I do: and he need 
 not excite your sisterly fears: he won't fall in love 
 with me. He is too ill to think of anybody but 
 himself" 
 
 "Poor fellow!" again said Edna, with a sigh. 
 
 She was too well accustomed to her sister's light 
 talk to take it seriously, or indeed to heed it at all. 
 People cease to notice the idiosyncrasies of those 
 they have been accustomed to all their lives. Pro- 
 bably if any other young woman had talked as Letty 
 did, Edna woixld have disliked it extremely; but she 
 did not mind Letty — it was her way. Besides, she 
 was her sister — her own flesh and blood, and the 
 two loved one another dearly. 
 
 Shortly the slight bustle in the hall subsided, 
 the bath-chair was wheeled empty away, and a con- 
 fusion of footsteps outside indicated that the sick 
 man was being carried upstairs by the brother; then 
 the house sank into silence. 
 
 Edna drew up the blind, and stood gazing out 
 meditatively upon the sunshiny sea. 
 
 "What are you thinking of?" Letty asked. 
 
 " Of that poor fellow, and whether this place will 
 do him any good — whether he will live or die." 
 
 "The latter seems most likely." 
 
 "Yes; and it seems to me so sad, especially — " 
 and her voice sank a little — "especially since, 
 thank God! we have passed through our time of 
 terror, and are safe again. So very sad, with every-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 21 
 
 thing outside bright and happy: trees budding, birds 
 singing, the sky smiling all over, and the sea smiling 
 back at it again, as if there was no such thing as 
 death in the world. How the brother's heart must 
 ache through it all!" 
 
 ''The big brother — the doctor you mean?" 
 
 "Yes; and, being a doctor, he must know the 
 truth — that is, if it is to be — if the young man is 
 not likely to recover." 
 
 " Yet the doctor seems cheerful enough. As it 
 sounded outside in the hall, I thought I never heard 
 a more cheerful voice." 
 
 "People often speak cheerfully — they are obliged 
 to learn to do it — when — " here Edna suddenly 
 stopped. It was not wise to enlighten Letty, still 
 an invalid, upon her own sad sick-room experience. 
 "But things may be more hopeful than we suppose. 
 Nevertheless, I am very sorry for our new neigh- 
 bours — for them both." 
 
 "So am I. We must ask the landlady all about 
 them when she brings in tea." 
 
 But though, in her extreme dearth of outside 
 interests, Letty's curiosity became so irresistible that 
 she hurried on the tea by half an hour, her inquiries 
 resulted in very little. 
 
 Mrs. Williams knew no more of her new inmates 
 than most sea-side landladies do of their lodgers. 
 The gentlemen had come from the inn; they were 
 named Stedman — Dr. and Mr. Stedman — and she 
 rather thought they were from London. "As the 
 ladies also lived in London, perhaps they might 
 know something about them," suggested the simple
 
 22 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 island "woman, who was quite as eager to get as to 
 give information, for she owned to being rather sorry- 
 she had taken them in. 
 
 "Why?" asked Edna. 
 
 "I do believe the young gentleman is only 
 brought here to die-, and death is such a bad thing 
 to happen in any lodgings." 
 
 "Nay, we will hope for the best. This fine, 
 pure air may restore him. See how strong my sister 
 is getting." 
 
 "Yes, indeed, miss-, and so I told his brother. I 
 wished be could have seen how wonderfully the 
 young lady had picked up since she came. And 
 he said, 'Yes, she didn't look a bit like an invalid 
 now.' " 
 
 "Had he seen me?" asked Letty, half smiling. 
 
 "I don't know, miss; but he has got sharp, 
 noticeable eyes — real doctor's eyes." 
 
 "Oh!" said Letty, and subsided into silence. 
 
 "Does he seem very anxious about his sick 
 brother?" Edna inquired. 
 
 "Ay, sometimes, to judge by his look. But he 
 talks quite cheerful like. Just hark! you can hear 
 'em a-laughing together now." 
 
 "How I wish we had anything to make us laugh!" 
 sighed Letty, when the door closed; and the im- 
 portant event of tea being over, she relapsed into 
 her former dulness, leaned back again in her easy 
 chair, letting her luuids fall drearily on her lap — 
 such soft, handsouio, idle, helpless hands. 
 
 "Shall 1 read?" said Edna, with an anxious
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 23 
 
 glance at the clock. It was too late to go out, and 
 it Avas many — oli! so many hours till bed-time. 
 
 "You know I never cared for reading, especi- 
 ally poetry books, Avliich are all you brought 
 with us." 
 
 "Shall I try to get a novel from the library?" 
 
 "Threepence a volume, and you'll grumble at 
 the extravagance, and I shall be sure to go to sleep 
 over it, too. Well, I think I will lie down and 
 sleep a little, for I am so tired I don't know what 
 to do." 
 
 She rose, walked once or twice across the room, 
 looking most majestic in her long, soft, flowing 
 draperies — for it was twenty years ago, and women's 
 draperies Avere both graceful and majestic then — 
 with her large lovely form and classical face she was 
 the personification of Tennyson's line, — 
 
 "A daughter of the gods: divinely tall, 
 And most divinely fair." 
 
 And when she lay down, she idealised the common 
 horse-hair, lodging-house sofa by an outline most 
 artistically beautiful — fit for a sleeping Dido or 
 dying Cleopatra. Such women nature makes rarely, 
 very rarely, queens of beauty, crowned or uncrowned, 
 who instinctively take their places in the tournament 
 of life, and "rain influence," whether consciously or 
 not, to an almost fearful extent upon us weak 
 mortals, especially men mortals who, even the best 
 of them, are always prone to reconstrue the dogma 
 that the good is necessarily the beautiful, and to 
 presuppose the highest beauty to be the highest 
 good.
 
 24 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 But this is wandering into metaphysics, of whicli, 
 however she might be the cause of them in others, 
 there certainly was no trace in Letty Kenderdine. 
 She lay down and made herself comfortable, or 
 rather was made comfortable by her sister, with 
 shawls and pillows; then she fell sound asleep, like 
 any other mortal woman, breathing so peacefully 
 and deeply that, if it would not utterly destroy the 
 romance about her, I feel bound to confess she 
 almost snored. 
 
 Edna sat beside her till certain of her repose, 
 and then crept softly away. Not for idleness, and 
 not for pleasure, though the sweet evening tempted 
 her sorely, with its sunset of rose and grey, its fresh 
 sea-breeze, and, as is found along most of the south 
 coast of England, and especially the Isle of Wight, 
 its delicious mingling of sea and country pleasures. 
 Above the lap-lapping of the tide on the beach below 
 was heard the good-night warble of the robins, and 
 the deep note of the thrush; and, besides the salt 
 sea smell, there was an atmosphere of trees budding 
 and flowers blossoming, giving a sense of vague 
 delight, and tender foreboding of some unknoAvn joy. 
 
 It touched Edna; she could not toll why, except 
 that she loved the spring, and this was the iirst April 
 she had spent out of London for several years; 
 scarcely since those dimly remembered years of their 
 country house in Hampshire, which, to her, balanced 
 Letty's memories of the Brighton esplanade. One 
 had been the summer, the other the winter residence 
 of the rich merchant , who , absorbed in money- 
 making, and losing fortune and life together, had
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 25 
 
 left no remembrances to his motherless twin girls 
 but these. 
 
 They recurred at times, each in their turn, and 
 to each sister according to her nature. To Edna 
 at this moment came a rush of the old child- life — 
 the pony she rode — a pretty, little, gentle thing, 
 loved like a human companion; a trout stream, which 
 danced through a primrose wood, and over which 
 dragon-flies used to skim, and where endless hand- 
 fuls of king-cups grew; an upland meadow, yellow 
 with cowslips — Edna could smell the odour of 
 it yet. 
 
 "How I should like to make another cowslip- 
 ball! I believe I could do it as well as ever. I 
 wonder if cowslips grow anywhere about here?" 
 
 And then she smiled at the silliness of a school- 
 mistress wanting to make cowslip-balls, and wondered 
 at the foolish feeling which came over her in her 
 monotonous life; and why it was, that just rising up 
 out of the long strain of anxiety, her heart was con- 
 scious of a sudden rebound — a wild longing after 
 happiness; not merely the busy content of her level 
 life, but actual happiness. In pictviring it, though it 
 was very vague, too, and formless, she, however, did 
 not picture the usual sort of happiness which comes 
 most natural at her age. Unlike her sister, no lover 
 had ever troubled Edna's repose. In the dull city 
 family, where she had been governess ever since 
 leaving school, no such things were ever tliought of; 
 besides, Edna was plain, and knew it — felt it too — 
 perhaps all the keener for her sister's beauty, and 
 her own intense admiration of the same. No; Edna
 
 26 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 Kenderdine was not a marrying woman. She herself 
 was convinced she would be an old maid, and had 
 laid her plans accordingly; and mapped out her 
 future life, with a quiet acquiescence in, and yet a 
 full recognition of — alas ! what woman was ever 
 without that? — its sad imperfectness. 
 
 Thus, her ideal of happiness was not love, or, at 
 least, not consciously, and certainly not love on her 
 own account. This golden dream — this seeming 
 height of complete felicity — was thought of with 
 reference to Letty alone. For herself, she hardly 
 knew what she Avanted; perhaps a better school, more 
 pupils, and these of a higher class, for it was hard 
 and thankless work trying to make little common 
 girls into little gentlewomen. Or possibly — though 
 to that El Dorado Edna scarcely dared to lift her 
 eyes — some extraordinary windfall of fortune — a 
 legacy, or the like — which would for ever lift her 
 out of the necessity of keeping school at all, and 
 enable her to set up a cottage in the country — ever 
 so small, she did not care, so that it was only in the 
 country, and had a garden to it, and fields around 
 it, where she might do as she liked all day long, 
 Avithout being haunted by the necessity of school- 
 teaching, or by that dread of the future, of breaking 
 down helpless in the midst of lier career, whicli, since 
 the fever time, had often painfully pursued her. She 
 herself, though not exactly ill, had been very much 
 enfeebled-, and ]jrobably it was this weak condition 
 of body which made the little Avoman mentally less 
 brave than usual; caused her to long, Avith a sore 
 yearning, not merely to be sheltered from evil, but
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 27 
 
 to have her dull life turned into brightness by some 
 absolute tangible good. 
 
 So, while Letty slept — the sound, healthy sleep, 
 of which her easy temperament never made any 
 difficulty — Edna stood looking out on the twilight 
 sea, still thinking — thinking — till the tears came 
 into her eyes, and rolled slowly down. 
 
 They were soon wiped away — not dashed off, 
 but quietly wiped away with a resolute hand. She 
 could not have repressed them , they would have 
 choked her-, but she could not help indulging in them 
 — taking a sentimental pleasure over them, or exalt- 
 ing them into a real grief Alas! she knew what 
 real grief was, when Letty was at the crisis of 
 scarlet-fever. 
 
 "No! I'll not cry — it's wicked! What have I 
 to cry about? when my sister is nearly well, and we 
 shall be able to gather the school together very soon, 
 and meantime we have enough money to last us, 
 and no other cares. There is much more to be 
 thankful for than afraid of And now, before she 
 wakes, let me see exactly how we stand." 
 
 She took her little writing-desk to the window, 
 that she might catch the utmost of the fading night, 
 and with one anxious glance at the sofa, set herself 
 to a piece of work which always fidgeted Letty — 
 the balancing of their weekly accounts. Nominally 
 the sisters kept these, week and week about; but 
 Letty's week was always behindhand, and caused 
 her such distress, that gradually Edna took the whole 
 upon herself — a very small whole, a ledger that a 
 man and a millionnaire, or even a petty merchant.
 
 28 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 would have laughed at, and wondered how it could 
 possibly make the womanish head ache and the 
 womanish heart beat, as it did many a time. For 
 Edna was uo genius at arithmetic; besides hers was 
 not the amateur masculine arithmetic, worked upon 
 paper, in thousands and tens of thousands, though 
 the total, be it loss or gain, aflfects little the current 
 expenses of daily life — since in this strange com- 
 mercial world of ours, a man may risk or lose a 
 quarter of a million, or go through a bankx'uptcy or 
 two, yet still keep his carriage, and eat his diurnal 
 dinner — just as handsome a dinner as ever — 
 though oftentimes the appetite brought to it must 
 be small. 
 
 But Edna's arithmetic was a different thing. 
 To her a balance on the one side or other of that 
 tiny page implied either an easy mind and a gay 
 heart, or else — well, it imjilied want of needful 
 clothes, of household comforts , perhaps even of suf- 
 ficient food. Only want — the sacrifice of things 
 pleasant and desirable. That other alternative, debt, 
 in all its agonies, humiliation, and terrors, these 
 poor schoolmistresses knew not: never would be 
 likely to know, since, opposite as their characters 
 were, the two Misses Kenderdine had one grand 
 point in common — they would have starved rather 
 than have owed any one a halfpenny. 
 
 So poor little Edna sat at her task; and it was 
 a task, for slie did not like it any more tlian she 
 liked school-teaching: l)ut Letty liked it still less 
 than she, and since it liad inevitably to be done, of
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 29 
 
 course Edna bad to do it. Tliis was tlie law of their 
 life together, and always had been. 
 
 She sat, her head propped on her two hands, 
 quite absorbed. Pathetically so, for she could not 
 make her accoiants meet; there was a halfcrown gone 
 a-missing somewhere; and a halfcroAvn was an im- 
 portant sum to her, j)oor thing! Not for itself, but 
 for what it represented — a fortnight's butter, or a 
 pair of gloves for Letty, or something else that other- 
 wise would rctjuire to be done without. She racked 
 her bi'ains to remember how she had spent it, added 
 up the conflicting columns of figures again and again, 
 and counted and re-counted the contents of her two 
 purses — one for current coin, the other the grand 
 receptacle of the family income. 
 
 Vain, vain! Poor Edna could not make matters 
 right. Her head burned , her brow throbbed — she 
 pushed her hair back from it with trembling fingers 
 — she was very nearly crying. 
 
 It was a small thing — a silly thing almost; but 
 then she had been weakened by anxiety and fatigue, 
 and, do what she could, the future rose up before 
 her darker, and reasonably darker, than it had even 
 done before. What if the pupils, scared by fever, 
 should not readily return? What if she and her 
 sister were to be left with a hoixse on their hands, 
 the rent to be paid, the servant to be kept, and 
 nothing to do it with? That morbid dread of the 
 future — that bitter sense of helplessness and for- 
 lornness which all working women ha^e at times, 
 came upon Edna, and made lier think with a strange 
 momentary envy of the women who did not work.
 
 30 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 wlio had brothers and fathers to work for them, or 
 at least to help them with the help that a man, and 
 only a man, can give. 
 
 And then looking up, for the first time for many 
 minutes, Edna became aware of two eyes watching 
 her, resting on her with such an expression of kind- 
 liness and pity, the sort of half-amused pity that a 
 man would show to a troubled and perplexed child, 
 that this \)00Y child — she was strangely young still 
 in many ways — looked fearlessly back into them, 
 almost with a sort of appeal, as if the observer had 
 been an authorised friend, who could have helped 
 her had he chosen. But the moment after she drew 
 back, exceedingly annoyed; and the gazer also drew 
 back, made a slight apologetic half-bow, then blushed 
 violently all over his face, as if conscious that he had 
 been doing a most unwarrantable and ungentlemanly 
 thing, rose from his bench by the window, and 
 walked hastily away. 
 
 As he turned, by the broad stooping shoulders 
 and well-worn coat rather than by the face, Avhich 
 she had not seen i;ntil now, being so attracted by 
 the face of the invalid brother, Edna recognised the 
 doctor, Dr. Stedmau.
 
 THE woman's KINCxDOJr. 31 
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 This will be a thorough "love" story. I do not 
 pretend to make it anything else. There are other 
 things in life besides love: but everybody who has 
 lived at all, knows that love is the very heart of life, 
 the pivot upon which its whole machinery turns: 
 without which no human existence can be complete, 
 and with which, however broken and worn, in part, 
 it can still go on working somehow, and working to 
 a comparatively useful and cheerful end. 
 
 An author once ■RTote a book, of which the 
 heroine was supposed to be painted from a real 
 living woman, whose relations were rather pleased 
 than not at the accidental resemblance: "Only," said 
 they, with dignified decorum, "in one point the 
 likeness fails: our Anastasia was never in love with 
 anybody." "Then," replied the amused author, "I 
 certainly cannot have painted her, for she would 
 have been of no use to me; such an abnormal sj)e- 
 cimen of humanity is not a woman at all." 
 
 No. A life without love in it must of necessity 
 be an imperfect, an unnatural life. The love may 
 be happy and unhappy, noble or ignoble, requited 
 or unrequited-, but it must be, or have been, tftere. 
 Love absolute. Not merely the tie of blood — the 
 bond of friendship — the many close aftections which 
 make existence sweet; but the one, closest of all, the
 
 32 ' THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 love between man and woman — wliicli is tlie root 
 of the family life, and the family life is the key to 
 half the mysteries of the universe. 
 
 And so, Avithoiit disguise of purpose, and rather 
 glorying in the folly, if folly it be, I confess this to 
 be a mere love-tale, nothing more. No grand "pur- 
 pose" in it: no dramatic effects — scarcely even a 
 "story:" — but a few pages out of the book of daily 
 life, the outside of which looks often so common and 
 plain ; and the inside — But One only reads that. 
 
 Under Mrs. Williams's commonjilace, unconscious 
 roof were gatliered these four young people, strangers 
 to one another, and ignorant of their mutual and 
 individual destinies, afterwards to become so inex- 
 tricably mingled, tangled, and crossed. The like 
 continually happens, in fact it must, in most cases, 
 necessarily happen. The first chance meeting — or 
 what a])pears cliance: the first indifferent word, or 
 hap-hazard incident — ■ from these things do almost 
 all love-stories date. For in all true marriages now, 
 as in Eden, the man and woman do not deliberately 
 seek, but are brought to one another; — ^ happy those 
 who afterwards can recognise that the hand which 
 led his Eve to Adam was that of an invisible God! 
 
 But this only comes afterwards. No sentimental 
 premonitions weighed on the hearts of any of these 
 — the two young men, and two young women, who 
 had, each and all, their own lives to live, their 
 own separate cares and joys. For even if blessed 
 with tlie closest l)onds of fraternity, every soul is 
 more or less alone, or feels so — till the magic other 
 soul appears, whicli, if fate allows, shall remove
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 33 
 
 solitude for. ever. There may or may not be a trutli 
 in tlie doctrine of loA'e at iirst sight, but it is, like 
 the doctrine of instantaneous conversion, too rarely 
 experienced to be much understood. Ordinary men 
 and women walk blindfold to the very vei'ge of their 
 fate, nor recognise it as fate till it is long past. 
 Which fact ought to be, to both young folks and 
 their guardians, at once a consolation and a warning. 
 
 Edna, when immediately after the doctor's dis- 
 appearance, the entrance of candles wakened Letty, 
 told her sister frankly, and with considerable amuse- 
 ment, of the steadfast stare which for the moment 
 had annoyed her. 
 
 "At least, I should have been annoyed, had it 
 been you, Letty. But with me, of course it meant 
 nothing; merely a little harmless curiosity. Cer- 
 tainly, as Mrs. Williams says, he has thorough 'doc- 
 tor's eyes.' They seem able to see everything. As 
 a doctor ought to see, you know." 
 
 "And what colour were they? and what sort of 
 a face Avas it altogether?" 
 
 "1 really cannot tell. A nice, kindly sort of 
 face, and that is all I knoAv." 
 
 "But, Edna, if I am to marry him, you ouglit to 
 know. So look more closely, next time, and tell me 
 exactly what he is like." 
 
 "Very Avell," said Edna, laughing; thankful for 
 any little joke that lightened the heavy depression 
 Avhich was the hardest thing- to contend Avith in 
 Letty's present state. And then she took to her 
 Avork and forgot all about it. Not until, after put- 
 ting her sister to bed, she came down again for one 
 
 The \Y(muin's Kingium. I. O
 
 34 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 quiet hour, to do some needful sewing, and institute 
 a last and finally successful search among the odd 
 corners of her tired brain, for the missing half-crown, 
 did Edna remember the doctor or his inquisitive 
 stare. 
 
 "I wonder if he noticed what I am doing, and 
 whether he thought me silly, or was sorry for me. 
 Perhaps he is good at arithmetic. Well, if there 
 could be any advantage in having a man belonging 
 to one, it would be to help in adding up one's weekly 
 accounts. I shall advise Letty to make that proviso 
 in her marriage settlement." 
 
 While the sisters tluis summarily dismissed the 
 question of their new neighbours, their neighbours 
 scarcely thought of them at all. Dr. Stedman sat 
 by his brother's bed-side, trying by every means he 
 coixld think of to make tlie weary evening slip by, 
 without forestalling the burden of the still heavier 
 night. He talked — he read a little, out of an old 
 Times — first the solid leaders, and then a criticism 
 on the pictures forthcoming in the Royal Academy 
 Exhibition, till, seeing the latter excited his patient 
 too much, he ingeniously shortened it, and went 
 back to tlie heavy debates and other masculine por- 
 tions of the newspaper. But in all he did, and 
 earnestly as he tried to do it, tlierc was something 
 a little clumsy, like a man: and one who is alto- 
 gether a man — nor accustomed to women's society 
 and influence. Tliere was nothing rough or untender 
 about liim: nay, there was exceeding gentleness in 
 his eyes and voice; he tried to do his very best; but 
 he did it with a certain awkwardness that no invalid
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 35 
 
 could help feeling in some degree, especially such a 
 nervous invalid as this. 
 
 The two brothers were very unlike — as unlike 
 as the two sisters who sat below stairs. And yet 
 there was a curious "family" expression: the kindred 
 blood peeping out, pleadingly, amidst all dissimi- 
 larities of character and temperament. The younger 
 was dark; the elder fair. The features were not 
 unlike, but in one face delicate and regular; in the 
 other, large and rugged. The younger had appa- 
 rently lived altogether the student's life; while the 
 elder had been knocked about the world, receiving 
 many a hard hit, and learning, in self-preservation, 
 to give a hard hit back again if necessary. Besides, 
 an occasional contraction of the brow, and a slight 
 projection of the under lip, showed that the doctor 
 had what is called "a temper of his own:" while 
 his brother's expression was altogether sweet, gentle, 
 and sensitive to the last degree. 
 
 As he lay back on his pillow — for he had been 
 put to bed immediately — you might have taken 
 him for a boy of seventeen, until, looking closer into 
 the thin face, you read there the deeper lines which 
 rarely come under the quarter-century which marks 
 the first epoch in a man's life. No; though boyish, 
 he was not a boy; and though delicate-looking, not 
 effeminate. His was the temperament which we so 
 ardently admire in youth, so deeply pity in maturer 
 years: the poetic temperament — half masculine, 
 half feminine — capable of both a man's passion 
 and a woman's suffering. Such men are, as circum- 
 
 3*
 
 36 THE WOMAN'S KINGDOM. 
 
 stances make them, tlie angels, the demons, or the 
 martyrs of this world. 
 
 He lay — restless, but trying hard to be patient 
 — .till the light failed and his brother ceased the 
 reading, which was not specially interesting, being 
 done in a slightly formal and monotonous voice, like 
 that of a person unaccustomed to, and not particu- 
 larly enjoying, the occupation. 
 
 "That will do. Will. It's really very good of 
 you to stay in-doors with me all this evening; but I 
 don't like it. I wish you would go out. Off with 
 you to the beach! Is there a good beach here?" 
 
 "A very fine one. You shall see it by-and-bye." 
 
 "Nay, my Bath chair could never get down these 
 steep cliffs?" 
 
 "Do you think I mean you to spend all your 
 days in a Bath chair, Julius, lad?" 
 
 "Ah, Will, shall I ever do without it? Tell me, 
 do you really, candidly, in your honest heart — 
 you're almost too honest for a doctor, old boy — 
 believe that I shall ever walk again?" 
 
 The doctor turned, and gave him a pat on the 
 shoulder — his young brother, five or six years 
 younger than himself, Avhicli fact made such a vital 
 difference once, and the fatherly habits of it remained 
 still. There was a curious twitching of his mouth, 
 which, though large and iirm, had much lurking 
 softness of expression. He paused a minute before 
 speaking, and then said earnestly, — 
 
 "Yes, I do, Julius. Not that I knoAV it for cer- 
 tain; but I believe it. You may never be quite as 
 strong as you have been: rheumatic fever always
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 37 
 
 leaves behind great delicacy in many ways; but I 
 have known cases worse than yours Avhich ended in 
 complete recovery." 
 
 "I wish mine may be, if only for your sake. 
 What a trouble I must have been to you! to say 
 nothing of expense. And you just starting for your- 
 self, too." 
 
 "Well, lad, it didn't matter — it was only for 
 myself. If I'd had a wife, now, or half-a-dozen 
 brats. — - But I had nobody — not a single 'respon- 
 sibility' — except you." 
 
 "And what a heavy responsibility I have been! 
 Ever since you were fifteen I must have given you 
 trouble without end." 
 
 "Pleasure too, and a deal of fun — the fun of 
 laughing at you and your vagaries, though I couldn't 
 laugh you out of them. Come, don't be taking a 
 melancholy view of things. Let's be jolly." 
 
 But the mirth came ponderously out of the big 
 fellow, whose natural expression was evidently grave 
 
 — an enemy might have called it saturnine. And 
 Dr. William Stedman looked like a man who was 
 not likely to go through the world without making 
 some enemies, if only from the very honesty which 
 his brother spoke of, and a slight want of pliability 
 
 — not of sympathy, but of the power of showing it 
 
 — which made him a strong contrast to his brother, 
 besides occasionally jarring with him, as brothers do 
 jar against brothers, sistei-s against sisters, friends 
 against friends — not meaning it, but yet inevitably 
 doing it. 
 
 "I can't be jolly, Will," said Julius, turning
 
 38 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 away. "You couldn't, if you had my pains. Ahi 
 me! they're beginning again — they alw^ays do at 
 night. I think Dante would have invented a new 
 torment for his 'Inferno' if he had ever had rheu- 
 matic fever. How mad I was to sit painting in the 
 snow!" 
 
 "Let bygones be bygones, Julius. Never recall 
 the past, except to mend the future. That's my 
 maxim, and I stick to it, though I am a stupid fel- 
 low — you're the bright one of us two." 
 
 "And what good has my brightness done me? 
 Here 1 am, tied by the leg, my profession stopped 
 — so far as it ever was a profession, for you know 
 nobody ever bought my pictures. If it had not been 
 for you, Will, what would have become of me? What 
 will become of me now? Well, I don't care." 
 
 "'Don't care' was hanged," said the elder brother, 
 sententiously ; "and you'll be hung, and well hung, 
 I hope, in the Royal Academy next year." 
 
 'J'he threadbare joke, so solemnly put forward 
 and laughed at with childish enjoyment, effected its 
 purpose in turning the morbid current of the sick 
 man's thoughts. His mercurial and easily-caught 
 fancy, which even illness could not destroy, took 
 another direction, and he began jDlanning Avhat he 
 should do when he got well — the next picture he 
 should paint, and where he sliould paint it. His 
 hopes were much lower than his ambitions, for his 
 bias had been towards high art, only his finances 
 made it impossible to follow it. And, perhaps, his 
 talent — it scarcely reached genius — was more of 
 the appreciative thaii the creative kind. Yet he
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 39 
 
 loved his art as well as he loved anything, and in 
 talking" about it he almost forgot his pains. 
 
 "If I could only get well," he said, "or even a 
 little better, I might find in this pretty country some 
 nice usable bits, and make sketches for my next 
 year's work. Perhaps I might do a sea-piece: some 
 small thing, with figures in it — a fisherman or a 
 child. One could study from the life here without 
 ruination to one's pocket, as it used to be in London. 
 And, by-the-bye, I saw to-day a splendid head, real 
 Greek, nearly as fine as the Clytie." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Here — at the parlour- window." 
 
 The elder brother smiled. "You are always dis- 
 covering goddesses at parlour-windows, and finding 
 them very common mortals after all." 
 
 "Oh, I have done with that nonsense!" said 
 Julius, with a vexed air; adding, rather sentimentally, 
 "my day is over — I shall never fall in love again." 
 
 "Not till the next time. But this head? I con- 
 clude it was alive, and had a woman belonging to 
 it?" 
 
 "Probably, though I only saw the head. Ai-e 
 there any other lodgers here besides ourselves?" 
 
 "Two ladies — possibly young ladies; but I 
 really did not think of asking. I never was a ladies' 
 man, you know. Shall I make inquiries on your 
 account, young Lothario?" 
 
 "Well, you might, for I should like a chance of 
 seeing that head again. It would paint admirably. 
 I only wish I had the luck to do it — when I get well." 
 
 "When I get well" — the sad, pathetic sentence
 
 40 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 often uttered, often listened to, tLougli both speaker 
 and listener know by instinctive foreboding that the 
 "when" means "never." Dr. Stedman might have 
 shared this feeling in sjiite of his firm "I believe it" 
 of ten minntes before, for in the twilight his grave 
 face looked graver still. Nevertheless, he carefully 
 maintained the cheerful, even jocular tone of his 
 conversation with his brother. 
 
 "You might ask the favovir of taking her like- 
 ness. I am sure the young lady could not refuse. 
 No young ladies ever do Female vanity and your 
 own attractions seem to fill your portfolio wherever 
 you go. But to-morrow I'll try to get a look myself 
 at this new angel of yours." 
 
 "No, there is nothing angelic about her face-, 
 not much, even, that is spiritual. It is thorough 
 mortal beauty; not unlike the Clytie, as I said. It 
 would paint well — as an Ariadne or a Dido •, only 
 there is not enough depth of sadness in it." 
 
 "Perhaps she is not a sad-minded young woman." 
 
 "I really don't know, or care. What nonsense 
 it is our talking about women! We can't afford to 
 fall in love or marry — at least, I can't." 
 
 "Nor I neither," said the doctor, gravely. "And 
 I did not mean to talk any nonsense about these 
 two young women — if young they are — for the 
 landlady told me they had just come out of great 
 trouble — being schoolmistresses, with their school 
 broken up, and one sister nearly dying, through 
 scarlet-fever." 
 
 "That isn't so bad as rheumatic fever. I re- 
 mcml)cr rather cujoying it, because I was allowed
 
 THE woman's KINGDOJL 41 
 
 to read novels all the time. Which sister had it? 
 
 — the Clytie one? That rare type of beauty runs 
 in families. Perhaps the otlier has a good head 
 too?" 
 
 "I don t think she has." 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because I suspect I saw her just before I came 
 up-stairs to you — a little, pale, anxious-looking thing 
 
 — not at all a beauty — sitting adding up her ac- 
 counts. Very small accounts they were, seemingly; 
 yet she seemed terribly troiibled over them. She 
 must be very poor or very stupid — women always 
 are stupid over arithmetic. And yet she did not 
 look quite a fool either." 
 
 "How closely you must have watched her!" 
 "I am afraid I did, for at first I thought her 
 only a little girl, she was so small; and I wondered 
 what the creature could be so busy about. But I 
 soon found she was a woman, and an anxious-faced 
 little woman too. Most likely these two school- 
 mistresses are as poor as we are; and, if so, I am 
 sorry for them, being only women." 
 
 "Ah, yes," said Julius, absently, but he seemed 
 to weary of the conversation, and soon became ab- 
 sorbed in his own suffering. Over him had evidently 
 groAvn the involuntary selfishness of sickness, which 
 Letty Kenderdine had referred to; probably because 
 she herself understood it only too well. But her 
 sufferings Avere nothing to those of tliis poor young 
 fellow, racked in every joint, and with a physical 
 organisation the very worst to bear pain. Nervous, 
 sensitive, excitable; adding to present torment by
 
 42 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 both the recollection of the past and the dread of 
 the future; exquisitely susceptible to both his own 
 pains and the grief and anxiety they caused to 
 others, yet unable to control himself so as in any 
 way to lessen the burden of them-, — terrified at 
 imaginary sufferings, a little exaggerating the real 
 ones — Avhich were sharp enough — the invalid was 
 a pitiable sight, and most difficult to deal with by 
 any nurse. 
 
 But the one he had was very patient, mar- 
 vellously so for a man. For hours, until long after 
 midnight — for Edna told her sister afterwards she 
 had heard his step overhead at about two in the 
 morning — did the stout healthy brother , who 
 evidently possessed in the strongest degree the viens 
 sana in corpore sano, devote himself to the younger 
 one, trying every possible means to alleviate his 
 sufferings; and when all failed, sitting down by his 
 bedside, almost like a woman and a mother, saying 
 nothing, simply enduring; or, at most, holding the 
 poor felloAv's hand with a firm clasp, which, in its 
 mingled strength and tenderness, might have im- 
 parted courage to go through any amount of physical 
 pain — nay, have led even to the entrance of that 
 valley of the shadow of death, which we must all 
 one day pass through, and alone. 
 
 Help, as far as mortal lielp could go, William 
 Stedman was tlie one to give; not in words, but in 
 a certain atmosphere of quiet strength, or rather, in 
 that highest expression of strength which we call 
 fortitude. It seems easy to bear with fortitude an- 
 other person's sufferings; but that is, to some natures,
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 43 
 
 the very sharpest pang of all. And with something 
 of the same expression on his face as once (Julius 
 reminded him of the anecdote about one in the 
 morning), in their first school, he had gone up to 
 the master and begged to be flogged instead of 
 Julius — did William Stedman sit by his brother's 
 bedside till the paroxysms of pain abated. It was 
 not till nearly daylight that, the sufferer being at 
 length quietly asleep, the doctor threw himself, 
 dressed as he was, on the hearth-rug before the fire, 
 and slept also — suddenly, soundly, and yet lightly ; 
 the sleep of a sailor or a mastiff dog. 
 
 Morning broke smilingly over the sea — an April 
 morning, breezy and bright; and Edna, who had not 
 slept well — not nearly so well as Letty — being 
 disturbed first by the noises overhead, and then kept 
 wakeful by her own anxious thoughts, which, com- 
 pulsorily repressed in day-time, always took their 
 revenge at night — Edna Kenderdine welcomed it 
 gladly. Weary of sleeplessness, she rose early, and, 
 looking out of her window, she saw a man's figure 
 pacing up and down the green cliff between her and 
 the sea-line. Not a very stylish figure — still in the 
 old coat and older wide-awake hat; but it was broad, 
 tall, and manly. He walked, his hands folded some- 
 what ungracefully behind him, with a strong and 
 resolute step, looking about him sometimes, but 
 oftener with his head bent, thinking. Undoubtedly 
 it was the doctor. 
 
 Edna watched him with some curiosity. He 
 must have been up all night, she knew; and as she 
 had herself lain awake, listening to the accidental
 
 44 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 foot-fall, tlie poking of the fire, and all those sick- 
 room noises, Avhich, in the dead silence, soxmd so 
 ominous and melancholy in a house, even to one 
 who has no personal stake in the matter, she had felt 
 much sympathy for him. She was reminded keenly 
 of her own sad vigils over poor Letty, and wondered 
 how a man contrived to get through the same sort 
 of thing. To a woman and a sister, nursing came 
 natural; but with a man it must be quite different. 
 She speculated vaguely ujion what sort of men the 
 brothers were, and whether they were as much at- 
 tached to one another as she and Letty. And she 
 watched with a vague, involuntary interest the big 
 man who kept striding up and down, refreshing him- 
 self after his weary night-watch; and when at last he 
 came in and disappeared, probably to his solitary 
 breakfast, she thought in her practical feminine soul, 
 what a dreary breakfast it must be: lio one to make 
 the tea, or see that the eggs were boiled properly, 
 or do any of those tender duties which help to make 
 the day begin cheerily, and in which this little woman 
 took an especial pleasure. 
 
 As she busied herself in doing them for Letty, 
 who was always the last down-stairs, Edna could 
 not forbear asking Mrs. Williams how the sick lodger 
 was this morning. 
 
 "Rather bad, miss. ]>cttcr now; but was very 
 bad all night, his brother says; and he has just 
 started off to Kyde to get him some new physic." 
 
 "To Ryde— that is nine miles off?" 
 
 "Yes; but there was no help for it, he said. He 
 inquired the short way across country, and meant to
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 45 
 
 walk It, and be back as soon as lie could. I asked 
 him about dinner; but he left that all to me. Oil, 
 miss, how helpless these men-folk be! He only 
 begged me to look after his brother." 
 
 "Is the brother keeping his room?" 
 
 "No; he dressed him and carried him downstairs, 
 just like a baby, before he went out. Poor gentle- 
 man, it's a heavy handful for him: and him with no 
 wife or mother or sister to help him; for I asked, 
 and he said no, they had none; no relations in the 
 world but their two selves." 
 
 "No more have we; but then women are so much 
 more used to sickness than men are, and more help- 
 ful," said Edna. Yet, as she recalled her own sense 
 of helplessness and entire desolation when she and 
 Letty were landed in this very room, wet and weary, 
 one chill, rainy afternoon, and the lire smoked, and 
 Letty cried, and finally went into hysterics, she felt 
 a sensatieu of pity for her neighbours — those "help- 
 less men-folk," as Mrs. Williams called them, who, 
 under similar circumstances, were even worse off 
 than women. 
 
 "How is the poor fellow now?" she asked. 
 "Have you been in again to look at him? He 
 should not be left long alone." 
 
 "But, miss, where am I to get the time? And 
 besides, he don't like it. Whenever I go in and ask 
 if I can do anything for him, he just shakes his 
 head and turns his face back again into the pillow. 
 And I don't think anything will do him much good; 
 he isn't long for this world. I wish I hadn't taken 
 'em; and if I can get 'em out at the week's end —
 
 46 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 not meaning to inconvenience — and hoping they 
 will get as good lodgings elsewhere, which no doubt 
 they will—" 
 
 "You wouldn't do it, Mrs. Williams," said Edna, 
 smiling, and turning upon her those good, sweet eyes, 
 which. Miss Kenderdine's pupils declared, "fright- 
 ened" all the naughtiness out of them. 
 
 The landlady smiled too. "Well, miss, maybe 
 I wouldn't; for I feels sorry for the poor gentleman; 
 and I once had a boy of my own that would have 
 been about as old as him. I'll do what I can, 
 though he is grumpy and won't speak; and that ain't 
 pleasant, is it, miss?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 This little conversation, like all the small triviali- 
 ties of their life, Edna retailed for Letty's edification, 
 and both sisters talked the matter over thread-bare, 
 as people in sea-side lodgings and out on a holiday 
 have a trick of doing; for holiday-making to busy 
 people is sometimes very hard work. They even, 
 with a mixture of curiosity and real compassion, left 
 their parlour door open, in order to listen for and 
 communicate to Mrs. Williams the slightest move- 
 ment in the parlour opposite, where the sick man 
 lay so helpless, so forlorn, that the kindly hearts of 
 those two young women — certainly of one of them 
 — forgot that he was a man, and a young man, and 
 wished they could do him any good. 
 
 But, of course, under the circumstances, it would, 
 as Letty declared, be the height of indecorum; they, 
 unmarried ladies and schoolmistresses, with their 
 credit and dignity at stake, how could they take
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 47 
 
 the slightest notice of a young man, be lie ever so 
 ill? 
 
 "Yet I wish we could," said Edna. "It seems 
 so heartless to a fellow-creature to let him lie there 
 hour after hour. If we might go in and speak to 
 him, or send him a book to read, I can't believe it 
 could be so very improper." 
 
 And when they came back from their morning 
 stroll, she lingered compassionately in front of the 
 closed window and drawn-down blind, behind which 
 the sick man lay, ignorant of, or indifferent to, all 
 the glad sights and sounds abroad — the breezy 
 sea, the pleasant country, rejoicing in this blessed 
 spring morning. 
 
 "Do come in," sharply said Letty, who had in 
 some things a keener sense of the oiitward proprieties 
 than Edna. "Don't be nonsensical and sentimental. 
 It would never do for us to encourage, even in the 
 smallest degree, these two young men, who are cer- 
 tainly poor, and, for all we know, may be scarcely 
 respectable. I won't allow it, sister." 
 
 And she passed hastily the opposite door, which 
 Edna was shocked to see was not quite closed, and 
 walked into their own, with Letty 's own dignified 
 step and air of queenly grace, which, wherever she 
 went, slew men, young and old, in indiscriminate 
 massacre. 
 
 She was certainly a rare woman, Letitia Kender- 
 dine — one that, met anywhere or anyhow, would 
 make one feel that there might have been some truth 
 in the old stories about Helen of Troy, Cleopatra of 
 Egypt, and such like — ancient queens of history
 
 48 THE W0MAX\S KINGDOM. 
 
 and fable, wlio rode ramjjant over the necks of men, 
 and whose deadly beauty proved a firebrand v.dier- 
 ever it was thrown. 
 
 "Yes," replied Edna, as she took off her sister s 
 hat and shawl, and noticed Avhat a delicate rose-colour 
 was growing on the sea-freshened cheek, and how 
 the old brightness was returning to the lustrous eyes. 
 "You are quite right, Letty, dear. It would never 
 do for us to take any notice of our neighboui-s, un- 
 less, indeed, they were at the very last extremity, 
 Avhich is not likely to happen." 
 
 "Certainly not; and even if it did, I must say I 
 think we ought not to trouble ourselves about them. 
 We have quite enough cares of our own without 
 taking upon ourselves the burden of other people's." 
 
 This was only too true. Edna was silenced.
 
 THB wo.man's kingdom. 49 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 '"'' L''hoinme propose^ et Dieu dispose,^'' is a saying 
 so trite as to be not worth saying at all, were not 
 its awful solemnity, in mercy as often as in retribu- 
 tion, forced upon us by every day's liistory; more 
 especially in those sort of histories, of which this is 
 openly one — love-stories. How many brimming 
 cups slip fi'om the lip, according to the old proverb; 
 how many more, Avhich worldly or cruel hands have 
 tried to dash aside, are nevertheless taken and 
 guidvid by far diviner and safer hands, and made 
 into a draught of life, all the sweeter for delay! 
 And in lesser instances than these, what a curious 
 path fate oftentimes seems to make for mortal feet, 
 leading them exactly whither they have resolved not 
 to go, and shutting up against them those ways 
 Avhich seemed so clear and plain! 
 
 For some days Fate appeared to be doing no- 
 thing as regarded these four young persons, but sit- 
 ting invisible at their mutual threshold with her 
 hands crossed, and weaving no web whatever for 
 their entanglement. They went out and came in — 
 but their going and coming chanced to be at different 
 hours; they never caught sight of one another. 
 Edna — moved by her kindly heart — every morning 
 made a few civil inquiries of Mrs. Williams after 
 the invalid-, but Letty, seeing that no interesting 
 episode was likely to occur, ceased to care at all 
 
 The Woman's Kingdom. I. 4
 
 60 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 about the new comers. Indeed, as slie was now 
 rapidly getting well, blooming into more than her 
 ordinary beauty, in the rejuvenescence that sometimes 
 takes place after a severe illness, how could she be 
 expected to trouble herself about a sick man in a 
 Bath chair, and a stout brother who was wholly ab- 
 sorbed in taking care of him? Except for Edna, 
 and her occasional inquiries and remarks concerning 
 them, Letty would almost have forgotten their exist- 
 ence. 
 
 But Fate had not forgotten. One morning the 
 grim unseen Woman in the doorway rose up and 
 began her work. 
 
 Tlie "last extremity" of which she had spoken, 
 suddenly occurred. 
 
 They had seen Dr. Stedman start off, stick in 
 hand, for his evening walk across the cliffs — Avliich 
 was the only recreation he seemed to indulge in — 
 he took it while his brother slept, Mrs. Williams 
 said, between twilight and bed-time, otherwise he 
 rarely left him for an hour. This night it was an 
 unfortunate absence. He had scarcely been gone 
 ten minutes, when the landlady rushed into the 
 Misses Kcnderdine\s parlour in a state of great alarm. 
 
 "Oh! Miss Edna, woidd you come? You're used 
 to illness, and I don't know Avhat's the matter. 
 He's dead or dying, or something, and his brothei''s 
 away. Please come! — this minute — or it may be 
 too late." 
 
 "Don't go," cried Letty. "Mrs. Williams, it's 
 imj)()ssible — imj)ertinent of you to ask it. She 
 can't i>:o."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 51 
 
 But Edna had already gone Avitliout a word. 
 
 She was not surprised at tlie landLidy's fright. 
 One of those affections of the heart which so often 
 follow rheumatic fever, had attacked the young man-, 
 very suddenly as it seemed. He lay, not on the 
 sofa, but on the floor, as if be had slipj^ed down 
 tliere, all huddled up, with his hands clenched, and 
 his face like a dead man's face. So like, that Letty, 
 who after a minute had, in spite of her opposition, 
 followed her sister, thought he really was dead; and 
 having a nervous horror of death, and sickness, and 
 all kinds of physical unpleasantnesses, shrunk back 
 again into their own sitting-room and shut the door. 
 
 Edna knelt down and lifted the passive head on 
 to her lap. She forgot it Avas a young man's head, 
 she scarcely even saAv that it was beautiful — a poet's 
 face, like that of Shelley or Keats. She only re- 
 cognised that he was a sick human ci'eature who 
 lay there, needing her utmost help; and without a 
 second tliought she gave it. She would have given 
 it just the same to the ugliest, coarsest labourer Avho 
 had been brought injured to her door ; and have 
 shrunk as little from dirt and wounds as she did now 
 from the grace of the curly black hair and the gleam 
 of the white throat which she hastily laid bare to 
 give him a chance of breath. 
 
 "No; he is not dead, Mrs. Williams. I can feel 
 his heart beat. He has only fainted. Bring me 
 some smelling-salts and a glass of water." 
 
 Her simple restoratives took effect — the patient 
 soon opened his eyes. 
 
 "Go into our room: tell my sister to send me a 
 
 4*
 
 52 THE WOMAX'S KINGDOM. 
 
 glass of wine," whispered she; and the frightened 
 woman at once obeyed. 
 
 But the glass was held to his lips in vain. 
 "Don't trouble me," said the poor fellow, faintly, 
 and half unconscious still. "Don't, Will! — I'm 
 dying — I would rather die." 
 
 "You are not dying, and we cannot allow it," 
 said Edna from behind. "Drink this, and you will 
 be better presently." 
 
 Instinctively he obeyed the cheerful, imperative 
 voice, and then coming more clearly to his senses, 
 tried to discover whence it came and Avho was hold- 
 ing him. 
 
 No vision of beauty ; no princess succouring a 
 wounded knight •, or queen of fairies bending over King 
 Arthur at the margin of the celebrated lake-, nothing 
 at all romantic, or calculated to fix a young man's 
 imagination at once and for ever. Only a little wo- 
 man, a rather plain little woman too; who smiled 
 down upon him very kindly, but without the slight- 
 est confusion or hesitation; no more than if she had 
 been his aunt or his grandmother. He did not even 
 think her a young woman; not then: for his faculties 
 were confused; tlie only fact he was sensible of was 
 her womanliness and kindliness. 
 
 The conversation between them was also as com- 
 mon-place as it could be. 
 
 "You are very good, madam; I am sorry to 
 have troubled you — - and all these women," looking 
 round on Mrs. Williams and the servant with an 
 ill-concealed expression of annoyance. "I am quite 
 well now."
 
 THE WO:^IAN S KINGDOM. Oo 
 
 "You will be, presently. But please don't talk. 
 Drink this, and then lie down again on your sofa 
 till your brother comes back. Will he be long?" 
 
 She had scarcely said it before the brother him- 
 self appeared. He stood a minute at the parlour 
 door. To say he looked astonished at the scene be- 
 fore him , is needless •, but his penetrating eye 
 seemed to take it all in at a glance. 
 
 "Don't move, Julius. I understand. I wish I 
 had not gone out," said he-, and kneeling beside him, 
 felt his pulse and heart. 
 
 "Never mind. Will; I am better now. Mrs. 
 Williams looked after me; and this lady, you see." 
 
 "Mrs. Williams fetched me, knowing I was ac- 
 customed to illness," explained Edna, simply, as she 
 resigned her post to the doctor and rose to her feet. 
 "I do not think it was worse than a fainting-fit, and 
 he is much better now." 
 
 "So I see. Thank you. We are both of us 
 exceedingly indebted to you for your kindness," said 
 Dr. Stedman, rather formally, but in a manner which 
 proved he was — as Edna had said every doctor 
 ought to be — really a gentleman. And then taking 
 advantage of his complete absorption in his brother's 
 state, to the exclusion of standers by, she quietly 
 slipped out of the room; thereby escaping all further 
 thanks, explanations, or civilities. 
 
 Letty, having recovered from her fright , and 
 being reassured that there was not that dreadful 
 thing, "death in the house," nor likely to be, at 
 present, became, as was natural, mightily interested
 
 54 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 in the episode which had taken place in the opposite 
 parlour. 
 
 "Quite a scene in a play. You must have felt 
 like a heroine of romance, Edna." 
 
 "Indeed I didn't: only rather awkward and un- 
 comfortable. That is, if I felt anything at all, which 
 I am not sure I did, at the time. He was a very 
 sad sight, that poor young fellow. Fainting in the 
 reality is not half so picturesque as they make it on 
 the stage and in books. Besides, I fear it is only 
 an indication of worse things. Heart disease almost 
 invariably follows rheumatic fever. I know that." 
 
 "Of course. You know everything," said Letty, 
 with the slight sharpness of tone which was oc- 
 casionally heard in her voice, and startled a stranger 
 by the exceeding contrast it formed to her beautiful 
 classic face. "But, for all you say, it was a charm- 
 ing adventure. A sick young man lying uncon- 
 scious, with his head in your lap, and his brother 
 coming in and finding you in that romantic attitude!" 
 
 "Nonsense!" cried Edna; a slight colour, half 
 shamefaced, half indignant, rising in her honest 
 cheek. 
 
 "It isn't nonsense at all. It's very interesting. 
 And pray tell me every M^ord they said to you. They 
 oixght to liave overwhelmed you witli gratitude: and 
 one or botli brothers — both would be better — . 
 ought to fall in love with you on the spot. The re- 
 sult — rivalry, jealousy, fury, and fratricide. Oh, 
 what fun! To have two brothers in love with one 
 lady at the same time! I wonder it never happened 
 to me: but perhaps it may some day."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 55 
 
 "I earnestly hope not," said Edna. 
 
 But at tlie same time a horrible foreboding 
 entered her mind concerning- these two brotliers, who 
 mnst inevitably live under the same roof with Letty 
 for some days, possibly weeks-, who would have 
 many opportunities of seeing her — and nobody ever 
 looked at the beautiful Letty who did not look again, 
 immediately. For her charms were not those re- 
 condite and variable ones of expression and intellect: 
 they were patent — • on the surface — attractive at 
 once to the most refined and the coarsest masculine 
 eyes. Hitherto no young man had ever cast the 
 merest glance upon Letty Kenderdine, without try- 
 ing to pursue the acquaintance; and the anxious 
 sister began to wish that her own sympathies had 
 not led her into that act of kindly civility, which 
 might prove the "open, sesame," to a hundred civil- 
 ities more, were the opposite lodgers so inclined. 
 Should it appear likely, she determined to make a 
 dead stand of opposition, and not allow the least 
 loophole tlu'ough which they could push their way 
 to any further acquaintance. 
 
 This determination, however, she Avisely kept to 
 herself: for in Letty's last little love affair they two 
 had held divided opinions, and, with all her affection 
 for her sister, she had begun to find that sisters do 
 not necessarily think alike. Their twelvemonth's 
 living together, after an almost total separation since 
 their school- days, had taught Edna tliis fact — one 
 of the sad facts which all human beings have to 
 learn — that every one of us is, more or less, in- 
 tensely alone. Before marriage — ay, and after any
 
 5G THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 but the very happiest marriage — absohxtely and in- 
 evitably alone. 
 
 "Don't speak so seriously," said Letty, laughing. 
 "You are not vexed with me?" 
 
 "Oh, no!" 
 
 Wliere , indeed , was the use of being vexed 
 with her? or of arguing the point with her? Edna 
 knew, that if she were to talk to her sister till 
 doomsday, she could no more make her vinderstand 
 her own feelings on this subject, than if she were 
 preaching to a blind man on the subject of colours. 
 To Letty, love merely meant marriage; and marriage 
 meant a nice house, a respectable good sort of man 
 as master to it — probably a carriage; and at any 
 rate, as many handsome clothes as she could pos- 
 sibly desire. She did not overlook the pleasantness 
 of the preliminary stage of love-making, but then 
 she had already gone through that, in degree: in 
 truth, her lovers had of late become to her more of 
 a worry than an amusement, and she was now dis- 
 posed to take a thoroughly sensible and practical 
 view of things. 
 
 Nevertheless, there was in her a lui-king love of 
 admiration per se, without ulterior possibilities, which 
 had grown by wJiat it fed on; and there was no 
 lack of provender in l^etty's case, for every man she 
 met admired her. Also, she had in her a spice of 
 feminine contradictoriness, which, had she discovered 
 any lack of admiration, Avould have roused her to 
 buckle all her beauty's armour on and remedy it, 
 thus marring, by one fortuitous glance or smile, all 
 her sister's sage precautions.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. '57 
 
 Edna knew this — knew it by the way in which, 
 while protesting that she lioped no further acquaint- 
 ance with the two Stedmans would ensue through 
 this very imprudent step on Edna's part, she talked 
 all the evening about them, and insisted on hearing 
 eveiy particular concerning them: what they did, 
 said, and looked like: what sort of a parlour they 
 had, whether it was very untidy and bachelor-like. 
 
 "For, of course, neither of them is married, 
 though the doctor is old enough to be, but doctors 
 never can afford to settle early, especially in London. 
 These people live in London, don't they?" 
 
 "I really don't know. I have never inquired." 
 
 "Do inquire, then; for if Dr. Stedman should 
 take it into his head to call — and it would be the 
 least thing he could do, in acknowledgment of your 
 kindness to his brother — " 
 
 "Oh, I hope not." 
 
 "So do I: for it might turn out exceedingly — " 
 Letty cast a half-amused glance at herself in the 
 mirror — "exceeding aAvkward — for him, poor fel- 
 low, of course, it couldn't affect me. Though big 
 and rough — as he is, you say — he seems decidedly 
 the most interesting of the two. And depend upon 
 it, Edna, if we should happen to make acquaintance 
 wdtli these two brothers, he is the one that will fall 
 in love with me." 
 
 "Why do you think so?" asked Edna, in- 
 ternally resolving that if she could possibly prevent 
 it, the poor honest-looking doctor should be saved 
 from that dire calamity. 
 
 "Wliy? Because he's ugly, and I'm — well,
 
 58 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 I'm not exactly ugly, you know, and I always 
 notice that plain people are certain to fall in love 
 ■with me — probably just by the law of contrast. 
 For the same reason, you'll tell me, I suppose, that 
 I ought to marry some very wise, grave fellow, pos- 
 sibly such an one as this doctor of yours, Avho 
 would altogether look after me, take me in and do 
 for me — admire me excessively, no doubt, but still 
 save me all trouble of thinking and acting for my- 
 self. Heigho! what a comfort that would be!" 
 
 "It really would!" said Edna seriously, and 
 then could not help smiling, for the hundredth time, 
 at Letty's very matter-of-fact style of discussing her 
 loves and her lovers. Her extreme candour was 
 her redeeming point. She was not a wise woman, 
 but she was certainly not a hypocrite. No need to 
 fear that with Letty Kenderdine it would be "all 
 for love and the world well lost," or that if she 
 married she would make otherwise than what even 
 Belgravian mothers Avould call "a very good mar- 
 riage," and afterwards strictly do her duty to her 
 husband and society, or rather to society first, and 
 then, so far as was practicable, to her husband. 
 And, Edna sometimes thought- — judging by the 
 sort of lovers that came after Letty, with whose 
 characters and feelings she, Edna, was fully con- 
 versant, for her sister had no reticence whatever 
 concerning them — men marry for no higher, per- 
 haps even a lower, motive. "I am rather glad," 
 said she suddenly, apropos of nothing, "certainly 
 more glad than sorry, tliat I shall be an old maid." 
 
 "Well, as I always said, you will be an ex-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 59 
 
 tremely happy one," returned Letty, "and you 
 ought to be thankful to be saved from all the dif- 
 ficulties which fall to my lot. There! don't you 
 hear the opposite door opening? He is stopping in 
 the lobby — speaking to Mrs. Williams. Of course, 
 1 knew Avhat would come of all this. I was certain 
 the young man would call." 
 
 But in spite of Letty's tone of indignation, her 
 countenance fell considerably when the doctor did 
 not call, but shut his sitting-room door again im- 
 mediately, apparently without taking the slightest 
 interest in, or manifesting the smallest desire to 
 communicate with, his fair neighbours. And another 
 night fell, and another day rolled on, bright, sun- 
 shiny, calm; it was most glorious weather; just the 
 "fulness of the spring," when 
 
 "A youug man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love ; " 
 
 and still Fate sat motionless at the threshold — 
 nor approached a step nearer to make these young 
 hearts beat or tremble with premonitions of their 
 destiny. 
 
 It was not until the last evening of the week, 
 and three days after Edna's act of unacknowledged, 
 and, Letty declared, quite unappreciated kindness, 
 that the four inmates of Mrs. Williams's lodgings 
 really met, face to face, in a rencontre unplanned, 
 unexpected, and impossible to be avoided on cither 
 side. Yet it came about naturally enough, and at 
 the most likely place — the garden gate. 
 
 Just as the two sisters were setting out for the 
 latest of their tlu-ce daily strolls, and the doctor
 
 60 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 was bringing liis brother home from his, the bath- 
 chair stopped the way. Letty, walking in advance, 
 as she usually did, being now as restless for going 
 out as she had formerly been languid and lazy in 
 stopping in, came suddenly in front of her fellow- 
 invalid. 
 
 She drew back, — as has been said, Letty had 
 an instinctive shrinking from any kind of suffering, 
 — and Julius, lifting up his heavy eyes, saw this 
 tall beautiful woman standing with one hand on 
 the wicket-gate, and her hat in the other, for she 
 rather liked to go bare-headed in the sea-breeze. 
 Now it freshened her cheek and brightened her 
 eyes until she seemed a vision of health as well as 
 beauty in the sight of the sick man, who was turn- 
 ing homeward after a long afternoon's stroll, weary 
 of himself, of life, of everything. 
 
 His artistic eye was cavight at once; he recog- 
 nised her with a look of admiration that no woman 
 could mistake; though it puzzled Letty Kenderdine 
 a little, being different from the bold, 0})en stare she 
 was so well used to. It was a look, respectful, and 
 yet critical; as calmly observant as if she had been 
 a statue or a picture, not a living woman at all, 
 and he bent upon investigating her good and bad 
 points, and appraising her value. Yet it was a 
 gaze of extreme delight, thougli delight of a purely 
 artistic kind — the pleasure of looking at a lovely 
 thing; the recognition, 02jen and free, of that good 
 gift — beauty: when, or how, or upon whomsoever 
 bestowed. Therefore it was a gaze that no gen- 
 tleman need liave Ijlushed to give, nor any lady to
 
 THE WOMA-N's KIXGDOM. 61 
 
 receive: even Edna, who, coming behind her sister, 
 met and noticed it fully, could not take offence 
 at it. 
 
 And at sii^ht of Edna, the sickly face broke out 
 into a smile. 
 
 "It is you. I hoped I should see you again. 
 I wanted to thank you for your kindness to me 
 
 the other day. I told Will Here, WiU, I want 
 
 you." 
 
 Dr. Stedman, who had been pushing the bath- 
 chair from behind, also stood gazing intently at the 
 beautiful vision, which, indeed, no man with eyes 
 could possibly turn away from. 
 
 "Will, do come and thank this lady — I forget 
 her name-, indeed, I don't think I ever heard it." 
 
 This was a hint, which Edna did not take; but, 
 to her surprise, it was unnecessary. 
 
 "Miss Kenderdine, I believe" (and he had got 
 the name quite pat and correct, Avhich strangers 
 seldom did), said the doctor, taking off his hat, and 
 showing short crisp, brown locks, curling tight round 
 what would, ere many years, be a bald crown. 
 "My brother and I are glad to have an opportunity 
 of thanking you for your kindness that day. It 
 made a strong impression on him; he has talked of 
 you ever since." 
 
 "Yes, indeed; it was such a charitable thing 
 for a stranger to do to a poor sick fellow like me," 
 added Julius, looking up with a simplicity that had 
 something almost child-like in it. "Such a frank, 
 generous, womanly thing. I told Will he ought to
 
 62 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 go in and tliank you for it, l)Ut lie wonldn't; lie is 
 such a, shy fellow, this brother of mine." 
 
 "Julius, pray — we are detaining these ladies." '' 
 
 But Julius never took any hints, and often said 
 and did things which nobody else would ever think 
 of; and yet, coming from him, they were done in 
 such a pleasant way as never to vex anybody. 
 
 "Nonsense! we are not stiff in oiir manners 
 here: we are at the seaside-, and then I am an 
 invalid, and must be humoured — must I not, Miss 
 Kenderdine? You don't mind my detaining yoiT 
 here for two minutes, just to thank you?" 
 
 "No," said Edna, smiling. She wondered after- 
 Avards that she had responded so frankly to the 
 young man's greeting, and allowed so unresistingly 
 the introduction, which soon brought them all to 
 speaking terms, and drew Letty also into the quartett, 
 who, for the next five minutes or so, j)aused to talk 
 over the garden-gate. But, as she was forced to 
 confess — when, in their walk afterwards, Letty 
 reproved her, laying all the blame upon her, what- 
 ever happened — she could not help it. There was 
 a charm about Julius Stedman, which made every- 
 ))ody do as he wished, and he evidently wished 
 exceedingly to make acquaintance Avith these two 
 young Indies. Not an unnatural wish in any man 
 — especially in dull seaside hxlgings. 
 
 So he detained them as long as he civilly could, 
 chatting freely to the one, and gazing silently at the 
 other — the owner of that wonderful Clytie face. 
 He put himself, with his un(|uesti(»ne(l ))rcrogative 
 of illness, much more forward than his brother —
 
 THE woman's kingdom. Co 
 
 though the doctor, too, talked a little, «ind looked 
 also; if not with the open-eyed admiration of Julius, 
 with a keen, sharp investigation, as if he were 
 taking the measure, less artistically than morally, 
 of this lovely Avoman. 
 
 Nevertheless — or, perhaps, consequently — the 
 conversation that went on was trivial enoiigh; about 
 the sea, the fine coast, the lovely spring sunset, and 
 the charming weather they had had there two days. 
 
 ''Yes, I like it," said Julius, in reply to Edna's 
 question. "It warms me through and through — 
 this glorious sunshine. I am sure it would make 
 me Avell if it lasted; but nothing ever does last in 
 this world." 
 
 "You will speak more cheerfully by-and-bye," 
 said Edna. "I was pleased at this change of 
 weather, because I knew it would do you, and all 
 sick people, so mixch good." 
 
 "How kind of you to think of me at all!" re- 
 turned Julius, gratefully. "I am sure you must be 
 a very nice woman." 
 
 "Must I?" Edna laughed, and then blushed a 
 little, to find herself s])eaking so familiarly not only 
 with strangers, but with the very strangers whom 
 she had determined to keep at arm's length under 
 all circumstances. But then the familiarity was only 
 with her — Edna, to Avhom it signified little. Neither 
 of the brothers had addressed Letty, nor offered her 
 any attention beyond a respectful bow; and Letty 
 had drawn herself up witli considoral)le h(ndeui\ 
 adding to the natural majesty of her beauty a sort 
 of "fall-in-love-if-you-dare" aspect, which, to some
 
 64: THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 young men, might have been an additional attrac- 
 tion, but which did not seem to affect fatally either 
 of these two. 
 
 They looked at her; with admiration certainly, 
 as any young men might — nay, must have done 
 — would have been fools and blind not to have 
 done: but that was all. At first sight, neither 
 seemed disposed to throw himself prone under the 
 Avheels of Letty's Juggernaut chariot; — which fact 
 relieved Edna's mind exceedingly. 
 
 So, after some few minutes of a conversation 
 equally unembarrassed and uninteresting, the young 
 people parted where they stood, all four shaking 
 hands over the gate, Julius grasping Edna's with a 
 grateful pressure that would decidedly have startled 
 her, had she not recognised by instinct the im- 
 pulsive temperament of the young man. Besides, 
 she was utterly devoid of self-conscious vanity, and 
 accustomed to think of her own relation to the 
 opposite sex as one that precluded any special atten- 
 tions. Her personal experience of men had been 
 solely in the character of confidante to Lctty's lovers. 
 She used to say, laughing, "She was born to be 
 everybody's sister — or everybody's maiden aunt." 
 
 And so the ice was broken between these four 
 young people, so strangely thrown together in this 
 solitary place, and under circumstances when the 
 world and its restrictions — whether needed or 
 needless — were, for the time being, more or less 
 set aside. They met — simply as four human 
 Ijeings; through blind chance, as it seemed, and 
 wholly ignorant that the innocent wicket-gate — held
 
 THE woman's kingdom. G5 
 
 open so gTacefiilly by Letty's hand for the bath- 
 chair to pass through — Avas, to them all, the opening 
 into that enchanted garden Avhich is entered but once. 
 Which most of us — nay, confess it! all of us — 
 dream about continually before entering; and passing- 
 out of — even for happier Edens — seldom leave 
 without a sigh of regret. For it is the one rift of 
 lieaven, which makes all heaven aj)pear possible — 
 llie ecstasy of hope and faith, out of which grows 
 tlie Love which is our strongest mortal instinct and 
 intimation of immortality. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 It is an undoubted fact, that when that event 
 liappens, the most vital in human life — the first 
 meeting of two persons who are to influence one 
 another's character and destinies in the closest man- 
 ner, for good or ill, happiness or misery, nay, even 
 for virtue or crime — the sky does not fall, no 
 ominous signs appear in the outside world; nay, the 
 jjarties concerned, poor puppets as they are, or seem 
 to be, are usually quite unconscious of what has be- 
 fallen them, and eat, drink, and sloejj just as com- 
 posedly as ever. 
 
 Thus the tAvo Misses Kenderdine, after shaking 
 hands witli the two Stedmans over the gate, went 
 calmly on their usual stroll along the cliffs, discuss- 
 ing in feminine fashion their new acquaintances, and 
 speculating about them with an indifference that was 
 perfectly sincere; for though tliese schoolmistresses 
 
 llu 'iVtjiiKJii's Kinr;duiii. 1. i>
 
 66 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 were young enougli to liave tlie natural lot and future 
 of womanliood running a good deal in their heads, 
 especially at holiday time, when they had no more 
 serious business in hand, and Letty's continual "dif- 
 ficulties" always kept the subject alive, still they 
 were neither of them silly schoolgirls, in love with 
 every man they met, or fancying every man in love 
 with them. Letty, jierhaps, had a slight tendency 
 in the latter direction, wliicli her experience rather 
 justified than not; but Edna was free from all such 
 folly, or only regarded tlie question of love and 
 matrimony in its relation to her sister. 
 
 So they discussed freely and openly the two 
 young men. 
 
 Edna had been most interested in the invalid, 
 as was natural-, her heart warmed towards every 
 kind of suffering; whilst her sister had chiefly noticed 
 the big, healthy-looking brother, who was evidently 
 "a man with no nonsense about him," — by which 
 Letty meant no sentiment; for she, who had been 
 haunted by sentimental sM'ains, poets addressing 
 verses to her, and artists imploring to sketch her 
 portrait, disliked sentiment above all tilings. 
 
 "Besides, tliis doctor does really seem a gentle- 
 man, in spite of his shabby coat. He might be 
 spruced up into a very good-looking fellow if he had 
 somebody to see after him. You are quite sure he 
 is not married, Edna? And where do you say 
 he lived? I wonder if it is in a respectable street, 
 and wliat sort of a practice he has got." 
 
 "Letty," cried Edna, turning sharply round, half 
 amused, half angry, "you are not surely going to — "
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 67 
 
 "No, you foolish child; not being quite a simple- 
 ton , I am not surely going to — to marry him — 
 your friend with the shabby coat. Nor even to let 
 him fall in love with me, if I can help it. But if 
 he does, you cau't blame me. It's all my unfortunate 
 appearance." 
 
 Edna attempted no reply — where was the use of 
 it? Indeed she shrank back into total silence, as 
 was her habit when the sense of painfi;! incongruity 
 between herself and her sister, tbeir thoughts, 
 motives, and actions, rose up more strongly than 
 usual. She wished there Avas no such thing as falling 
 in love — as Letty put it — or that Letty would fall 
 in love honestly and sincerely, once for all, with 
 some good man — she began not to care much who 
 it was , if he Avere only good — marry him and have 
 done with it. These perpetual "little affairs" of her 
 sister's could not go on for ever. Edna was rather 
 weary of them-, and wished, more earnestly than she 
 liked to express, that she could see Letty "settled" 
 — fairly sheltered under the wing of a worthy hus- 
 band who would at once rule her and love her — 
 pet her and take care of her; for indeed she needed 
 taking care of more than most women of six-and- 
 twenty. Perhaps Dr. Stedman might be the very 
 sort of man to do this. He looked like it. There 
 was a stedfast honesty of purpose in his eyes, and 
 a firmness about his mouth, which seemed to imply 
 stei'ling worth. But, though a good man, his ex- 
 pression was not exactly that of an amiable man, 
 and Letty was a person likely to try a husband's 
 temper considerably at times. Besides, what if he
 
 68 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 were poor? Indeed the fact seemed self-evident. A 
 poor man, as slie said herself — and Edna confessed 
 the truth of this — would never do for Letty Ken- 
 derdine. 
 
 Edna's thoughts had galloped on thus far in a 
 perfect steeple-chase of fancy, when she suddenly 
 pulled up, reflecting how exceedingly ridiculous it 
 was. She almost despised herself for speculating thus 
 on so slender a foundation, or no foundation at all, 
 and bent her whole attention to the outer world. 
 
 Everything was so beautiful in the still evening 
 — the sea as calm as the sky, and the cliff-swallows 
 skimming airily between both. Even Letty, whose 
 thoughts there is no need to follow, for she never 
 thought much or long about anything, noticed them, 
 and called them "pretty little things;" Avhile Edna, 
 who had a great love for birds, watched them with 
 a curious tenderness — the creatures that came so far 
 from over the waters — guided unerringly — to make 
 their nests here; as (Edna still firmly believed in her 
 deepest heart, though her twelvemonths' life with 
 Letty had somewhat shaken the outworks of that 
 girlish faith) heaven guides all true lovers that are 
 to be husbaixd and wife — leads them from farthest 
 corners of the world, through storm and trial, danger 
 and death, to tlieir own appointed home in one 
 another's arms. 
 
 So she left lier sister's lot — her own she never 
 thought of — in wiser hands than hers; trusting that 
 He who mated the swallows and brought them hither 
 from across the seas, and made them so content and 
 happy, hovering about in the spring twilight, would
 
 • THE -woman's kixodom. 69 
 
 in time bring Letty a good husband , and velieve her 
 sisterly heart from the only real care it had — the 
 unknown future of this beautiful, half-foolish, half 
 worldly-wise woman, who, though her very flesh 
 and blood, was so unlike herself that it puzzled Edna 
 daily more and more both to understand her and to 
 guide her. 
 
 The two sisters went back to their dull lodgings, 
 which, in common with all lodgings, looked especially 
 dull and unhome-like at this hour. They sat down 
 to their innocent milk supper and the one glass of 
 A^ne which Letty still indulged in, as a last relic of 
 invalidism, though saying each day she would give 
 it up. And then they settled themselves to sewing, 
 at least Edna did, Letty declaring she never could 
 sew with the poor light of two mould candles. She 
 amused herself with lying on the sofix and talking, 
 or chatting, the sort of desultory chat which people 
 who live together naturally fall into — it is only 
 strangers who maintain "conversation." Besides, 
 Letty's talk was never conversation; it rarely rose 
 beyond ordinary facts or personalities; generally of 
 a trivial kind. Clytie-like though her lips were, they 
 did not drop pearls and diamonds; but then they 
 never dropped toads and adders. She was ex- 
 ceedingly good-natured, and never said sharp or un- 
 kind things of anybody; in this having the advantage 
 of Edna, who sometimes felt sorely tempted to be 
 severe and satirical, then blamed herself, and took 
 refuge in mild generalities, as now. 
 
 The two brothers would have been more amused 
 than flattered had they known that on tliis momentous
 
 70 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 evening of their first rencontre with the two young 
 ladies, which meeting had conveyed to both an im- 
 pression of undefined pleasantness, as the society of 
 all good women ought to give to every good man, 
 their fair neighbours' conversation was, from the time 
 of re-entering the house, strictly on the subject of 
 clothes. 
 
 • -("Alas!" Letty broke out, almost as soon as 
 supper was over, declaring the matter had been on 
 her mind all day — the spring weather was coming 
 on fast, and they had only their winter garments 
 with them, and no possibility of getting more. 
 
 "For Ave can't buy everything new, and our last 
 summer's things are locked up at home; and besides, 
 I almost forget what we have." 
 
 "Nothing very much, I fear." 
 
 "We never have," said Letty in a melancholy 
 voice. "When I was in situations I was obliged to 
 dress well; but now? Just think, Edna, to-morrow 
 is Sunday, and we have only our brown bonnets and 
 our winter cloaks; and it will likely be as hot as 
 to-day, and the sunshine will show all their shabbi- 
 ness. It is very provoking; nay, it is exceedingly 
 hard." 
 
 "It is hard, especially for you, Letty." 
 
 And Edna glanced at her beautiful sister, upon 
 whom anything looked well; yet whose beauty would 
 have borne the most magnificent setting off that wealth 
 could furnish. J low splendid she would have looked 
 in silks, laces, and jewels — the prizes that in all 
 ages there have been found women ready to sell
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 71 
 
 their souls for! Was lietty one of these? Edna 
 could not believe it. Yet she knew well that dress, 
 and the lack of it, was a much severer trial to her 
 sister than to herself — that Letty actually suffered, 
 mentally and morally, from a worn-out shawl or an 
 old-fashioned bonnet; while as to herself, so long as 
 she was neat and clean, and had colours matching 
 — no blues and greens, pinks and scarlets, which 
 poverty compelled to be worn together — it did not 
 materially affect her happiness whether she had on a 
 silk dress or a cotton one. 
 
 This catastrophe of the winter bonnets was an- 
 noying; but it was a small annoyance — not worth 
 fretting about when they had so many more im- 
 portant cares, and many a blessing likewise. Her 
 mind, which had been wandering alternately back 
 to the house and the school to which in a short time 
 they must return, and dwelling on a few pleasant 
 fancies left by tlie evening walk, felt suddenly dragged 
 down into the narrow ways of ordinary life — made 
 narrower than they need to be by this hopeless way 
 of looking at them. She did not like it, for mono- 
 tonous and commonplace as her life had been — ever 
 since she was twelve years old — iirst school life, 
 then governess life in a dull city family, there was 
 in this young schoolmistress's soul a something which 
 always felt like a little bird that would stretch its 
 wings, feeling sure there must be a wide empyrean 
 waiting for it somewhere. In her long pauses over 
 her needle-work, this little bird usually sat pluming 
 its feathers and singing to itself, till some chance 
 word of Letty silenced it — as was wisest and best.
 
 72 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 For Letty would not have understood tlie little bird 
 at all. 
 
 Edna fastened its cage door, and determined to 
 make the best of things. 
 
 "Yes, as you say, it is hard, but be patient this 
 one Sunday, and before the next I will see what can 
 be done. Suppose I take the coach to Eyde, and 
 choose two plain straw bonnets and trim them my- 
 self — -with green perhaps. You always look so well 
 in green. Then we shoiild be quite respectable while 
 here, and they would last us as second best all 
 summer." 
 
 Letty brightened up amazingly. "That is a 
 capital thought, Edna. You are the very cleverest 
 girl! I always said, and I will say it, a great deal 
 cleverer than I am, if the men could only find 
 it out." 
 
 "They never -will, and I don't want them," said 
 Edna, laughing. "And now let us come to bed, for 
 it is quite time." 
 
 As the sisters passed up-stairs, both cast a glance 
 on the shut parlour door opposite; behind which was 
 complete silence, as usual of evenings. The brothers 
 did not seem to have such long tongues as the 
 sisters. 
 
 "I wonder how they contrive to amuse them- 
 selves, these tAvo young fellows," said Letty, yawn- 
 ing. "I hope they are not as dull as we are some- 
 times." 
 
 "Men never are dull, J su])])ose," replied Edna, 
 in her glorious maiden ignorance. "They have 
 always something to do, and that alone makes people
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 73 
 
 cheerful. Besides, they don't dwell on trivial things 
 as we do ; their minds are larger and clearer — at 
 least the best of them must be so," she corrected 
 herself, reflecting that she was speaking more out of 
 her ideal than her actual experience of the race. 
 And with a feeling of weariness at the smallness 
 into •which her daily gossi]) with Letty sometimes 
 degenerated, Edna thought she would really like, 
 just for a change, to have a good sensible talk with 
 a man. She wondered what those men down-stairs 
 talked about when they were alone, and whether 
 their chief conversation, corresi)onding Avith that in 
 the next parlour, was on the subject of clothes. And 
 the idea of Dr. Stedman discussing the shape of his 
 new hat, or Mr. Stedman becoming confidential with 
 his brother on the question of coats and trousers, 
 proved so irresistibly ludicrous, that Edna burst into 
 one of her hearty fits of laughter — her first since 
 Letty was ill — which did her so much good, that 
 she was sound asleep in five minutes. 
 
 And what of the two men, fated to influence, 
 and be influenced by, these two young women, in 
 the way that human lives do act and re-act upon 
 one another, in a manner so mysterious, that all pre- 
 cautions often seem idle — all plans vain — all deter- 
 minations null and void — and yet we still go on 
 working, planning, and resolving — deliberately lay- 
 ing oiit the jiattern of our own and others' future, of 
 which we can neither forecast, nor control, nor, alas! 
 recall, one single day. 
 
 They did not talk over theii* neighbours; it is 
 not men's way, or not the way of such men as, with
 
 74 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 all their faults, these two Stedmans were — honest 
 young fellows, from whom neither sin nor folly had 
 rubbed off the bloom of their youth, or led them to 
 think and talk of women as, God forgive them ! men 
 sometimes do — men, who were born of woman, 
 who once hung as innocent babies at some woman's 
 breast. 
 
 They came indoors, Julius with evident reluc- 
 tance. 
 
 "Why didn't you give me another turn on the 
 cliff, Will? I wanted two or three more minutes to 
 study that head." 
 
 "Miss Kenderdine's?" 
 
 "Isn't it grand, now? Bring me my sketch- 
 book, and I'll have a try at the profile. Finest 
 profile I ever saw. It might be useful some day, 
 when I get well." 
 
 "You'll be well sooner than you think, old boy." 
 
 And that was literally all which passed concern- 
 ing the two sisters. 
 
 The brothers spent their usual silent evening, 
 Julius drawing and William immersed in a heap of 
 medical literature which lay on a table in the corner, 
 into whicli he plunged at every possible opportunity. 
 For he knew that time was money to him, in these 
 early days when he had more leisure than fees; and 
 besides, he had a genuine love of acquiring know- 
 ledge, all the stronger perhaps, that he was of too 
 cautious, modest, and self-distrustful a temperament 
 to strike out brilliant ideas of his own. But he had 
 the faculty, perhaps safer for ultimate success, of ac- 
 quiring and assimilating tlie ideas of other men.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 75 
 
 Aud consequently he had a keen delight in wliat is 
 called "hard reading." 
 
 His head, as he bent it over his chaotic mass of 
 books, had a finer expression than its ordinary one, 
 which was a little heavy, and sometimes a little cross. 
 But both these expressions originated in a sort of 
 undeveloped look he had, as if in him the perceptive 
 and the practical had been well cultivated, while the 
 fancy lay dormant. A strong contrast to that sweet, 
 sensitive, poetic head of his brother's, where the 
 balance lay in precisely the opposite direction. Any 
 superficial observer would have wondered how they 
 got on together at all, except for the patent fact 
 that people sometimes fit into one another precisely 
 because they diff"er, when the difference is only differ- 
 ence, and not contrariety. 
 
 "There! I think I've got it at last!" 
 
 "Got what?" said the doctor, rousing himself and 
 rubbing his fingers through his short curly locks till 
 they stood out all round his head like a ehevaux-de- 
 frise. 
 
 "That profile, of coi;rse. Come over and tell me 
 if you think it like. Pretty well, I think, for a study 
 done from memory. I must get her to sit to me. 
 Will, couldn't you manage it somehow? Couldn't 
 you cultivate their acquaintance?" 
 
 "I? Nonsense! I never knew what to say to 
 
 women 
 
 "Then how in the name of fortune do you mean 
 to make yourself into a London physician? If a 
 doctor can't be sweet to women, he never earns even 
 salt to his porridge."
 
 76 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "As probably I never may. And then I'll keep 
 on being a poor hospital doctor, or doing a large 
 practice gratis, as I do now." 
 
 "More's the pity." 
 
 "Not at all. It is practice. And it saves one 
 from rusting to death, or eating one's heart out in 
 disapj)ointment before the good time comes, as I 
 suppose it will come some time. And now, give me 
 your sketch to look at." 
 
 He examined it minutely, deliberately rather 
 than enthusiastically, taking exception to certain 
 points of feature both in it and the original, but on 
 the whole very laudatory of both. 
 
 Still, Julius put up the portfolio half dissatisfied. 
 
 "You are so confoundedly cool about things. 
 Why, Will, it's the finest subject I ever had. A 
 perfectly correct face. Not a feature out of its place, 
 and the colouring glorious. What a blessing to have 
 such a model always at hand! I could understand 
 Raifaelle's carrying off the Fornarina, and Andrea 
 del Sarto marrying his beautiful Lucrczia, if only 
 for convenience." 
 
 "You sca])egrace!" cried the elder brother, laugh- 
 ing. "If I thought you Avere going to make a fool 
 of yourself — " 
 
 "No, no; my fool-days are done. I'm nothing 
 but an artist now. Don't make a mock of mo. 
 Will! — a poor, helpless fellow that can't even walk 
 across a room." 
 
 "Yes, you could if you tried. I told you so 
 yesterday. Will you try?" 
 
 Julius shook his head. "That was always your
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 77 
 
 motto — 'Try!' You should paint it on your 
 carriage wlien you hunt up the Herakls' College to 
 get arms for your two-horse brougham, in which 
 you come to visit me in a two-pair back in Clipstone 
 Street, — or Kensal Green Cemetery. I don't know 
 which, and don't much care." 
 
 The elder brother turned away. He was used to 
 tliese sort of speeches — hardened to them, indeed; 
 yet they could not fail slightly to affect him still, 
 with the sort of feeling — half pity, half something 
 less tender than pity — with which we are prone to 
 regard weaknesses that we ourselves can only by an 
 effort comprehend. 
 
 "AVell! in the meantime, as to your walking. I 
 have often told you, Julius, some of your ailments 
 are purely nervous. I mean, not exactly imaginary," 
 seeing that Julius winced, "but in the nerves. And 
 the nerves are queer things, my boy: very much 
 guided by the will, which is a queerer thing yet." 
 
 "What do you mean? That I could walk if I 
 tried?" 
 
 "Not precisely. But that if jou were forced to 
 walk — ■ if some sti'ong impulse came — say a fire in 
 the house, and you were compelled to escape for 
 yowY life — you would find jo\i could do it. At least 
 that is my opinion." 
 
 "Opinions are free, of course. I wish for your 
 sake I could gratify you, William. I Avould not then 
 be detaining you here from your practice, your pro- 
 fession, and all the enjoyments of your life, in 
 waiting upon a miserable fellow who had much 
 better be in his grave."
 
 78 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 The quick, irritable pride — the readiness to take 
 ofiFence — William Stedman was familiar with these 
 vagaries too. But the next minute they were gone, 
 as they always were. In Julius's sweet nature no 
 bitterness ever lingered long. He held out his 
 hand to his brother with a childlike expression of 
 penitence. 
 
 "I beg your pardon. Will. You're the best old 
 fellow alive. Give me your hand, and I'll try to 
 walk, or at least to stand." 
 
 "That's right." 
 
 "Will it — will it be very painful?" 
 
 The doctor hesitated; and as he looked at his 
 brother, there came into his face that deep tender- 
 ness — wholly a man's tenderness — which none 
 but strong men ever feel, and rarely feel except to 
 women. 
 
 "Painful, lad? Yes, it may be painful. I am 
 afraid it will bo, at first. I wish I could bear it for 
 jon. Which is a silly speech, because I can't. Still, 
 won't you try?" 
 
 "I will — with somebody to help mc." 
 
 Ay, that was the key of the whole nature — that 
 sensitive, loving, delicate nature. He coixld do al- 
 most anything, with somebody to help him; without 
 that, nothing. 
 
 ;'The brother held out a steady hand; and then 
 slowly, shrinkingly, trembling all over with nervous 
 apprehension, Julius tried to raise himself in his 
 chair, and stand upon his stiff limbs. So far he suc- 
 ceeded; but when he attempted to move them, the
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 79 
 
 pain, or the dread of pain, was too much for him. 
 He fell back white and exhausted. 
 
 "It won't do, Will; it won't do." 
 
 "Not this time. Wait a few minutes, and 
 then—" 
 
 "Must I try again? Oh, couldn't you be kind 
 to me, and let me rest?" said the poor fellow, pite- 
 ously. 
 
 "If I did, it would not be real kindness. Let 
 me talk to you a little common sense: — you're not 
 an invalid now, nor a baby neither. Will you listen 
 to me?" 
 
 Julius opened his eyes from the sofa where his 
 brother had tenderly laid him down, and saw Will 
 sitting on the table opposite, playing with a paper- 
 cutter, but keenly observant all the while. 
 
 "Yes, I'll listen. But it will be useless; you 
 can't give me my legs again. Oh, Will, it's easy 
 for you to speak — such a big, strong, healthy 
 fellow as you are. And I was the same once, or 
 nearly so, till I threw my health away. It's too 
 late now." 
 
 "Too late, at twenty-five? Bosh! Look here, 
 lad. As I told you before, a doctor has a pretty 
 severe handful with fellows like you. He has to 
 light against two things — the reality and the 
 imagination. You are ill enougli, I know — at least 
 you Avere when you were down with that rheumatic 
 fever." 
 
 "By George, I was ill! Never suffered such a 
 horrible pain in all my life. Don't tell me that was 
 fancy.".
 
 80 TUB woman's KINGDOiL 
 
 "No; but the pain has left you now. Your hist 
 bad attack was the night you came here. I do not 
 believe you will have any more. Your feet don't 
 swell now; your joints are supple; in fact, your legs 
 are as sound as my own. Yet there you sit, and 
 let them stiffen day by day; or rather, I'm such a 
 fool as to let you, because I happen to be brother 
 as well as doctor. Once for all, Julius, do you wish 
 to be a cri^^ple for life?" 
 
 "No. Oh, my Clod, no!" replied Julius, with a 
 shudder. 
 
 "Then try once more, before it is too late, and 
 you really do lose the use of your limbs. Walk, if 
 only three steps, to prove to yourself that walking 
 is jjossible." 
 
 Julius shook his head mournfully. 
 
 "It is possible," cried Will, almost angry with 
 earnestness. "On my honour as a doctor, there is 
 no physical reason Avhy you sliould not walk. I am 
 sure of it." 
 
 "Of course it is only my 'fancy,' which you are 
 always throwing in my teeth. I suppose I could 
 juni]) u}) this miniite and run a hurdle-race across 
 the cliff for your amusement. 1 only wish I could, 
 that's all. If you are right — and of course you 
 always are right — what an aAvful humbug I 
 must be!" 
 
 "I never said that — I never thought it," replied 
 the elder brother, very patiently; far more patiently 
 than his looks would have given reason to exj)ect. 
 "You are no humbug: no more than was a certain 
 patient of mine, who fancied he could not use his
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 81 
 
 riji'lit arm; went about with it in a sling; won un- 
 limited sympathy; learned to write with his left 
 hand; for he was an author, poor fellow!" 
 
 "Ah! according to you, half the 'poor fellows' 
 ill tlie world are either authors or artists." 
 
 "He would come to me," William went on, "with 
 the saddest complaints and the most hopeless fore- 
 bodings about his arm. Yet if I got him into an 
 argument, and made him forget it, he would slip it 
 out of the sling, and clench and flourish it in his 
 own excitable manner; nay, I have seen him hammer 
 it on the table as orators do. And when I smiled, 
 he would suddenly recollect himself, pull a pitiful 
 face, and slip it back into its sling as helpless as 
 ever." 
 
 "The hypocrite!" 
 
 "Not a bit — no more a hypocrite than you or I. 
 He was an exceedingly honest good fellow, but he 
 was afflicted with nerves. He had not the sense 
 to fight against them manfully at first, till after- 
 A\ ards they mastered him. He had a great dread of 
 ])ain: his imagination was so vivid, and he yielded 
 to it so entii'ely, that at last he could not distinguish 
 between what lie felt and what he feared, until his 
 fancies became only too sad realities." 
 
 "How did he end?" said Julius, roused out of 
 the contemplation of himself and his own sufferings. 
 
 "I cannot tell, for I lost sight of him." 
 
 "But how do you think he woiald end?" 
 
 William was startled by the excessive earnest- 
 ness of the question. " I could not say — indeed, 
 I should hardly like to speculate. In such cases, 
 
 The Woman's KiiKjdom. I. O
 
 82 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 these delusions are generally only tlie beginning of 
 the end." 
 
 "Isn't it a strange thing," said Julius, after a 
 long pause, "that none of us know, have not even 
 the dimmest idea, how we may end? Here you 
 and I sit, two brothers, brought up together, or 
 nearly so; living together, with one and the same 
 interest, and — well, old fellow! with a decent 
 amount of what folk call brotherly love: yet, how 
 shall we both end?" 
 
 He put his thin hand on William's arm and 
 looked at him, or rather looked beyond him into 
 vacant space, with that expression of sad foreboding 
 constantly seen in faces like his, which is at once 
 cause and effect, prevision and fulfilment. 
 
 But it fell harmlessly on the unsuperstitious 
 doctor. 
 
 "How shall we end? I trust, lad, as we began 
 — together. And that is as much as either of us 
 knows, or ought to know. I don't like to look far 
 ahead, myself-, it does no good, and is often very 
 silly. Come, we both have jjreached quite enough; 
 let us practise a little. Will you walk back to your 
 arm-chair?" 
 
 "You are the most obstinate, determined fellow. 
 I do think, if I Avcre lying dead, you would coolly 
 walk in with your galvanic battery to galvanise me 
 to life again." 
 
 "Perhaps J should, because I should never be- 
 lieve you dead. Fellows of your tempei-ament take 
 a vast deal of killing. Besides, I don't want you to 
 be killed. There's a deal before you yet. Will
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 83 
 
 Stedman can never set tlie Thames on fire, but 
 perhaps Julius Stedman may." 
 
 Julius again shook his head, but smiled and 
 made an effort to rise. 
 
 "Give me your hand. Will. It's just like learn- 
 ing to walk again, as if I were a baby. And you 
 did teach me to walk then, you know. You'll have 
 to do it again now." 
 
 "Very well. Here is a finger; now toddle away, 
 and don't be frightened, you old baby." 
 
 Julius tried, walked two or three steps with dif- 
 ficulty, and many an expi*ession of suffering, then 
 he succumbed. 
 
 "I can't, Will, I can't do it; or, at least, it isn't 
 worth the pain: '' Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandeUe^' as 
 I used to say so often. It wasn't true then; it is 
 now. Never mind me: let me be a cripple for life, 
 or let me die." 
 
 "Neither the one thing nor the other. It isn't 
 likely, and I'll not allow it. Cheer up, my boy! 
 You've made a beginning, and that was all I wanted. 
 You have had plenty of exercise for to-night, and 
 now for a sound sleep till morning." 
 
 So saying he took his brother up in his arms, 
 lifting the thin, slight figure as easily as if it had 
 been a woman or a child, and carried him ofl" to 
 bed. 
 
 6*
 
 Si THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A BRIGHT, claeery, sunshiny Sunday mornings, 
 such a Sunday as makes every honest heart glad, 
 down to the young 'prentice-boy who sings, in that 
 pleasant old English song, — 
 
 " Of all the days throughout the week 
 
 I dearly love but one day, 
 And that's the day that comes between 
 
 The Saturday and Monday: 
 For then I'm drest in all my best , 
 
 To walk abroad with Sally — " 
 
 And though not dressed in all her best, and 
 having no one (save Edna) to walk abroad with, 
 even Letty Kenderdine enjoyed this Sunday, ay, 
 though she had to attire herself for church in the 
 obnoxious brown bonnet and well-worn cloak — the 
 cloak of two winters. But under it her tall figure, 
 now lithe and upright with renewed health, looked 
 so exceedingly graceful, and above the brown bonnet- 
 strings, carefully tied, bloomed such apple-blossom 
 cheeks, that when she saw herself in the glass even 
 Letty was contented. Perhaps all the more so be- 
 cause her beauty had not boon quite unbeheld. 
 
 Passing through the hall, Dr. Stedman, who 
 chanced to open his door at the same moment, had 
 bowed to lier with a courteous "good morning," not 
 pausing to say more; though she declared to Edna 
 ho looked as if he should have liked it, and she was
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 85 
 
 certain he bluslied. However, lie had given the 
 mere salutation and walked rapidly on ahead, till 
 the sisters lost sight of him. 
 
 "Very good manners. He evidently does not 
 wish to intrude," obsei'ved Letty. 
 
 "No gentleman would," said Edna, "unless quite 
 sure that we desired his company." 
 
 "I wonder where he is going? Probably to church. 
 (So you see he must be quite respectable." 
 
 A little lurking devil in Edna's spirit inclined 
 her to begin and argue that question, and prove 
 how many bad people went to church, and how 
 many good people conscientiously stayed away; but 
 she restrained it, and soon forgot the evil spirit in 
 the delicious calm of their walk, through lanes green 
 with budding hedge-leaves, and sweet Avith the scent 
 of primroses, to the tiny old village church. Such a 
 contrast it was to their London church — so different 
 was this day to their terrible London Sundays, with 
 the incessant stream of feet pattering along the dusty 
 glaring pavement, church-goers and holiday-makers 
 all hurrying on to their worship, their amusement, 
 or their vice, with much the same countenance, and 
 perhaps with not such a vital difference in their 
 hearts! Edna often used to think so, and then re- 
 buked herself for her uncharitableness. 
 
 But, in truth, she hated London — she hated 
 above all things London Sundays. Her Sundays 
 here, in the grey little church, with a green vision 
 of the outside world showing through its un painted 
 Avindows and open door, recalled to her the sweet, 
 peaceful Sabbaths of her childhood , when she was a
 
 86 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 little country girl in Hampshire, and was taken across 
 fields and woods to just sucli a village cliurcli as 
 this. As she sat there, in the free seats (which Letty 
 did not like at all), there came back into her head 
 a poem which, in her dreary school days at St. John's 
 Wood, she had learnt, and the .schoolmistress had 
 reproved her because there was "love" in it. But 
 Edna had fancied it becaitse there was in it a feel- 
 ing like those country Sundays: and oh! how un- 
 like the Sundays at St. John's Wood! It was some- 
 thing about — 
 
 "There the green lane descends , 
 Through which I walked to church with thee, 
 O gentlest of my friends ! 
 
 The shadow of the lindon-trees 
 
 Lay moving on the grass ; 
 Between them and the moving boughs , 
 
 A shadow, thou didst pass. 
 
 Thy dress was like the lilies, 
 
 And thy heart was pure as they : 
 One of God's holy messengers 
 
 Did walk with me that day." 
 
 And so on, and so on — sweet stray verses, which 
 all the service long "beat time to nothing" in Edna's 
 brain. A strangely simple, yet acute and tenacious 
 brain — a strangely young lieart, that in the midst 
 of all its cares could go back upon lots of silly 
 cliildisli ])oelry. Yet she did so, and recalled the 
 exact state of mind she was in when she learnt it — 
 poor little sixteen-year-old girl, brimming over with 
 romantic dreams, none of Avhicli had ever come true. 
 No, not one; nor did she expect it now: yet they
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 87 
 
 were to this day vivid as ever. And as, with a half- 
 comical application to the present, her fancy went 
 over the lines — • 
 
 "Long was the good man's sermon, 
 
 But it seemed not so to me ; 
 ' For he spake of Ruth the beautiful , 
 And still I thought of thee. 
 
 Long was the prayer he uttered , 
 
 Yet it seemed not so to me; 
 For in my heart I prayed with him , 
 
 And still I thought of thee;" 
 
 ■ — she still felt, as she remembered to have done 
 then, that it would be the summit of earthly hap- 
 piness to go peacefully to church — just such a 
 village church as this, and on just such a summer 
 Sunday morning — and sit there, with the beloved 
 of one's heart, worshipping and loving, with the 
 prayer that has its root in love, and the love that is 
 worth nothing unless it is a perpetual prayer. 
 
 "What a dear little church this is!" she whis- 
 pered to her sister as they went out. 
 
 "Very, but a rather common congregation. I 
 saw scarcely any one above the class of farmers, 
 except in the rectory pew. And did you notice a 
 bonnet there — straw, with a green trimming and a 
 wreath of pink daisies all round the face? That is 
 how I should like my bonnet, Edna. Please re- 
 member." 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 "Dr. Stedman did go to church. He sat just 
 behind us. Didn't you see him?" 
 
 "No. In truth, I had forgotten all about him."
 
 88 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Hush! there he is." 
 
 He might have overheard the remark, for he 
 passed close by the sisters, passed again with only 
 a bow — not manifesting the slightest intention of 
 stopping and speaking, like the rest of the congre- 
 gation, who lingered in friendly groups all the way 
 between the church-porch and the lich-gate. Pre- 
 sently, his long strides took him far away down the 
 road. 
 
 "What very odd manners!" remarked Letty, a 
 little annoyed. 
 
 "I think they are the manners of a gentleman 
 who has the sense not to intrude upon two ladies 
 who have neither father nor brother to make his 
 acquaintance desirable — or even possible," said 
 Edna, determined to hold to her resolution, and 
 allow no loophole of civility through which the enemy 
 might assault their little encampment, and bring 
 about that passage of arms for which Letty was 
 evidently accoutring herself — making ready for a 
 tournament Avhich, in Edna's mind, was either foolish 
 child's play, or a battle royal, for life and death. 
 
 Not that any idea of so serious a crisis struck 
 her on that bright Sunday morning. She sim])ly 
 thought that her sister wanted a bit of flirtation, and 
 was resolute she should not have it. At Avhich Letty 
 sulked a little all the afternoon, and spent a long, 
 leisurely, lazy Sunday, without referring again to 
 either Dr. Stedman or liis brother. 
 
 After tea, she insisted she was strong enough to 
 go to cluirch a second time, but recalled her wish 
 when sli(> looked out <»u the sweet Sabbath evening.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 89 
 
 "We'll take a walk instead, if you are not too good, 
 Edna." 
 
 Edna was not in the least too good. She longed 
 to be out in the green lanes, enjoying the birds' 
 Sunday hymns, and the incense of the Sunday 
 flowers, and the uplifting of the elm-trees' tall arms, 
 in a dumb thanksgiving for being again clothed 
 with leaves: all creatures, great and small, seeming 
 to feel themselves happier and merrier on a Sunday 
 than on any common day. So she brought down 
 Letty's hat — deposing the obnoxious brown bonnet 
 — wrapped her up well in a warm shawl, and went 
 out with her, having tirst cast a glance to see if the 
 opposite door was shut. It was, and the blinds were 
 down. The brothers seemed seldom or never to go 
 out of evenings. 
 
 The sisters crossed the threshold with light steps, 
 and lighter hearts. But, as they did so, the grim 
 in\'isible Woman, sitting there, laughed at them, 
 knowing she had her will — not they. 
 
 And what of the two, divided from them by just 
 a wall, on this momentous, monotonous Sunday — 
 the two young men, about whom, whether they 
 thought or not, Edna and Letty said nothing? 
 
 Julius Stedman had been terribly depressed all 
 day. There came upon him one of those moody fits 
 to which, even in health, he had been subject, and 
 which now were so severe as to try to the utmost 
 both body and mind; and the cloud did not lift off 
 for hours. Except during church-time, his brother 
 never left him, but hovered about him with a ten- 
 derness less brotherly than sisterly, alternately rea-
 
 90 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 soning and jesting, reproving and persuading, but 
 all in vain. He lay silent, shutting out daylight 
 and cheerfulness, refusing to do anything, or to suffer 
 anything to be done for him. At last, apropos of 
 nothing that William could discover, unless it was 
 the ringing of the bells and the closing of the hall 
 door, indicating the departure of somebody to even- 
 ing church, Julius said, "I should like to go out." 
 
 The doctor remonstrated. It was late — the dew 
 would soon be falling. 
 
 "What do I care? Why need I care? It will do 
 me no harm. Or if it did, what matter? You can't 
 cure me, Will, with all your cleverness. You had 
 better kill me off quick." 
 
 "How? Mention the easiest way." 
 
 "Oh, anything. I hate this shilly-shally work 
 — one day better, the next day worse. Your pro- 
 gnostications were all wrong. This place does not 
 cure me, and never will." 
 
 "Shall we go back to London?" 
 
 "Horrible! No. Besides, didn't you tell me you 
 wanted a fortnight's quiet reading before your hos- 
 pital lectures began?" 
 
 "I'll manage about that, if you would like to go 
 home. In fact, though it isn't much of a home Ave 
 have, I think we should be better off there than here." 
 
 Then, witli the contrariness of sickness, Julius 
 veered round, and argued energetically, almost 
 irritably, on the other side. 
 
 Dr. Stedman could not repress his annoyance. 
 He was a man who always knew his own mind, and 
 his brother's indecision tried him severely.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 91 
 
 "Have it which Avay you like," he said, sharply. 
 "You're as bad to deal with as any woman. Stay 
 or go — which you choose; only let me know, that 
 I may take my measures accordingly." 
 
 "As bad as a woman," repeated Julius, mourn- 
 fully. "Yes; I suppose I am. Not half a man, and 
 never shall be. Ah! I wish I had some woman 
 about me; she would pity me; she would understand 
 me. Nay, Will, don't look savage. I didn't mean 
 to vex you." 
 
 "Nor did you vex me; so don't be fancying that 
 among other nonsense," returned Will, with some 
 impatience. "Just let us try to have an ounce of 
 common sense between us. The larger matters we 
 can settle to-morrow. At present the question is. 
 Will you or "will you not go out this evening? Say 
 yes, and I'll go and fetch the chair." 
 
 "Thank you. But it's late, and it's Sunday 
 evening." 
 
 "Pshaw!" The doctor rose, searclied for his hat, 
 and was ofP in a minute. 
 
 In ten minutes more the brothers were out on 
 the cliffs, in their accustomed mode of progression, 
 along the familiar way. Doubtless, a weary life for 
 them both; an unnatural life for two young men, in 
 the very flower of their age, and both in the most 
 critical time of their career; a time when, to most 
 men, every week, every day, is of moment as regards 
 their future. Yet here they were, passing it in com- 
 pulsory idleness. No wonder both were silent, and 
 that the lovely evening did not steal into their hearts 
 as it did into those of the two young Avomen. Nay,
 
 92 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 tbeii- forced companionship seemed to throw the 
 brothers wider apart than it had done the sisters. 
 True, Will and Julius never quarrelled as Letty 
 and Edna sometimes did — bursting into a thunder- 
 storm of words, ending in tears and kisses of recon- 
 ciliation — womanish but safe. On the contrary, 
 each fortified himself behind his masculine armour 
 of steely reticence, smooth and cold, feeling all the 
 while that within it he was a dull fellow — a solitary 
 fellow — even with his own brother beside him. 
 Svich lonely moments come to all people — before 
 marriage — (Heaven help them if they come after 
 marriage !) and it would be well if brothers and sisters, 
 fathers and mothers, recognised this fact — as a law 
 of God and necessity — that all the love of duty 
 never makes up for the love of choice. 
 
 What poor Julius was thinking of as he sat, 
 helplessly propelled along, and looked listlessly on 
 the sweet landscape that he had neither strength nor 
 heart to paint — what William felt as lie expended 
 in pushing the bath-chair the manly strength that 
 would have enjoyed a good twenty-mile walk across 
 the island, geologizing, botanizing, and what not,— 
 must remain alike unknown. Certainly, neither 
 brother communicated his feelings to the other. They 
 were uncommonly dull company this evening, and 
 that was the truth of it. 
 
 The cliffs were deserted — all (he good people 
 at church. Only, just as they were returning home, 
 Julius pointed out two figures standing on the cliff- 
 top, sharp against the sky.
 
 THE -woman's kingdom. 93 
 
 "Two ladies, I think they are — a very tall oue 
 and a very short one." 
 
 "It is probably the Misses Kenderdine. They 
 were out, for I saw their door open as we passed." 
 
 "Hurry back then, Will. Don't let us meet 
 them. They wiU only look at me with theii* con- 
 founded pity. I hate being pitied. Make haste." 
 
 The doctor did his best, but there were some 
 steep little ascents and descents which required all 
 his skill and strength. In one of these his pilotage 
 failed. In turning past a large stone, the wheel 
 came off, and the chair to])pled over, landing its oc- 
 cupant ignominiously on the grass. 
 
 A slight, almost ridiculous accident, if it had not 
 happened to an invalid, and to such a nervous in- 
 valid as Julius Stedman. As it was, his brother 
 Avas seriously alarmed. But Julius, whose state could 
 never be counted on with certainty for five minutes 
 at a time, seemed to take his disaster easily enough. 
 Nay, the little excitement roused his mobile tempera- 
 ment into healthy vitality. He sat on the grass, 
 perfectly unhurt, and laughing heartily. 
 
 "I never knew such a 'spill.' Done as cleverly 
 as if you had done it on purpose — perhaps to at- 
 tract the attention of those ladies. They evidently 
 think we have had a frightful accident. See how 
 they are running to the rescue — that is, the little 
 one; the other is too majestic to run. She stalks 
 down, Juno-like, to offer her benign aid to me, 
 miserable mortal! And, by Juno, what a gait she 
 has! Never did I see such a handsome creature! 
 No, I thank you. Miss Kenderdine," added he, when,
 
 94 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 a second time led away by her impulse of kindness, 
 Edna came hastily down to the scene of disaster. 
 "No, I'm not killed — not this time. But I seem 
 always destined to fall into sudden misfortune and 
 have you appearing to me as my guardian angel." 
 
 Edna did not laugh, for she caught sight of 
 Dr. Stedman's anxious face, and guessed at once 
 that the position of affairs was rather serious ■ — the 
 chair useless, no carriage attainable, the dews be- 
 ginning to fall heavily, and they on the cliff-top, at 
 least a quarter of a mile from home, with an invalid 
 who could not walk a step and was too heavy to be 
 carried. 
 
 "What is to be done?" said she in a low tone 
 to the elder brother, while the younger, oblivious of 
 his disaster, became absorbed in conversation with 
 Letty, who, arriving stately and slowly, had just 
 begun to hope, with condescending interest, that he 
 had not hurt himself. "I see how things are. What 
 must we do?" repeated Edna, in unconscious fra- 
 ternity. "Shall I run and fetch assistance?" 
 
 "No; it woiild only annoy him. Besides, there 
 is no need. We must get him to walk home. I 
 know he could walk if he tried." 
 
 Edna looked amazed — a little indignant. 
 
 "You think me cruel, I know; but we doctors 
 are obliged to be so to some sort of patients. And 
 it is the real trutli. He is quite capable of walking 
 a short distance, and I sliall be rather thankful for 
 anytliing that forces liim to acknowledge it. Am I 
 very hard-hearted. Miss Kenderdine?" 
 
 "I cannot say. I suppose you know best."
 
 I'liE avoman\s kingdom. 95 
 
 This little conversation was carried on con- 
 fidentially over the broken wheel, but there was no 
 time for discussion. Every minute the air grew 
 more chill and the grass more dewy, the tide was 
 rising, and the wind that came in with it began to 
 blow freshly from over the sea. To healthy people 
 it was delicious — intoxicating in its pure saltness; 
 but to the invalid, though apparently he did not 
 notice it, being engaged talking to Letty, who was 
 sympathising with him in the most charming manner 
 — to a person in Julius Stedman's condition, Edna 
 felt that it might be most dangerous. 
 
 "We must get him home somehow at once, and 
 I see but one way," said the doctor, with a pro- 
 fessional air, decisive and dictatorial, which at any 
 other time would have amused Edna. "Will you 
 help me, Miss Kenderdine? If I support him on 
 one side, will you let him lean on you at the other? 
 I am sorry to trouble you — very sorry; but it is a 
 case of emergency. And if, as you said, you are 
 
 accustomed to sick-nursing " 
 
 "Yes; and I think I can do this. I have almost 
 carried Letty many a time. Though I am small, I 
 am very strong." 
 "I can see that." 
 
 "But how will you persuade him to Avalk?" 
 "Will you suggest it? It might come better, 
 coming from a stranger. Try, please; for we have 
 not a minute to lose." 
 
 Nobody knew exactly how it was done — 
 probably by the invalid's being taken by surprise, 
 and left no chance of refusing; but it was done.
 
 06 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 Between his two supporters, Julius was marched re- 
 morselessly on, half in jest, half in earnest, across 
 the smootli down. And then, no doubt, it was rather 
 pleasant to be assisted in his steps by one charming 
 girl, and have his progress watched and encouraged 
 by another. Be that as it may, Julius did walk, 
 with the assistance of his brother and Miss Kender- 
 dine, the whole quarter of a mile; and when he 
 reached the garden gate, so far from being exhausted, 
 as they had exj)ected, he turned, with his coun- 
 tenance all beaming — 
 
 "How cleverly I have done it! I do think I 
 shall get back the use of my limbs. Will said so 
 — - but I never believed him. I say, old fellow, 
 don't be too conceited — but you were right, after 
 all." 
 
 The doctor smiled. Edna saw something in his 
 face that touched her even more than the delighted 
 excitement in that of the invalid. 
 
 "Oh, if you knew what it feels like!" said Julius 
 to Edna. "To have been tied and bound for weeks 
 to that chair — to feel as if one should never walk 
 any more — and now, I do believe, if you would let 
 me, I could walk quite alone." 
 
 "Try," said the doctor, comjDosedly. 
 
 "Oh, do try!" cried Edna, eagerly. 
 
 The young man did try, and succeeded. Very 
 tottering ste])s they were, and not many of them, for 
 Ills brother would not allow it; but he did really 
 walk — alone and unassisted. And only those who 
 know what it is to be deprived for a season of the 
 power of locomotion, or of any power which we use
 
 THE woman's ktxgdom. 97 
 
 so commonly unci thanklessly that we need to lose 
 it before we fully recognise its blessing, can under- 
 stand the ecstasy Avhich lit up every feature of the 
 poor fellow's face, and was reflected in the faces 
 round about him. 
 
 "I declare I am just like a baby — a baby first 
 learning to walk," said Julius, viewing first one leg 
 and then the other — patting them and looking down 
 upon them as if they were quite new acquaintances 
 or lately recovered friends. ''Don't laugh at me, 
 please, you two young ladies. Will, there, won't; 
 he knows I always was a simpleton. And then I 
 have been so ill, and the future has looked so terrible. 
 Don't laugh at me." 
 
 "We are not laughing," said Letty, whose good 
 nature had really been roused — so much so as to 
 forget herself, her "unfortunate appearance," and the 
 sense of dignified propriety due to both, in the warm 
 human interest of the moment. "Indeed, we are 
 exceedingly glad to see you better — are we not, 
 sister?" 
 
 But Edna was so moved that she was actually 
 crying. 
 
 "How good you are!" said Julius, taking her 
 hand, and pressing it warmly. While the whole 
 four stood silent, something — they knew not what 
 — ^seemed to come creeping roiuid them like an at- 
 mosphere of peace, and kindliness, and mutual sym- 
 pathy — compelling them into friendliness, whether 
 they willed it or not. And as they stood at the 
 front door, the soft, grey, misty twilight was drawing 
 a veil over the sea, and the robin-redbreast, from his 
 
 The \\':,iiiaii's Kingdom J. 7
 
 98 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 nest at the cliff's edge, gave one or two good-niglit 
 warbles over his mate and his little ones, and the 
 first star came out, large and bright, in the zenith. 
 This sunshiny Sunday was making a good end. 
 
 "Come in now," said the doctor, for nobody 
 seemed disposed to stir. "At least, we must. 
 Julius, let us say good-night, with many thanks, to 
 these two ladies. Are you quite Avarm, lad? I wish 
 I had ordered a fire." 
 
 "Ours is lit," said Edna-, and, with a glance at 
 her sister, she did on the impulse of the moment 
 what seemed a simple thing enough, yet was the 
 very last thing, which, an hour ago, she would have 
 thought of doing — the thing of all others she had 
 determined not to do — she invited the brothers into 
 their parlour. 
 
 "It will prevent all danger of a chill," said the 
 little woman, turning to Dr. Stedman with quite a 
 grandmotherly air. "Your room will be warm in 
 half-an-hour; and, meantime, he can lie down. We 
 have a capital sofa; indeed, Mrs. Williams told us 
 it was better than yours, and we offered to ex- 
 change." 
 
 "Do not think of such a thing," said Julius. "I 
 shall soon be well; indeed, I feel myself well now. 
 It is astonishing what good this evening has done 
 me; or rather, not astonishing — a little society 
 cheers one up so much. Well, I may go in and sit 
 by that nice blazing fire!" 
 
 "By all means, since these ladies are so kind." 
 
 The doctor helped his brother in, made him 
 comfortable on the sofa ("and how cleverly he did
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 99 
 
 it too — wouldn't lie be uncommonly good to his 
 wife, that great big fellow!" remarked Letty after- 
 wards), and then was about departing, as if he hesi- 
 tated to consider any one but Julius included in the 
 invitation. 
 
 Letty said, in her most stately but most fascinat- 
 ing manner, "she hoped Dr. Stedman would remain." 
 So he remained. 
 
 It was the first evening they ever spent together 
 — these four; indeed, it could scarcely be called an 
 evening, for Dr. Stedman carried his brother away 
 remorselessly at the half-hour's end. Its incidents 
 were unimportant, and its conversation trivial, as is 
 usually the case "with first acquaintance. Only in 
 books, seldom or never in real life, do youths and 
 maidens dash into the Romeo-and-Juliet passion of 
 the instant. Now-a-days people — even young 
 people — rarely fall in love; they walk into it de- 
 liberately and open-eyed, or slip into it gradually 
 unawares. It is all one, 
 
 "Come he slow, or come he fast, 
 It is but Love that comes at last." 
 
 The only notable foct in the evening's enter- 
 tainment Avas that, ere he sat down, Dr. Stedman 
 pointedly took out his card, and laid it before the 
 sisters. 
 
 "I think, Julius, before we intrude upon these 
 ladies' hospitality, we ought to tell them who and 
 what we are. Miss Kenderdine, my brother is an 
 artist, and I am a doctor. There are only us two; 
 our parents are long dead, and we never had a sister. 
 
 7*
 
 100 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 We live at Kensington, wliere I have taken the 
 practice of the late Dr. Young." 
 
 "We knew Dr. Young," replied Edna, with very 
 considerable relief; "and we heard he had a high 
 opinion of the gentleman who afterwards succeeded 
 him. That must have been yourself?" 
 
 Dr. Stedman bowed. "Tlien," he added, smiling, 
 and in his smile the not quite good-tempered look 
 before spoken of certainly disapj)eared — "then I 
 may be considered to have given in our certificates 
 of character?" 
 
 "Not mine," observed Juliiis from the sofa. "I 
 may be a most awful scape-grace for all these ladies 
 know; a ne'er-do-weel, hanging round the neck of 
 my respectable brother like a millstone or an old 
 man of the sea; a poor artist — disreputable, as 
 most poor artists are. Nobody can expect the luxury 
 of a character unless he is rich; and I am as poor 
 as a church mouse, I assure you, Miss Kenderdine. 
 All our money came to Will there; his grandfather's 
 pet he was, and he left him his heir, but lie halves 
 it all with me, and " 
 
 "Julius, what nonsense you are talking!" 
 
 "I always do talk nonsense when I'm haj^py; 
 and I am so happy to-night I can't think what has 
 come over me. So now you know all about us, Miss 
 Kenderdine; and you may eitlier make friends of us 
 or not, as you choose." 
 
 "Say, rather, acquaintance; friendship does not 
 come all in a minute," said the doctor, regarding 
 his brother, who sat looking so handsome and bright, 
 pleasant and loveable, with something of the expres-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 101 
 
 sion, deprecating yet proud, with wliicli a parent 
 regards a spoiled child, for whom he feels bound to 
 apologize, but cannot quite see the necessity, and 
 thinks everybody must secretly be in as admiring 
 an attitude as himself In fact, the big brother's 
 evident admiration of the sickly one struck the sisters 
 as something quite funny — if it were not so touch- 
 ing and so unusual in its way. 
 
 "Well, then — Ave being tAvo lonely brothers, 
 and they two sisters, thrown together in this not too 
 lively abode — will they kindly permit our acquaint- 
 ance, after the pattern of Qixeen Elizabeth's cele- 
 brated letter — 'Yours as you demean yourselves, 
 
 Edna Kenderdine and ' I have not heard your 
 
 sister's Christian name." 
 
 "Letty — Letitia," said the owner of it, looking 
 downwards. 
 
 This was the only information vouchsafed to the 
 two guests by their hostesses. As Letty said, after 
 they were gone, the two brothers, who were evidently 
 gentlemen, must have seen at a glance that she and 
 her sister were . gentlewomen ; and any further facts 
 were quite unnecessary. 
 
 Edna thought so too-, still, with her exceeding 
 candour, and perhaps a lurking pride, she Avould 
 have liked them — the doctor especially — to 
 know that Letty and herself were only school- 
 mistresses.
 
 102 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Why do people take to loving one another — or 
 liking, the customary and safe preliminary to loving? 
 And how does the love first come? Through what 
 mysterious process do young folks pass, by steps 
 rapid or slow, according to their circumstances and 
 their own idiosyncrasy, out of the common world — 
 the quiet, colourless, everyday world — into that 
 strange new paradise, from which there is no re- 
 turning? No, none! We may be driven out of it 
 by an angel with a flaming sword — • out into the 
 wilderness, which we have to till and keep, changing 
 its thorns and thistles into a respectable ordinary 
 garden — we may pass out of it, calmly and happily, 
 into a new earth — safe, and sweet, and home-like; 
 but this particular paradise is never found again — 
 never re-entered more. 
 
 Why should it be? All life is a mere progres- 
 sion — a pressing on and on; and death itself — 
 we Christians believe — but a higher development 
 into more perfect life. Yet as nothing good is ever 
 lost, or wholly forgotten, one can imagine even a 
 disembodied spirit sitting glorious before the great 
 white throne, recalling with a tender sweetness the 
 old earthly heaven which was first created by that 
 strange state of mind — that intoxicating idealisa- 
 tion of all things within and without, as if every- 
 thing were beheld with new eyes — the eyes of a
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 103 
 
 creature new -Lorn; the condition which silly folk 
 call being "in love." 
 
 It has its sillinesses — no one will deny; its 
 "weaknesses and madnesses; but it has its divine 
 side too, chiefly because then, and not till then, 
 comes the complete absorption of self into some 
 other being dearer and better, higher and nobler 
 than oneself, or imagined so; which is the founda- 
 tion of everything divine in human nature. If men 
 or women are ever good at all — ever heroic, un- 
 selfish, self-denying — they will be so when they 
 first fall in love; and if the love be worthy, that 
 goodness will take root and grow. As a tree is 
 known by its fruits, so a noble love, be it happy or 
 unhappy, ennobles a whole life. And I think no 
 friends — no parents especially — if they are real 
 friends, real parents, true as tender, generous as 
 wise, can see two young people standing at the en- 
 chanted gate without a prayerful thankfulness; ay, 
 thankfulness. For it is the gate of life to them, 
 whatever be the end. 
 
 Neither friends nor kindred stood by these four 
 to watch or warn them, to help or hinder their foot- 
 steps, in entering this unknown paradise ; they walked 
 into it deliberately day by day and hour by hour, 
 from that first Sunday night Avhen Julius Stedman 
 lay on the Misses Kenderdine's sofa, talking to one 
 and gazing at the other, with all his heart, both in 
 his lips and eyes. 
 
 He was the gi-and foundation of the acquaintance, 
 the corner-stone which seemed to make it all safe 
 and right and natural. The sacredness of sickness
 
 104 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 was upon him and around liim; for after the exertion 
 of that night he fell back considerably, and for some 
 days made his brother and his friends — in the 
 anxiety they grew into friends — very miserable 
 about him. The Misses Kenderdine were by no 
 means strong-minded women, to fly in the face of 
 the Avorld, and make acquaintance with, or suffer 
 themselves to be made acquaintance by, any stray 
 young man they happened to meet. Tliey had a 
 keen sense of decorum; but then it Avas the decorum 
 of true womanliness, the piire simplicity of soul which 
 sees no harm in things not really harmful; the sweet 
 dignity of maidenhood, which, feeling that, known 
 or unknown, met or unmet, there can be to any 
 woman but one man alive who is a possible husband, 
 regards the rest of the sex with a gentle kindness, 
 — a placid indifference — nothing more. 
 
 At least such was Edna's feeling, and by the 
 strong influence of her character she turned Letty 
 into the same, or an imitation of the same, for the 
 time being. After a long consultation betAveen them- 
 selves, the sisters agreed that it Avould be ridiculous 
 in them to stand aloof from the j^oor sick fellow in 
 the next room, and his grave, anxious brother, who 
 seemed wholly absorbed in nursing him, because 
 these hapjjened to be young men, and they them- 
 selves young women; and no regular introduction in 
 society had taken place between them. 
 
 "But we know all about them nevertheless," 
 argued Edna. "I quite well remember, tliat when 
 I was urged to send for Dr. Young to you, and found 
 he had died suddenly, his successor was very highly
 
 THE woman's KIXCtDOM. 105 
 
 recommended. I forgot, or I took no notice of the 
 name, but it must have been this same Dr. Stedman. 
 Had I sent, and liad he attended you in the fever, 
 how very curious it would have been!" 
 
 "Yes, indeed. Suppose we tell him Avhat a near 
 escape he had of either killing or curing me!" 
 
 "I think not, dear. As you say, there is no 
 necessity for them to know anything about us. I do 
 not mean even to tell them that we live at Ken- 
 sington; but it is a satisfaction to know something 
 about Dr. Stedman, and it warrants us in being kind 
 and civil to that poor sick boy — he looks no more 
 than a boy. And how very ill he seemed this 
 morning!" 
 
 So Edna reasoned with herself, most simply and 
 sincerely, as she drifted — they all drifted — into 
 that frank association, which, the first barrier being 
 broken, was sure to come to j)eople living in the 
 same house, having nothing in the world to do but 
 to go out and come in, and watch each other's goings 
 out and comings in; innocently enough; but yet 
 with a certain interest that appeared to rouse into 
 new life the whole party, esjjecially the invalids. 
 
 For Letty was a little of an invalid again. She 
 took a slight chill; and Dr. Stedman prescribed for 
 her, in a very reticent, formal, but still pleasant and 
 friendly way, which further helped on the intimacy 
 between them. And as for Edna, her chief friend, 
 as she openly declared, was Julius. He took to her 
 suddenly and completely, with a kind of childlike 
 dependence, so aftectionately persistent that there 
 Avas no withstanding it. Soon it became quite natural
 
 106 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 for liim to send for her in to sit with liim when his 
 brother Avent out, to beg her to accompany them 
 and "see that nothing happened to him" in the daily 
 walk that Will shortly began to insist upon, first 
 round the garden, and gradually lengthening, to the 
 total abolition of the bath-chair. He talked and 
 jested with her alternately, for she was a merry as 
 well as earnest little woman: he tyrannized over her, 
 making her see to his little comforts, which she did 
 in quite a motherly, or, rather, as he declared, a 
 "grandmotherly" way, sometimes he even presumed 
 to tease her, but all in such frank, boyish, and yet 
 perfectly gentlemanly fashion, that the result was 
 inevitable — Edna grew exceedingly fond of him. 
 
 "Fond of" is the word-, that quiet tenderness 
 which generally, though not always, precludes the 
 possibility of anything more. 
 
 This firm alliance, open and free, between Julius 
 and Edna, made sociability progress amazingly, and 
 threw the two others together more than Letty's 
 sister would, a week ago, have dared to risk. But 
 then. Dr. Stedman, the more she knew of him, 
 seemed the more unlikely to fall into the ranks of 
 Letty's victims, being exceedingly sedate and middle- 
 aged for his years, and apparently not at all dis- 
 posed to make the best of his opportunities. He 
 would walk by Letty's side for hours without de- 
 taching her from the others, or talking to her very 
 much himself; he seemed to like looking at her as 
 any man might, and that was all. Obviously he was 
 incapable of flirtation, did not seem to understand 
 what it meant, carried on his conversations with both
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 107 
 
 sisters in the most open, grave, and courteous earnest; 
 as Letty declared, it "would have been quite impos- 
 sible for her to set up a flirtation with him, even 
 had she tried. 
 
 To do her justice , she did not try. She too was 
 subdued by the shadow of heavy sickness, Avhich she 
 had so lately escaped, and which still hung over the 
 two brothers. Her sympathy was aroused; she thought 
 less of herself and her charms, and was consequently 
 more charming than she had ever been in her life. 
 
 Did the young men see and feel it — this extra- 
 ordinary fascination, half of soul, half of sense, which 
 breathes in the very atmosphere of a beautiful woman, 
 if she has anything womanly in her at all? ■ And 
 Letty had a good deal. There was in her not a 
 particle of ill-nature, that "envy, malice, and all un- 
 charitableness ," which women have sometimes sore 
 need to pray against. She was always gentle and 
 ladylike, and exceedingly sweet-tempered. If, taken 
 altogether, her character was chiefly made up of 
 negatives, her beauty was a thing so positive that it 
 supplied all deficiencies, at least for a long time. In 
 the eyes of men, probably for always. 
 
 Julius had his wish , and made sketches in- 
 numerable, sometimes open, sometimes surreptitious, 
 of her flexible figure and lovely face. Of evenings 
 he used to repeat them from memory, and make 
 compositions out of them. Dr. Stedman was called 
 out of his medical researches for endless criticism 
 upon Miss Kenderdine — (they always called her 
 Miss Kenderdine, and her sister Miss Edna, though 
 why, nobody knew) — as the gardener's daughter —
 
 108 THE woman's KINGiJOM. 
 
 "Gowned iu pure white that fitted to the shape, 
 Holding a branch to fix it back;" 
 
 Miss Keuderdine in mediaeval costume, as Kreim- 
 hild in the Niebelungenlied; and Miss Kenderdine, 
 with her hat off and seaweeds in her hair, standing 
 with the tide rolling- in upon her feet, musing pen- 
 sively with head bent forward ■ — a veritable Ariadne 
 of Naxos. 
 
 "That's the best, I think," said Will, whose 
 comments were always sharp, short, and decisive. 
 
 "I think so too," replied the other, lingering 
 over his work with an artist's delight. "There is a 
 wonderful deal of the Ariadne in her face naturally." 
 
 "Yes. The features are of the true Greek type 
 — sensuous without being sensual, pleasure-loving, 
 but not coarse. She ought to marry a rich man, and 
 then she Avould do uncommonly well." 
 
 "Probably, so would most women," said Julius, 
 with some sharpness. 
 
 "Will did not notice this, but still gazed in keen 
 criticism on the sketch. 
 
 "Yes, it's like her; a true Ariadne face — which, 
 Theseus being lost, would take up very comfortably 
 with Bacchus." 
 
 "Horrible! horrible! Will, I never knew such a 
 matter-of-fact, abominably blunt fellow as you. You 
 might as well say that if Miss Kenderdine Avcre dis- 
 a))j)ointed in love she would take to drinking." 
 
 "She might. I have seen some terrible cases of 
 female Bacchants under similar circumstances. But 
 I bog her pardon. You need not tell her I s.'\id so. 
 Besides, she is never likely to be disappointed in
 
 THE woman's KINCiDOM. 109 
 
 love," added the doctor, as lie put down the sketch- 
 book, and ceased the conversation. 
 
 It was the only conversation that, during the first 
 fortnight, the brothers held concerning their new 
 acquaintances. Indeed, there was not time, for, ex- 
 cept the late working hours — after nine or ten 
 o'clock — scarcely an hour passed when the oc- 
 cupants of the two parlours did not meet, or sit wait- 
 ing, expectant of the chance of meeting. Not that 
 any walks or talks were purposely or systematically 
 ])lanned — still they always seemed to come about, 
 and at length both sides ceased to make reasons or 
 excuses for them. 
 
 "We are just four good children out on a holi- 
 day," said Julius one day, when they were all sitting 
 eating their combined lunch on a primrose bank, 
 with larks singing madly overhead, the salt wind 
 freshening all their faces, and far away the outline 
 of white cliffs and blue sea stretching into infinite 
 brightness — infinite peace. "Just mere children, 
 Miss Edna, and oh, do let us enjoy ourselves as 
 such. We shall have hard enough work \Ahen we 
 get home." 
 
 "That is true," said Edna, with a half sigh; 
 and she too gave herself up to the enjoyment of the 
 moment. 
 
 None the less enjoyable that it was, strangely 
 enough, the first time in their lives that these two 
 young women had had any frank association Avitli 
 men — good , pleasant clever men. To Letty the 
 opposite sex had always come in the form of lovers 
 — not always satisfactory, especially in the amazing
 
 110 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 plurality with which they had blessed Letitia Kender- 
 dine; while Edna knew nothing about men at all. 
 That cheerful frank intercourse — social, moral, and 
 intellectual — which, within limits, does both sexes 
 a world of good, was to her not only a novelty, but 
 an exceeding pleasure. She was not a stupid woman 
 — indeed it sometimes dawned upon her that she 
 might have a few brains of her own, since she could 
 so readily enter into the talk of these two men, who 
 both, in their way, were undoubtedly clever men, — 
 thoughtful, original, and with no folly or coarseness 
 about them, such as would at once have repelled 
 these maidenly gentlewomen. Neither of the brothers 
 attempted in the slightest degree to make love to 
 Letty, and both treated Edna with a grateful polite- 
 ness, a true heart courtesy, tliat did her own heart 
 good. For, she argued to herself, it was not like 
 the civilities shown to Letty, it must be sincere, since 
 it was paid to a poor, plain little schoolmistress. She 
 had taken care to let their new friends know they 
 were only schoolmistresses , teaching tradesmen's 
 daughters in a London suburb — so much, no more 5 
 and she had noticed with approbation that neither 
 brother had made the slightest further inquiry; nor 
 had their respective jjositions in life, or pecuniary 
 affairs, or family connexions, been again referred to. 
 Thus tliey 8j)ent day after day, these four young 
 people, in as complete an Arcadia as if there were 
 no such a place as the common working-day world, 
 no sound of which ever reached them. This little 
 Isle of Wight, which was not then what it is now, 
 but far simpler, far lonelier, far lovelier — though it
 
 THE woman's kingdom. Ill 
 
 is lovely yet — miglit have been an enchanted island 
 of the sea — an Atlantis, such as weary mariners 
 sailed after in vain — where no one toiled and no 
 one suffered: no one hated, or quarrelled, or betrayed; 
 but all was sweet content, within and without, and 
 where these young peojile seemed to live a life as 
 innocent as the birds, and as peaceful as the prim- 
 roses. 
 
 Letty even forgot her new bonnet. Edna never 
 took that expedition to Ryde; it seemed a pity to 
 waste a day thereon, and for two Sundays more the 
 sisters Avent contentedly to church in their winter's 
 clothes. But it was spring in both their hearts all 
 the while. 
 
 This was, they agreed, the most wonderful spring 
 they had ever seen. The primroses were so large; 
 the hyacinths so innumerable and intensely blue, 
 and the trees came into leaf with such especial 
 luxuriance — all in a minute, as it seemed; some 
 days you could almost see them growing. On the 
 twenty-ninth of May the oaks were full enough to 
 shelter a moderate-sized King Charles, and on a 
 certain country walk Edna discussed eagerly with 
 Julius that celebrated historical fact, which he had 
 tried to illustrate by a large cartoon in the previous 
 year's exhibition at Westminster Hall. 
 
 "Did you compete for the prizes?" she asked, 
 walking along by his side, while the others went on 
 ahead, this being their usual way, becaiise Letty 
 disliked being hindered with Julius's still feeble steps. 
 
 "I tried, but I failed. I always do fail, some- 
 how."
 
 112 THE woman's KIXGDOM. 
 
 "That is hard. I wonder why it should be so, 
 when you are so very clever," said Edna, innocently. 
 
 "Perhaps other people — Will especially — think 
 me cleverer than I am. I don't know how it is," 
 added he, mournfully, "but I always seem to miss 
 the exact point of success. I get near it, but I never 
 touch it. I am afraid my life has been — always 
 will be — a failure." 
 
 "Many lives are, that do not show it outside," 
 replied Edna, more sadly than her wont. For she 
 too, on that sunshiny day, with all things luring her 
 to enjoyment, had become slightly conscious of some- 
 thing lacking. Did the others feel it, she wondered? 
 Was Letty there as happy as she looked, when 
 stopping with Dr. Stedman on the summit of the 
 steep cliff, up which she herself had managed to 
 climb with Julius, indulging him with the fancy that 
 he was helping her, while, in reality, she supported 
 him^ — ^a common fiction! 
 
 "My brother and your sister have got on ahead 
 of us," said Julius, pausing, breathless. "They seem 
 capital friends. He admires her extremely, as, in- 
 deed, everybody must do. She is the most beautiful 
 person we ever saw." 
 
 "Yes; all pcojdc say that. I am quite used to 
 hearing it now." 
 
 "Of course you are, which must be my ajDology 
 for making the remark. The fact is so patent that it 
 ceases to be either a compliment or an impertinence." 
 
 "It would never be an impertinence, said as you 
 say it," replied Edna, gently, for she saw that the 
 young man was a little annoyed in some way. "Yet,
 
 THE woman's KIXGDOM. 113 
 
 I will confess, you are the first person whom I ever 
 lieard call my sister handsome without its making 
 me angry." 
 
 "What an odd observation to make! How it 
 might be misinterpreted!" 
 
 "How? That it meant I was jealous of her? 
 Oh, how very funny! What an altogether ridiculous 
 idea! Me jealous of my sister because she is so 
 beautiful, while I myself am — Avell!" 
 
 "Never mind what you are," interrupted Julius, 
 blushing, for he felt he Avas treading on the very 
 bounds of incivility. 
 
 "Oh, but I do mind a little. I confess I should 
 like to have been handsome, too. But as it can't be, 
 it can't be; and I have now grown quite used to 
 being plain." 
 
 Julius was fairly puzzled. It had been his trial, 
 and a not inconsiderable one, in his acquaintance, 
 or friendship, or whatever it was, with this sweet 
 little woman, that she was so plain. To his keen 
 artist eye, her want of complexion, of feature, and 
 general brilliancy of effect, was sometimes really 
 annoying. She would have been so attractive, so 
 original, so altogether charming — if only she had 
 been a trifle prettier. 
 
 Of course, he would not betray this, and yet he 
 did not like to tell an untruth, or to pay an idle 
 compliment, which the candid Edna could at once 
 have discovered and scorned. A bright thought 
 struck him, and he compromised Avith it. 
 
 "Plain, are you? Everybody doesn't think so; 
 Will doesn't. The very first night he saw you, 
 
 The Woman's Kingdom. I. 8
 
 114 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 when you sat adding up your accounts, he told me 
 what a nice face you had." 
 
 "Did he? I am sure I am very much obliged 
 to him." 
 
 "And your sister?" continued Julius, still watch- 
 ing the other two with an intentness that might have 
 seemed peculiar, had not Edna now become ac- 
 customed to his artist way of staring — " quite in the 
 way of business," as he took care to explain. "What 
 does your sister think of Will?" 
 
 "I really cannot tell," replied Edna, smiling. 
 "In truth, I have not the slightest idea." 
 
 She might have added — once she thought she 
 would and then despised herself for svich an un- 
 sisterly betrayal — that Letty's thoughts did not 
 much matter, as she was not in the habit of thinking 
 long or seriously about anything. So she held her 
 tongue, and the brotherly earnestness of her com- 
 panion's next speech shamed her still more. 
 
 "I hope she likes him; she ought, — you both 
 ought, for I am sure he likes you, which is a great 
 deal to say for Will, as he does not usually get on 
 with young ladies. Yet he is a wonderfidly good 
 fellow. Miss Edna; a fine fellow in every way, as 
 you would say if you knew him." 
 
 "I have no doubt of it." 
 
 "Brothers don't often pull together as well as 
 we do, yet we are very unlike, and I have tried 
 him not a little. When I get strong — if I ever do 
 get strong — " 
 
 "You certainly will. Dr. Stedman said so to 
 me only yesterday."
 
 THE WOMAK^S KINGDOM. 11 
 
 "AVliat was lie saying about me? You see, Will 
 and I don't talk much either of or to one another, 
 and I should like to know what he could find to 
 say." 
 
 Edna hesitated a moment whether or not to 
 repeat this, the only bit of confidence that had ever 
 passed between herself and the doctor, and which 
 had at once amazed and jjnzzled her for the time: 
 it seemed so very uncalled for. Then she thought 
 she would tell it, for it could do no possible harm, 
 from its anxious brotherly afi'ectionateness. And it 
 might even do good, by rousing Julius out of that 
 langiiid indifference to the future, that loose grasp 
 of life, with its duties and pleasures alike, which 
 was such a sad, nay, a fatal thing to see in a young 
 man of his age. 
 
 "It was very little your brother said-, only he 
 told me his firm conviction that you had no real 
 disease, or feebleness of constitution. You would be 
 all right if you could once be stirred up out of your 
 melancholy and moody fits by any strong feeling of 
 any kind: made to take care of your health, work 
 hard, though not too hard, and finally marry and 
 settle." 
 
 "Did he say that? Did he want me to marry?" 
 
 "Very much indeed," replied Edna, laughing. 
 "No match-making mother was ever more earnest 
 on the subject. He said that a good wife would be 
 the best blessing which could happen to you, and 
 the sooner it happened the better." 
 
 "Were those his words? Exceedingly obliged 
 to him!"
 
 116 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 From the tone, Edna could hardly tell whether 
 the young man was pleased or vexed, but he blushed 
 extremely: so much so that she began to blush too, 
 and to question within herself whether she had not 
 gone a little too far, and in her sublime grand- 
 motherly indifference, had overstepped the boundary 
 of maidenly propriety. But at this instant the other 
 two returned, and the conversation became general. 
 
 Edna was glad Dr. Stedman had called hers "a 
 nice face." It showed that he liked her, and she 
 had rather thought the contrary. Scarcely from any 
 expression or non-expression of the fact, but because 
 he did not seem a person who would easily like 
 anybody. Yet, once liking, his fidelity would be 
 sure for life; or so at least fancied Edna in her 
 simple speculations ujion character; in which she was 
 fond of indulging — as most people are who do not 
 take very much trouble in thinking about themselves. 
 She must think about something, and not being given 
 to lofty or abstract cogitations, she usually thought 
 about her neighbours; and for the remainder of that 
 walk about that special neighbour who had been her 
 first acquaintance of the two; since Dr. Stedman had 
 more than once declared, when they were jesting on 
 the subject, that his interest in the sisters dated from 
 the moment when he had been moved to such deep 
 sympathy by Miss Edna's arithmetical woes. 
 
 She was glad he liked lier, for she liked him; 
 his keen intelligence, less brilliant than Julius's, 
 but solid, thorougli, and clear; liis honesty of sjDeech 
 and simple, un])roteiiding goodness — especially his 
 unvarying goodness to his brother, over whom his
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 117 
 
 anxiety and liis patience seemed endless; and Edna 
 could understand it all. In the few private talks 
 tliat she and Dr. Stedman had together, their con- 
 versation seenaed naturally to turn upon the nearest 
 subject to both their hearts — their respective sister 
 and brother. 
 
 Was he falling in love with Letty, or fearing 
 Julius would do so? Either chance was possible, 
 and yet improbable-, nay, in the frank pleasure of 
 their intercourse Edna had almost ceased to dread 
 either catastrophe. Now as they turned homewards 
 along the cliff, she noticed that Dr. Stedman looked 
 exceedingly thoughtful — almost sad — that he either 
 walked beside Letty, or when she was walking with 
 his brother, he followed her continually with his eyes. 
 
 No wonder. Edna thought she had never seen 
 her sister so irresistibly attractive. If half the men 
 in the world were on their knees at Letty's feet, it 
 Would have scarcely been unnatural. And yet — 
 and yet — 
 
 Edna did not like to own it to herself — it seemed 
 so unkind, unsisterly, still, if, as a perfectly unpre- 
 judiced person, she had been asked, was Letty the 
 sort of girl likely to carry away captive Dr. Sted- 
 man, she should have said no. She should have 
 thought a man with his deep nature would have 
 looked deeper, expected more. With all her love 
 for Letty, Letty would have been the last person in 
 the world whom, had she been a man, she, Edna, 
 would have fallen in love with; if Dr. Stedman had 
 done so, she was a little surprised and — • it must be 
 confessed — just a trifle disappointed.
 
 118 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 Chiefly so, she argued internally, because she 
 felt certain that Letty would never look at him, 
 and then it might tiirn out such an unlucky business 
 altogether — the Avorst yet; for the doctor was not a 
 person to take things easily, or to be played fast 
 and loose with, as was unfortunately rather Letty's 
 way. Edna felt by instinct that he would never be 
 made a slave of — much more likely a tyrant. And 
 if he should be very miserable — break his heart 
 perhaps — that is, supposing men ever do break their 
 hearts for love — Edna would have been so very 
 sorry for him. 
 
 She watched him closely all the way home. She 
 did not even ask him to come in to tea, as both 
 brothers seemed half to expect, and as had been 
 done more than once before the quartette started to- 
 gether for their evening ramble. Nevertheless, one 
 was arranged — to look at a wreck which had been 
 washed ashore the previous winter, and which Julius 
 wished to make into a sketch for a possible picture. 
 And, though there was some slight opposition from 
 Edna who thought the walk would be too long for 
 Letty, and from Dr. Stedman, for the same reason 
 as regarded his brother, Julius was obstinate, and 
 carried his point. 
 
 So they parted; for the brief parting of an hour 
 or two, which scarcely seemed such at all. 
 
 Letty threw off her hat and lay down, with both 
 her arms over lier head, in an attitude exquisitely 
 lovely. 
 
 "I am quite tired, Edna; that doctor of yours 
 does take such gigantic strides, and he talks on
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 119 
 
 such solid subjects , it makes one's head ache to 
 listen to him. I wonder why he chose me to walk 
 with and not you; but these wise men like silly 
 Avomen. I told him so. At least I owned I was 
 silly; but of course he didn't believe it." 
 
 "Of course not. But what was he talking 
 about?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing particular," said Letty, with a 
 slightly conscious air. "Men all talk alike to me, I 
 fancy." 
 
 Edna asked no more questions. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "Will, do you mean to sit over your books all 
 afternoon? Because if you do I'll not wait for you 
 any longer, but take myself oflf" at once." 
 
 "Where? Why, were you waiting?" 
 
 "Don't pretend that you have forgotten," said 
 Julius with some of his old irritability. "We were 
 to walk as far as the wreck: and imless we start in 
 good time the tide will have risen, and we shall not 
 be able to pass the point; Avhich would be uncom- 
 fortable for ladies." 
 
 "Did the ladies decide to go? I thought Miss 
 Edna rather objected." 
 
 "Miss Edna's objections were overrided. I arranged 
 the matter." 
 
 Will smiled. 
 
 "Yes — I did. I'll not have her and you always
 
 120 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 getting your own way. I must have mine sometimes. 
 I'm not your patient now, Will, and I have just as 
 much right to enjoy myself as you have." 
 
 "Did anybody say you hadn't, my boy? Who 
 hinders you? Carry out any plans you fancy, provided 
 they do you no harm." 
 
 The doctor rose, put a mark in his book, and 
 prepared to clear his "rubbish" away. 
 
 "So, Will, you are going. I thought you Avould 
 go, though you made believe to be so indifferent 
 about it." 
 
 The elder brother flushed up; for there was an 
 undertone of rudeness in the younger's speech not 
 exactly pleasant. But Will was too well accustomed 
 to the painful irritability of illness to take much heed 
 of it. He only said, — 
 
 "For many reasons, I don't consider the expedi- 
 tion very wise; but if these young ladies are deter- 
 mined to go, they will be all the better for having 
 a man to take care of them." 
 
 "They will have one in any case. I am going. 
 No need for you to trouble yourself concerning them." 
 
 The sharpness of this sjjeech made Dr. Stedman 
 turn round. He was not a man of many words; 
 nor yet a very sensitive man — that is, he felt deep 
 tilings deeply and strongly, but the small annoyances 
 (jf life passed harmlessly over him. He had always 
 had something else to think about than himself, and 
 the way people treated him. For this reason he often 
 did not even see when Julius was annoyed; but he 
 did now, and turned upon his brother a full, frank, 
 good-natiu'cd smile.
 
 THE woman's KIXGDOM. llH 
 
 "What are you vexed about, lad? Do you 
 want to liave your friends all to yourself? If so, 
 I'll stay at home and read. I dare say Miss 
 Edna " 
 
 "Stop there. Yes, Will, I am vexed with you, 
 and I have good reason to be." 
 
 "Out with it, then." 
 
 "What business had you to go talking to Miss 
 Edna about me? Why open up to her my weak- 
 nesses and follies, which nobody knows but you, and 
 you only too much ? Why should these two girls — for 
 whom, mind you, I care not a straw, except that 
 they are pleasant companions — be taught to criticise 
 me and pity me?" 
 
 "Pity you?" 
 
 "Of course they do — a poor fellow, — with not 
 a halfpenny of money, and no health to earn it — 
 wholly dependent upon you." 
 
 "That is not quite true." 
 
 "Yes, it is; and they must despise me — any 
 girls would. There are times when I despise my- 
 self" 
 
 This outburst was so sudden, vehement, and in- 
 consequent, as it seemed, that Will Stedman, though 
 tolerably used to the like, scarcely knew what to an- 
 swer. W^hen he did, he spoke gently, as to a pas- 
 sionate child who was talking at random. 
 
 "Indeed, Julius, I had no thought of annoying 
 
 ^xj'ou in what I said , which was , in truth , very 
 
 little-, and I felt I was saying it to a friend of yours, 
 
 who was quite welcome to repeat it to you if she 
 
 chose."
 
 122 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "But why talk to her at all about me? What 
 are my concerns to her? If a friend, she isn't an 
 old friend. Three weeks ago we had neither of us 
 set eyes on either of these women. I wish we never 
 had. I wish to heaven we never had!" 
 
 Will replied a little seriously, — 
 
 "I cannot exactly see the reason of that. They 
 are both pleasant enough, and, so far as we can judge, 
 very excellent women." 
 
 "I hate your excellent women!" 
 
 "You don't hate these, though, I am sure of that," 
 said the doctor smiling. "Be content; I have done 
 you no harm. I said not a word against you to 
 Miss Edna — quite the contrary." 
 
 "But I repeat, why speak of me at all?" 
 
 "Perhaps I had my own reasons." 
 
 "What are they? I insist upon knowing!" and 
 Julius rose and walked up to his brother with a dra- 
 matic air. 
 
 Will was comparing his watch with the clock on 
 the mantel-piece. He paused to wind up and set both 
 before he replied, — 
 
 "Since you compel me to s])eak — and perhaps, 
 after all, it's best — it has struck me more than 
 once, Julius, that you would very well like — and, 
 moreover, it would not be a bad thing for you — 
 to spend your life, as you have pretty well spent 
 the last fortnight, with such a sweet, good, sensible 
 little woman as Edna Kenderdine." 
 
 Julius throw himself back into his chair, and 
 burst into shouts of laughter. 
 
 "Was that it? And so you were saying a good
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 123 
 
 word for me to her ! What a splendid idea ! You are 
 the queerest old fellow that ever was." 
 
 "But, Julius " 
 
 "Don't interrupt. Do let me have my laugh 
 out. It's the best joke I've ever heard. You 
 dear old boy! What on earth have I ever done or 
 said to make you take such a ridiculous notion into 
 your head!" 
 
 The doctor looked a little bewildered. 
 
 "It did not seem to me so ridiculous; and, at 
 any rate, it is hardly civil to the lady to suppose so. 
 She is about your own age — perhaps a year older; 
 but that would not signify much. She is healthy, 
 bright, active, clever " 
 
 "But, oh, so plain. Now, Will, in the name of 
 common sense, do you think I ever could fall in love 
 with a plain woman?" 
 
 The childlike directness and solemnity of the ap- 
 peal broke down Will's gravity — he, too, laughed 
 heartily. 
 
 "Never mind! I've made a mistake, that's all. 
 I don't know whether I'm glad or sorry. But still 
 it is a mistake; and I beg your pardon — Miss 
 Edna's too — for mixing up her name in such talk. 
 I am certain no idea of the kind has ever entered 
 her head." 
 
 "I trust not — nay, I am sure not," replied 
 Julius, warmly. "She's not an atom of a flirt; — 
 quite different from any girl I ever knew — the best, 
 kindliest, sweetest little soul. But I would as soon 
 think of marrying her — or, indeed, of marrying 
 anybody — "
 
 124 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Wait till your time comes. Meanwhile, shake 
 hands, and forget all this nonsense. Only, if ever 
 you do fall seriously in love, come and tell it to your 
 brother. He'll help you." 
 
 "Will he?" said Julius, eagerly. 
 
 But at that moment, sweeping past the window, 
 plainly visible from beneath the half-drawoi Venetian 
 blind, came the violet folds of Letty Kenderdine's 
 well-known gown — the much-abused winter gown 
 which had in its old age been complimented, and 
 sketched, and painted, as making the loveliest bit 
 of colour, and the most charming drapery imagin- 
 able. 
 
 "There they are: we must not keep them wait- 
 ing," said Dr. Stedman, as he took his hat and went 
 out at once to the sisters. 
 
 The three sat talking very merrily on the bench 
 at the cliff-edge for several minutes , till finding 
 Julius did not appear, his brother went in to look 
 for him. He had started off alone, leaving word 
 that they were not to wait — he might possibly join 
 them on their return. 
 
 "Perhaps he wants to make a sketch or two 
 alone," said the doctor, apologetically. "We will go 
 without him." 
 
 "Certainly," said Letty, who was a little tenacious 
 of the disrespect of delay. "Di*. Stedman, your bro- 
 ther is a most peculiar person; — and I never can 
 understand peculiar people." 
 
 "He is peculiar in the sense of being much 
 better tlian other people," replied the doctor, who - — 
 whatever he might say to Julius — never allowed a
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 125 
 
 word to be said against him, which idiosyncrasy at 
 once amused and touched Edna. With the new 
 idea she had taken concerning him, she resolved 
 to watch William Stedman rather closely, and when, 
 before they had gone half a mile, Julius turned up, 
 and attached himself very determinedly, not to her 
 side, but her sister's, she fell into the arrangement with 
 satisfaction. It would give her opportunities of ob- 
 serving more narrowly this big, quiet, grave man, 
 who was not nearly so easy to read as his volatile, 
 impulsive, but clever, affectionate brother. 
 
 So they descended the steep cliffs, and walked 
 along underneath, just below high-water mark, where 
 the wet sand was solid to their feet; a little party 
 of two and two, close enough to make neither seem 
 like a tete-a-tete^ and yet sufficiently far apart to 
 give to each a sense of voluntary companionship. 
 But the conversation of neither seemed very serious-, 
 for Letty's gay laugh was continually heard, and 
 Edna made, ever and anon, sundry darts from her 
 companion's side to certain fascinating islands, formed 
 by deeper channels intersecting the damp sand, and 
 which had to be crossed through pools of shallow 
 sea- water, crisped by the wind into wavelets pretty 
 as a baby's curls. 
 
 Edna could not resist them; but whenever Dr. 
 Stedman fell into silence — which he did rather 
 often — she quitted him, and ran with the pleasure 
 of a child to stand on one or other of these sand 
 islands, and watch the long white rollers creeping 
 in, eacff after each, as the tide kept steadily ad- 
 vancing upon the solitary shore.
 
 126 THE ^yoMAN^s kingdom. 
 
 Very solitary it was, with the boundless sea be- 
 fore, and the perpendicular wall of cliff behind, and 
 not an object to break the loneliness of the scene, 
 except that loneliest thing of all — the stranded 
 ship. She lay thei-e, fixed on the rock where she 
 had struck, with the waves gradually reaching her 
 and breaking over her, as they had done night and 
 day, at every tide, for six months. 
 
 Julius regarded her with his melancholy poet's 
 eyes. 
 
 "How sad she looks — that ship! • — Like a lost 
 life." 
 
 "And what a fine ship she must have been! 
 How very stupid of the sailors to go so near the 
 rocks!" 
 
 "How very stupid of anybody to do anything 
 which is not the best and wisest thing to do! Yet 
 we all do it sometimes. Miss Kenderdine." 
 
 "Eh, Mr. Stedman? Just say that again, for 
 I did not quite understand. You do say such clever 
 things, you know." 
 
 " That was not clever, so I need not say it again. 
 Indeed I liad bettor hold my tongue," replied Julius, 
 looking full at Letty Kenderdine, with the sudden 
 thirst of a man who is seeking for perfection, has 
 been seeking for it all liis days, and cannot find it. 
 And Letty , with those blue eyes of hers — the sort 
 of azure blue, large and limpid, which look so like 
 heaven, except for a certain want of depth in them, 
 discoverable not suddenly, ])ut gradually — Letty 
 
 " Gave a side glance and looked down ,"
 
 THE WOMAN'S KINGDOM. 127 
 
 In her long accustomed way, thinking of nothing 
 in particular, unless it was that the sands were wet, 
 and she had only her thin boots on. 
 
 She meant no harm, poor girl! She was so 
 accustomed to be admired, to have everybody look- 
 ing at her as Julius Stedman looked now, that it 
 neither touched nor startled her, nor affected her in 
 any way and the look, after all, was only mo- 
 mentary, the young man returned immediately to 
 his ordinary lively conversation — the chatter of 
 society — at which he was much more apt than his 
 brother, and which Letty could respond to much 
 more easily than to serious talk. Indeed she had 
 felt the change of companionship to-night rather an 
 advantage, and had exerted herself to be agreeable 
 accordingly: though no one could say she smiled on 
 one brother more sweetly than on the other; for it 
 was not her habit either to feel or to show pre- 
 ference. She just went smiling on, like the full 
 round moon, on all the world alike, as she had 
 nothing to do but to smile. Did any hapless wight 
 fall, moonstruck — who was to blame? Surely not 
 Letitia Kenderdine. 
 
 And, meanwhile, Edna too had been enjoying 
 lierself very much, in a most harmless way, clam- 
 bering over little rocks, and trampling on seaweed 
 — the bladders of which "go pop," as the cliildren 
 say, when you set your feet upon them — a pro- 
 ceeding Avhich, I grieve to say, had amused this 
 young schoolmistress as much as if she had been 
 one of her own pupils. Finally, by Dr. Stedman's 
 assistance — for the rocks were slippery, and she
 
 128 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 was often glad of a helping hand — she gained the 
 furthermost and most attractive sand-island, and 
 stood there, with her hat off, letting the wind blow 
 in her face, for the sake of health and freshness; 
 she was not solicitous about bloom or complexion. 
 
 Yet Edna was not uncomely. There was a 
 fairy grace about her tiny figure, and an unaffected 
 enjoyment in her whole mien, which made her in- 
 teresting even beside her beautiful sister. While 
 she was looking at the sea. Dr. Stedman stood and 
 looked at her, with a keen observation — inquisitive, 
 and yet approving — approving rather than ad- 
 miring; not at all the look he gave to Letty. And 
 yet, perhaps, any woman would rather have had it 
 of the two. 
 
 "You seem to enjoy yourself very much. Miss 
 Edna. It does one good to see any person past 
 childhood, who has the faculty of being so thoroughly 
 happy." 
 
 "Did I look happy? Yes, I think I am: all 
 the more so because my happiness, my seaside plea- 
 siire, I mean, will not last long. I want to get 
 the utmost out of it I can , for we go home in three 
 days." 
 
 "So soon? When did you settle that?" 
 
 "At tea-time to-day. We must go, for we have 
 spent all our money, and worn out all our clothes. 
 Besides, it is time we were at home." 
 
 "Have you taken all precautions about fumigat- 
 ing, whitewasliing, &c., that I suggested?" (For 
 she had told him about the fever, and asked his ad- 
 vice, professionally.)
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 129 
 
 "Yes; our house is qxiite safe now, and ready 
 for us. And most of our pupils Lave promised to 
 come back. We shall be in harness again directly 
 after the holidays. Ah!" she sighed, hardly know- 
 ing why, except that she could not help it, ''I have 
 need to be happy whilst I can. We have a rather 
 hard life at home." 
 
 "Is it so?" Then, after a pause, "Forgive me 
 for asking, but have you no father living, no 
 brothers? Are there only you two?" 
 
 "Only we two." 
 
 "It is a hard life then. I have seen enough of 
 the world to feel keenly for helpless women, left to 
 earn their livelihood. If I had had a sister, I would 
 have been so good to her." 
 
 "I am sure you would," said Edna, involun- 
 tarily. And then she drew back uneasily. Was it 
 possible that he could be thinking of her in that 
 light — as a sister by marriage, who might one day 
 take the place of a sister by blood? Was that the 
 reason he was so specially kind to her? 
 
 She could not have told why — but she did not 
 quite like the idea, and her next speech was a little 
 sharp, even though sincere. 
 
 "Yet, on the other hand, however kind a brother 
 may be, it is great weakness and selfishness in a 
 sister to hang helplessly upon him — d]-aining his 
 income, preventing him from marrying, and so on. 
 If I had ten brothers, I think I would rather work 
 till I dropped than I would be dependent on any 
 one of them." 
 
 "Would you? But would that be quite right?" 
 
 The Wijinan's Kingdom. 1, J
 
 130 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Yes, I think it would be right — for me, at 
 least. I don't judge others. Let all decide for 
 themselves their own affairs, but, as for me, if I 
 felt I was a burthen upon any mortal man — father, 
 
 brother, or well, perhaps husbands are different, 
 
 I have never thought much about that — I believe 
 it would drive me frantic." 
 
 "You independent little lady!" said Dr. Stedman, 
 laughing outright. "And yet I beg your pardon," 
 he added, seriously. "I quite agree with you, I 
 don't see why a woman should be helpless and idle, 
 any more than a man. And a woman Avho, if she 
 has to earn her daily bread, sets bravely to work 
 and does it, without shrinking, without complaining, 
 has my most entire respect and esteem." 
 
 "Thank you," said Edna, and her heart warmed, 
 and the fierceness that was rising there sank down 
 again. She felt that she had found a friend, or the 
 possibility of one, did circumstances ever occur to 
 bring them any nearer than now. Which, however, 
 was not probable, since, as to these Stedmans, she 
 had determined tliat when they parted — they parted^ 
 that this brief intimacy, which had been so pleasant 
 while it lasted, should become on both sides as com- 
 pletely ended as a dream. Indeed, it would be 
 nothing else. The sort of association which seemed 
 80 friendly and natural licre, would, in their Ken- 
 sington life, be utterly impossible. 
 
 "Things are hard enough even for us men," said 
 Dr. Stedman, taking up the thread of conversation 
 where Edna had dropped it. "Work of any sort is 
 so difficult to obtain. There is my brother now.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 131 
 
 He drifted into the career of an artist almost by 
 necessity, because to get any employment such as 
 he desired and was fitted for, was nearly impossible. 
 Even I, who unlike him, have had the advantage 
 of being regularly educated for a profession — would 
 you believe it, I have been in practice three years 
 and have hardly made a hundred pounds. If I had 
 not had a private income — small enough , but just 
 sufficient to keep Julius and me in bread and cheese 
 — I think we must have starved." 
 
 "So he has told me. He says he owes you 
 everything — more than he can ever repay." 
 
 "He talks great nonsense. Poor fellow, if he 
 has been unsuccessful, it has neither been through 
 idleness nor extravagance. But he has probably 
 told you all about himself. And you, I find, have 
 told him what I yesterday said to you concerning 
 him." 
 
 "Was I wrong?" 
 
 "Oh, no. If it had been a secret, I should 
 have said so, and you would have kept it. You 
 look like a woman who could keep a secret. If I 
 ever have one, I will trust you." 
 
 What did he mean? Further hints on the matter 
 of sisterhood? Edna earnestly hoped not. Perhaps 
 the fatal time had passed over, since the people who 
 fell in love with Letty usually proposed to her sud- 
 denly — in two or three days. Now Dr. Stedman 
 had been with her a whole fortnight — every day 
 and all day long — and, so far as Edna knew, 
 nothing had happened. If the sisters went away on 
 Thursday, nothing might happen at all. 
 
 9*
 
 132 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 She dismissed lier fears aud went on with her 
 talk, in which the two others soon joined; the 
 pleasant, desultory talk, half earnest, half badinage, 
 of four young- people allied by no special tie of 
 kindred or friendship, bound only by circumstance 
 and mutual attraction — that easy liking which had 
 not as yet passed into the individual appropriation, 
 which with the keen delights of love creates also 
 its bitter jealousies. In short, they stood, all of 
 them, on the narrow boundary line of those two 
 conditions of being which make hapless mortals — 
 •especially men — either the best or the worst com- 
 pany in the world. 
 
 They strolled along the shore, sometimes two 
 and two, sometimes falling into a long line of four, 
 conversing rather than looking around them — for 
 there was nothing attractive in the evening. A 
 dull, grey sky, and a smooth, leaden-coloured sea, 
 had succeeded those wonderful effects of evening 
 light which they had night after night admired so 
 much-, yet, still, they went on walking and talking, 
 enjoying each other's company, and not noticing 
 much beyond, until Dr. Stedman siuldenly stopped. 
 
 "Julius, look there; the tide is nearly round the 
 point. We must turn back at once." 
 
 Letty gave a little scream. "Oh, what will 
 happen! Why did we go on so far? Edna, how 
 could you " 
 
 "It was not your sister's fault," said Dr. Sted- 
 man, catching the little scream and coming anxiously 
 over to Letty 's side. "I was to blame; I ought to 
 have noticed how far on the tide was."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 133 
 
 "But oh, what will happen? Edna, Edna!" 
 cried Letty, wringing her hands. 
 
 "Nothing will happen, I trust, beyond our 
 getting our feet wet. Perhaps not that, if we walk 
 on fast. Will you take my arm?" 
 
 "No, mine," said Julius, eagerly, and his brother 
 dreAv back. 
 
 "Do not be alarmed. Miss Edna; but indeed I 
 Bee you are not," said the doctor, striding on, while 
 she kept pace with him as well as she could with 
 her little short steps. "Let me see — it is new moon 
 to-day and a spring-tide; that will make it high- 
 water at twenty minutes past six — and it is nearly 
 six now. We have just these twenty minutes to get 
 round the point. Can you do it? There is no real 
 danger. At worst we shall only get a good wetting; 
 though that would be bad for our two invalids." 
 
 "Very bad. Letty — Mr. Stedman — please 
 come on as fast as you can." 
 
 "Yes," added Will, "do get on. Don't lag 
 behind." 
 
 "Get on yourself, and leave us alone." 
 
 "That isn't your habit, I'm sure, Miss Edna," 
 said Dr. Stedman. 
 
 "What isn't my habit?" 
 
 "To get on by yourself and leave others to 
 get on alone, as my brother has just advised my 
 doing." 
 
 "Oh, he did not know what he was saying." 
 
 This was all that passed between them, as, 
 walking as rapidly as they could, though often 
 turning uneasily back to watch the other two, the
 
 134 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 elder brotlier and sister readied the point where a 
 "race," that is, a line of rocks reaching right up to 
 the cliff, made the sea more turbulent, and where 
 the cliff itself, jutting out a considerable way, caused 
 the distance between it and high-water mark to be 
 scarcely more than a foot — in spring-tides nothing 
 at all. It was not exactly a dangerous place — not 
 in calm weather like this. At most a wade up to 
 the knees would have carried a wayfarer safely 
 beyond the point: but still it was an uncomfortable 
 place to pass, and when Dr. Stedman and Edna 
 reached it they found the worst had come to the 
 worst — there was no passage remaining, or merely 
 a foot or two left bare, temporarily, at each ebb of 
 the wave. 
 
 There were no breakers, certainly; nothing more 
 threatening than the long slow curves of tide that 
 came creaming in, each with a white fringe of foam, 
 over the smooth sand: but whenever they met, not 
 sand but rocks, they became fiercer, and dashed 
 themselves about in a Avay that looked anything but 
 agreeable, and rendered footing among the seaweed 
 and sharp stones extremely difficult. 
 
 Edna and Dr. Stedman exchanged looks — un- 
 easy enough. 
 
 "You see?" 
 
 "Yes, I see. It is very unfortunate." 
 
 "Will she be frightened, think you? Your sister, 
 I mean. She seems a timid person." 
 
 "Rather, and she dislikes getting wet. How fast 
 the tide comes in! Is there no chance of climbing a 
 little way up the cliff?"
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 135 
 
 "No, the clififs are perpendicular. Look for 
 yourself." 
 
 But tlie doctor looked uneasily back, his mind 
 full of the other two. 
 
 "How slow they are! If they had only been 
 here now, we might cross at once and escape with 
 merely wet feet. There would be just time. Julius!" 
 he shouted, impatiently. "Julius, do come on!" 
 
 "He cannot," Edna said, gently. "Remember, 
 he cannot walk like you." 
 
 "Thank you, you are always thoughtful. No; 
 I suppose there is no help for it. We may as well 
 sit down and wait." He sat down, but started up 
 again immediately. "I beg your pardon. Miss 
 Edna, but would you like to go on? I can easily 
 take you past the point and return again for them. 
 Will you come?" 
 
 "No, oh no." And she, too, sat down on the 
 nearest stone, for she was very tired. 
 
 It was full five minutes before Julius and Letty 
 reached the point, and by that time the sea was 
 tiimbling noisily against the very foot of the cliff. 
 Julius at once saw the position of things, and turned 
 anxiously to his brother. 
 
 "Will, this is dreadful. Not for us, but for 
 these ladies. What shall we do?" 
 
 Letty caught at once the infection of fear. 
 
 "What is so dreadful? Oh, I see. Those Avaves, 
 those waves! they have overtaken us. I shall be 
 drowned. Oh, Dr. Stedman, tell me — am I going 
 to be drowned?" 
 
 And she left Julius's arm and clutched the
 
 136 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 doctor's, her beautiful features pallid and distorted 
 with fear. Also with something else besides fear, 
 which betrays itself in most people at a critical 
 moment like this, when there av.^akes either the in- 
 stinct of self-preservation, said to be nature's first 
 law, or a far diviner instinct, which is not always — 
 yet thank God, it is often — also human nature. 
 
 Dr. Stedman was an aciite man — no true doctor 
 can well be otherwise. He said little, but he ob- 
 served much. Now, as he looked fixedly down upon 
 the lovely face, a curious change came over his own. 
 More than once, without replying, he heard the 
 piteous cry — sharp even to querulousness — "Shall 
 I be drowned?" and then gently released himself 
 from Letty's hold. 
 
 "My dear Miss Kenderdine, if any of us were 
 drowned there, would be four. But I assure you 
 nothing so tragical is likely to happen. Look at 
 the line of seaweed all along the shore*, that is high- 
 water mark; further the tide will not advance." 
 
 "But the point, — the point?" 
 
 "Even at the point the water is not more than 
 six inches deep. It could not drown you." 
 
 "But it will spoil my boots, my dress, every- 
 thing. Oh, Edna, how could you be so foolish as 
 to let us come?" 
 
 Edna indeed did feel and look very conscience- 
 smitten, till Dr. Stedman said, rather crossly — 
 
 "There is no use regretting it, or scolding one 
 another; we were all equally to blame. Don't let 
 us waste time now in chattering about it." 
 
 "No, indeed. Let us get home as quickly as
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 137 
 
 we can. Letty, take hold of me, and try to wade 
 through." 
 
 But Letty, tall as she Avas, shrank in childish 
 terror from the troubled waters, and several more 
 precious minutes Avere wasted in conquering her 
 fears and finding the easiest passage for her across 
 the sands. Meantime tlie line of seaAveed began to 
 be touched — nay, drifted ominoi;sly higher and 
 higher by each advancing AvaA-e, until Dr. Stedmau 
 noticed it. 
 
 "Look!" he said in an undertone to Edna. "We 
 must go on Avithout losing more time. It AA'ill be 
 most difficult walking or rather wading. Hoav shall 
 we divide ourselves?" 
 
 "I'll go with Letty." 
 
 "No, that is scarcely safe, two women together. 
 Shall I take your sister, and you my brother? you 
 can assist him best. Poor felloAv! this is more 
 dangerous for him than for any of us. Julius," he 
 called out, "don't waste more time; take Miss Edna's 
 arm and start." 
 
 Julius turned sharply upon his brother — 
 
 "Excuse me, but we haA^e already made our 
 plans. I take charge of Miss Kenderdine." 
 
 Will Stedman once more drcAv back, and Avould 
 not interfere, but he looked seriously uneasy. 
 
 "What must be done?" he said again to Edna. 
 "I wanted you to walk with Julius; — you could 
 take care of him — and she cannot. She will only 
 hang helplessly upon him, and drag him back, when 
 he ought to get on as fast as possible." 
 
 "Is there danger — real danger?"
 
 138 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Not of drowning, as your sister fears," with a 
 slight curl of Will's not too amiable mouth; "but of 
 my brother's getting so wet and exhausted that his 
 rheumatism may return. Look, he is staggering 
 now, the tide runs so strong. What can I do?" 
 
 "Go and help them. Get them safe home first." 
 
 "But you?" 
 
 "I cannot cross by myself; I see that," said 
 Edna, looking with a natural shiver of dread at the 
 now fast-rising waves. "But I can stay here. I 
 should not be afraid, even if I had to wait till the 
 tide turns." 
 
 "It will turn soon; but it will not be low- water 
 till midnight." 
 
 "Even so, no harm will come to me; I can walk 
 up and down here, or else I could clamber to that 
 ledge on the cliff, where the cliflp-swallows are build- 
 ing. The highest tide could not reach me there. 
 I'll try it. Good-bye." 
 
 She sj^oke cheerfully, reaching out her hand. Dr. 
 Stedman grasped it warmly. 
 
 "You are the bravest and most unselfish little 
 woman I ever knew." 
 
 "Then you cannot have known many women," 
 said she laughing, for somehow her courage rose. 
 "Now, without another word, go." 
 
 He went, but returned again in a minute to find 
 poor Edna clambering ])ainfully to her ledge in the 
 rock. He helped lier up as well as he could, then 
 she again urged liim to leave her. 
 
 "I cannot. It seems so wrong — quite cruel." 
 
 "It is not cruel — it is only right. You cannot
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 139 
 
 help all three of us; and you and I are far the 
 strongest. We must take care of those other two." 
 
 "I have taken care of him all his life, poor 
 fellow!" 
 
 "That I can well believe. Hark! is not Letty 
 screaming? Oh, Dr. Stedman, never mind me. For 
 pity's sake, go on and see them safe home." 
 
 "I will," said he, "and then I'll come back for 
 you only, let me see you safe first. One step more. 
 Put your hand on my shoulder. You're all right 
 now?" 
 
 "Quite right, and really very comfortable, con- 
 sidering." 
 
 "This will make you more so, and I don't 
 need it." 
 
 He took off his coat and threw it up to her, 
 striding off before she had time to refuse. 
 
 "Miss Edna!" and to her great uneasiness she 
 saw him looking back once more. "You are sure 
 you are not afraid?" 
 
 "Not a bit. Oh, please go!" 
 
 "Very well, I am really going now. But I'll 
 never forget this day." 
 
 Edna thought the same.
 
 140 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Edna sat on her ledge of rock, to the great dis- 
 comfiture of the cliflP-swallows, for a length of time 
 that appeared to her indefinite. She had no means 
 of measuring it, for the very simple reason that the 
 sisters only had one reliable watch between them, 
 and, when it gave her no trouble, Letty usually 
 wore it. Now, in her long, weary vigil, Edna's mind 
 kept turning regretfully and with a childish pertina- 
 city to this watch, and wishing she had had the 
 courage — she did think of so doing once, and he- 
 sitated — to borrow Dr. Stedman's. It would have 
 been some consolation, and a sort of companion to 
 her, during the hour or two she should still have to 
 wait before the tide went down sufficiently for her 
 to round the point, with Dr. Stedman's help. But 
 the evening began to close in, and still there was 
 no sign of him. 
 
 She was not exactly alarmed: she knew that the 
 liighest spring-tide could never reach the ledge where 
 she sat — where tlic birds' marvellous instinct had 
 placed their nests. Her position was safe enougli, 
 but it was terribly lonely, and when niglit came 
 rapidly on, and she ceased to distinguish anything 
 except the momentary flashes of foam over the sea 
 — for the wind had risen, and tlie white horses had 
 begun to appear — she felt sadly forlorn — nay, 
 forsaken. The swallows ceased their fluttering and
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 141 
 
 chattering, and becoming accustomed to her motion- 
 less presence settled down to roost-, soon the only 
 sound she heard was the waves breaking against the 
 rocks below. Slie felt thankful for this little nook 
 of safety — damp and comfortless, as it was : growing- 
 more so, since, Avith the darkness, a slight rain be- 
 gan to fall. 
 
 Edna drew Dr. Stedman's coat over her shoulders, 
 as some slight protection to her poor little shivering, 
 solitary self: thinking gratefully how good it was of 
 him to leave it, and hoping earnestly he had got 
 home safely, even though in ignominious and dis- 
 creditable shirt-sleeves. And amidst all her dreari- 
 ness, she laughed aloud to think hoAv funny he would 
 look, and how scandalised Letty would be, to see 
 him in such an ungentlemanly plight, and especially 
 to walk with him through the village. But while 
 she laughed, the moral courage of the thing touched 
 her. It was not every gentleman who would thixs 
 have made himself appear ridiculous in one lady's 
 eyes for the sake of pure kindness to another. 
 
 And then, in the weary want of something to 
 occupy her mind and to pass the time away, she fell 
 into vague speculations as to how all this was to 
 end: whether Dr. Stedman really wished to marry 
 Letty; whether Letty would have him if he asked 
 her. One week would show; since, after Thursday, 
 circumstances would be so completely changed with 
 them all that their acquaintanceship must, if mere 
 acquaintance, die a natural death. No "gentleman 
 visitors" could be allowed by the two young school- 
 mistresses; so that even though the Stedmans lived
 
 142 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 within a mile of them — which fact Edna knew, 
 though they were not aware she knew it — still they 
 were not very likely to meet. People in and near 
 London often pass years without meeting, even 
 though living in the next street. And if so — if 
 this association, just as it was growing quite plea- 
 sant, were thus abruptly to end — would she be 
 glad or sorry? 
 
 Edna asked herself the question more than once. 
 She could not ansAver it, even to her own truthful 
 heart. She really did not know. 
 
 But she soon ceased to trouble herself about that 
 or anything; for there came upon her a feeling of 
 intense cold, also — let it not disgrace her in poet- 
 ical eyes, this healthy-framed and healthy-minded 
 little woman! — of equally intense hunger: during 
 which she had a vision of the bread and cheese and 
 beer lying on the parlour-table, so vivid and tanta- 
 lising that she could have cried. She began to agree 
 with Dr. Stedman that it was rather cruel to have 
 left her here — at least for so long — so much 
 longer than she had anticipated. 
 
 Surely they had all got home safe by this time. 
 Nothing had happened — nothing was likely to 
 happen; for she had seen them with her own eyes 
 cross safely the perilous point and enter upon the 
 stretch of level sand. Witli a slightly sad feeling 
 she had watched the three black figures moving on 
 — two together and one a little apart — till they 
 vanished bcliind a turn in (lie cliff. Beyond that, 
 notliing could be safer — though it was a good long 
 walk.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 143 
 
 "And that young man is weak still,"' thought 
 Edna, compassionately. "Of course he could not 
 ■vA'alk quickly; and Letty never can. Besides, when 
 she learnt I was left behind, she might have been 
 unwilling to go home without me." 
 
 But while making this excuse to herself, Edna's 
 candid mind rejected it as a fiction. She knew well, 
 that with all her good nature, Letty was not given 
 to self-denial: being one of those theoretically vir- 
 tuous people who are content to leave their heroisms 
 to be acted out by some one else. But the doctor: 
 he was a man — a courageous and kindly man, too. 
 He surely would never leave a poor, weak woman 
 to spend the night upon this dreary ledge. 
 
 "It is such dangerous walking in this darkness 
 and among all these rocks. Suppose he has tried it, 
 and some accident has happened to him! I wish I 
 had told him not to come. Rather than any risk to 
 him, I would have sat here till daylight." 
 
 And with a kind of vague terror of "something 
 happening" — such terror as she had never felt con- 
 cerning any one except Letty — nay, with her very 
 slightly, for in their dull, peaceful lives had occurred 
 none of those sudden tragedies which startle life out 
 of its even course, and take away for ever the sense 
 of security against fate — Edna sat and listened; 
 straining her ears in the intense stillness until the 
 sensation became actual pain. 
 
 But she heard nothing except the lap-lap of the 
 tide going down — either it wafe going down, for it 
 sounded fainter every minute, or else she herself 
 was sinking into a state of sleepy exhaustion, more
 
 144 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 dangerous than any danger yet. For if she fainted, 
 or droj)ped asleep, she might fall from her narrow 
 seat. She thought, should he come and find her 
 there, lying just at his feet, with a limh broken, or 
 otherwise seriously injured, how very sorry Dr. Sted- 
 man would be! 
 
 All these fancies came and went, in every form 
 of exaggeration, till poor Edna began to fancy her 
 Avits were leaving her. She drew herself as far back 
 against the rock as jiossible, crouching down like a 
 child, leant her head back, and quietly cried. Then 
 excessive di'owsiness came over her: she must, for 
 some minutes at least, have actually fallen asleep. 
 
 She Avas roused by hearing herself called: in her 
 confused state she could not think where or by whom; 
 and her tongue was paralysed and her limbs frozen 
 just as if she had the nightmare. 
 
 "Miss Edna — Miss Edna!"' the shouting Avent 
 on, till the clifiFs echoed with it. "Where are you? 
 Do ansAver — only one Avord!'' 
 
 Then the A-oice ceased, and a light like a glow- 
 Avorm began to Avander up and down the rocks be- 
 low. Edna tried to call, l)ut could not make herself 
 heard. The avIioIc tiling seemed a kind of fever- 
 dream. 
 
 At length, sitting Avherc she Avas, she felt a warm 
 hand touch her. She uttered a little cry. 
 
 "You arc alive," some one said. "Thank God!" 
 
 Though she knew it was Dr. Stedman, and tried 
 her utmost to aj)pear the brave little AA^oman he had 
 called her, Edna's strength failed. She could not 
 answer a word, but fell into a violent fit of sobbing,
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 145 
 
 in the which the doctor soothed her as if she had 
 been a child. 
 
 "There now. Never mind crying — it will be 
 a relief. You are quite safe now, I have come to 
 fetch you home. Oh, if I could but have got back 
 here a little sooner!" 
 
 And then Edna was sufficiently her natural self 
 to ask him eagerly if any harm had befallen Letty 
 or his brother — if they were both safe at home? 
 
 "Yes, quite safe. But it was a long business. 
 Twice I thought Julius would have broken down 
 entirely." 
 
 "And my sister?" 
 
 "Your sister is perfectly well, only a good deal 
 frightened." 
 
 "Was she very uneasy about me?" 
 
 "Not overwhelmingly so," said Will Stedman, 
 with that sliglit hardness, approaching even to sar- 
 casm, which came occasionally into his voice as well 
 as his manner, giving the impression tliat if very 
 good, he was not always very amiable. "But come! 
 we are losing time; and I have to get you safe home 
 now. It is ten o'clock — Ave can easily pass the 
 point now: but it will be an hour's stiff walking. Can 
 you manage it? Try." 
 
 Edna stretched her poor cramped limbs, and 
 attempted to descend. But she grew dizzy; her 
 footing altogether failed her. 
 
 "I can't walk," she said, helplessly. "You Avill 
 have to leave me here till morning." 
 
 "Impossible." 
 
 "Oh, no! Indeed, I don't much mind." 
 
 'I'he Woman's Kingdom. I. 10
 
 146 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 For in her state of utter exhaustion anything — ■ 
 even to lie down there and die — seemed easier than 
 to be forced to make a single effort more. 
 
 "Miss Edna," said the doctor, with all the doctor 
 in his tone — calm, firm, authoritative — "you can- 
 not stay here. You must be got home somehow. 
 If you cannot walk, I must carry you." 
 
 Then Edna made a violent effort, and succeeded in 
 creeping, aiding herself with both hands and feet, down 
 the cliftside to the level sands. But as soon as she stood 
 upright, and attempted to walk, her head swam round, 
 and consciousness quite left her. She remembered noth- 
 ing more till she found herself lying on the sofa in their 
 own parlour, opposite a blazing fire, with Letty — 
 only Letty — sitting beside her. 
 
 "Mrs. Williams! oh, Mrs. Williams! Come here! 
 She's quite herself now. My sister — my dear little 
 twin-sister! Oh, Edna, I thouglit you were dead. 
 I have been near breaking my heart about you." 
 
 And Letty hugged and kissed her, and hung over 
 her, and gave her all manner of things to eat, to 
 drink, and to smell at — with an affection the genuine- 
 ness of which was beyond all doubt. For Letty 
 was no sham; she had a real heart, so far as it went, 
 and that was why Edna loved her. All the better 
 that it was a keen-eyed love, which never looked 
 for what it could not find, and had the sense not to 
 exact from the large, sjjleudid, o])en-bosomed Gloire 
 de Dijon, tlie rich deptlis of jierfume that lie hidden 
 in the red moss-rose. 
 
 "Yes, Letty, dear, I must have frightened you 
 very much," said slie, clinging to her sister, and
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 147 
 
 trying to recall, bit by bit, what had happened. 
 "It must have been a terrible suspense for you. 
 But indeed I could not help it. It was impossible 
 for me to get home. How did I ever get home at 
 all?" 
 
 "I don't know, except that Dr. Stedman brought 
 you. You were quite insensible when he carried you 
 in, and he had a deal of trouble to recover you. 
 Oh, it was such a comfort to have a doctor in the 
 house, and he was so kind." 
 
 "Where is he noAv?" And as Edna tried to raise 
 her head a faint colour came into her white face. 
 
 "He has just gone away. He said it was much 
 better that, when you came to yourself, you should 
 find nobody beside you but me — ^tliat he had to sit 
 up reading till about three in the morning, and if 
 you Avere worse I was to send for him — not other- 
 Avise. He told me not to frighten myself or you. 
 He was not uneasy about you at all; you would 
 soon be well, you Avere such an exceedingly healthy 
 person. Indeed, Edna, he must be a very clever 
 doctor; he seemed to understand you as if he had 
 known you all your life." 
 
 Edna smiled, but she felt too weak to talk. "And 
 you- — how did you get home?" 
 
 "Oh, it Avas a terrible business. I was so 
 frightened. And that young Julius Stedman — he 
 was no help at all. He is but a poor stick of a 
 fellow for all practical purposes, and gets cross at 
 the least thing. Still, Avhen Ave reached home, and 
 his brother started off again to fetch you, he was 
 very kind also." 
 
 10*
 
 148 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "I am sure he would be." 
 
 "He sat with me all the time we were waiting 
 for you-, I sent for Mrs. Williams, so it was quite 
 proper — but, indeed, I was too miserable to think 
 much about propriety. I only thought. What if you 
 were drowned, and I were to lose my dear little 
 sister — my best friend in all this world? Oh, 
 Edna, Edna!" 
 
 And once again Letty kissed and embraced her, 
 shedding oceans of tears — honest tears. 
 
 Mrs. Williams, too, put her apron to her eyes. 
 She had grown "mighty fond" (she declared after- 
 wards) of these two young ladies. She was certain 
 they were real ladies, though they only had one 
 bottle of wine in the cupboard, and their living was 
 as plain as plain could be. So she, too, worthy woman, 
 shed a few glad tears over Miss Edna's recovery — 
 until Edna declared it was enough to make a person 
 quite conceited to be thought so much of. And, 
 then, being still in a weak and confused state, she 
 suffered herself to be carried off to bed by I\Irs. Wil- 
 liams and Letty. 
 
 It was a novelty for Edna to be taken care of. 
 Either she was very healthy, tlinugh so fragile- 
 looking, or she did not tliink much about her own 
 health, which is often the best method of securing 
 it — but for years such a tiling had not happened 
 to her as to lie in bed till noon, and have Letty 
 waiting upon her. It was ratlier pleasant than other- 
 wise for an hour or two , until Letty began to weary 
 a little of her unwonted duties, and Edna of the 
 dignity of invalidism. So she rose, and though still
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 149 
 
 feeliug dizzy and queer, crept down-stairs, and 
 settled herself in her usual place, with her work- 
 basket beside her. 
 
 There Dr. Stedman found her, when, having 
 sent a preliminary message through Mrs. Williams, 
 he came, in the course of the afternoon, to visit his 
 patient. 
 
 His patient he seemed determined to consider 
 her. He entered the room with a due air of medi- 
 cal gravity — nay, a little more formal than his 
 customary manner — touched her pulse, and asked 
 a few unimportant questions, after a fashion which 
 entirely removed the awkwardness Avhich Edna felt, 
 and was painfully conscious she showed, towards him. 
 
 "Yes, she will soon be quite well," said he, 
 turning to Letty. "Your sister is thin and delicate- 
 looking. Miss Kenderdine, but she has a thoroughly 
 pure constitution. You need not be in the least 
 alarmed about her. Still, I will just look after her 
 for a day or two professionally — I mean in an ama- 
 teur professional way — - if she will allow me. " 
 
 Letty was overflowing with thanks. Edna re- 
 mained silent. She disliked being Dr. Stedman's, 
 or indeed any body's, patient, but her position would 
 have been still more difficult had he appeared to-day 
 in the character not of her doctor, but of her brave 
 preserver, wdio had waded through the stormy bil- 
 lows, like a Norse hero, and carried her back in 
 his arms — as she now was sure he had carried her, 
 for he could have got her home in no other way. 
 But he had said nothing aboiit this, and apparently, 
 nobody had asked him. Nor did he refer to it now,
 
 150 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 for wliich reserve Edna was very grateful. She 
 would not have known what to say, nor how to thank 
 him, but his delicate silence on the matter made all 
 things easy. 
 
 Likewise Letty, who was not given to penetrate 
 too deeply below the surface of things, seemed blessed 
 with a most fortunate lack of inquisitiveness. She 
 made no reference to last night, but sat talking 
 sweetly to the doctor, in the character of affectionate 
 nurse and sister, looking the while so exquisitely 
 lovely, that Julius, who on his brother's suggestion 
 had been invited in to see Edna, was driven to beg 
 permission to make a sketch of her on the spot, in 
 the character of a guardian angel. 
 
 Nobody objected — for the young artist was 
 treated like a spoiled child by them all. And, as it 
 was a wet day — so wet that nobody could think 
 of going out, and everybody would be dull enough 
 indoors — they agreed to share their dulness, and 
 spend the afternoon together. For, as some one 
 suggested, their holiday was drawing short now. 
 
 So Julius brought in his sketch-book and fell to 
 work. After a long discussion as to Avhat sort of 
 an angel Miss Kendordine was to be made into, it 
 was hnally decided that she would do exactly as 
 one of the Scandinavian Valkyria;, who wait in the 
 halls of Odin to receive the souls of the departed slain. 
 
 "Is that the business of guardian angels?" asked 
 Will Stedmau. "I should have thought they would 
 have done })etter in taking care of the living than 
 making a fuss over the dead." 
 
 Julius looked annoyed. "Pray excuse Will, Miss
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 151 
 
 Kenclercliiie. He is not at all poetical; he always 
 takes a matter-of-fact view of things. Now, just the 
 head bent, with a pitying sort of expression, if you 
 can manage it. Thank you — that will do exactly." 
 
 And Julius, with that keen, eager, thirsty look, 
 which for the last few days had begun to dawn in 
 his face, gazed at Letty Kenderdine, avIio smiled as 
 usual, calm and moonlike. Even as Andrea del 
 Sarto's Lucrezia might have smiled on him, and as 
 dozens more of lovely women to the end of time 
 will continue to smile, maddeningly, upon the two 
 types of men with Avhom such charms are all-power- 
 ful — the sensualist, who cares for mere beauty 
 and it alone; the poet, who out of his own nature 
 idealizes physical perfectness into the perfection of 
 the soul. 
 
 But there is a third type which unites both 
 these. Was it to this that William Stedman be- 
 longed? — that is, in his real heart, though his 
 eyes might have been temporarily no wiser than his 
 neighbours'. 
 
 He seemed a little changed in his manner since 
 yesterday, graver, and yet franker and freer. He 
 made no attempt to interfere with his brother's com- 
 plete engrossment of Letty, though he watched the 
 two very closely at intervals. This Edna saw, and 
 drew her own conclusions therefrom: but they were 
 erroneous conclusions. Nevertheless, they made her 
 resolve more strongly than ever that with next 
 Thursday this intimacy should entirely cease. That 
 one or both of these brothers should fall in love 
 with Letty, was a catastrophe to be avoided if pos-
 
 152 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 sible. They v/ere two good men, she was sure of 
 that, and they should neither of them sufier if she 
 could help it. No: just two days more, and the 
 acquaintance with tlie Stedmans should come to a 
 natural and fitting close. 
 
 This being decided, Edna threw herself unresist- 
 ingly into the pleasure of it while it lasted. For it 
 was a pleasure -; — she had ceased to doubt that. No 
 good, simple-hearted, sensible woman could help 
 enjoying the society of two such men, each so 
 different, and yet each acting as a set-off to the 
 other. Julius, when he flung himself into conversa- 
 tion, was not only clever, but brilliant-, William 
 said little, but whatever he did say, was to the point. 
 True, as his brother had accused him, he did now 
 and then take a matter-of-fact view of things-, but 
 his matter-of-factness was neither stu])id nor common- 
 place. He might be slow, or obstinate, or hard to 
 please, but he was not a fool — not a bit of it; in 
 spite of his grave and solid temperament, most 
 people would have considered him an exceedingly 
 clever man, in his own undemonstrative way. 
 
 So Edna tliought. And since he chose to talk 
 to her, she talked to him back again, and enjoyed 
 the exercise. For there could hardly have been a 
 greater contrast than these two. Edna Kenderdine, 
 though so quiet, was not a jjassive, scarcely even a 
 calm woman. Whatever she felt, she felt acutely. 
 Life and energy, feeling and passion, quivered 
 through every movement of her small frame, CA'ery 
 feature of her plain but sensitive and spiritual face 
 — more so to-day than usual, through the excite-
 
 THE woman's kixgdom. 153 
 
 ment left beliind by her last niglit"s peril. Also by 
 another sort of excitement, for which she could not 
 at all account, but which seemed to make her whole 
 being thrill like a harp newly tuned, which the 
 lightest touch causes to tremble into music. 
 
 She could not think how it was: she ought to 
 have been miserable, leaving that pleasant place to 
 go back to London, and work, and endless anxieties. 
 Yet she was not miserable; nay, she felt strangely 
 happy during the whole of this day, wet as it was, 
 and through great part of the next day — except the 
 hour or two that she occupied in packing. 
 
 There, in the solitude of her own room — for 
 Letty, whose back was quite too long for packing, 
 was sitting on the bench outside, betAveen the two 
 Stedmans — poor Edna felt just a little sad and dull. 
 They had had such a happy time, and it was now 
 over, or nearly over: ay, for ever! — such times do 
 not return. We say they will, and plan renewed 
 meetings of the same sort-, but these seldom come 
 about, or if they do, things are different. Edna, in 
 her level existence, had not known enov;gh either of 
 happiness or misery to feel keenly the irrecoverable- 
 ness of the past; still, she had sense enough to 
 acknowledge that a time such as she and Letty 
 had had for the last fortnight, so exceptional in its 
 circumstances and its utter unworldliness of con- 
 tentment, was never likely to occur twice in their 
 lives. 
 
 First, because two hardAvorking, solitary women 
 were never likely again to be thrown into such close, 
 yet perfectly harmless and blameless, relations with
 
 154 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 two such young men as tlie Stedmans — thorough 
 gentlemen, refined in act and word, never by the 
 slightest shadow of a shade crossing the boundary 
 of those polite and chivalric attentions which every 
 man may honourably pay to every woman; men, 
 too, whom they could so heartily respect, who ap- 
 parently led a life as pure and simjile as their own. 
 At this time, it was with the young men as with the 
 young women, such an innocently idle life. When 
 they met again, if they ever did meet, they would 
 all be in the whirl of London, absorbed in work — ■ 
 the restless, jarring, selfish work of the world — in 
 which they might both seem and be quite different 
 sort of people, both in themselves and to one an- 
 other. 
 
 So thought Edna, as she hastened her packing in 
 order to go down to the others — who did not seem 
 to want her much, she fancied. Still, she wanted 
 them: there were several things she would like still 
 to talk about to Dr. Stedman, and why should she 
 not talk to him as long as she could? 
 
 As she closed her trunk, the heavy fall of the 
 lid felt like closing a bright chapter in her existence. 
 She had an instinct that such seasons do not come 
 often, and that when tliey do they are brief as bright. 
 She did not weep — this cheerful-hearted Edna, who 
 had, and was always likely to have, enough to do 
 and to think of, to keep her from unnecessary griev- 
 ing. She locked her box, having placed inside it 
 t])c little mementoes they were carrying home — a 
 pel)ble which Letty had picked up on the beach, 
 supposed to contain the possibility of a valuable
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 155 
 
 brooch, if they could afford to have it cut and set; 
 a piece of some queer sort of sea-weed, which Dr. 
 Stedman had given her, telling her that, if hung up 
 in a dry place, it would prove a faithful barometer 
 for months and years; also, pressed between her 
 blotting-book's leaves, the very biggest of primroses, 
 a full inch in diameter, which she had gathered in 
 a competition with Julius Stedman. All these trifles, 
 and a few more, which were nobody's business but 
 her own, she locked up fast: but as she did so, 
 Edna sighed. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 In this love-tale, I find I am telling the story of 
 the women more than of the men — which is not 
 unnatural. 
 
 But, in truth, of the men there is as yet little 
 to be told. Their passion had not arrived at the 
 demonstrative stage. Everything they did was done 
 quite as usual. No doubt they eagerly seized every 
 opportunity of joining their fair neighbours — 
 watched them out and in; met them constantly on 
 the cliif and down the shore, contrived, in short, by 
 some means or other to spend with them nearly the 
 whole of the last three days; but beyond this they 
 did not go. And even this Avas done by a tacit 
 understanding, without prior arrangements. Men 
 are much more delicately reticent in love affairs 
 than women. Many women, even good women, will 
 chatter mercilessly about things which a man would
 
 156 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 scorn to reveal, and tliink himself a brute to pry 
 into. 
 
 On the Wednesday night, the brothers had sat 
 till ten o'clock in the Misses Kenderdine's parlour — 
 the visits were always there. On no account would 
 the sisters have penetrated into that bachelor sanc- 
 tum, of which, in its chaos of bachelor untidiness, 
 they had sometimes caught a glimpse through the 
 open door — to Edna's pity and Letty's disdain. 
 The young men themselves felt the contrast between 
 their masculine chamber of horrors and the feminine 
 sitting-room opposite, which, humble and bare as it 
 was, looked always cheerful, neat, and nice. 
 
 "What a muddle we do live in, to be sure!" 
 said Will, when they returned this last evening to 
 their own parlour. But he sat down to his books, 
 and Julius to his drawing, and there they both 
 worked away till nearly midnight, without exchang- 
 ing ten words. 
 
 At length Will rose and suggested liis brother's 
 goin^to bed. 
 
 "We have to be ujj early to-morrow, you know." 
 
 "Have we?" 
 
 Will smiled. "Didn't I hear you settling with 
 the Misses Kenderdine to see them off by the coach? 
 It starts at seven a.m." 
 
 "I said I would go; but that does not imply 
 your going." 
 
 "Oh, I should like to go and see the last of 
 them," said Will. 
 
 "It may not be the last. There is no necessity 
 it should be. They live in London, and so do we."
 
 THE woman's kixgdom. 157 
 
 "Do you know their address?" Will asked, 
 abruptly. 
 
 "No. Do you?" 
 
 "Certainly not. They did not tell me, and I 
 should have thought it a great piece of impertinence 
 to inquire." 
 
 "Should you? Perhaps you are right. I assure 
 you, I have never asked them — though I intended 
 to ask to-morrow. But one wouldn't do the ungen- 
 tlemanly thing on any account. So I suppose, if 
 they give us no special invitation to call on them, 
 they will drift away like all the pleasant things in 
 this world, and we shall never see them more." 
 
 Julius spoke sentimentally — nay, dolefully, but 
 with a complete resignation of himself to fate, as 
 was his character. He never struggled much against 
 anything. 
 
 Will moved restlessly among his books — - piling 
 and re-piling them in a vain effort at order. At 
 last he let them be, and lifting up his head, looked 
 his brother steadily in the face. 
 
 "Yes, I suppose at seven to-morrow morning we 
 shall see the last of them. And I think it ought to 
 be so."' 
 
 "Why?" said Julius sharply, taking up at once 
 the opposition side, as was also his character. 
 
 Dr. Stedman paused a minute before speaking, 
 and the blood rose in his rugged brown face as he 
 spoke. 
 
 "Because, Julius, in plain English, two young 
 men cannot go on in this sort of free-and-easy way 
 with two young women — at least, not in any place
 
 158 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 but here, and not here for very long — without 
 getting talked about, which would be very un- 
 pleasant. For the men it doesn't matter, of course, 
 which makes it all the more incumbent on us to be 
 careful over the women." 
 
 "Careful! What nonsense!" 
 
 "No, it isn't nonsense, though perhaps my 
 speaking about it may be. But I've had it on my 
 mind to speak, and it's better out than in." 
 
 "Very Avell, then. Preach away." 
 
 And Julius stretched himself along the sofa, his 
 arms over his head, listening with a half-vexed, 
 half-contemjjtuous air. 
 
 "Well, lad," said Will, stoutly, "I think that 
 for a man, because he likes a girl's society, to 
 daunder after her and hang on to her apron-string 
 till he gets her and himself talked about, is a piece 
 of most arrant folly — ■ not to say knavery; for he 
 gets all the fun and she all the harm. It's selfish- 
 ness — cowardly selfishness — and I won't do it! 
 You may if you choose; but I won't do it!" 
 
 "Do what?" said Julius, with an irritable and 
 most irritating laugh. "What's the use of blazing 
 up, and striking your hand on the table as if you 
 were striking me — wliich, perhaps, it's what you're 
 after? Come on, then!" 
 
 "Do you sup^jose I'm an idiot?" 
 
 "Or I either? What harm have I done? Was 
 I going to offer myself on tlic spot to either of your 
 fair friends? A ])retty ofi'er it would be! A fellow 
 who has not a halfpenny to bless himself with. 
 Why, she'd kick me out-of-doors, and serve me right,
 
 THE woman\s kingdom. 159 
 
 too. No — no ! " and Julius laughed again very 
 bitterly: "I know women better than that. Pray 
 compose yourself, Will. I'm not going to be a 
 downright fool." 
 
 "You quite mistake me," said Will, gravely. 
 "Any man has a right to ask the love of any woman 
 — even if he hasn't a halfpenny. But he has no 
 right to pay her tender attentions, and set folk 
 gossiping about her, and perhaps make her fancy 
 he likes her, when he either does not like her, or 
 doesn't see his way clear to many her. It's not to 
 be done, lad — not to be done." 
 
 "And have I any intention of doing it? You 
 foolish old fellow — what crotchets you take up ! 
 Why — ■ hang it — if I had never flirted more than 
 I have here " 
 
 "I hate flirting," broke in Will, tearing a sheet 
 of foolscap violently in two. "Women may like it; 
 but men ought to have more sense. What's the 
 use of philandering and fooling, when you mean 
 nothing, and it all ends in sheer waste of time. If 
 ever I marry, I vow I'll go up to the Avoman and 
 say, 'Mary' or 'Molly '" 
 
 "Her name is Molly, then? That's informa- 
 tion." 
 
 "I mean, I'd ask her point-blank to marry me. 
 If she said 'Yes,' well and good." 
 
 "And if 'No,'" said Julius, with a keen look. 
 
 "I'd walk off, and never trouble her more. If a 
 girl doesn't know her own mind, she Isn't worth 
 asking — certainly not asking twice. She never 
 would be asked twice by me."
 
 160 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Wait till yoixr time comes — as you once said 
 to your obedient, humble servant. Go on, Will, 
 I'm waiting for another sermon, please. Plenty 
 more where that last came from, I know." 
 
 Julius seemed determined to turn the whole into 
 a laughing matter; and at last his brother was fain 
 to laugh too. 
 
 "One might as well preach to a post — it al- 
 ways was so, and always will be! Come, I've 
 said my say, and it's done. Let us dismiss the sub- 
 ject." 
 
 "Not a bit of it," replied Julius, who, with his 
 other womanish peculiarities, had a most provoking 
 habit of liking to have the last word; "only just 
 tell a fellow Avhat you are driving at! What do 
 you want us to do about these girls? Shut our- 
 selves up in our rooms, and stare at them from be- 
 hind the keyhole without ever daring to bid them 
 good-bye?" 
 
 "Rubbish! We'll just meet them, as you said, 
 at the coach, wish them a pleasant journey, and 
 there it ends." 
 
 "Does it?" said Julius, half to himself; while 
 his soft, sad look wandered into vacancy, and he 
 leaned his arm behind his head, in his favourite 
 listless attitude, in which there was something 
 affected and something real; — his small, slight 
 figure, dark, meagre face, and brilliant eyes, making 
 c(|ually natural to him both languor and energy. 
 A true southern tcm])erament — made up of con- 
 trarieties, if not contradictions, and never to be 
 reckoned on long together in any way.
 
 THE woman's KIXODOM. 161 
 
 But he ceased to argue, either in jest or earnest; 
 and soon the two brothers parted for the night-, 
 quite amicably — as, after all their little warfares, 
 they were in the habit of doing; for neither of them 
 were of the sullen sort; and, besides. Will had a 
 doctrine ■ — ■ learned at the big public school where 
 he had been educated, fighting his way of necessity 
 from bottom to top — that sometimes after a good 
 honest battle, in which either speaks his mind, men, 
 as well as boys, are all the better friends. 
 
 Julius went to bed. But far into the small 
 hours Will's candle burnt in the parlour below, 
 as was his habit whenever he had spent a specially 
 idle day. 
 
 Edna, too, sat up late, for to her always fell the 
 domestic cares of packing, arranging, and settling 
 everything. Not that Letty did not try to help 
 her; but she helped her so badly that it was double 
 trouble — everything had to be done over again. 
 Letty's unconscious, good-humoured incapacity was 
 one of the things which tried her sister most, and 
 caused her to hope that whenever the of-coui'se- 
 certaiii husband did appear, he might be a man 
 sensible and practical, and sufticiently rich to make 
 his wife independent of those petty worries which a 
 cleverer and braver woman would breast and swim 
 through, and perhaps even gain strength and energy 
 from the struggle. 
 
 As it was, whenever they had anything to do, 
 or to suffer, Edna's first thought was, how to get 
 Letty out of the way. She had sent her to bed 
 early, and creeping in tired beside her was only too 
 
 The Womr'ti's Kingdom. I. 11
 
 162 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 thankful to find lier sound asleep. And Letty slept 
 still, when in the grey dawn of the morning Edna 
 woke, with the consciousness that something had to 
 be done, or something was going to happen, which 
 came with a sharp shock upon her the minute she 
 opened her eyes. 
 
 She took her watch to the window to see the 
 time correctly, and stood gazing out upon the sea, 
 which lay so lonely and quiet — dim and grey — 
 just brightened in the eastward by those few faint 
 streaks in the sky which showed where the sun 
 would rise ere long. 
 
 A strange unquietness came into Edna's spirit 
 — hitherto as placid as that sea before the sun 
 rose — a sense of trouble, of regret, for which she 
 could not account. For though she was of course 
 sorry to leave this place, still she might come back 
 again some day. And now she was going home 
 with Letty quite strong again, and herself also, 
 ready to begin their work anew. Why should she 
 grieve? She ought to be very glad and thankful. 
 
 Perhaps she Avas only tired with the excitement 
 of last night — Avhen the two Stedmans had stayed 
 later and talked more than usual; pleasant refresh- 
 ing talk, such as clever, good men can make with 
 good, and not stupid women; talk difficult to be 
 detailed afterwards, if indeed any conversation 
 written down does not seem as tame and lifeless as 
 yesterday's gatliered roses. But it had left a sweet 
 aroma behind it, and while it lasted it had made 
 Edna feel liapjiy, like a creature long pent up in 
 horrible cities, who is set free upon its native moun-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 163 
 
 tain, and led cheerily up the bright hill-side, at 
 every step breatliing a fresher and purer air; at 
 every glance seeing around prospects wider and 
 fairer; the sort of companionship, in short, which 
 makes one think the better of oneself because one 
 can appreciate it and enjoy it. How keenly she 
 had enjoyed it, Edna knew. 
 
 And now, with a slight spasm or constriction of 
 the heart, she recognised that it was all over, that 
 this morning was the very last day. She should 
 probably never meet the Stedmans more. 
 
 She was not "in love." She did not for a 
 moment fancy herself in love with either of them, 
 being no longer of that unripe age when girls think 
 it fine to be in love with somebody; but she was 
 conscious that all was not right with her; that the 
 past had been a delicious time, and that she began 
 to look forward to her school life and her home life, 
 alone with Letty, with a sense of vacancy and 
 dreariness almost amounting to dread. Be sorry 
 for her, you Avho can understand this state of mind! 
 And ye who cannot — why, she had need to be 
 sorry for you! 
 
 She stood looking at the sombre sea — at the 
 smiling hopeful dawn, then went back to her bed, 
 and, hiding her face in the pillow, wept a few 
 tears. But there was no time for crying or for 
 sleeping; she had still a great deal to do, and they 
 must leave soon after six, so early as jt was, she 
 rose. 
 
 Her neighbours Avere early stirring too, tliough 
 it was, after all, Will who accomplished this, rousing 
 
 11*
 
 16 4 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 his brother into sufficient energy to be in time. 
 The impulse of overnight had faded out, and Julius 
 now seemed very indifferent whether or not he 
 wished the sisters good-bye. 
 
 "If we are never to see them again, what does 
 it matter to see them now?" said he, carelessly. 
 "Or, indeed, what does it matter in any case? 
 Women only care for fellows with lots of money." 
 
 "In one sense, perhaj)s — the matrimonial; but I 
 thought we had decided that this was not the sense 
 in which your civilities were to be construed." 
 
 "Our civilities. Will. You have been quite as 
 sweet upon them as I have." 
 
 "Then thei-e is no reason why our civilities should 
 not be continued to the end. Get your hat, man, 
 and let us start to the coach-office." 
 
 "Now?" 
 
 "Yes, now. We are better out of the way here. 
 We'll not bother them Avith any last words." 
 
 And the doctor, who looked a little jaded, as if 
 he had sat up most of the night — which indeed he 
 had — contrived to stay out, and keep his brother 
 out, on the breezy cliffs during the half-hour that 
 there was any chance of staircase meetings, or in- 
 terference, for good or ill, with the proceedings of 
 the Misses Kendcrdine. But all this half-hour the 
 young men never once referred to their friends — 
 nor regretted their departure. They lounged about, 
 read the newspaper, and talked politics a little, until, 
 suddenly taking out his watch. Will said, — 
 
 "Now, if we mean to be in time, we had better 
 be off at once."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 165 
 
 They walked up to the coach-office. In those 
 days, and at that early season of the year, there was 
 only a diurnal coach which passed through the village, 
 taking up any chance passenger by the way. It was 
 just the usual old-fashioned stage, with outside and 
 inside places, and was rarely full; still to-day, as it 
 came lumbering up the hilly street, it looked to 
 be so. 
 
 "Suppose they can't get seats?" suggested Julius. 
 
 "Not impossible. I wish I had suggested their 
 booking places overnight." 
 
 Small trivial sentences, about such a trivial thing! 
 — save that all the manifold machinery of life hangs 
 pivoted upon trifles. 
 
 The brothers found the two sisters standing wait- 
 ing amidst a conglomeration of boxes, at which Julius 
 shrugged his shoulders and winked aside at Will in 
 thankful bachelorhood. But the four met and shook 
 bands as usual, just as if they were starting for their 
 conjoint walk this merry, sunshiny, breezy morning. 
 
 "What a fine day! I am glad you have good 
 weather for your journey. We thought we might 
 be allowed to come and see you off". Can we be of 
 any use, Miss Kenderdine?" 
 
 Dr. Stedman addressed himself to Letty, who 
 looked nervous and fidgety. 
 
 "Thank you, thank you. It is so troublesome, 
 travelling; especially without a gentleman to take care 
 of us. Edna, are you sure the boxes are all right? 
 Did you count them? Two trunks, one bonnet-box, 
 one " 
 
 "Yes, all are right. Don't vex yourself, dear,"
 
 166 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 said Edna, in her soft sotto voce^ and tlien slie was 
 aware that Dr. Stedman turned to look at her 
 earnestly, more earnestly than usual. 
 
 "Let me help you; you are carrying such a heap 
 of cloaks and things, and you look so tired. Are 
 you able for the journey to-day?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, quite able. Besides, we must go." 
 
 Will made no reply, but he took her burdens 
 from her, arranged her packages, and stood silently 
 beside her till the coach came up. 
 
 Julius, too, his languor and indifference dis- 
 persed as if by magic, jjlaced himself close to the 
 blooming Letty, paying her his final politenesses 
 with remarkable empressement. 
 
 "Yes, I am sorry to leave this place," she said 
 in answer to his question. "We have had a pleasant 
 time-, and we are going back to horrid school- work. 
 I hate it." 
 
 "No wonder. Still, your pupils are somewhat to 
 be envied." 
 
 "Eh?" said Letty, not detecting the compliment, 
 her mind being divided between Julius, the boxes, 
 and the approaching coach. "Look, Edna, it is quite 
 full. We shall luive to go inside — nay, the inside 
 is full too. What must we do? Oh, Edna, what 
 must we do?" 
 
 "It was my fault," said Will Stedman. "I ought 
 to have told you it was better to secure places. 
 Coacliman, is there no chance whatever for these 
 ladies?" 
 
 Coachman sliook his head, remorseless as Eate; 
 and Fate, laughing from under the coach- wheels,
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 1G7 
 
 and making mouths at them from the dickey, set at 
 nauglit all the excellent schemes of these four young 
 people. 
 
 The two sisters regarded each other in mute 
 consternation. 
 
 "How very, very foolish I was!" said Edna, in 
 extreme vexation. "Can nothing be done? Dr. Sted- 
 man, will you think for us? We rnust go home to- 
 day." 
 
 "Po' cliay, ma'am — po' chay to Ryde," sug- 
 gested the landlord. 
 
 "How much would that cost?" 
 
 A serious sum Avas named. Edna looked at and 
 counted her money. No, it was not to be done. 
 She saw Dr. Stedman watching her, and blushed 
 crimson. 
 
 He came near her, and said almost in a whisper, 
 "Excuse me, but at a journey's end one sometimes 
 runs short. If " 
 
 Edna shook her head, and set her little mouth 
 together, firm as Fate — whom she fancied she was 
 thus resisting: at which Dx\ Stedman blushed as 
 deeply as herself, and retired. 
 
 There was no help for it. Several boats crossed 
 daily from Ryde; but to get to Ryde from this out- 
 of-the-way place was the difficulty. 
 
 "No, Letty," said Edna, "not being able to travel 
 about in post-chaises, we must e'en put up with our 
 misfortunes. We can go by the coach to-morrow 
 morning. I dare say Mrs. Williams will take us in 
 for one night more. Things might be worse, you 
 see."
 
 168 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 But, as she watched the coach roll away, Edna, 
 though she spoke cheerfully, looked a great deal 
 more annoyed and troubled than her sister did; and 
 Dr. Stedman saw it. 
 
 "You have a tell-tale face," said he. "This has 
 vexed you very much, I perceive." 
 
 "Of course it has. Many reasons make it im- 
 portant for us to go home." 
 
 "Your sister takes it easily enough, apparently." 
 
 "She always " and Edna stopped herself. 
 
 Wliy should she be discussing Letty with a stranger 
 — with anybody? 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said Dr. Stedman, abruptly, 
 and disappeared. 
 
 But when they had all escaped out of the con- 
 dolences of the little croAvd round the inn-door, and 
 were ignominiously retracing their steps to Mrs. 
 Williams's lodgings, he overtook them, breathless. 
 
 "Stop, Miss Edna! I have found a way out of 
 your difficulties. There will be a post-chaise here 
 at noon, bringing a wedding couple from Ryde. It 
 will take you the return journey for merely coach- 
 fare. If you cross at once, you will be able to 
 start from Portsmouth to London to-night. Will 
 that do?" 
 
 "Admirable!" said Edna, turning back. "Let 
 me go and settle it at once." 
 
 "It is settled — -I took the liberty of settling it 
 with the landlord, whom I know. Always provided 
 you were satisfied. Are you?" 
 
 "Quite." 
 
 "Thank you. And now you have only to repay
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 169 
 
 me the coach-fare — inside places for two," said the 
 doctor, holding out his hand with a smile. 
 
 Edna laughingly, and, as it occurred to her long 
 after, most unsuspiciously, gave him the money, and 
 he walked on heside her, receiving silently her ex- 
 pressions of gratitude. She did indeed feel gratefuL 
 It was so new to her to have the burdens of daily 
 life thus taken off her, and in such a considerate 
 way — simply a man doing a man's part of kindness 
 to a woman: nothing more. It made her remember 
 his words, — "If I had had a sister, I would have 
 been so good to her!" Though while Edna recalled 
 them there was a strange thing in the remembrance. 
 
 At the familiar door they all stopped, rather 
 awkwardly, till Dr. Stedman said, with something 
 beyond his usual formality, — 
 
 "I wonder, Julius, if these ladies would consider 
 it presumption in us to offer them our bachelor hos- 
 pitality for the next few hours? It might be more 
 convenient, and they would at least get a dinner." 
 
 "Oh, they must! they must!" cried Julius. "Say 
 you will, Miss Edna;" and he caught hold of her 
 hand in his boyish, affectionate way. "Come and 
 dine with us: it will be such fun! And we will go 
 a long walk before then. Oh, I am so obliged to 
 Fate and that grim coachman: we'll have such a 
 jolly day!" 
 
 He was evidently in a state of considerable ex- 
 citement , which relieved itself in almost puerile 
 pranks, an incessant flow of talk, and a pettish asser- 
 tion of his own will; which was, as Edna declared.
 
 170 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "exactly like a baby." Nevertheless, she and the 
 others only laughed, and gave way to him. 
 
 Evidently the catastrophe about the coach had 
 produced in none of the little party any permanent 
 depression; and it was with almost exuberant spirits 
 that they prepared to make the very most of this 
 sweet, stolen day: all the sweeter, Julius insisted, 
 because it was stolen — a clear robbery out of the 
 treasure-house of Destiny, who had not many such. 
 
 "At least not for us," added he, with the dash of 
 melancholy which ran through his merriest moods. 
 "So I'll take the residuum of my pleasures as I 
 used to take the sjjoonful of sugar at the bottom of 
 an emptied cofi'ee-cup, which I was always told it 
 was such ill manners to touch, though it was the 
 best bit of the draught. And yet we have had a 
 good draught of happiness this fortnight: have we 
 not. Miss Edna? Our coffee of life was thoroughly 
 well made — strong and clear, with plenty of milk 
 in it." 
 
 "The milk of human kindness?" 
 
 "Yes; and some water, too. We had only too 
 much water on Monday night. But I beg your 
 pardon:" for Edna still tiirned pale, and then red, 
 whenever tliere was the sliglitest allusion to her 
 painful adventure; so that now all reference to it 
 had tacilly ceased. 
 
 "I think," said Dr. Stedman, "since our friends 
 have gained an extra day of sea air, they had better 
 make use of it. So come away, all of you, down to 
 the shore." 
 
 There they wandered for hours, as merry as
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 171 
 
 children, tossing the shingle at one another, or en- 
 tombing themselves in it as they sat; writing names 
 and sentences with umbrella-sticks on the sand, or 
 building out of it castles and moats for the in-coming 
 tide first to fill and then to wash away. Some mixture 
 of seriousness there was, for sea-side folly has always 
 a touch of solemnity in it; and there is but a step 
 between the babyish pranks on the sand and the 
 awfulness of the silent ocean beyond. But still, what- 
 ever they did, or whatever they talked about, these 
 four were very happy. It was a day — one of those 
 single, separate days, which stamp themselves upon 
 the memory for years, both from their heavenly 
 beauty externally, and their moral atmosphere of 
 pleasantness and peace. A day never to be for- 
 gotten, in its innocent Arcadian enjoyment, to which 
 all things seemed natiiral; and they themselves felt 
 not like modern work-a-day men and women, but 
 creatures of some perfectly ideal world — shepherds 
 and shepherdesses of some long-past golden age. 
 
 They dined, nevertheless, upon cold mutton and 
 suet-dumplings, which was the best Mrs. Williams 
 could provide; and they dined heartily and merrily. 
 It might have been a little "incorrect," a bachelor 
 entertainment to two young maiden ladies. In midst 
 of the meal a grave doubt of this struck Edna; but 
 it was a merry meal for all that, with not one bit of 
 sentiment about it, nor regret that it was the first 
 and last they would share. For still, with all their 
 mutual friendliness, the sisters withheld their address, 
 and the brothers were too courteous to ask it. 
 
 Suddenly, in the midst of the gaiety, Dr. Stedman
 
 172 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 said, "It is nearly three. Your carriage will be at 
 the door in five minutes." And for that five minutes 
 everybody was rather silent. 
 
 Edna sat at the window, taking a farewell look 
 at the beautiful sea-, and Di*. Stedman came and 
 looked at it with her. 
 
 "You are better now than in the morning, I hope?" 
 
 "Yes, the salt air always does me good." 
 
 "It wiU be very late before you reach home to- 
 night. Are you afraid?" 
 
 "Oh, no." 
 
 "You seem afraid of nothing." 
 
 "Not of many things — outside things. Why 
 should I be? And it would do no good. I am not 
 like a carefully guarded young lady; I am a poor 
 schoolmistress, who, whether she likes it or not, 
 must face the world." 
 
 "Do you find that very hard?" 
 
 "Sometimes — only sometimes; for I am young 
 and strong, and not given to despondency. It may 
 be otherwise when I get older." 
 
 And a vague cloud came over Edna as she spoke ; 
 a fear that it not only might, but would be thus; 
 that the days would come when her strength would 
 fail, and her courage sink beaten down; when she 
 would be dull, weary, lonely, and old. 
 
 "Are you afraid of growing old," said Dr. Sted- 
 man again. "I am — a little." 
 
 "Why should you be?" said Edna, forgetting 
 the question in the confession, and turning to look 
 inquiringly at him. "Old age can have no terrors 
 for you. A man is so different from a woman."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 173 
 
 "He is — horribly different — in some things. 
 Miss Edna — I would give the whole world if I were 
 more like you." 
 
 These words, spoken in a tone that seemed at 
 once appealing, apologising, nay, almost caressing, 
 so low and soft was it, quivered through Edna from 
 head to foot. But before she had time to answer, or 
 think of answering-, the post-chaise was at the door 
 — a goodly equipage — all in its bridal splendour — 
 white favours and all. 
 
 Letty jumped up in delight. "Oh, how nice! 
 We shall get to Ryde so comfortably. And think of 
 our starting from the very doox\ So kind of you to 
 order it, Dr. Stedman. It is almost as good as if we 
 had our own carriage. Ah, Edna! shall we ever 
 have our own carriage?" 
 
 "Possibly — I should say not improbably," said 
 Dr. Stedman, dryly, as he handed the beautiful 
 woman, with careful courtesy, to the chaise, which 
 she seemed to step into as if she were born to a 
 carriage. 
 
 Julius hung back, and made his adieux with a 
 cynical air. 
 
 "Mrs. Williams thinks the white favours a lucky 
 omen. Miss Kenderdine. She hopes to see one or 
 both of you tAvo young ladies back again ere long — 
 in a similar equipage. I trust the owner may be a 
 duke at least." 
 
 "Eh?" said Letty, not comprehending, but 
 smiling still. 
 
 "Mrs. Williams says, next time you come here,
 
 174 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 she hopes it will be in your own carriage, and mar- 
 ried to some rich gentleman — possibly a duke ! " 
 
 Letty bridled. "Oh, Mr. Stedman, you are so 
 funny! Good-bye." 
 
 So they parted — all four with a smile on their 
 lips, shaking hands cordially, and keeping up their 
 jests even to the last moment; expressing all manner 
 of mutual good wishes, but not a hint or hope of 
 future meetings. They parted — as completely as two 
 ships that had crossed one another's track in the mid 
 ocean — paused alongside for a short space of kindly 
 greeting — then divided, steadily and finally, to sail 
 on round the world their several and opposite ways. 
 
 Edna knew it must be thus — that it was best 
 it should be. Some instinct, forestalling experience, 
 warned her of the fact — proved fatally by how 
 many wrecked lives ! — that men ought to be nothing 
 to women and Avomen nothing to men, except in the 
 merest ordinary friendship — unless they are either 
 akin by blood, or deliberately choose one another in 
 love and marriage: that all so-called "Platonic at- 
 tachments," sentimental compromises which try to 
 steer clear of both, and institute pseudo-relations 
 which Nature never meant, almost always end in 
 misery — blameless, but still heart-deep, life-long 
 misery. Edna wished to avoid everything of the 
 kind — for both herself and her sister. Nothing had 
 happened; nobody had proposed to Letty, and she 
 was thankful thus peacefully, friendly, and kindly, 
 to close all association with the Stedmans. 
 
 Yes, they had parted just as — (she said this to 
 herself again and again during the long drive) —
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 175 
 
 just as she most desired them all to part; like ships 
 on the ocean, never to sail in company again. Still, 
 she felt that for some days to come her own little 
 vessel would sail rather drearily, and flap its canvas 
 idly in the breeze, scarcely noticing whether or not 
 there was sunshine on the sea , which looked so 
 limitless, and yet which she must cross — and cross 
 alone. 
 
 "I wonder," she thought to herself, "which of us 
 will grow old the fastest, or live the longest — Dr. 
 Stedman or I?" 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Kensington twenty years ago was not like the 
 Kensington of to-day. It seemed much quieter and 
 farther from London. No great Exhibitions had 
 beaten down the smooth grass of Hyde Park and 
 stamped out the green lanes of Brompton, which then 
 formed a barrier between "The Old Court Suburb," 
 as Leigh Hunt tenderly calls it, and the metropolitan 
 vortex. Down the long dusty miles of the Knights- 
 bridge Road crawled a few uncomfortable omnibusses 
 — forming the chief communication with London — 
 except for those fortunate people who had carriages 
 of their own. Consequently, to middle -class re- 
 spectability, Kensington was a rather retired place. 
 Townified, certainly, but then its queer winding 
 streets, its old-established shops, and old-fashioned 
 houses, above all, its palace and ancient church, gave 
 it a dignified quaintness which half atoned for the
 
 176 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 want of the country. And but a little way beyond 
 it Avere many ruralities: lanes and gardens, haunted 
 by larks in the day-time and nightingales at eve; 
 here and there a real field — not yet become a brick- 
 field-, and several "lovers' walks," where, between 
 the tall hedge of may or wild roses, young people 
 so circumstanced might exchange a kiss safely and 
 unobserved. 
 
 About half-a-mile from where the Misses Kender- 
 dine lived was a canal, along the banks of which 
 ran a slip of waste ground, where bloomed as if by 
 stealth many a real country flower : bindweed — the 
 little pink creeping sort and the large white one, 
 which in late sinnmer mounts the hedges and stars 
 them with its dazzling, sliort-lived bells; abundance 
 of those flowers which grow on commons and waste 
 ground — bright yellow and delicate primrose-tinted 
 hawkweed; scarlet lychnis, ground thistle, and other 
 plants, pleasant enough to observant eyes, and of 
 Avhich there used to be plenty in these regions, till 
 London, gradually growing, lias forced them to give 
 place to coarser weeds. 
 
 To this place Edna often came, between or after 
 school hours, to fancy herself in the country, and get 
 a breath of air, for the sisters' house was somewhat 
 small and close. Not that it was an ugly house; 
 creepers, jessamine, and grape-vine half covered it, 
 and it was open, front and back, to a view of market 
 gardens. Nobody can find it now — it has been com- 
 pletely swept from the face of the earth ; pulled down 
 and built upon, with all its surroundings. Year by 
 year genteel terraces and sq^uares are growing where
 
 niB woman's kingdom. 177 
 
 the cabbages — acres of them — once grew. So if I 
 say, with the lingering tenderness that its inhabitants 
 also learnt to speak of it — that it was not an ugly 
 house — there is no one who can contradict me. 
 
 It boasted three stories, of two rooms each, the 
 most important of which were the sitting-room, the 
 drawing-room above, made into a school-room, and 
 a large (or they called it large) bed-room overhead, 
 where the two sisters slept. Thus, at a glance, may 
 be seen their small establishment, of which the only 
 other inmates besides themselves were one servant 
 and a cat. A very microscopic, maidenly establish- 
 ment, simple even to povei-ty, and yet it had its 
 happiness — to Edna at least — for it was their own. 
 Every atom of furniture had been bought with their 
 own money — bought and paid for — which is more 
 than can be said of many magnificent mansions. 
 Every corner, from attic to basement, was theirs to 
 do Avith as they liked. And to these governesses 
 •who had lived for years in other people's houses, 
 any nook they could call their own and do what 
 they chose in, possessed a certain charm, of which 
 the novelty was not even yet exhausted. In this 
 nest of theirs, narrow as it was, the two sisters had 
 not been unhappy — Edna especially had been the 
 merriest little bird — till now. 
 
 It chanced that after the pleasant spring came 
 a very hot summer; weeks of settled drought. By 
 August the leaves M'ere almost burnt off the trees, 
 and the dusty, languid air that seemed to creep, or 
 rather to stagnate, over the lanes and market gardens, 
 and the line of road between Kensingtim town and 
 
 The Woman'n Kingdom. I. 1^
 
 178 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 Holland House, was almost stifling, even at twilight, 
 when Edna insisted on their going out, just for 
 health's sake. 
 
 "Oh, Edna," Letty would say, drearily, as she 
 crawled along the heated pavement and looked up 
 at the handsome houses, nearly all with closed 
 windows — "everybody has gone out of town. Why 
 can't we go too? It's very hard for us to be teaching 
 school here when all the world is away at the sea- 
 side. I wish we were there also. Don't you?" 
 
 "No," replied Edna. "One holiday is enough 
 for one year. No." 
 
 But she knew she was telling a falsehood; that 
 in her heart of hearts she had a frantic longing for 
 the sight of the sea, for the sound and smell of 
 briny waters, lapping on shingle and sand, for even 
 a handful of sea- weeds, damp, salt, and living — 
 not like that poor dead mummy of a sea-weed that 
 still hung up in a corner of the room, though Letty 
 had begged her more than once to take it down, it 
 looked so "nasty," for its meteorological powers had 
 signally failed. Yet still she let it hang there — a 
 thing that had missed its destiny, and was of no 
 mortal use to anybody except as a memento of a 
 very pleasant time. 
 
 That pleasant time had passed out of all 
 memories. Even Letty scarcely mentioned it now 
 — three months was far too long for Letty to re- 
 member anything, or anybody. At first she had 
 found home extremely dull, and talked incessantly 
 of the Isle of Wight and of the two Stedmans, 
 wondering whether they had come home — if when
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 179 
 
 they did come they would make any effort to renew 
 the acquaintance. 
 
 "It woukl be possible, nay, easy to find out oiir 
 address, for our boxes were marked 'Kensington,' 
 and there is the post-office to inquire at. If I were 
 they, I would hunt us out, and call. In which case, 
 Edna, you know, we must be polite to them. They 
 might mean nothing." 
 
 "Pi'obably not. What would you wish them to 
 mean?" 
 
 "How sharp you are with me! Of coui-se, if 
 Dr. Stedman did call upon us two single ladies, he 
 could have but one intention in doing so. Not that 
 he ever gave me any reason to suppose anything," 
 added Letty, looking down with her half smile, that 
 implied an expectation of being contradicted in her 
 assertion. But no contradiction came. "Of course 
 a man so poorly circumstanced couldn't be expected 
 to come forward at once; but then you see " 
 
 Edna would see nothing. Every time the con- 
 versation took this turn she resolutely avoided it: to 
 speak her mind, or to open her heart to this her 
 only sister, became every day more impossible. Not 
 that there was less affection between them, but there 
 was a clearer perception, and a sadder acceptance 
 of the great difference in thought and feeling, which 
 sometimes happens — that alienation of nature which 
 no nearness of blood can atone for, or prevent, or cure. 
 
 Sometimes, when in the long, bright June 
 evenings, Letty persisted in walking out regularly 
 — not down the actual street where Dr. Stedman 
 lived (Edna knew it well, and kept half a mile from 
 
 12*
 
 180 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 it always), but up and down the long green alleys 
 of Kensington Gardens, looking round at every 
 corner, and fancying every tall figure — or two 
 figures, a taller and a shorter — must surely be the 
 two Stedmans — the patient elder sister wox;ld grow 
 excessively irritable-, and then Letty, who was in- 
 variably good-temiDered, would wonder at her, and 
 fear she was not well, and pet her and caress her 
 in a fashion harder to bear than the interminable 
 talkativeness. 
 
 But when week after week crept by, and the 
 Stedmans gave no sign, Letty's interest in her lost 
 admirer or admirers died out. Besides, school-time 
 began, and the small worries of the present com- 
 pletely extinguished the past. Then, when her sister 
 seemed quite to have forgotten them, poor Edna's 
 memory of those happy sea-side days woke up with 
 a vividness quite horrible in its pain, and in its 
 sharp consciousness of what that pain was, whence 
 it arose, and to what it tended. 
 
 I will tell no untruth about my poor Edna, nor 
 make any pretences concerning her, which she her- 
 self would have been the first to scorn. I believe 
 that no woman, gifted with common sense and 
 common feeling, ever "falls in love," as the phrase 
 is, without knowing it: at least not when the love 
 comes suddenly, and for one who heretofore lias been 
 a stranger, so that no gradual prcA^ious relations of 
 intimacy have disguised the true state of things for 
 awhile, as sometimes occurs. She may refuse to 
 acknowledge the fact, even to herself; but she knows
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 181 
 
 it — knows it at the very core of her heart — in all 
 its sweetness, and in all its bitterness too. 
 
 Long before those three months had gone by, 
 Edna Kenderdine, who had met so few men, and 
 had never taken the smallest interest in any man, 
 began to find out that she was never likely again 
 to meet such an one as Dr. William Stedman — 
 never likely, in all her future life to have such a 
 happy fortnight as that she spent in the Isle of 
 Wight, when her anxiety for her sister was over, 
 and she and Letty were roaming about the sweet 
 country and pleasant sea-shore, and meeting the two 
 Stedmans every day and all day long. 
 
 Only a fortnight — fourteen days — a short time 
 on which to build — or to wreck — a life's happi- 
 ness; yet many have done it before now, and will 
 do it again. Fate sometimes compresses into a few 
 days the events and the experience of years. People 
 love in divers ways, and marry under infinitely 
 varied circumstances, concerning which no person 
 can judge, or has a right to judge, any other; yet 
 there is but one true love — leading to the one per- 
 fect marriage, or else leading through dark and 
 thorny yet sacred ways to that perpetual virginity 
 of heart and life which is only second to marriage 
 in its holiness and happiness. 
 
 This love had come to Edna, and she knew it. 
 
 She did not fall into romantic ecstasies of joy or 
 grief over it, though let not even these be condemned, 
 they are natural in the time of passionate youth — 
 the Juliet-time. But Edna was a woman — not a 
 girl, though her heart was as fresh as if she were
 
 182 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 sixteen. She said nothing — she betrayed nothing; 
 externally she was the schoolmistress only, but 
 within she was consciovis of the great change which 
 only comes once in a lifetime, and after which no 
 woman is ever quite the same again. 
 
 Of her lover — or her love, a tenderer and nobler 
 name — she did not sit and think all day long — 
 her days were too busy for that; but she thought of 
 him in every idle or solitary minute, and often when 
 neither idle nor alone; till day by day she learned 
 to mingle him in all her doings and all her dreams. 
 Him — the one "him" in the world to her now, 
 whom by a magic sympathy she seemed already to 
 understand, faults and all, better than any other 
 human being she had ever met. 
 
 For she did not think Dr. Stedman faultless; 
 she had seen in him a good many things she would 
 have liked different, and had to apologise for — 
 shortcomings of temper, roughness, and hardness, 
 which seemed the result of circumstances. Still he 
 was himself; drawn to her, or, rather she to him, 
 by a strange attraction, and, as a Avliole, very near 
 her ideal of what a man should be. 
 
 But it is idle reasoning about sxich things, and 
 soon Edna ceased to reason, and was content only 
 to feel, — all the stronger, because in her intense 
 humility it never occurred to her that the feeling 
 could be reciprocated. She accepted with a strong 
 silent courage tlie lot which had befallen her — a 
 great misfortune, some woidd say. But she did not 
 call it so, thougli she recognised to the full its
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 183 
 
 sadness, hopelessness, and — no, she was not so 
 cowardly as to add, its humiliation. 
 
 She had done nothing wrong iu loving, even 
 though she loved a man who had never asked her 
 to marry him, who had apparently no intention of 
 asking her, whom, in all human probability, she 
 would never meet again. Well; let it be so: she 
 had met, for once in her life, the man who she felt 
 could have satisfied her whole heart, reason, con- 
 science — whom, had he asked her, she would have 
 married, and whom otherwise she would remember 
 tenderly to the day of her death. This is, next to 
 a thoroughly happy marriage, the best lot which 
 can befall any woman. 
 
 I linger over Edna Kenderdine because I like 
 to linger over her, just here : tlie j)icture of a woman 
 who is brave enough to love, unloved, the best and 
 highest: embodied to her, as it was to her mother 
 Eve, in a man. For Milton's celebrated line, — 
 
 "He for Goil ouly, she for God in him," — 
 
 is so far true that no woman can love either lover 
 or husband perfectly, unless — in a sense — she sees 
 God in him, and sees in him, beyond herself, the 
 desire for God only. And if so, her love is neither 
 an unhappy nor an unfortunate love, however it 
 may end. 
 
 One fact proved incidentally how utterly re- 
 moved from the selfisliness of all personal feeling 
 was this ideal admiration, this self- existent, up- 
 looking, and out-loving love which had taken such 
 sudden and stroiag hold of Edna's heart, and after
 
 184 THE WOMAx'fS KIXGDOM. 
 
 lurking there awhile, sprung uj), forced into being 
 not by the sunshine of hope, but by the warm 
 darkness of complete though quiet despair. The 
 possibility — which Letty's vanity liad taken for 
 granted — of Dr. Stedman's attentions being to her- 
 self, awoke in her sister's mind no jealousy or 
 dread — indeed, no sensation of any kind. In 
 those early days — when she was so ignorantly 
 happy — Edna had thought the matter over in all 
 its bearings, and set it aside as a mistake. For 
 had he really fallen in love, there was no reason 
 why he should not have spoken, nor why after- 
 wards he should not have hunted Letty out and 
 followed her to the world's end. Edna thought, if 
 she were a man, she would have done so. She 
 could imagine no hindrance strong enough to pre- 
 vent a man who really loved a woman from seeking 
 her out, wooing her, and carrying her off triumphant 
 
 — like one of the old Paladins — in face of all the 
 world. 
 
 Yet for these three months William Stedman had 
 lived close by them, and given no sign of his exist- 
 ence. Therefore, of course, there was but one con- 
 clusion to be drawn. Letty, she supposed, had come 
 to it likewise, or else had forgotten the whole matter 
 
 — Letty could so easily forget ! 
 
 Still, this summer was a dull time with poor 
 Letty Kenderdine. After the fever, pupils were na- 
 turally slow of returning: the sisters were likely to 
 be very poor this half-year. Edna did not care much 
 for the fact; but she tried to make things as easy as 
 she could to Letty, whom want of money always
 
 THE WOMAI^'S KINGDOM. 185 
 
 affected keenly with a hundred small wants and 
 petty hnmiliations, ^^'hich her sister, if unable to 
 symjjathise with, felt heartily sorry for. She taxed 
 her ingenuity to lighten Letty's school duties, and 
 out of school to invent inexpensive amusements for 
 her; but still the dulness remained. Only dulness; 
 certainly not disappointed love, for Letty spoke more 
 than once of accepting her latest offer, from an 
 Australian sheep-farmer, once the boy-brother of one 
 of her pupils, whose ardent admiration had gone so 
 far as to entreat her to come out to Geelong and 
 marry him. And so Edna, who, in her simplicity, 
 could not conceive the possibility of liking one man, 
 and in the remotest degree contemplating marriage 
 with another, became quite satisfied as to the state 
 of her sister s affections. 
 
 Thus they went on, teaching school daily, and 
 spending the time as well as they could after school 
 hours, generally in the arduous duty of making ends 
 meet, until the leaves which had budded out in that 
 happy, merry spring-time in the Isle of Wight, be- 
 gan to change colour, wither, and fade. 
 
 "How fast the year slips by!" said Letty, drea- 
 rily, one half-holiday Avhen she sat at the window, 
 with nothing to do but to look over the long flat of 
 market gardens, and wish she was anywhere but 
 where she was. "I declare, to-day is the last day 
 of the band playing in Kensington Gardens, and we 
 have never yet been to hear it. It is yoixr fault, 
 Edna. Why wouldn't you let us go?" 
 
 The question was not easy to answer. There 
 A^as, of course, the obvious reason that Letty was
 
 186 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 too beautiful a person to promenade much in so 
 public a place without father or brother-, but Edna's 
 conscience told her this was not the only reason why 
 she had so persistently resisted such a very harmless 
 amusement. 
 
 She knew quite well, that if by walking twenty 
 miles she could, herself unseen, have caught one 
 glimpse of William Stedman — resting her weary 
 thirsty eyes on his brown face, which might not be 
 handsome, yet was so manly, gentle, honest, and 
 good — she would eagerly have done it. That, even 
 the dim remote possibility of seeing him — his tall, 
 sturdy, erect figure, turning round some street corner 
 — a common Kensington street — sanctified to her 
 even those dusty pavements and ugly roads. Some- 
 times the craving only to know that he was alive — 
 alive and well — jDursuing his duties, which she 
 knew were so close to his heart, working at his pro- 
 fession, and carrying oi;t nobly his useful, beneficent 
 life, without the remotest thought of herself, came 
 upon poor Edna with a force that was almost mad- 
 dening in its pain. But, at the same time, the chance 
 of really seeing him, of meeting face to face, and 
 being obliged to bow, or to shake hands and speak 
 to him, in tlie visible flesh — him of wliom she 
 thouglit niglit and day — was to her an apprehen- 
 Hion almost amounting to terror. The mere thought 
 of it often, in lier walks, made her heart stand still 
 a minute, and then go on beating so violently, that 
 she scarcely knew where she was or what she was 
 doing. Therefore, she had contrived always to avoil 
 that band promenade, where Kensington young mm
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 187 
 
 might naturally take an afternoon lounge, and where 
 Julius Stedman had once said he was rather fond of 
 going. 
 
 But this day Letty was so persistent, that, with 
 a kind of fear lest her secret reason should be be- 
 trayed, Edna ceased resistance, and they went. 
 
 Only, however, for one or two turns, during 
 which she looked straight before her, and deported 
 herself as grimly as possible towards the fops and 
 fashionable idlers who never failed to stare at the 
 tall beautiful woman and her unobtrusive companion. 
 Only tAvo turns; but even these were one too many. 
 At the second. Fate came, dead front, to meet the 
 sisters. 
 
 "There they are! Don't look, Edna; don't let 
 them fancy we see them; but there are the two 
 Stedmans." 
 
 Edna's heart gave a wild leap, everything seemed 
 turning round and round for a minute, then she 
 gathered up her senses, and recovered her strong 
 self-control, which had never failed her yet. Hap- 
 pily, her veil was down; but Letty's careless eyes 
 roved everywhere rather than to her sister's face. 
 Had it been different, still Edna would have been 
 safe. Usually tears and blushes came readily to that 
 sensitive little face, which changed its expression 
 half a dozen times in a minute; but when anything 
 smote her hard, Edna neither blushed nor wept, but 
 grew perfectly white, and as quiet as a stone. She 
 did so now. 
 
 "The Stedmans, is it? You are right, Letty, we
 
 188 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 will not look. Tbey are not likely to see us. They 
 are passing on." 
 
 And they did pass on, their attention being 
 caught by some acquaintance on the other side of 
 the promenade, to whom they stood talking for some 
 time. 
 
 That while, the eyes Dr. Stedman did not see — 
 the sad, fond, lingering eyes — had seen him — 
 vividly, distinctly; had noticed that he was a good 
 deal thinner, paler, graver — very unlike his former 
 self until in talking he chanced to smile, and then 
 Edna recognised it again, fully — the face stamped 
 indelibly upon her memory. 
 
 Perceiving he was fully occupied, and that there 
 was no possibility of his noticing her, she looked at 
 him once again, with a quiet, sad feeling — "God 
 bless him! no man is any the worse for a woman's 
 loving him" — and turned away. 
 
 As soon as she could, she lured Letty out of the 
 crowd into one of those green alleys that abound in 
 Kensington Gardens, in sight of the queer old red 
 brick palace, Avith its Dutch garden, where, long 
 ago, the courtiers of William and Mary, and the 
 maids of honour of (^ueen Anne, and the first two 
 Georges, may have strolled and coquetted and made 
 love — the old, old story! In their long-effaced foot- 
 steps walked the lovely Ijctty Kenderdine, as fair as 
 any of them, and talking, ])erhaps, not greater non- 
 sense than they had talked. 
 
 "Well I must say, it was strange," said she. "It 
 only shows how easily men forget. To pass me by 
 within a few yards, and never even see me!"
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 189 
 
 "They were talking to some gentleman." 
 
 "Oh, but people always see those they want to 
 see. Perhaps I ouglit to have bowed. You know 
 they could not come and speak to us unless we 
 bowed first. And how nice and gentlemanly they 
 both looked, especially Julius! Really Julius is a 
 very handsome young fellow now he is quite well. 
 I suppose he is quite well by this time." 
 
 "He looked so." And Edna felt glad, partly for 
 his own sake, but more for his brother's. That 
 anxiety at least was over. And then she let her 
 imagination wander wildly as to what could be the 
 secret trouble, which showed plainly on Dr. Sted- 
 man's face, and had altered him so much. The des- 
 perate longing to comfort him, to take j)art of his 
 burden, whatever it might be, came upon her, sad 
 and sore. 
 
 So much so, that she never heard footsteps be- 
 hind, nor guessed what was going to happen, until 
 Letty called out in her loud whisper, — 
 
 "Goodness me! Thei*e they are!" 
 
 And at an angle of the path the two brothers 
 and two sisters met, face to face, abruptly and un- 
 expectedly, so as to make non-recognition, or the 
 half recognition of a formal bow, impossible. They 
 were all evidently taken by surjjrise. Involuntarily 
 they stopped and shook hands. Not without a cer- 
 tain awkwardness in the greeting, probably caused 
 by the suddenness of their rencontre; but after the 
 first minute it passed off. In spite of all the good 
 resolutions on both sides, everybody seemed un- 
 feignedly glad to meet.
 
 190 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 The two young men turned back witli tliem in 
 tlie old familiar way; Julius by Edna, Dr. Stedman 
 by Letty, until, with some slight excuse, Julius 
 crossed over to the latter, and his brother fell behind 
 with Edna. Thus they went, walking slowly, the 
 whole way up the Broad Walk to the Bayswater 
 Gate. The younger brother and sister began laugh- 
 ing and talking immediately, Julius making himself 
 agreeable in his old light way, as if it were but 
 yesterday that he had carried on the same pleasant 
 badinage on the Isle of Wight shore; but the tw^o 
 others were rather silent. 
 
 Dr. Stedman asked Edna a few questions as to 
 her sister's health and her own; if they had had no 
 return of scarlet-fever in the house, and if their pu- 
 pils had come back; to all of which she replied 
 quietly, briefly, and categorically; — then he seemed 
 to have nothing more to say. And, far in the dis- 
 tance, they heard the faint sound of the band play- 
 ing, and one or two straggling groups of gaily 
 dressed people passed them, chattering and flirting 
 
 — a great contrast to this quiet, silent pair. 
 
 Very silent, very quiet outside, but beneath 
 that? 
 
 Many people might call it wrong for an un- 
 sought woman — a tender, sweet, reticent maiden 
 
 — to feel as Edna felt, walking along beside him 
 who, she now know, was the lord of all her life. 
 But there was nothing wrong in her heart. She had 
 no hope of being wooed or married by Dr. Stedman; 
 she only loved him. She only felt that it was heaven 
 to be near him — to catch again the sound of his
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 191 
 
 voice — to rest again in the protection of his honest 
 goodness. Oh, that protection! the one thing a 
 woman needs — even a woman so brave as Edna 
 Kenderdine. As for herself, she thought if she could 
 only serve him, tend him, do him good in any way; 
 ay, in the pathetic way of some ballad heroine she 
 had read of — making the house ready for his bride, 
 and helping to rear and cherish his children, — it 
 would have been not hard, but blessed to have done 
 it; for he seemed, now she saw him again, just as 
 heretofore — unlike all others; simplest, noblest, 
 best; truest man and most perfect gentleman; one 
 worth living for — worth dying for. 
 
 She idealised him a little: women always do 
 that; but William Stedman was a great deal that she 
 believed; and as for her idealising, it did no harm. 
 Men so loved not seldom grow to be as good as the 
 fond women believe them. 
 
 At the Bayswater Gate Dr. Stedman paused. 
 
 "This is our best way home. Will you come, 
 Julius?" 
 
 "Certainly not; I have not half talked out my 
 talk. Do the ladies turn? Then so shall we — with 
 your permission, Miss Kendei'dine." 
 
 Letty bowed a smiling assent. After her long 
 fast from flirtation, she was all graciousness, even to 
 the "boy" Julius, as she persisted in considering 
 him, though he was exactly her own age. So the 
 two couples strolled back again to the Palace, and 
 then across the grass to the little gate wliich led to 
 Kensington High Street. 
 
 "Here we really must take our leave," said Wil-
 
 192 THii womak's kingdom. 
 
 liam Stedman, decisively. "I have an appointment; 
 and besides, Julius — " he added half-a-dozen in- 
 audible words, which his brother did not answer, 
 but turned sharply away. 
 
 Then Edna came forward, very dignified. This 
 little woman could be dignified when she chose, in 
 spite of her few inches. 
 
 "Indeed, Dr. Stedman, we will not trouble you 
 to accompany us any farther. We have a call to 
 make in Kensington. Good-bye." 
 
 She held out her hand — first to Julius, and 
 then to his brother. 
 
 "Well, that is the coolest dismissal!" said the 
 former. "Must it be? Do you really agree to it, 
 Miss Letty?" 
 
 But Miss Letty was making elaborate adieux to 
 Dr. Stedman, and did not hear. Besides, she very 
 rarely contradicted Edna. Her easy nature always 
 yielded to the stronger "will; and it was least trouble. 
 But when they had really parted from their cavaliers 
 she was a little cross. 
 
 "Why on earth were you so peremptory, Edna? 
 They Avanted to see us home." 
 
 "Did they?" 
 
 "At least, Julius did. And why not? It Avould 
 have been rather amusing. If wo ever meet them 
 again, and perhaps we may — for Mr. Stedman says 
 they always take their walks in Kensington Gardens 
 — we ought to treat them a little more civilly, and 
 let them see us home if they desire it." 
 
 Edna replied not, but the small mouth set itself 
 closely together. No. Letty might say what she
 
 THE WOJIAX'S KINGDOM. J d.) 
 
 liked — fancy what she chose, but this should not 
 be. Dr. Stedman should never think that either she 
 or her sister were girls ready to meet the first ad- 
 vances of any idle youth. Love was no disgrace; it 
 did nobody any harm: but the feeble pretence of it 
 — flirtation or philandering — was a thing which 
 this woman, pure and true, yet passionate-hearted, 
 utterly scorned. If the Stedmans wanted to marry 
 Letty — either of them — he must come and ask for 
 her as a man should ask, and is a coward if he dare 
 not ask under any circumstances. 
 
 Letty — always Letty! That the object of their 
 devotion could be any other Avhen Letty was by, 
 did not occur to Edna. And when Letty took her 
 bonnet oflP, and shook back her bright fair liair, and 
 looked into the glass with her eyes glittering Avith 
 the novel excitement of the day, Edna thought the 
 universal admiration her sister excited was not won- 
 derful. If Dr. Stedman shared it — if that was the 
 cause of his silence and evident preoccupation — 
 well! 
 
 Edna stood a minute to face this thought. She 
 was alone. Letty had gone down-stairs, all smiles 
 and excitement-, at least, as much excitement as she 
 was capable of — quite another woman after the 
 afternoon's adventure, which was such a pleasant 
 break in their dull life. Was it only that, or did 
 Letty really care for one or other of the Stedmans? 
 And if one of them really asked her, would she 
 marry him? 
 
 Such a possibility might occur. The man Edna 
 loved might marry another, and that other her own 
 
 Tlifi ^Tom';1l'!i Kinqdi.iii. I, lv>
 
 194 THE woman's KINaDOM. 
 
 sister: a supposition maddening enough to many — 
 nay, most women. Even to this gentle little woman 
 it gave the same sudden "stound" which had come 
 to her several times lately. She closed her eyes, 
 drew a long hard breath, tried to stifle the choking 
 in her throat, and to view her position calmly. 
 
 Jealousy, in any of its ordinary forms, did not 
 affect her: her nature was too single, too entirely 
 free from both vanity and self-consciousness. No 
 wound could come to her through either of these 
 points; nothing except simple sorrow, the agony of 
 lost love. Besides , she was accustomed to view 
 things in the plain daylight, without any of those 
 distorted refractions to which egotistic people are 
 subject. She saw that in such a case as hers there 
 are but two ways open to any woman. If she loves 
 a man and he does not love her, to give him up may 
 be a horrible pang and loss, but it cannot be termed 
 a sacrifice — she resigns what she never had. But 
 if he does love her and she knows it, she is bound 
 to marry him, though twenty other women loved him, 
 and broke their liearts in losing him. He is not 
 theirs, but liers; and to have her for his wife is his 
 right and her duty. And in this world are so many 
 contradictory views of duty and exaggerated notions 
 of rights, so many false sacrifices and renunciations 
 weak even to Avickedness, that it is but fair some- 
 times to uphold (he riffht of love — love sole, absolute, 
 and paramount, firmly holding its own, and submit- 
 ting to nolhiug and no one — except the laws of God 
 and righteousness. 
 
 "Yes," Edna whispered to herself as she sat
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 195 
 
 down, feeling strangely weak and yet strong, and 
 looked through the open window across the market 
 gardens, and down Love Lane, where, in the August 
 evening, more than one pair of figures — lovers of 
 course — might be seen slowly strolling. "Yes, it is 
 all clear enough, plain enough. Possibly we shall 
 never meet him again — I hope not. But if we do, 
 if he loves Letty, marries Letty — " she paused — 
 "of course, I never say one word. He only does 
 right, and she does right too — what I should have 
 done myself If he loved me, and I knew it, I 
 would hold to him in spite of Letty, in sjiite of the 
 whole Avorld — hold to him till death ! " 
 
 Livoluntarily, her right hand closed over the 
 other hand. Ay, small and fragile as it was, it was 
 a hand that any one could see would hold, faithfully 
 and firm till death. 
 
 Oh, that among us poor, M'avering women, driven 
 about by every wind of fimcy, prejudice, weakness, 
 or folly, there were more such hands! They would 
 keep back many a man from sinking into the gulf 
 of perdition. 
 
 13*
 
 196 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 "I've done it! I've tracked them as cleverly as 
 if I were a bee-liunter on the American prairies. 
 I've found their house — such a little one, in such 
 a shabby neighbourhood. No wonder they didn't 
 like us to know it. I say, Will, don't you hear?" 
 
 "Yes," growled Will, who had just come in from 
 a severe day's work, as his brother had done from 
 a severe day's play. They were eating conjointly 
 their final meal, half tea, half supper, roughly laid 
 out and roughly served, in the dining-room, which 
 was the one well-furnished apartment of the doctor's 
 large empty house — a good house in a good street, 
 which, as a doctor, he was obliged to have, and had 
 contrived to make externally comfortable for his pa- 
 tients, — when they should come. But beyond this 
 consulting-room, all was dreariness — the dreariness 
 of raw newness, which is much worse than that of 
 ancient dilapidation. 
 
 William Stedman was wearied and dull , but 
 Julius seemed in high spirits, insisting on talking 
 and being listened to. 
 
 "I tell you I have found out where they live, 
 though they were so confoundedly secret about it. 
 It's a tiny house in one of the lanes beyond Ken- 
 sington. They must be poor enough — poorer even 
 than they seemed. But there they certainly live, 
 and I vow I'll go and pay them a call to-morrow."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 197 
 
 "Pshaw! don't make a fool of yourself." 
 
 "Make a fool of myself! You're uncommonly 
 civil to-day. Pray, may I ask in what way would 
 it be making a fool of myself? I like Avomen's so- 
 ciety, and these two are the very jolliest young 
 women I ever " 
 
 Will jumped up as if lie had been shot. "Hold 
 your tongue! you'd better!" cried he, violently, and 
 then, catching his brother's look of utter amazement, 
 he suddenly reined himself in, and, with a sort of 
 laugh, begged Julius's pardon. 
 
 "Well you may! Why, what has come over you. 
 Will? What on earth have I said or done amiss?" 
 
 "Nothing — decidedly nothing. Except that you 
 might speak a little more respectfully of these friends 
 of yours. And I do think, as I told you before 
 you went, that it was hardly right, hardly gentle- 
 manly, to hunt them out, when they so evidently 
 wished to conceal from us where they lived. Just 
 consider, we know nothing at all, in reality, concern- 
 ing them, except their names." 
 
 "And themselves, which is a good deal. I flat- 
 ter myself I know one of them, at least, pretty well. 
 Miss Edna and I were capital friends, though I 
 wasn't sweet upon her, as you thought I was. She's 
 a very nice girl, but she's not to my taste exactly." 
 
 Will poured himself out his last cup of weak tea 
 and answered nothing. 
 
 "Come, now, be reasonable, old fellow. You're 
 my elder brother, and 1 don't like to go against you. 
 Why are you so fierce at rae for wishing to keep
 
 198 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 up our acquaintance — a perfectly liarmless , indififer- 
 ent acquaintance, with the two Misses Kenderdine?" 
 
 "T/iey evidently do not wish it." 
 
 "Oh, trust me for that," said Julius with a laugh. 
 "I know women's ways rather better than you. 
 They only wanted to be followed — tracked down, 
 like bee-hunting, as I said; and very amusing work 
 it is, and rather cleverly I've done it. To-morrow 
 I mean to knock boldly at their door — such a little 
 door, only lit for a little fellow like me, so you 
 needn't try it — send in my card and request per- 
 mission to pay my respects." 
 
 "And what is to come of it?" 
 
 "Nothing; at least nothing in particular. Just 
 a little bit of harmless amusement." 
 
 "Amusement!" 
 
 "Why should I not have amusement? Nay, 
 don't look as if you'd eat mo up. Only consider 
 what a dull life we lead, especially at this time of 
 year. We're not bad enough, or rich enough, to 
 do things joUily. I'd really like to be a good boy, 
 if I could find out a house to visit at, a family 
 house with nice girls in it, where I could go to tea 
 sometimes. I'd do it, I assure you, as soberly and 
 respectably as if I were my own great-grandmother." 
 
 "And that is your intention with regard to these 
 ladies?" 
 
 "What other intention could I have? You may 
 think of marrying, old boy, if you like. You have 
 a profession, a house, and a settled income of two 
 hundred a-year; but as for me — Bah!" 
 
 "We can neither of us think of marrying just
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 199 
 
 yet," said the elder brother gravely. "It would be 
 an act of insanity — or worse, scoundrelism, to take 
 a young girl and plunge her into a life of grinding 
 poverty. But even that, I think, would be lesser 
 scoundrelism than to intrude on the privacy of two 
 young ladies who have neither parents , nor brothers; to 
 cultivate their acquaintance or friendship, as you 
 choose to call it, but we couldn't be friends, it isn't 
 in human nature. It would end in making them 
 think, and other people say, we were their lovers; 
 and then Ave must sheer off and leave them." 
 
 ''Well, and if so? It would have been jolly fun 
 while it lasted." 
 
 Dr. Stedman turned upon his brother with blaz- 
 ing eyes. "You're joking — you know you are. 
 For me, I may be very a bad fellow — I don't think 
 much of myself, any how; but I'm not such a scamp 
 as that. And as long as I am your elder brother, 
 and have the slightest influence over you, I'll hinder 
 you from being one. You will seriously offend me, 
 Julius, if you carry out your plan of visiting these 
 two young ladies." 
 
 Will spoke quietly, the almost unnatural quiet- 
 ness of some smothered feeling or passion: with him 
 a feeling was a passion, or it was nothing. He was 
 not a merely intellectual man, or a sentimental man: 
 it needed but to look at him to perceive that in him 
 the full human tide of life ran strongly and deeply 
 — the more deeply because so completely held in 
 restraint. His measured words, his steady step — 
 for he had risen, and was walking up and down the 
 room — indicated faintly what lay concealed below.
 
 200 THK woman's kingdom. 
 
 But Julius did not notice it. Either he was too 
 pre-occnpied by his own concerns, or else this was 
 a novel development of his brother which he did not 
 understand. He only said lightly, — 
 
 "You are very kind, but I don't consider myself 
 a scamp, not just yet; even though, in spite of my 
 elder brother, I do certainly intend to call i;pon the 
 Misses Kenderdine to-morrow." 
 
 It would have been a pity had Edna seen what 
 Dr. Stedman next did — Dr. Stedman , her calm, 
 gentle, wise hero — exalted by her foolish love into 
 all that man should be. Nothing could excuse it, 
 though it might be accounted for by the long under- 
 current of mental struggle that must have gone on 
 within him, before that last touch caused it to burst 
 its boundaries, and forced him completely beyond 
 his self-control. It was a wrong thing, and a ridi- 
 culous thing to do, but he did it: he seized his 
 brother by the collar and shook him, as a furious 
 big dog shakes a little one, which he must punish, 
 but will not injure; then let him go, and leaned 
 breathless against the wall. 
 
 Julius rose up, not furious, but smouldering in 
 the white heat of passion which he so seldom 
 showed. 
 
 "You shall repent this!" he said. "I don't know 
 whether you're mad or drunk, or what, but you 
 shall repent it. I'll leave you now: you're not fit 
 for civil men's company; but to-morrow Good- 
 night." 
 
 Julius had the best of it, and knew he had. 
 Sometimes, though not many times, during their
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 201 
 
 lives, the two brothers had quarrelled — most bro- 
 thers do: and then generally the stronger and better- 
 governed nature had won. But now they seemed to 
 liave changed characters, and the lighter and more 
 superficial one carried the day. 
 
 "I have been a fool!" muttered Will, as his 
 brother deliberately lit a chamber candle, and passed 
 ihim by, unobservant, or else regardless of the 
 hand whicli was half extended — the old affectionate, 
 brotherly hand. Will drew it back immediately. 
 
 "Good-night," said Julius again, very stiffly, 
 and walked out of the room. 
 
 Bitterly humbled and shamed, with the bitterest, 
 perhaps the only shame an honest man can ever 
 feel — the reproaches of his own conscience — Will 
 sat doAvn, wrapping his arms on the table and laying 
 his head upon them, in an attitude of complete de- 
 jection. There he remained, nearly motionless, for 
 a long time. The last faint glimmering of an Au- 
 gust sunset crept into the room and crept out again, 
 leaving behind a dull twilight, almost darkness. 
 Then the lamplighter's quick step was heard through 
 the open window, as he went down the dreary empti- 
 ness of a London evening street, and flashed upon 
 it gleam after gleam of lighted gas-lamps, till at last 
 he reached the one opposite Dr. Stedman's windoAv 
 — it suddenly brightened up the room, throwing 
 fantastic patterns through the window-curtains on the 
 opposite wall. 
 
 Will Stedman sprang up as if he had been asleep, 
 and the light had suddenly wakened him. 
 
 "What a fool I have been!" he said aloud.
 
 202 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "What a " Forgive him, gentle souls of gentle 
 
 women, if he used stronger language than I care to 
 record. He was only a man, and he was hard 
 bestead. "I wonder what Julius thought of me! 
 what any one would think! Who would believe I 
 could have done such a contemptible thing? How 
 she would despise me!" 
 
 She? So the man had succumbed at last. Pas- 
 sion had taken hold of him: that passion which, 
 seizing one like William Stedman, completely masters 
 him — turns his whole nature either to sweetness or 
 bitterness. How had this come about, and for what 
 woman? For that is the great test, the one fearful 
 risk of a man's life. A woman will sometimes 
 idealise a very inferior man, until her love for him, 
 and her patience with him, exalt him into something 
 better than he originally was, and her into little 
 short of an angel; but a man almost invariably drops 
 to the level of the woman he is in love with. He 
 cannot raise her, but she can almost unlimitedly de- 
 teriorate him. Why this should be, Heaven knows, 
 but so it constantly is. We have but to look around 
 us with ordinary observation, in order to see that a 
 man's destiny, more than even a woman's, depends 
 far less iipon the good or ill fortune of his wooing, 
 than upon the sort of woman with whom he falls in 
 love. 
 
 That William Stedman was a man to choose 
 strongly, firmly, and irrevocably, no one who knew 
 him, if ever so little, could doubt. That, having 
 chosen, his character would be modified to a mo- 
 mentous extent by the object of his love, and that,
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 203 
 
 once gaining him, she would liave almost unlimited 
 influence over him — was a fact also patent , for it 
 belonged to common human nature. Not that he 
 was a weak man, or a sensualist, to be led by an 
 iron chain hid under passion's roses — his thirty 
 years of brave and virtuous life furnished a sufficient 
 refutation to both suppositions. But his afi'ections 
 were very strong, and hitherto had been wholly un- 
 divided. He had no intimate friend, and not one 
 relative living, except the brother whom he had 
 guarded and guided all his days, in a way less 
 brotherly than fatherly. Still Julius had often been 
 a great anxiety to him — more anxiety than plea- 
 sure; and besides, tlicre comes a time in a man's life 
 — in all lives — when ties, not only of instinct and 
 duty, but of personal election, are necessary for hap- 
 piness; when, in short, no tie satisfies, except the 
 one which God Himself made to be the root of all. 
 
 Was it so with William Stedman? — this good 
 brother: this eager, active worker in the world, who, 
 as yet, did more for it than it had ever done for 
 him, though he lived in hopes that if he fought on 
 steadily, there was a good time coming. Had Fate 
 suddenly met him in his busy life, caught him round 
 a corner, grappled with him and bound him, throwing 
 him into the reckless bittei'ness, the angry, dissatisfied 
 craving of a man who feels the keynote wanting in 
 his existence — who misses the soft, sweet harmony 
 that would resolve all its discords into peace — the 
 quiet blessedness which nothing ever gives to a man's 
 life except a woman's love. 
 
 William Stedman's good angel standing behind
 
 204 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 him that night might well have wept over him, so 
 unlovely and unloveable he seemed. But angelic 
 wisdom would also have known that it was only the 
 upboiling of the chaos out of which was soon to be 
 formed a perfect world. 
 
 He paced his dining-room — his well-furnished 
 but ugly and dreary dining-room — till he was 
 thoroughly wearied; and he had had a long day of 
 hospital work besides; yet still the restless spirit was 
 not half taken out of him. Then he went and 
 listened on the staircase, but from Julius's room 
 came no sound. 
 
 "What do I want with him, or he with me? 
 Probably he is fast asleep, and has forgotten it all. 
 Nothing ever makes much impression on him for 
 long. Why should I sacrifice myself? He will be 
 just as happy in any other house as in mine; and, 
 besides, he might come here often. He would, if 
 this house were made pretty and pleasant — as a 
 woman could make it. They are as ])oor as we are 
 — thank God for that! Yet Avhat a difference there 
 used to be between their parlour and ours! How 
 neat her work-basket was! and how she used to 
 stick little bits of flowers here and there about the 
 room ! " 
 
 While he thought , the man's hard features 
 softened. 
 
 ''''She wouldn't let me be savage with Julius. 
 She always had a kind word to say for him, poor 
 fellow ! She would be a good sister to him, I know. 
 He liked her too, and I was such a fool as to think 
 that Almost as great a fool as I was for a
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 205 
 
 ilay or two over the beauty of the other one. Pshaw I 
 mere flesh and blood — bones and epidermis. But 
 my darling; my little bright, active, loving darling! 
 she is all spiritual: makes me believe in spirit with- 
 out the flesh. No death could kill hei\ or the love 
 that lives in her. Oh, my God, if I had it for 
 
 mine 
 
 I" 
 
 A great convulsion came over his face, and his 
 thoughts (which were altogether silent — he was not a 
 person to stamp about and soliloquize) came to an 
 abrupt stop — then ran rampant in a wild riot. At 
 last he gathered them up together, and formed them 
 into a resolution — strong and clear. 
 
 "I icill have her-, at least I'll try my best to get 
 her. I am di'iven to it, whether or no. As for 
 prudence- — hang prudence! And with regard to 
 honour, — well, perhaps it's as honourable to speak 
 out at once as to hold my tongue for another year 
 or two, and let Julius go philandering after them, 
 vexing and fretting her, and setting people talking 
 besides-, while if she were engaged to me — openly 
 and fairly mine — nobody could say one word. Only 
 let any one dare, that's all!" 
 
 He clenched his fist and struck it with such force 
 against the table that he actually hurt himself, and 
 then laughed at his own exceeding silliness. 
 
 "I'll take a walk and think the matter over. I 
 shall get quiet then. But I must send the house- 
 hold to bed. How late it is! She would not have 
 been so forgetful of other people." And after shout- 
 ing down the stairs to the old man and Avoman who 
 formed his sole establishment — one to attend upon
 
 206 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 patients, and tlie other to see to the comfortless com- 
 forts of the two young bachelors, Dr. Stedman closed 
 his hall-door with a bang, and set off at a quick 
 pace — anywhere. 
 
 His feet carried him to a place where he had 
 very often walked this summer, but never in day- 
 light; mostly, as now, taking it on his way home 
 from night visits in that poor neighbourhood which 
 lay close by, whence, no doubt, the scarlet fever 
 came. Not a wholesome spot, especially in late 
 summer and autumn, when the air was heavy with 
 decaying vegetation. Yet to the end of his days 
 William Stedman thought there was something plea- 
 sant in the faint, moist odour, half perfume, of 
 jessamine, clematis, and tlie like, and half composed 
 of scents much less sweet, which came through tbe 
 brilliant harvest moonlight, as he walked along under 
 black shadowing trees and stirless hedges, past the 
 Misses Kcnderdine's door. 
 
 lie knew it Avell enough — had discovered it long 
 ago — though he had allowed his brother to take 
 such a world of pains to find it; but he walked 
 rapidly past it, and not till he was some distance 
 off did he turn round to watch it, as men in love 
 will stand and watch the casket that holds their 
 jewel, to the end of time. 
 
 For he was in love — deeply, desperately — as 
 rarely happens to a man twice in a lifetime. Per- 
 haps all the deeper because, like Romeo with his 
 Rosaline, there had previously appeared and vanished 
 the phantom of a mock sun. It sometimes flashed 
 upon him, this deep-hearted, high-minded, and some-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 207 
 
 what exacting man, who in midst of all his passion 
 never let his reason go, what a different kind of love 
 his would have been had it been placed on mere 
 outside beauty — like Letty Kenderdine's! 
 
 "My little darling! my bright, active, unselfish 
 little darling! you are not plain to me. You are all 
 sweet, all lovely!" And he opened his arms and 
 closed them again over his breast, as if he still felt 
 her there, as on the stormy night Avhen he carried 
 her home insensible — that night when he vowed in 
 his heart that no other woman but herself would he 
 ever marry. 
 
 Let us look at him tenderly — this man who had 
 no mother or sister, none of those holy influences 
 which are often almost as blessed as that of a Avife, 
 if rightly and wisely and unselfishly used. But he 
 had, as he said, nothing; and he felt his nature 
 hardening and corrupting, and a kind of hopeless 
 cynicism stealing over him. 
 
 "Oh, save me!" he cried, almost aloud; for the 
 corner where he stood Avas as desolate as if he had 
 been in a Avilderness. "Save me from myself! Make 
 a man of me! You could, if you only knew it — if 
 you only knew how bad I am, and how I want you 
 to make me good, my little darling." 
 
 And then and there he took his resolve, leaning 
 on a railing where many a lover must have leant 
 before; for it was all engraved with rough letters in 
 twos and twos, encircled in rings or true-lovers' 
 knots. Ah, to think what has become of the OAvners 
 of those initials now! How many broken troth- 
 plights, and death-partings, and marriages more fatal
 
 208 THE woman's kixgdom. 
 
 than deaths! Yet still, then and there William Sted- 
 man resigned himself to the common lot, and made 
 up his mind that he would risk his all on a brief 
 yes or no from a woman's lips. 
 
 The poor old railing has long been broken down, 
 and there is a range of handsome houses, in which 
 you can jjay morning calls and go to evening parties, 
 on the quiet spot where the lovers used to linger. 
 But I think more than one person still living re- 
 members it tenderly, and thanks God that William 
 Stedman had strength and courage to take his destiny, 
 and another's also, into his own hands, after the 
 fashion of those four lines, which every honest man 
 would do well to repeat to himself when he goes 
 a-wooing : — 
 
 "He either fear.s his fate too much , 
 Or his deserts are small , 
 Who dares not put it to the touch, 
 And win or lose it all." 
 
 After that decision the doctor walked home with 
 steadier feet, and a bolder heart. He let himself in 
 at his own door with a feeling that, come what 
 would, he was master there — • master of himself, and, 
 in a measure, of his fortunes: as a man always is 
 who has courage to look his difliculties in the face, 
 and push his way through them with a firm, stead- 
 last hand. 
 
 To that singleness of purpose — to the conscious- 
 ness that, in acting as he had determined to act, 
 there was in his heart no mean intent, no thought 
 wliicli a good man need wish to hide, or a good 
 woman blush to look at — he trusted the success of
 
 THE woman's kixgdom. 209 
 
 liis suit. And if it failed — why, he was not tlie 
 first man to whom such a tiling had happened. 
 
 Though when he imagined the possibility — nay, 
 probability, for his humility made him think it very 
 probable — of his love being rejected, he felt as a 
 man would not willingly feel twice in a lifetime. 
 
 Dr. Stedman was no coward; and yet, when he 
 lit his lamp, took out his desk, and fairly sat down 
 to it, his hand shook like a leaf. 
 
 The letter consisted only of a few lines: he could 
 not write more. Some men take refuge in pen and 
 paper, and revel therein •, their thoughts and feelings 
 flow out — and generally evaporate also — in the 
 most chai^ming sentences, which, even under the 
 deepest emotion, it is a relief to them to write, and 
 a pride in having Avritten. But William Stedman 
 was of another sort. To express his feelings at all 
 Avas very difficult to him; to Avrite them, and see 
 them written, staring back at him in terrible black 
 and white, was impossible. Therefore this letter, 
 the first love-letter he ever wrote, was of the very 
 briefest and most formal kind: — 
 
 "Dear Madam, 
 
 ''AVill you do mo the honour to read this 
 in private and alone? 
 
 "My brother has just told me he has discovered 
 where you live, and means to call upon you. May 
 I be allowed to do so first? I have but one reason 
 for this, and one apology for the presumption of 
 proposing it: that I consider neither my brother nor 
 myself have any right to intrude upon you as mere 
 
 The Woman's Kingdoin. 1. 14
 
 210 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 acquaintances. And besides, a mere acquaintance I 
 could uever willingly be to you. 
 
 "You and I know one another pretty well: we 
 shall never know one another any better unless I 
 dare to ask you one question: Could you, after any 
 amount of patient waiting on my part and for the 
 sake of a love of which I cannot s]Deak, consent to 
 be my wife? 
 
 "To-morrow is Saturday. If, during the day, 
 only one line comes to me by post, I will be with 
 you on Sunday. If I may not come — but then I 
 know you will answer me quickly, you would not 
 keep in needless torture any creature living. 
 "Yours faithfully, 
 
 "William Stedman. 
 
 "Miss Edna Kenderdine." 
 
 Yes that was the name — her name. He wrote 
 it firmly enough. The die was cast, and now he 
 must meet either fortune; and he thought he could. 
 He did not even re-read his letter, or speculate upon 
 whether or not it was a good letter, or the sort of 
 letter to effect its end; for, even in the midst of his 
 delirium of passion, he had sense enough to see tliat 
 a woman who, in so momentous a crisis, could lay 
 weight upon accidental forms of phrase or mistakes 
 of ex])ression, was not a woman to be much desired. 
 One doubt alone he had — would she show her 
 sister the letter? and if so, what would Letty say, 
 and how miglit she influence Edna with regard to 
 liim? 
 
 Jiut shortly he cast this perplexity also aside. A
 
 THE woman's hiKGDOM. 211 
 
 woman who, in such a case, coiilcl be infliienced by 
 sister or friend — or even parent — who couhl not 
 ask herself the simple question, "Do I love him, or 
 do I not love him?" and answer it herself, Avith re- 
 ferring the decision to any human being — such a 
 woman might be good enough in her way, but she 
 Avas not Edna Kenderdine — not the woman whom 
 a man like William Stedman would ever care to 
 marry. 
 
 Saying this to himself, and staying himself there- 
 with a little — ay, even in the full tide and torrent 
 of his passion — he. closed and sealed his letter: 
 then, with a vague dread of trusting himself with it 
 till the morning, he went out again into the dark 
 streets, and posted it with his own hand. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The postman was by no means a daily visitor 
 at the Misses Kenderdine's door. It is a fact — 
 amusing or melancholy, according as one takes it — 
 that society in the aggregate does not very much run 
 after resident governesses or j)oor schoolmistresses-, 
 that they are not likely to be inundated with cor- 
 respondence or haunted with invitations. Of course, 
 under no circumstances, are young, good, and plea- 
 sant women likely to be quite without friends or ac- 
 quaintances; such loneliness would argue a degree 
 of unlovingness, or unlovableness, of which no one 
 could accuse the Misses Kenderdine. But this is a 
 busy and a self-engrossed world: it has quite enough 
 
 14*
 
 212 THK woman's kingdom. 
 
 to do with its own affairs, and it likes to get the full 
 value for all it bestows. The sisters, who had so 
 little to give it, had not been troubled with any 
 overplus of its affection. Still there were, in different 
 parts of the country, a few households Avho affec- 
 tionately remembered the Kenderdines; and even at 
 Kensington there were some houses where they oc- 
 casionally visited, or went to one of those evening 
 parties which in London middle-class society take 
 the place of the countryfied, old-fashioned, "going 
 out to tea." 
 
 They were expecting one of these invitations-, so 
 the postman's red coat gleaming against the green 
 hedge of Love Lane attracted Letty's attention, and 
 his knock roused her to jump up and take in the 
 letter. Edna allowed her to go. She herself had 
 not felt Avell all the day; — the morning school had 
 been an unusual burden to her, and now it was over 
 she took refuge in her favourite American rocking- 
 chair — a present from an old pupil — and rocked 
 and rocked, as if in that soothing motion the uneasy 
 feeling in mind and body — • half weariness, half 
 restlessness — would pass away. Though she knew 
 all the while it would not; that there it was, and she 
 must bear it, as many another woman had borne it 
 before her — the dull heart-ache, the hopeless want. 
 These sorrows do come, and they conquer even the 
 Itravest sometimes. May He who ordained love to 
 1)0 the crown of life, have pity on all those to whom 
 it comes only as a crown of thorns, or who have to 
 endure the blankness of its absence — the agony of 
 ifs loss! Both can be endured, and comfort will come
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 213 
 
 at leiigtb, but the torture is terrible while it lasts. 
 Edna endured it but in a small measure, and for a 
 short time; yet the pang was sharp enough to make 
 her, till the end of her days, feel unutterable pity 
 and tenderness over those women whom the world 
 calls "disappointed in love:" from whose lives God 
 has seen lit to omit life's first and best blessing: or 
 else, though this is a lesser grief, to give it and take 
 it away. 
 
 She was sitting listlessly rocking, not thinking 
 much about anything, when Letty re-entered with 
 the letter. 
 
 "It is for you, dear. What a funny hand! — a 
 lawyer's hand, I should say. Who can be writing 
 to you, Edna?" 
 
 "1 don't know," said Edna, indiflPerently , and 
 then, catching a glimpse of the letter, checked her- 
 self, with a startled consciousness that she did know, 
 or at any rate guess; that locked up in her desk, in 
 a hidden corner, she liad a small fragment of the 
 very same handwriting, a most unimportant frag- 
 ment ■ — memoranda about trains, &c., for their rail- 
 way journey — but still, there it was, kept like a 
 treasure, secreted like a sin. 
 
 "Miss Edna Kenderdine," read Letty, detaining 
 the letter and examining it. "Then it must be from 
 a stranger. A friend would know of course, that 
 you were Miss Kenderdine. Shall I open it for you, 
 dear?" 
 
 "No," said Edna, and an unaccountable impulse 
 made her snatch it, and turn away with it; turn 
 away from her sister, her dear sister, from whom she
 
 214 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 had not a secret in the world. At the first sentence 
 she started, glanced at the signature, and then put 
 the letter in her pocket, flushing scarlet. 
 
 Letty looked amazed. "What is the matter with 
 you? Is it a love-letter? Do say!" 
 
 "It begins like a business letter, and the writer 
 wishes me to read it in private and alone," said 
 Edna, forcing her white lips — she felt, with a ter- 
 rified consciousness, how very Avhite she must be 
 turning now — to utter the exact, formal truth. 
 
 "Oh, very well," replied Letty, a little vexed, 
 but too sweet-tempered to retain vexation long. 
 
 She sat down composedly and finished her din- 
 ner — lingering a good while over the pudding — 
 Letty liked puddings and all good things; while 
 Edna sat, with the letter in her pocket, as quiet and 
 almost as silent as if she were made of marble, for 
 a quarter-of-an-honr. Then Letty rose. 
 
 "Now I'll go into the kitchen, for I want to iron 
 out my muslin dress. In the meantime, you can 
 read in peace your wonderful letter. You'll tell me 
 about it afterwards, Edna dear." 
 
 Touched by her sister's gentleness, Edna returned 
 a smiling "thank you," and tried to look as usual, 
 wliilc the dinner was being cleared away. But her 
 head was whirling and her pulse beating fast — so 
 fast that when she at last took the letter out and 
 opened it, the lines swam before her eyes. She had 
 only strength to creep noiselessly up to her room at 
 the top of tlie hoiise, shut herself in, and lock the 
 door. 
 
 There let her be. We will not look at her, nor
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 215 
 
 inquire into what she felt or did. Women at least 
 can xmderstand. 
 
 Letty's muslin dress had, happily, a good many 
 frills and flounces, and took a long time in ironing. 
 Not that Letty grumbled at that: she had great 
 pleasui-e in her clothes, and was the last person to 
 treat them lightly or disrespectfully, or to complain 
 of any trouble they cost her. This dress especially 
 always engrossed so much of her attention and affec- 
 tion, that it is doubtful whether she once let her 
 mind stray from it to such commonplace facts as 
 business letters. And when it was done, she was 
 good-natured enough to recollect that while she had 
 the things about she might as Avell iron Edna's dress 
 too. She Avent up-stairs to fetcli it, but, to her sur- 
 prise, found the door locked. 
 
 "I will come presently," answered a very low 
 voice from within. 
 
 "But your dress, Edna. I want to iron out 
 your new muslin dress." 
 
 "Thank you, dear. Never mind. I will be down 
 presently." 
 
 "It was a love-letter then!" pondered Letty to 
 herself as she descended. "I am sure it was. But 
 Avho in the wide world can have fallen in love with 
 Edna? Poor Edna!" 
 
 "Poor Edna!" Rich Edna! rich in the utmost 
 wealth that heaven can give to mortal woman! Oh, 
 Avhen there is so miich sadness in the world — so 
 much despised love — unrequited love — unworthy 
 love — surely the one bliss of love deserved and 
 love returned ought to outweigh all else, and stand
 
 216 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 firm and sure Avliatever outside cares may lay siege 
 to it. They cannot touch the citadel where the two 
 hearts — tlie one double heart — has entrenched 
 itself, safe and at rest - — for ever. 
 
 Edna's "love" - — hopelessly and dearly beloved 
 — had become her lover. He wished to make her 
 his wife. Her solitary days were done: she stood 
 on the threshold of a new life — in a new world. 
 Never, until through the gate of deatli she should 
 enter on the world everlasting, would there come to 
 her such another hour as that first hour after she 
 read William Stedman's letter. 
 
 Half-an-hour after — to so long a space extended 
 her "presently" — Edna Kenderdine crept down- 
 stairs, and then crept on, still quietly, into her 
 sister's arms. 
 
 "Kiss me, Letty! There are only we two." 
 
 In a few words — strangely few it seemed, and 
 as if the whole thing were quite natural and known 
 beforehand — Edna told her happy secret, and the 
 sisters embraced one another and wept together, the 
 harmless tears that women are sure to shed, and are 
 not women at all if they do not shed, on these oc- 
 casions. 
 
 At first Letty was considerably surprised — ])er- 
 haps a little more than surprised — but she had the 
 good taste and good feeling not to say overmuch on 
 this head, and not to refer, even in the most passing- 
 way, to certain i-emarks of her own during the last 
 two days, whicli must have been, to say the least, 
 rather annoying to remember. But if Letty was a 
 little disappointed and humiliated — and it was
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 217 
 
 scarcely in liuinan nature that she should not he — 
 after having so confidently placed herself and Dr. 
 Stedman in the position of the Irish hallad couplet — 
 
 " Did ye ever hear of Captain Baxter, 
 Whom Miss Biddy refused afore he axed her?" 
 
 her vanity was too innocent, and her nature too 
 easy, to bear offence long. After the first surprise 
 was over, her congratulations were given with suf- 
 ficient warmth and sincerity. 
 
 "Well, Edna dear; you know I always liked 
 him, and I dare say I shall find him a very good 
 hrother-in-law •, and really it will be rather convenient 
 to have a man in the family. But to think that 
 after all the offers I have had, you should be the 
 first to get married, or anyhow engaged. Wlio 
 would ever have expected such a thing!" 
 
 "Who would indeed!" said Edna, in all simpli- 
 city, and with a sense almost of contrition for the 
 fact. 
 
 "Well, never mind!" answered Letty, consol- 
 ingly; "I am sure I hope you wiU be very happy; 
 and as for me" — she paused and sighed — "I 
 should not wonder if I were left an old maid after 
 all, in spite of my appearance." 
 
 Which catastrophe, so dolefully prognosticated, 
 would have awakened a smile yesterday; but to-day 
 Edna could not smile. Though her joy was only an 
 hour old, it was so intense, so perfect, that it seemed 
 to absorb the whole of life, as if she knew not how 
 she had ever lived without it. Thinking of her 
 sister who had it not — who did not even comprehend
 
 218 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 Avhat it was — she felt so sorry that she could have 
 M'ept over her. 
 
 But Letty's next words dispelled this tender 
 regret. 
 
 "Still, Edna, if I were you, I would not be in 
 any hurry to give the young man his answer. And 
 in tlie meantime we will make some inquiries as to 
 what sort of practice he has — whether he is likely 
 to be in a position to marry soon — and so on. 
 Certainly it is by no means so good a match as I 
 myself should have expected to make; but then you 
 are different — I mean your ideas of things are much 
 humbler than mine. Didn't somebody once say you 
 had quite a genius for poverty?" 
 
 "//e said it," and Edna hung her head, blush- 
 ing; then lifted it up with a bright, proud, peaceful 
 smile — "Yes, he said it one day on the shore. 
 He knew me even then, and understood me, thank 
 God." 
 
 And there came before her a vision of her life 
 to come — not an easy one: not that of a woman 
 who slips into marriage to "better herself," as ser- 
 vants say — to attain ease, and luxury, and position, 
 and all the benefits which "a good marriage" is 
 supposed to confer. Hers would be a life in whicli 
 every energy would be tested, every power put to 
 use — which would exact unlimited patience, self- 
 denial, courage, strength; the life, in short, of a 
 woman who does not care to be a man's toy and 
 ornament, bxit desires rather to be his helpmeet — 
 sujiplying all he needs, as he supplies all she needs,
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 219 
 
 teaching her through the necessities of every day- 
 how to fulfil the perfect law of love — self-sacrifice. 
 
 Edna knew she should have a hard life. Though 
 Dr. Stedman Avas still tolerably ignorant about their 
 circumstances, he had taken good care to inform her 
 everything about his own. She was well aware that 
 he was poor — proud also — perhaps on account of 
 the poverty. She guessed with her quick-sighted 
 love, that his temper was not the sweetest in the 
 world — though she could find excuses for that. 
 But she believed in him — she honoured him, for 
 she had never seen anything in him that was not 
 worthy of honour*, and, last little fact of all, which 
 included all the rest, she loved him. 
 
 Letty watched her a minute - — with that happy 
 smile on her face. "Well, Edna dear, if yoii are 
 satisfied so am I. It is, of course, your own affair 
 entirely. I would only advise you to take time." 
 
 "Certainly I shall. It is sure to be a long en- 
 gagement." 
 
 Letty shook her head pathetically. "Ah! if 
 there is one thing more than another which I 
 should object to, it is a long engagement. It wears 
 a girl to death, and cuts ofi^ all her chances else- 
 where. And suppose in the meantime she should 
 receive a better offer?" 
 
 Edna dropped her sister's hand. "Letty, we 
 had better talk no more. If we talked to everlast- 
 ing, I could never make you understand." 
 
 She spoke sharply, almost angrily, and then, 
 seeing no anger, only mild amazement, on Letty's 
 beautiful face, she repented. With the yearning
 
 220 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 that every woman must have at this crisis in her 
 life, to fall on some other woman's neck and ask 
 for a little love — a little sympathy, on the new 
 strange path she had just entered — she turned back 
 again to her sister, who kissed her once more. 
 
 "Really now, I did not mean to vex you, Edna. 
 Of course you know your own mind — you always 
 did; and had your own way, too, in everything — 
 I'll tell him so, and frighten him." 
 
 Edna smiled. 
 
 "And what does he say to you? Do show me 
 your love-letter — I always showed you all mine!" 
 
 But this was a different thing quite. Edna 
 closed her little hand fiercely over it — her one 
 possession, foretaste of her infinite wealth to come. 
 It was hers — all her own , and the whole world 
 should neither pry into it, nor steal it, nor share it. 
 
 "Well, never mind. You always were a queer 
 girl," said Letty, patiently. "But at least you'll 
 tell me when he is coming here. This is Satur- 
 day — I suppose he will want to come to tea on 
 Sunday?" 
 
 And so the misty, beautiful, wondrous dream 
 condensed itself into a living common-place reality. 
 There was a note written, which consisted of the 
 brief word "come," naming the day and hour. This 
 was sent by their servant, who looked much aston- 
 ished, and ho])ed nobody was ill and wanting the 
 doctor; and then the two sisters sat down side by 
 side, for even Letty was silent awhile. 
 
 At last, however, she could hold her tongue no
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 221 
 
 longer, but began talking in her smoothly flowing, 
 inconsequent way. 
 
 "I wonder Avhat sort of a house he lives in, and 
 whether it is well furnished. Of course we can't go 
 and see — it would not be proper; but I will try 
 and find out. And this house of ours — I suppose 
 it will have to be given up. No man would like 
 his Avife to go on keeping school. He would never 
 let her work, if he could help it: — in such a com- 
 mon way too. Ah, Edna, you are the lucky woman 
 after all! I wish I had somebody to work for me." 
 
 "Do you?" said Edna, absently. 
 
 "Oh, how nice it must be! To have nothing to 
 do all day long, and everything pretty about one, 
 and perhaps a carriage to ride in and no trouble at 
 all. Heigho! I wish I were married too, though it 
 shouldn't be to anybody like Dr. Stedman. But, 
 my dear, since it is to be, and you are fond of him, 
 and, as I have said, you are your own mistress, and 
 must please yourself: do just tell me what you^ think 
 about things. In the first place, what ought your 
 wedding-dress to be?" 
 
 "Hush!" Edna Avhispered. "Please don't talk 
 any more. I can't bear it." And then she tlu-ew 
 herself into her sister's arms, and cried passionately; 
 half for joy, half for sorrow. So the day ended — 
 the day of days which closed up for ever one portion 
 of the sisters' lives: a day, to Letty, scarcely dif- 
 ferent from any other, but to Edna, like that first 
 day which marked the creation of a new world. 
 
 She scarcely slept all night: still, she rose and 
 went to church as usual. She was neither afraid
 
 222 THE WOMAN S KINGDOM. 
 
 nor ashamed. Slie knew the Great Searcher of hearts 
 Avould not punish her, because in every thanksgiving 
 was a thought of him^ and every jirayer was a prayer 
 for two. She walked home with her sister through 
 the green lane — Letty vaguely wondering what 
 church Dr. Stedman attended — she hoped he did 
 go to church regularly somewhere, for nothing made 
 a man look so respectable, especially if he were a 
 doctor. Edna had a sweet composure of mien — a 
 gentle dignity such as had never been seen in her 
 before; inasmuch as more than one stray acquaint- 
 ance told her "how well she was looking." At 
 which she felt so glad. 
 
 But during the afternoon ■ — ■ the long still Sun- 
 day afternoon — with the Avarm jessamine-scented 
 air creeping in through the half-closed Venetian 
 blinds, some of her nervousness returned, her qixick 
 restless movements, her little abruptnesses of speech. 
 She went about from room to room, but could not 
 sit long anywhere. 
 
 Letty watched her Avith a condescending interest 
 rather trying to bear. "It's natural, dear, quite 
 natural. I used to feel the, same myself when one 
 (jf them was coming. Dear me! what a long time 
 ago it seems since anybody came to court me! But 
 even one's sister's lover is better than none. I hope 
 you will settle with Dr. Stedman to come every 
 Sunday. And he might sometimes bring his brother 
 with hiin, for it will be desperately dull for me, you 
 know. Well, I declare! Punctuality's very self! For 
 it is just live minutes to six, and I am sure I see a
 
 THE woman's KINGDOAr. 223 
 
 gentleman striding down Love Lane. I'll run down- 
 stairs and open the door; shall I, Edna?" 
 
 Edna assented, but she could not utter a word 
 more. She stood at her window — the window 
 where she was fond of sitting, and had sat so many 
 an hour, and dreamed so many a maiden dream. 
 She watched him coming, a tall figure, strong and 
 active, walking firmly, without pauses or hesitation, 
 though sometimes turning the head round to glance 
 
 — Edna guessed whither! There he was, the ruler 
 of her life, her friend, her lover, some day to be 
 her husband. He was coming to assume his rights, 
 to assert his sovereignty. A momentary vague ter- 
 ror smote her, a fear as to the unknown futm-e, a 
 tender regret for the peaceful maidenly, solitary days 
 left behind, and then her heart recognised its mas- 
 ter and went forth to meet him; not gleefully, with 
 timbrels and dances, but veiled and gentle, grave 
 and meek; contented and ready to obey him, "even 
 as Sara obeyed Abraham, calling him lord." 
 
 Edna long remembered, in years when it was a 
 comfort to have it to remember, how exceedingly 
 good Letty was that day; how she went dovra her- 
 self to welcome Dr. Stedman, and behaved to him 
 
 — as he told Edna afterwards — in a way so wo- 
 manly, friendly, and sisterly, that it took away all 
 his awkwardness; and by the time another little light 
 footstep was heard on the stairs, he was found sitting 
 
 — as quietly as if he had sat there every Sunday 
 for years — in the great arm-chair by the window, 
 with his face, pale indeed, but radiant with the light
 
 224 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 of happiness, the one only happiness which ever 
 gives that look, turned towards the opening door. 
 
 It ojjened, and Edna came in. 
 
 I have said this little woman was not beautiful, 
 not even pretty, but there was a lovesomeness about 
 her — her neat, small, airy figure, her harmonious 
 movements, and her dainty hands, which often grew 
 into absolute loveliness: at least, would, in the eyes 
 of any man who had the sense to love her, and prize 
 her at her worth. Woman as she was — all Avoman 
 — she was 
 
 "Yet a spirit too , and bright, 
 And something of an angel light." 
 
 And as the man — this big, tall, and, it might once 
 have been, rather rough man — looked at her, stand- 
 ing in the doorway in her lilac muslin di-ess, his 
 whole soul came into his eyes, though there was 
 also a mingled expression of dread, as if expecting 
 tliat while he gazed her wings would groAA^ and she 
 would fly away from him. 
 
 He rose, and advanced a step forward; then he 
 and the lilac angel shook hands — ■ humanly — in a 
 most common-place fashion. After which Letty, with 
 astonishing tact, discovered the immediate necessity 
 of "seeing about tea," and disappeared. 
 
 There are those who despise small rooms and 
 liomely furniture; to whom Love is nothing except 
 lie comes dressed in fine clothes , and inhabiting 
 splendid drawing-rooms. Of course , under such 
 circumstances, Avlion Poverty enters in at the door, 
 tlie said Love will surely fly out at the window. He
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 225 
 
 has beeu far too mucli accustomed to think of him- 
 self and his own ease. Undeniably, it is very plea- 
 sant to be rich, to inhabit handsome houses, and be 
 dressed in elegant clothes; and there is a kind of 
 love so purely external, selfish and self-seeking, that 
 it cannot exist unless it has also these things. But 
 the true love is something far, far beyond. And 
 Edna, when William Stedman took her in his arms 
 — just herself and nothing more — in her common 
 muslin gown, with no attractive surroundings, for 
 the parlour was small and humble as well could 
 be — asking her if she could love him, and if she 
 were afraid to be a poor nan's wife — Edna knew 
 Avhat that true love was. 
 
 They sat long talking, and he told her every- 
 thing, including a little confession Avhich perhaps 
 every man would not have made ; but this man 
 was so conscientiously honest that he could not have 
 been happy without making it — that his first passing 
 fancy had been for her beautiful sister. 
 
 "And I like her still — I shall always like her," 
 added he, with an earnest simplicity that made Edna 
 smile, and assured lier more than ever of the love 
 that was far deeper than all telling. "And — be- 
 fore you get anxious about it, I wish to say one 
 thing — Letty shall never leave you, if you do not 
 wish it, and I will always be good to her. "Who 
 could help it? She is so charming to look at — so 
 sweet-tempered — so kindly, I like her exceedingly \ 
 but as for loving — " 
 
 Edna gave one shy inquiring glance into the 
 passionate face, then, in the strange familiarity — 
 
 Tlie Woiuatt's Kingdom. 1. ■'<-'
 
 226 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 sacred as sweet — which one little hour had brought 
 about between them, she laid her head upon his 
 shoulder, saying gently — 
 
 "I am not afraid. I know you will never love 
 anybody biit me." 
 
 And when at last Letty came in, after a most 
 lengthy and benevolent rattling of the door-handle, 
 William Stedman went up to her and kissed her like 
 a brother. 
 
 "It is all settled, and you are to live with us. 
 We never mean to part with you — excejit to some- 
 body better than om-selves." 
 
 Thus, quietly, in his brief masculine way, he 
 cleared off the only weight on Edna's mind — in the 
 only way in which it could be done. And as she 
 looked up to him with grateful eyes, loving him all 
 the dearer because of tlie tenderness he showed to 
 her own flesh and blood, he inly voAved that he would 
 never let her know how in resigning his first great 
 happiness of a married home all to themselves, he 
 had made a very great sacrifice. 
 
 Letty thanked him, not with overmuch emotion, 
 for she was so used to be first considered, that she 
 took it quite naturally. Then, with a little common- 
 place quizzing — not ill-meant, but rather inappro- 
 priate — she sat down in Edna's place to pour out 
 tea and enjoy the distinction of entertaining "the 
 man of tlie family." 
 
 When the meal was ended. Dr. Stedman, in the 
 aforesaid capacity, which he accepted in a cheery 
 and contented maimer, proposed that they should at 
 once cuter upon the question of business.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 227 
 
 "Which means being- married, I suppose?" 
 laughed Lettj. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, with a deep blush, and then 
 dashed at the subject abruptly and desperately. "I 
 do not wish to wait — not a day after I get a hos- 
 pital appointment which I have been long trying for, 
 and have now a good chance of. With that and my 
 profession, we could live. And Julius, he will have 
 enough to live upon too." 
 
 "Will he live with you? Then how can I?" 
 asked Letty, bridling up with a sudden fit of pro- 
 priety. 
 
 "No, not with us," was the answer, strong, decisive, 
 almost angry. "As she knows," glancing at Edna, 
 "there is two hundred a-year, which, if necessary, 
 he can have; part or whole; but I will not have him 
 living with me. Two men in one house would never 
 do;" and then he told, cursorily, the "slight differ- 
 ence" — so he called it — which he had had Avith 
 his brother, and how he had not seen him since, 
 Julius having gone next morning on a painting ex- 
 pedition. 
 
 Edna looked grave, but Letty listened with con- 
 siderable amusement. "And so Julius — I may call 
 him 'Julius,' as he will be my half-brother-in-law, 
 you know — wanted to come and see us, and you 
 prevented him? And if this quarrel had not hap- 
 pened, you would not have written to Edna? Per- 
 haps you would never have made up your mind to 
 ask her at all?" 
 
 The silly woman had hit upon something like a 
 
 15*
 
 228 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 trutli, or near enough thereto to vex the man a 
 little. 
 
 "I assure you, Miss Letty — but excuse my ex- 
 plaining. Your sister knows all." 
 
 Yes, Edna did know — all the pride — all the 
 pain — the struggle between duty and passion — the 
 difficulty of distinguishing right from wrong - — hon- 
 our from cowardliness — rashness from fearless faith. 
 Many a man has gone through the like before his 
 marriage — ■ the woman neither understanding it nor 
 pitying it — • but Edna did both. She laid her little 
 hand on his — 
 
 "No need to explain, I am quite satisfied." 
 
 "And Julius," persisted Letty, who was beginning 
 to find second-hand felicity a little uninteresting. 
 "Does he know of all this between Edna and you?" 
 
 " No, but when he returns on Monday I shall tell 
 him." 
 
 "And what will he say?" 
 
 "I think he will say, as a brother should — 'It's 
 all right. Be happy in your own way.' " 
 
 "But if lie does not?" said Edna, tremulously. 
 
 William Stedman looked vexed. Perhaps he 
 knew his brother better than she did, or was less ac- 
 customed than she was to think of others. 
 
 "I do not contemplate any such impertinent inter- 
 ference on his part. But if so, it can make no dif- 
 ference to me. When a man of my age chooses his 
 wife, no other man, not even his own brother, has 
 a right to say a word. Julius had better not; I 
 would not stand it." 
 
 He spoke loudly, like a man not used to talk
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 229 
 
 with or to listen to women; a man who, right or 
 wrong, liked to have his own way. Truly he was 
 far from perfect, this chosen of Edna's heart. Yet 
 he had a heart too, and a conscience, and both these 
 woiild. have understood her momentary start — the 
 slight shadow which troubled her happy face. But 
 though the happiness lessened, the peace remained, 
 and the love which had created both. 
 
 "I think," she said, very gently, "that Julius is 
 too generous to make us unhappy. He may be vexed 
 at first, having had you all his life — and only you — 
 like Lctty and me here. But perhaps he is not quite 
 so good as my Letty." 
 
 And thinking of her gentle sister, and contrasting 
 their ways with the fierce ways of these two men — 
 lover and brother, with whom her lot was to be 
 bound up for life — Edna trembled a little; but the 
 next minute she despised herself for her cowardice. 
 What was love worth if it could not bear a little 
 pain? In the darkening twilight she loosened not, 
 but rather strengthened, her clasp of AVilliam Sted- 
 man's hand; and as he went on talking, principally 
 to Letty, and about common things, the size and 
 arrangements of his house, and his means of furnish- 
 ing it, his good angel might have heard that the 
 man's voice grew softer and sweeter every minute. 
 Already there was stealing into him that influence, 
 mysterious as holy, which, without any assertion on 
 their part — any parade of rights or complaints of 
 wrong — makes all women — Christian women — if 
 they so choose it, the queens of the world. Already 
 the future queen had entered into her kingdom.
 
 230 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 He was still talking, being left respectfully by 
 tbese experienced maidens, to take the man's part of 
 explaining and deciding everything, when there came 
 a knock to the door, so sudden and startling in that 
 quiet Sunday evening that the little house seemed 
 actually to reel. 
 
 "Probably some one for me," said Dr. Stedman. 
 "I left word at home where I might be found, if 
 wanted; a doctor is always liable to be summoned, 
 you know. It is not an easy life for him, or for his 
 household," added he, with a slightly shy and yet 
 haj)py smile. 
 
 "Oh," cried Letty, "I wouldn't marry a doctor 
 upon any account, as I always said to Edna," — 
 whose conscious blush showed how comjiletely the 
 good advice had been thrown away. 
 
 But just this minute the front door was opened, 
 and the voice of a man, hurried and eager, was 
 heard inquiring for the Misses Kenderdine; also, 
 in not too gentle tones , whether Dr. Stedman 
 was here? 
 
 "It is Julius," said Letty. But Avhat happened 
 next is serious enough to requix'e another chapter.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 231 
 
 CPIAPTER XIII. 
 
 Julius Stedman entered the parlovir in a ratlier 
 excited state. Not with wine — that was a temptation 
 impossible to the pure-living, refined young artist; 
 but his excitement was of a kind peculiar to the 
 artistic and nervous temperament, and might easily 
 have been mistaken for that of drink. His face was 
 flushed, his motions abrupt, his speech unnaturally 
 loud and fast, and as he stood shading his eyes from 
 the sudden dazzle of the lamp-light, even his ap- 
 pearance spoke against him; for his dress' was dusty, 
 his long hair disorderly, and his whole exterior very 
 far below that standard of personal elegance — nay, 
 dandyism — which was a strong characteristic of 
 Julius Stedman. 
 
 He bowed to Letty, who was the first to advance 
 towai'ds him. 
 
 "I am ashamed. Miss Kenderdine, of intruding 
 at this unseemly hour; but my brother — ah, there 
 you are! I have found you out at last;" and he 
 darted over to the doctor's chair. "You're a pretty 
 fellow, Will ; a nice elder brother ! — a proper person 
 to lecture a younger one, and teach him the way he 
 should go; — • a good, honest, generous, candid " 
 
 "Julius!" cried Will, catching him by the arm, 
 and speaking almost in a whisper, "command your- 
 self You forget these ladies." 
 
 "Not at all!" And there was no abatement in 
 the shrill, furious voice. "I have the highest respect
 
 232 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 for these ladies. And out of my respect, as soon as 
 I came home (unexpectedly, of course, like a fool 
 that I was,) to make it up with you, and found 
 where you were gone, I came after yovi, — I came 
 just to tell them the plain truth. Miss Kenderdine, 
 this brother of mine, who comes sneaking here on 
 the sly " 
 
 "Julius!" Not a whisper now, but thundered out 
 in violent passion; then, controlling himself. Will 
 added, "Julius, you are under an entire and ridi- 
 culous mistake. Either leave this house with me in- 
 stantly, or sit down and listen to my explanation." 
 
 "Listen! — explanation!" repeated Julius, and 
 looked bewildered from one to the other of the three 
 whom he had found sitting together so familiarly 
 and happily in the pleasant little jjarlour. 
 
 "Yes," said Will, laying his hand firmly and 
 kindly on his brother's shoulder, "I will explain 
 everything: there is no reason now why I should 
 not. I objected to your visiting here, because yoi: 
 had no right to come; and your coming was an 
 injury to these ladies, and would have exposed them 
 to all kinds of unpleasant remarks. But with me it 
 is ditferent. I came here to-day — and it is my first 
 visit, I assure you — with a distinct right, and in a 
 recognised character. Julius, I am going to give 
 you a sister." 
 
 "A sister!" The young man turned frightfully 
 pale, and his eyes sought — which face was it — 
 Letty's? Then, as with the strength of despair, he 
 forced himself to speak. "Tell me — tell me quick! 
 This is 80 sudden!"
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 233 
 
 "Not sudden in reality- — it only seems so," said 
 William, smiling; "and you like her very much — • 
 you know she Avill make you a good sister. Shake 
 hands with him, Edna." 
 
 "Edna — is it Edna?" And then, either out of 
 his own natural impulsiveness, or in the reaction 
 from a still stronger excitement, Julius darted for- 
 ward, and instead of shaking hands, kissed her 
 warmly. "I beg your pardon; but I can't help it. 
 Oh, you dear little woman — so it's you, is it? — 
 you that have all but brought about a quarrel be- 
 tween Will and me — the first we ever had in our 
 lives?" 
 
 "And the last, I trust," said Will, cheerily, sub- 
 mitting to have his hand almost shaken off. 
 
 "Never mind — never mind, now, old fellow. 
 All's well that ends well. I give you joy. I'm quite 
 content. She will be the best little sister in all the 
 world. Shake hands again, Edna — let's shake hands 
 all round." 
 
 But when he came to Letty, he stopped point 
 blank. 
 
 Letty extended her long fingers in a dignified 
 manner, and smiled her benign smile — alike to all 
 
 — upon the flushed, passionate young face. ' 
 
 "I suppose, Mr. Stedman, this makes you and 
 me sort of half-brother and sister-in-law. I am quite 
 willing. I hope we shall always be very good friends 
 
 — just like brother and sister, indeed." 
 
 "Thank you," was the answer, and the young 
 man's excited mood sank into quietness, — nay, into 
 more than quietness, — sadness. But this was nothing
 
 234 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 uncommon with Julius Stedman, who, after one of 
 his fits of high spirits, generally feU into a corre- 
 sponding fit of gravity and melancholy. 
 
 This, or perhaps his mere presence as an ex- 
 traneous element in what had been such a peaceful 
 trio — for, in these early days of betrothal, some- 
 times an easy negative third rather adds to than 
 takes away from the laew-fouud and still unfamiliar 
 happiness — made the evening not quite so pleasant 
 as before. In vain Will, with most creditable per- 
 sistency, maintained conversation, and Edna by a 
 great effort shook off her shyness, and, taking her 
 place as hostess, presided at supper — endeavouring 
 to be especially attentive to Julius, and give him a 
 foretaste of the good sister she intended to be. For 
 in the midst of all her own joy, her heart warmed 
 to him — this moody, variable, affectionate, loveable 
 fellow, who seemed, as so many young men do, like 
 a goodly sliijj witli little ballast, the siiccess of Avhose 
 whole voyage depended upon what kind of hand 
 should take the helm. Besides, though she knew it 
 was womanish and ridiculous, she could not help 
 having a sort of pity for anybody who had lived 
 with William Stedman for so long, and would not 
 now live with him much longer. She could afford 
 to be exceedingly kind and forgiving to poor Julius. 
 
 Still, the cloud did not pass away, and in spite 
 of everybody's faint efforts to disperse it — except 
 Letty's, who was not acute enough to see anything, 
 and went talking on in the most charmingly uncon- 
 scious and inappropriate way — the awkwardness so 
 spread itself, that it was quite a relief Avhcn the little
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 235 
 
 quartette broke up. Dr. Stedman projiosecl leaving, 
 and then stood with Edna at the window, talking 
 for ever so long between themselves; while Letty, 
 with a nod and a wink, went into the passage, 
 beckoning Julius to follow her. 
 
 "AYe're terribly in the way— we two," said she, 
 laughing. "I am afraid, on future Sundays, we shall 
 have to retire to the kitchen — that is, if you persist 
 in coming to take care of your brother when he goes 
 a-courting. But it will be very dull for you, with 
 only stupid me." 
 
 "Only you!" said Julius, gazing at her as she 
 stood leaning against the lobby wall, seeming to 
 illumine the whole place, poor and small as it was, 
 with her wonderful beauty. "Only you!" 
 
 And Letty looked down, not unconscious of his 
 admiration, and perhaps feeling just sufficiently ill 
 used by fate as to think herself justified in appro- 
 priating and enjoying it. That is, if she ever thought 
 at all; or thought ten minutes in advance of the 
 present moment. 
 
 "I suppose those two are very happy," said 
 Julius, at length, with a glance in the direction of 
 the silent parloiu-. 
 
 "Oh, of course. Everybody is very happy at 
 first. That is — I suppose so. Not that I know 
 from experience." 
 
 Julius regarded her with piercing eyes, and 
 then laughed, half carelessly, half cynically. 
 
 "Oh, you and I are old stagers, I suppose. 
 We will not reveal the secrets of the prison-house. 
 Probably, being in love is like being in px*ison."
 
 236 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Eh?" said Letty, puzzled, and then added 
 confidentially: "I don't like to hear jon mention 
 prisons. I hope your brother is not in debt — so 
 many young men are, now-a-days. Is he in suf- 
 ficiently good circumstances to warrant his marriage? 
 Not that I woixld say a word against it. Of course, 
 my sister knows her own mind, and acts as she 
 thinks right; she always did. But will they not be 
 very poor? And it is such a dreadful thing to be 
 poor." 
 
 "A cursed thing!" And there was a gleam, 
 almost a glare, in those wild bright eyes of Julius 
 Stedman, as he fixed them on the beautiful creature 
 before him. A creature, whom some fortunate man, 
 say an Eastern sultan or a Western duke, might 
 have eagerly bought, the one with a ring, the other 
 with a given number of piastres, and carried off to 
 be robed in silks and hung with diamonds — laden 
 with every gift possible, except that which, perhaps, 
 after all, she might not care for, or only as it Avas 
 accompanied by these other things — his heart. 
 "Yes, poverty is very dreadful. There I quite 
 agree with you. Miss Kenderdine." 
 
 "You might as well call me Letty, and so get 
 our relations clear at once," said Letty, coquettishly. 
 
 "''J'liank you, thank you, Letty," and he seized 
 her hand. 
 
 "I mean — our brotherly and sisterly relations," 
 said Letty, drawing back, upon which Julius apo- 
 logised, and also drew back immediately. 
 
 "As you were saying," observed he after a 
 pause, during which the Ioav murmur of talking
 
 THE woman\s kingdom. 237 
 
 within came maddeningly to his ears, ''those two, 
 our brother and sister, regarded by our wiser eyes, 
 are — simply a pair of fools. My brother's certain 
 income, since you so prudently ask it, is only two 
 hundi-ed a-year. Besides that, he may make another 
 two hundred by his profession, which comes to four 
 hundred altogether. And four hundred a-year is, 
 of course, to a woman, downright poverty. I myself 
 think Will is insane to dream of marrying." 
 
 "What did you say, my boy?" cried Will, 
 coming behind him, with a radiant light on his face, 
 though it looked thin and worn still, "insane, am I? 
 Why, it's Julius, and not I, that deserves a lunatic 
 asylum. He has been in love, off and on, ever 
 since he was fifteen, and never found anybody good 
 enough to please him for a month together. Wait, 
 man! Wait till you have found the right woman, 
 and have won her too." 
 
 "Ah, wait," said Edna, softly, as in a pretty 
 demure sisterly fashion she put both her hands into 
 those of her future brother, and then took them 
 away to remove some stray dust that disfigured his 
 coat-sleeve: "wait till that good time comes. And 
 she will be so happy, and so very fond of you." 
 
 "Bless you, my little sister," said Julius, in a 
 choked voice, as he suddenly bent down and put 
 his lips to Edna's hand. "No, he's not mad, he's a 
 lucky fellow, that scamp there. And he has had a 
 comfortless life of late, I know that: and I have not 
 helped to make it more comfortable. Peril a ps we 
 shall both be the better, we jolly young bachelors, 
 for having a woman to keep us in order. Though
 
 238 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 you'll find me a tough customer, I warn you of that, 
 Miss Edna." 
 
 "Never mind. I'll take you, just as you are, 
 and make the best of you." 
 
 With which light jest the two sisters sent the 
 two brothers out under the narrow jessamine-scented 
 doorway - — out into the brilliant harvest moonlight, 
 so dazzling white that it smote one almost with a 
 sense of chill. 
 
 Will put his arm through his brother's, and 
 they walked on a considerable way before either 
 spoke. At last Julius took the initiative. 
 
 "Well, old fellow, this is a pretty go! Catch 
 a weasel asleep! I certainly have been that un- 
 fortunate animal. I had no more idea that any 
 game of this sort was afoot, than — than the man 
 in the moon, who perhaps has more to do with such 
 things than we suspect. Of course, love is only a 
 fit of temporary or permanent lunacy. By-the-bye, 
 what a precious fool I was near making of myself 
 to-night!" 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Oh, in several ways; but it doesn't matter now. 
 I've come out safe and scot-free. And pray, how 
 long is it since you made up your mind to marry 
 that little thing?" 
 
 Will winced. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, but she is such a little 
 thing; though, I own, the best little woman imagin- 
 able; and luis such neat pretty ways about a house 
 — even such a shabby house as theirs looks cosy 
 with her in it. How jolly comfortable she'll make
 
 THE "woman's kingdom. 239 
 
 lis — I mean yoii; for, of course, I shall have to 
 turn out." 
 
 Will said nothing — neither yes nor no. He 
 felt upon him that cowardice, purely masculine, 
 which always shrinks from doing anything iinplea- 
 sant. He wished he had had Edna beside him, to 
 put, as plainly as his own common-sense put it, the 
 fact that a man has no right to lay upon his wife 
 more burdens than she can bear; and that with his 
 changeful, moody ways, his erratic habits, and his 
 general Bohemian tendencies, Julius was, with all 
 his loveableness, about the last inmate likely either 
 to be happy himself, or to make others happy, in a 
 married home. That is, unless the home were his 
 very own, and the mistress of it had over him the 
 influence, which was the only influence that would 
 keep Julius safe — that of a passionately loved and 
 loving wife. 
 
 All this Will thought, but could not explain. 
 Therefore his only refuge was silence. 
 
 "Yes, it's all right," said Julius, someAvhat coldly; 
 "and quite iiatural too. I don't blame you. You 
 have done a deal for me. Will: more than any 
 brother, or many a father, Avould have done. I'll 
 never forget it. And I dare say I shall be able to 
 shift for myself somehow." 
 
 "There will be plenty of time, my dear fellow," 
 answered Will, in rather a husky voice. "I shall 
 not be married until I get something quite certain 
 to start with — probably that appointment which 
 you know I have been after so long. And then I 
 shall be able to pay over to you, in whole or part,
 
 240 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 for as long as you require it, the other half of 
 grandfather's money." 
 
 "Will, you don't mean that?" 
 
 "Yes, I do. In truth, she was so sore about 
 you, and especially your being 'turned out,' as she 
 called it, that she would not have had me without 
 my promising that arrangement, which will make 
 our marriage, whenever it does take place, none the 
 worse for anybody." 
 
 "But " 
 
 "It's no use arguing with a woman, especially 
 one who won't talk, only act. Edna is quite deter- 
 mined. Indeed I may say I have purchased her at 
 the alarming sacrifice of two hundred a-year, pay- 
 able quarterly " 
 
 "Will!" cried Julius, stopping suddenly, and 
 looking his brother full in the face. The moon- 
 light showed his own, which was full of emotion. 
 "You're a pretty pair, you and she — six of one 
 and half-a-dozen of the other. I see it all now. 
 Give her ray love. No; I'll take it to her myself. 
 For me, I've been a selfish, luxurious rascal all my 
 life; but I'll turn over a new leaf, hang me if I 
 won't! I'll take an oath against light kid-gloves, 
 and rings, and operas. I'll dress like an old clothes- 
 man, and feed like a day-labourer. And I'll work 
 — by George, won't I work!" 
 
 "That's right, lad," said the elder brother, 
 cheerily. "And you'll find it all the better when 
 some day you have to work for two. Meantime, 
 instead of the 'family house' you wanted to visit 
 at, you'll have a brother's home always to come to.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 241 
 
 And she will make it so bright, as you say. Be- 
 sides, Letty will be there," continued Will, dashing 
 at this fact Avith a desperate haste, uncertain how it 
 might be taken. 
 
 Julius did start, very uneasily. "Is she to live 
 with you?" 
 
 "Yes; there was no other way. As must be 
 obvious enough, Letty is not the person to be left 
 to live alone." 
 
 "No," said Julius, concisely. 
 
 "I doubt whether she will like living Avith us, 
 for we shall have a hard struggle to make ends 
 meet, at any rate, for the first few years; and she 
 is not Avell fitted for poverty — Letty, I mean." 
 
 Julius was silent. 
 
 "But in that case, if she got tired of us, she 
 could easily return to her old life as a resident 
 governess, which she often regrets still. Unless 
 in the meantime some young fellow snaps her up, 
 which is far from improbable. Her sister says she 
 has had lovers without end, as was to be expected; 
 but none of them were good enoxigh for her. Edna 
 hopes, when she does marry, it will be some nice, 
 good fellow, with plenty of patience and heaps of 
 money. Letty would never be happy unless she 
 lived in clover and cotton-wool. Poor Letty! It's 
 well for me that my Edna is different." 
 
 William Stedman must have been strangely 
 blind — perhaps that little word "my" produced 
 the blindness, and carried his thoughts involuntarily 
 away — not to have noticed how dumb grew his 
 talkative brother: how he walked on fiercely and 
 
 Tlie Woman's Kingdom. I. lo
 
 212 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 fast, swinging liis cane, and slashing at the hedges 
 in a nervous, excitable Avay, as they threaded the 
 narrow lanes, which Avere so pretty twenty years 
 ago, hnt are now vanishing fast, in the streets and 
 s(|iiares and "gardens" of Campden HilL At last 
 Julius said, with that sudden change from earnest- 
 ness to frivolity which Avas too common in him to 
 cause Will any surprise — 
 
 "Nevertheless, it's odd that you, and not I, 
 should he the fool or the madman — for you cer- 
 tainly are both — to commit matrimony. Catch me 
 giving up my freedom — my jolly, idle life, to tie 
 myself to any woman's apron-string. You'd better 
 think twice of it: eh, old fellow? Edna's a good 
 girl — I don't deny that; and likes you — I suppose; 
 she'd be an ass if she didn't. But is there a girl 
 alive who would go on caring for a man miless he 
 had lots of money, — could give her all she wanted? 
 and tlioy're always wanting something. All alike, 
 all alike; and a precious lot they are, too. So — 
 
 ' I'd be a bachelor, born in a bower,' " 
 
 carolled the young fellow, startling the green lanes 
 and a solitary })oliccman with the then popular tune 
 of "I'd be a butterfly," and inventing a ludicrous 
 doggerel parody to it, which was, to say the least, 
 rather inappropriate that quiet Sunday night. 
 
 "You'i'e not yourself, Ju," said William. "You 
 liave got over-tired. Didn't you say you had walked 
 iifteon miles to-day? That was far too much. I 
 shall have to keep a sharp look-out after you, even 
 when we have a separate establishment."
 
 THE TtVOMAN's KINGDO:\r. 243 
 
 And the elder brother, out of his deep heaven 
 of peace h)oked tenderly upon the foolish fellow 
 who did not understand what peace was, who was 
 making a mock of it, and trying, like so many 
 other sceptics, driven into sce2)ticism less by nature 
 than circumstances, to believe that to be non-existent 
 which was only non-beheld. 
 
 Then the two Stedmans, with their bachelor latch- 
 key, entered their dull, dark, close house, which 
 breathed the very atmosphere of dreariness and dis- 
 order. Julius went up to bed almost immediately; 
 but William sat long in his emjjty dining-room, 
 peopling it with wondrous visions, brightening it 
 with hearth-light and lamp-light, and, above all, 
 the perpetual light of a woman's smile — the smile which 
 happy love brings to a woman's lips, never to be wholly 
 lost from them until they are set in that last, love- 
 liest peace upon which the coffin lid closes — which 
 seems to say even to mourning husbands or children, 
 "Be content — I am loving you still — in heaven." 
 
 William Stedman had to-day seen, beyond a 
 doubt, this love in his betrothed's ftice — and he felt by 
 that in his own heart that it would be his until death. 
 
 He knew, as well as his brother did, that he 
 should be poor enough, probably for years: that, 
 with most men, to marry upon his prospects woixld 
 be the height of madness. But then they were men 
 who had not learned, like himself, the calm self- 
 denial which disarms poverty of half its dangers, 
 half its dread, because holding as the best things 
 those things which money can neither give nor take 
 away, being far too proud for the ordinary petty 
 
 1(5*
 
 244 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 pride of dreading to seem what one is, if that hap- 
 pens to be a little inferior to one's neighbours. True, 
 he had never starved, never been in debt; for neither 
 alternative often happens to an unmarried man who 
 has ordinary health, honesty, and brains — at least, 
 if it does, he has usually only himself to blame. 
 But William Stedman had been poor, very poor; he 
 had known how hard it is to go on wearing a thread- 
 bare coat because you have not five pounds to 
 spare for a new one; how harder still to crave for 
 many an accidental luxixry which you know you 
 have no right to indulge in. And perhaps, hardest 
 of all, to associate Avith people who, in all but money, 
 are fairly your equals, and who never suspect, or 
 never pause to think, how your every penny is as 
 valuable as their pound. In short, he had learned, 
 in the many wholesome but painful ways that early 
 poverty teaches, the best lesson any young man can 
 learn — to control and deny himself 
 
 Therefore, fitter than most men was he to enter 
 ixpon that "holy estate," which, perJiaps, derives its 
 very holiness from the fact that it requires from both 
 man and woman never-ending self-control and self- 
 denial: teaching, as nothing else can teach, that 
 complete absorption of self into another, which is the 
 key-stone and summit of true ha])])iness. 
 
 Possibly William Stedman did not say all these 
 things to himself, for he was not much given to self- 
 examination — in truth, he had never had time for 
 it; but he felt them, in a dim, nebulous way; he 
 "took stock of liimself," so to speak, as to whether 
 he was fit for the life wliich lay before him — fit to
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 245 
 
 Le trusted with the happiness of a sweet, fond, 
 ignorant, innocent woman; whether he had strength 
 for her sake to go on with hard work and little 
 pleasure, to place his enjoyments in inward rather 
 than outward things, and to renounce very much 
 that to most young men — Julius, for instance — 
 would be, what he himself had jestingly termed, like 
 the linen-draper's advertisements, an "alarming 
 sacrifice." 
 
 He was not afraid, for he knew Edna was not. 
 He believed that whatever he had to give up in the 
 world without, would be made up by the home within. 
 That this little woman would come in on his cheer- 
 less, untidy hearth like a good fairy, reducing chaos 
 to order, and charming away gloom and dulness by 
 her bright, sweet ways. Besides, he felt that with 
 her quick sympathy, her unworldly tone of thought, 
 her divine instinct for right and truth, she would 
 come and sit in his heart like a conscience — a blessing 
 as well as a delight, making him better as well as 
 happier, and happier just because he was better. 
 
 "God has been very kind to me — far kinder 
 than I deserved," said the young man to himself, 
 thinking, in his happiness, more than he often found 
 time to think, of the Source whence all happiness 
 flows. And his heart melted within him; and the 
 long, pent-up storm of headlong passion, and frantic 
 pride, and bitter self-distrust, which had raged Avithin 
 him for weeks and months and had come to a climax 
 two days ago, when he found himself driven mad 
 by the sound of a voice and the touch of a little, 
 ignorant hand , — all this calmed itself down into a
 
 246 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 most blessed quiet, like a summer evening- after a 
 tliunder-sliower, when everything is so perfumy, 
 fresh, and green, and the flowers are lifting up their 
 heads, and the birds sing doubly loud and clear, 
 even though the large-leaved trees are still dropping, 
 — as more than one great, heavy drop fell, in this 
 sacred solitude, from William Stedman's eyes. 
 
 They came from a sudden thought which darted 
 across him — the thought, not of Edna, but of his 
 mother. He scarcely remembered her — he was only 
 seven years old when she died; but he knew she 
 was a very good woman; and he had kept up all his 
 life this faint, shadowy remembrance with a sort of 
 silent idolatry which had begun then in his childish 
 yet tenaciously faithful heart. 
 
 He wondered whether she had any knowledge 
 of what had happened to him to-day, and whether 
 she would have been satished with tlie wife he had 
 chosen; and he thought, the next time he saw Edna, 
 he would tell her all these liis cliildish recollections, 
 and take her, instead of pearls and diamonds, which 
 she altogether refused to accept from him , the simple 
 guard-ring which had beloii^ged to his mother.
 
 THK WOMAN S KINGDOM. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 247 
 
 It was now fully ten montlis since William Sted- 
 man and Edna Kenderdine liad plighted that promise 
 which, when made deliberately, Avisely, and justi- 
 fiably on both sides, shovxld be held as inviolable 
 as the subsequent vow before the altar. That is, if 
 the love, which is its only righteous foundation, 
 lasts. Otherwise, the best wisdom is that Avhich 
 Edna sometimes gave in answer to Letty's murmur- 
 ings of the misery of long engagements, and the 
 advantage of keeping "free." "When he wishes to 
 be free, he is free. The moment he ceases to love 
 me, let him go!" 
 
 But tliis contingency did not seem likely to 
 happen. Though the promise had been made con- 
 ditionally, that is, he had told her in his deep 
 humility, that when she found out all the bad things 
 in him, she might break her engagement at any time, 
 and he should not blame her — still, she found out 
 all the bad things, and she did not break it. Per- 
 haps he too discovei'ed certain little earthly specks 
 in his angel's white wings, just enough to keep her 
 from flying away from him; and survived the discovery. 
 For two lovers, who expect to find one another all 
 perfection, must be taught such wholesome lessons; 
 which doubtless these lovers had to learn. But tliey 
 had the sense to keep both their experience and their 
 mode of acquiring it, strictly to themselves.
 
 248 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "You two never quarrel," Letty would say some- 
 times, half-puzzled, half vexed. "I thought lovers 
 always quarrelled. I am sure I squabbled con- 
 tinually Avith all mine." 
 
 At which Edna smiled, and only smiled. Her 
 sister's unconscious plurals precluded all argument. 
 As well reason with the Grand Turk on the Christian 
 law of marriage, as talk to poor Letty of the mys- 
 terious law of love. 
 
 And yet she was most kind, most good-natured; 
 an ever welcome and convenient third in the various 
 walks, and meetings for "sight-seeing," which Dr. 
 Stedman contrived to steal out of his busy life, and 
 add to those blessed Sundays which he spent with 
 his betrothed, healing thereby all the cares and 
 worries of the week. And he was so good to Letty; 
 he took such pains that she should never be forgotten 
 or over-looked, that she liked her future brother 
 very much. But still she moaned sometimes — Letty 
 rather enjoyed moaning — over the probable length 
 of Edna's engagement, and the misfortune of her 
 marrying a poor man. 
 
 "For talk as you like, my dear," she sometimes 
 oracularly said, "I am certain you would be a deal 
 happier in an elegant house, with a carriage to drive 
 in, and plenty of good society. And — don't look 
 so indignant — I daresay he would love you better, 
 — men always do, you know, — if you were a little 
 better dressed." 
 
 But Edna only smiled, and smoothed out her 
 pretty cottons and muslins, as carefully as if they 
 were silks and satins. Perhaps heaven had merci-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 249 
 
 fully given her a temperament that did not much 
 care for luxuries, except those of heaven's providing, 
 common and free as air and sunshine,- — such as 
 cleanliness, oi'der, simplicity, and harmony. And 
 then she was so happy, for God had sent her her 
 heart's desire. She sang over her daily work like 
 an April thrush in a thorn-tree, bxiilding its nest 
 through rain and shine. Letty comjilained bitterly 
 of the delay which made school-keeping still ne- 
 cessary. Dr. Stedinan openly grumbled at the school 
 and all belonging to it; and often behaved exceed- 
 ingly badly, and very like a man; but Edna was as 
 gay as a lark, and never swerved from her firm de- 
 termination not to be married till a small certainty 
 made the marriage prudent as regarded them all. 
 She declared she should work steadily on, like a 
 brave independent little woman as she was, till the 
 very day of her marriage. 
 
 "For," she said once, with her sweet earnest 
 face lifted up to the clouded one of her lover, "I 
 see no pleasure, and no dignity either, in idleness. 
 If you had not loved me, I should have been a 
 working woman to the end of my days, and have 
 worked cheerily too. When you can work for me, 
 I'll work no more. But if ever you needed it, and 
 I could do it, I would fall to work again, and you 
 should not hinder me! I'd begin once more to teach 
 my little butchers and bakers and candlestick-makers, 
 and think myself honoured in the duty." 
 
 And then the strong man would catch her in his 
 arms, and thank God he had chosen a woman who, 
 in the countless troubles that man's lot is heir to,
 
 250 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 would neither be selfisli nor cowardly, a burden nor 
 a snare; but, under her soft meekness, would carry 
 about with lier a spirit fearless as his own. 
 
 After much delay, the long-hoped-for hospital 
 appointment was given — and given to some one 
 else. William told this news to Edna one dark 
 night coming through the green lanes home from 
 church — told it briefly, almost sharply, which showed 
 how deep was his disappointment. 'She only pressed 
 his arm and said — 
 
 "Never mind. We are young still. It is said 
 to be good to bear the yoke in one's youth." 
 
 "Yes, if it is not so heavy as to make one 
 humpbacked for life," answered Dr. Stedrnan with 
 a laugh, tuneless and hard-, then, stop])ing under the 
 next gas-lamp, he saw Edna was crying. His poor 
 Edna, whose life was no easier than his own! In 
 the next dark place they came to, he turned and 
 clasped her to his heart, with all the bitterness melted 
 out of it, but with a passion of yearning that even 
 she could not understand. After that, they spoke 
 of the lost hospital apjiointment no more. 
 
 Then, too, Julius fell into a very unsatisfactory 
 state, physical and moral, Avhicli even if Will had 
 not confided it to her, Edna was too sharp-eyed not 
 to see. He looked wretchedly ill, was often moody 
 and out of temper; took vehement fits of work, and 
 corresponding fits of despondent idleness. Whether 
 it was that tlie homo he was soon to qi;it lost even 
 its small attractions for him, or from some other 
 nameless fiincy, but Julius became more erratic than 
 ever: in his coming and goings entirely unreliable,
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 251 
 
 save on those Sundays when, whether invited or not, 
 lie always presented himself with his brother at the 
 Misses Kendcrdine's door. 
 
 There might have been a pleasanter guest; for 
 sometimes he sat whole evenings, like a cloud of 
 gloom, by the cheerful fireside-, or else startled the 
 whole party by his unnatural flow of spirits. They 
 bore with him — everybody always did bear with 
 Julius. And these lovers had a quality not universal 
 among people in their circumstances — ■ their own 
 happiness made them very patient with those who 
 had none. Besides, Julivis was not always a dead 
 weight upon Edna and Will-, with astonishing tact, 
 he always contrived, early or late, to escape to the 
 kitchen fire, which, the servant being absent at 
 church, Avas faithfully presided over by Letty's 
 favourite cat , large and lovely as herself, — and by 
 Letty. There — he and Letty shared each other's 
 companionship for hours. 
 
 What resulted Avas sure to result, even if the 
 two elders, for once in their lives sufficiently self- 
 engrossed as to be oblivious of others, had seen 
 Avhat they did not see until too late to prevent. 
 That is, supposing they had had any right to 
 prevent it. 
 
 Letty too, — she should not, at this point, be 
 blamed too severely. She was like many another 
 woman, not wicked, only weak. It Avas A'ery plea- 
 sant to her to be adored, and it Avould be to nine 
 out of ten of the women who read about her in 
 these pages — girls who are taught from earliest 
 maidenhood that the grand aim of life is to be loved
 
 252 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 ratlier than to love. She did not at all dislike — 
 who would? — after her dull week's work, to have, 
 for some hours every Sunday, those passionate eyes 
 following her about wherever she moved, that eager 
 breath hanging on every word she uttered, whether 
 silly or wise; those looks, which said as plainly as 
 words could say — sometimes joking , sometimes 
 earnestly, when he glanced at the lovers — "Never 
 mind them, / live only for you." Only looks. Julius 
 never committed himself — never said a syllable 
 which, to use Letty's phrase afterwards, could be 
 "taken hold of." As for flirting, of course she was 
 well used to "that sort of thing," but this was ad- 
 miration of a novel kind — jjersistent, permanent, 
 and yet kept so safely within limits, and under the 
 shadow of their approaching relationship, or connec- 
 tion, or whatever they chose to call it — that if at 
 any time during the winter and spring Letty had 
 been asked the direct question, which she never was 
 asked, — "Is Julius Stedman making love to you?" 
 she would have answered, without any falsehood — 
 that is, not in her notion of falsehood, — ^"Oh, dear, 
 no! not the least in the world." 
 
 And yet all the while she was maddening him 
 with her beauty, bewildering him with her caprices; 
 sometimes warm, sometimes cold; having little quar- 
 rels, and making it u]) again; assuming tlie tenderest 
 "sisterly" confidence, and tlien sliding off again into 
 perfect coldness and unapproachable civility. Doing 
 it all half consciously, half unconsciously; aware of 
 her power, and liking to exercise it up to a certain 
 extent — an extent that gave herself no inconvenience.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 253 
 
 But once, when the tbruslies were singing on the 
 budding trees of Kensington Gardens, as they walked 
 there of evenings, — and again, on the first day of 
 tlie Royal Academy, wlien Julius took them all in 
 great pride to see his first-hung picture, and Letty 
 looked so beaming and beautiful that everybody 
 turned to stare at her, — then , seeing certain alarm- 
 ing symptoms in Julius, she drew in her horns, and 
 was exceedingly cold and cautious for a day or two. 
 "For," she reasoned to herself, and long afterwards 
 repeated the reasons to Edna, "what was I to do 
 with the young man? He hadn't a halfpenny." 
 
 Quite right, Letty Kenderdine — not a half- 
 penny! — only a man's heart, or worse, a man's 
 soul, to be lost or won, according as a woman 
 chooses. Which, in these days, and with many 
 people, is quite immaterial. 
 
 It was a day rather momentous — that first 
 Monday in May — when Julius learnt his picture 
 was hung. "Will had decided with Edna that they 
 must all go to see it, and the sisters had a wild 
 struggle after sudden spring bonnets to be assumed 
 at a few hours' notice*, "for," said Letty, "we can't 
 go at all unless we go respectable." And possibly 
 William Stedman thought a little beyond respectability 
 the happy face circled with white daisies under a 
 romid-brimmed straw bonnet, such as was the fashion 
 then, — which smiled beside him, so delighted in tlie 
 brief holiday with him. For Letty — Letty always 
 looked beautiful. She was a picture in herself. But, 
 as fate so often balances things, she did not care 
 half so much about the pictures as Edna did; nor.
 
 254 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 handsome as it was, did her face look half so beaming 
 as that one from whence William Stedman learnt to 
 see mysteries of loveliness Avliich had never come 
 upon his darkened mind before. There was in him 
 just enough of the poetic nature to wisli he had 
 more of it, and to be tenderly reverential towards 
 the beloved woman who had it, and whom he thought 
 so infinitely superior to himself. While she, who 
 knew herself to have so many faults, to be at times 
 so fierce and hasty, passionate and unwise, held a 
 different opinion. 
 
 They examined the pictures, none of which Edna 
 liked better than Julius's own — the landscape about 
 which she had heard so much — painted as Julius 
 dared to paint, and, in that anti-Pre-Kaphaelite time, 
 was greatly desjjised for painting, — from absolute 
 nature, instead of nature diluted tlnough faded Old 
 Masters — Claudes, Poussins, and Salvator Kosas, — 
 each a degree further oft' from reality than the last. 
 
 "Yes," said Julius, a gleam of hope lighting up 
 his melancholy eyes, as they folloAved a stray sun- 
 beam which kindled in deeper beauty his beautiful 
 Avork; "this year 1 think I have not wasted my time. 
 Perhaps I may end in being an artist after alL" 
 
 "Were yoii tliinking of being anything else?" 
 asked Edna, surprised. 
 
 Julius blushed slightly, "Oii, I think of so many 
 tilings. A painter never makes money, and I want 
 money — terribly. Ibit let us look at the pictiu-es, 
 Jiclfy." Hlie was lianging on his arm, piloted care- 
 fully fbrougli flie eroAvd. "You were admiring that 
 portrait's velvet gown — liere is another well-painted
 
 Tiiu woman's kingdom*!. 255 
 
 Lit of velvet for yon, and a bit of sentiment too — a 
 girl taking a thorn ont of a boy's finger. What a 
 niihlly determined air slie has; she Avon't let him go, 
 though lie winces at the pain — just like a man, and 
 just like a woman. The old story. She is beginning 
 to hurt him even at seven years old." 
 
 "She ought to hurt him, nor be afraid of hurt- 
 ing him, if she can take the thorn away," said Edna, 
 gently. 
 
 "Listen, Will! Now you see what lies before 
 you! Bravo! Who wouldn't rather be a bachelor, if 
 all men's wives are to be ready Avitli needle and pen- 
 knife to wound their spouses — of course, entirely 
 for their good. Heiglio! What say you, Letty?" 
 
 "I beg your pardon; what were you talking 
 about?" replied Letty, whose attention had been 
 wholly distracted by a charming bonnet which she 
 was most anxious Edna should see and imitate. But 
 Edna was absorbed in a picture which she never 
 saw after that day, and never even knew whose it 
 was; but it fastened itself upon her memory, to be 
 revived, even after many years, like invisible colour, 
 which some magic touch makes fresh as ever. 
 
 It Avas called "Li another Man's Garden," and 
 was simply a suburban cottage-door, painted with 
 the intense realism then altogether pooh-poohed and 
 despised. Thereat — also modern and real, down to 
 coat, hat, and stick — stood a yoi;ng man, bidding 
 the cheery morning adieu to his wife and child 
 before going to business, — a hapi)y, intensely happy 
 little group, safely shut inside the rose-trcllised walls. 
 While outside, leaning against the gate, was a
 
 256 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 solitary figure — a broken-down, dust-stained, shabby 
 man — gazing with mournful yearning into "another 
 man's garden." 
 
 Edna looked at her betrothed, then at the picture; 
 and her eyes filled with tears. She could not help 
 it. She understood it all so well. So — out of his 
 deep content, did he. 
 
 "Poor fellow!" said William, as if he were 
 speaking of a real person. 
 
 "Oh, that's me!" cried Julius, with a short laugh. 
 "I thought you would recognise the likeness. The 
 painter is a friend of mine. He asked me to sit, 
 and thought I looked the character to perfection. 
 Do I, Letty?" 
 
 "What, the gentlemanly young man in the 
 garden?" 
 
 "No; the blackguard outside. That was the 
 character I personated. I got quite used to my 
 battered old hat, and stockingless shoes, and coat all 
 rags and tatters." 
 
 "Did you really put on these things? Oh, how 
 nasty of you!" said Letty, turning away in great 
 disgust. 
 
 The artist laughed again, more bitterly than 
 before. "Tlien if I ever ap])oar as a retxirned con- 
 vict, or a repentant prodigal, it's of no use my com- 
 ing to you, Letty?" 
 
 "Julius! how can you talk of things so very 
 .shocking? It makes me quite miserable." 
 
 Here Letty gave — and Edna caught, startling 
 her into uneasy suspicion — one of those sidelong, 
 downcast looks, which might well delude a man into
 
 THE woman's KIXCtDOM. 257 
 
 that mad passion wliicli, foi* the rest of the afternoon, 
 gleamed in every feature of Julius Stedman's face, 
 as he followed her like her shadow, and seemed only 
 to live upon her sreilo. 
 
 "Something will surely happen; and oh, I wonder 
 — I wonder what — " thought Edna, very anxiously, 
 longing for the next Sunday, when she would have 
 a quiet hour to lay all her anxieties upon the wise, 
 tender, manly heart which was her comfort in all 
 her troubles now. 
 
 But as yet there was no chance of a quiet word 
 with William, for the four came home to Kensington 
 ignominiously in an omnibu i, to Letty's unconcealed 
 dismay. 
 
 "Ah," sighed she, "how nice it would he if Dr. 
 Stedman kejDt his brougham, like so many London 
 doctors ■ — I do so like a carriage ! " At which Will 
 laughed, but Julius looked dark and sad for the 
 whole journey. 
 
 It was a recognised rule that the Stedmans 
 should only be received on a Sunday, so the four 
 young people parted at the Misses Kenderdine's gate, 
 and Edna and Letty sat down to their late tea, very 
 tired both of them — one a little cross, and the other 
 just a little weary-hearted. 
 
 Edna could bear her own burdens ■ — their own 
 burdens, she and William together-, but she thought, 
 if an added weight were to come, and such a serious 
 anxiety as a love affair or marriage engagement 
 between Letty and Julius must inevitably be, Iiom-- 
 ever it might end, her cares would be heavy indeed; 
 for neither of these two were the sort of people 
 
 The Vi'uman'si Kiugih.m. I. 1*
 
 258 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 capable of bearing their own troubles, to say nothing 
 of lightening other people's. 
 
 As she looked at Letty, so handsome and so 
 helpless, and thought of Julius, who had turned 
 from the door in one of his sad sullen fits, painful 
 and yet pathetic as those of a naughty child, Edna 
 felt her courage give way, and her heart sink with 
 that strange foreboding of evil which comes some- 
 times, we know not how or why. Without saying 
 a word to Letty — it would have been neither 
 delicate nor wise — she pondered over the whole 
 question, till at last, utterly bewildered, it settled 
 itself into her one grand refuge for all distresses — 
 "I will tell it to William next Sunday." And, com- 
 forting as this thought was, it brought also a vague 
 longing for the time when their life Avould be all 
 Sundays, when they Avould be continually together. 
 With it arose a fear — the fear that Avill enter with 
 deep love — lest something should come between and 
 part them. Only, to their faith and constancy, no- 
 thing could come but death; and that she did not 
 dread, for it would only be falling, as David wished 
 to fall, into (lie hands of (Jod — the same God who 
 had already made them so hapjiy. 
 
 "Yes, we have been hap]iy — very happy, and 
 I am very, very tliankful!" thought poor Edna, and 
 her serenity returned • — the unchangeable peace of 
 those who have the blessedness of being able to re- 
 cognise their blessings. 
 
 Tired as she was, she took out her Avork, and 
 Avas sitting — let us boldly confess it — mending
 
 THE woman's KtXGDOM. 259 
 
 a large basketful of stockings, wlien there came a 
 knock at the front door. 
 
 Letty started up from the sofa. 
 
 "That's William's knock — I know it is. Oh, 
 what can have happened!" 
 
 "Nothing to be frightened at," said "William, 
 who was in the room almost as soon as she spoke. 
 Good news, not ill, were written on his face. "I 
 beg your pardon. I could not help coming." He 
 shut the door behind him, and then, regardless of 
 her sister's presence, clasped Edna tight in his arms. 
 "It has come at last — come at last, thank God!" 
 And in an ecstasy of joy, Avhicli betrayed how sharp 
 had been the unacknowledged suftering, he kissed 
 again and again his betrothed Avife, — then Avent 
 OA^er and kissed Letty, and bade her wish him joy. 
 
 Presently, when he was sufficiently calm for a 
 consecutiA'e statement to be got out of him. Dr. Sted- 
 man told the great news — strangely little it would 
 seem to some people, yet to these tAvo A\^as enough 
 to uplift them into perfect felicity. 
 
 It was one of those bits of "good luck" — he 
 called it nothing more, and always protested he had 
 done nothing to A;vin it — which occasionally turn 
 the tide of a man's fortune by giving him, at the 
 outset of his career, that slight impetus of helj) Avitli- 
 out Avliich a fair start is nearly impracticable. A 
 great lady, and good as great, Avho had been in- 
 terested in Dr. Stedmau's incessant labours among 
 the poor, had oflFercd him a permanent appointment 
 as physician to a charitable institution Avhich she 
 had founded, and principally supported. His salary
 
 260 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 was to be .^300, and, by-and-bye, ^€400 a-year — a 
 solid foundation of annual income; while the work 
 could not interfere with his practice, but would rather 
 give him opportunities for that continual study of his 
 profession which a doctor so much needs, and which, 
 at the beginning of his career, he finds so difficult 
 to obtain. Thus the lady, a far-sighted and generous 
 woman, in securing his services, benefited both sides, 
 and in doing a prudent did also a kindly deed. 
 
 "I wish she knew all the happiness she has 
 given us!" said Edna, trembling and agitated; while 
 Letty, as was her wont under all novel and exciting 
 circumstances, began to cry. In fact, they all shed 
 an honest tear or two, and then they sat down to- 
 gether — Edna close by William, holding Letty's 
 hand on the other side — to try and realise this 
 sudden bliss — this unexpected change in all their 
 affairs. 
 
 "Does Julius know?" asked Edna, anxiously. 
 
 "No — the letter came after he had gone out. 
 You know he almost always does go out of evenings. 
 But it will be a brighter home for him to come to 
 when you are there — and Letty." 
 
 William said this in all simplicity, as Edna at 
 once perceived; and his evident unconsciousness of 
 the idea which had lately entered her mind shook 
 Edna's faith in her own quickness of perception. If 
 William were quite at ease concerning his brother, 
 why should she perplex herself or perplex him by 
 speaking of this matter of Julius and Letty? So, for 
 the present, she let it slip by; and when Letty bene-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 261 
 
 volently quitted tlie room and left lier alone with 
 her lover, she forgot everything, as lovers do. 
 
 Forgive them, if so be there is any need of for- 
 giveness. Life is so short, so changeful, so full of 
 infinite chances of grief and loss, who would grudge 
 to anybody a little love, a little happiness? These 
 two were ready to take both the sweet and the bit- 
 ter, the evil and the good, believing that both come 
 alike by the Fathei''s will. Yet who can wonder 
 that, as they sat together, knowing they were going 
 to be married — not exactly "to-morrow," as Dr. 
 Stedman had ingeniously suggested, but within a 
 few weeks — and that, come weal or woe, they 
 would never more be parted, it was surely pardon- 
 able if, for awhile, they forgot everybody but them- 
 selves. 
 
 "And you are not afraid to begin life with me 
 — to be a poor man's wife? for it will be that, 
 Edna. I can't dress you any better than this" — 
 touching tenderly her grey merino gown; "and the 
 carriage Letty wants, it may be years before I can 
 give it yoii, if ever. Oh, my love, am I harming 
 you? In marrying you now, at once, while I have 
 still only just enough for us to live upon, am I doing 
 you any wrong?" . 
 
 "Wrong!" she cried, as she clung round his 
 neck for a minute, and then di-ew back, looking at 
 him with the brightest face — the most radiant, and 
 yet half indignant eyes. "Wrong! — you are show- 
 ing me the utmost love, and paying me the chiefest 
 honour that a man can give to a woman. You are 
 taking me at your life's beginning that we may be-
 
 262 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 gin it together. That is the right thing. Don't be 
 afraid, William. I'll help you — I know I can, for 
 I am not a coward, and I have you. Oh! if men 
 were more like yon, had your courage, your faith, 
 there would not be so many broken-hearted women 
 in the world." 
 
 "And there would not be so many bad, ruined 
 men, I think, if women were more like my Edna." 
 
 So talked these two — foolishly, no doubt, and 
 with a vicarious self-laudation which is very much 
 the habit of lovers. And yet there was truth at the 
 bottom of it; a truth which, day by day, as she and 
 Letty busied themselves every spare hour in those 
 innocent wedding preparations which every honest 
 heart, either of friend or stranger, cannot help taking 
 pleasure in, forced itself deeper and deeper upon 
 Edna's heart. No worldly show Avas there — no 
 hiding with splendid outside formalities the hollow- 
 ness within : she was going to be as William said — 
 a poor man's wife; and expensive clothes, and ex- 
 travagant outlay of any sort, would be merely ridi- 
 culous; but P]dna prepared herself for her great 
 change with all the liajtjiy-hcartcdness that a bride 
 should have, a bride who knows that down to the 
 lowest de])tli of her soul, is not a feeling that need 
 be hidden, not a thought that God, and her husband, 
 may not see. 
 
 One little thing made her sorry. Julius did not 
 come to see her, indeed he had taken liimself off on 
 an artistic tour in Wales, to be "out of the way," 
 he alleged; but he wrote, after a few days' delay, 
 an afiectionate congratulatory letter, and asked her
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 263 
 
 to seek out for him bachelor lodgings, as close as 
 possible to their own house, where he meant to be 
 exceedingly jolly, and inflict himself upon them se- 
 veral times a-week. And he sent her as a wedding 
 present a lovely portrait of Letty, composed out of 
 the many studies he had made of her face, which 
 he said briefly "he knew by heart." At which re- 
 mark Letty blushed a little, and pouted a little, 
 saying it was "'impertinent-," but was exceedingly 
 gratified to look at her own exquisite portrait, and hear 
 everybody admire it and say how very like it was. 
 
 So fled the time, long and yet how short; 
 dwindling first into weeks and then into days, until 
 the last breaking-up day came, and the two young 
 schoolmistresses, not without a few sincere tears, 
 sent away their little pupils for ever. After that, 
 there was only one more Sunday left for the Sted- 
 mans to come to tea in the old way, which for 
 nearly a year had gone on now, and brought with 
 it so much of peace and pleasure. No more now of 
 those "courting days," which are said by some to 
 be the happiest, by others the most miserable of 
 their lives. Probably, the real truth lies between 
 both these facts, and that the happiness or misery is 
 according as the lovers create it for themselves. Life 
 is not all joy, neither God nor man can make it 
 po; but it may be made all love. And love, that 
 infinite and endless blessing, had been held out from 
 heaven to these two, Edna and William; they had 
 had eyes to see it, strength to grasp it, faith to cling 
 to it. They had cause to be glad and thankful, and 
 so they were.
 
 264 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Dr. Stedman came alone to spend his last Sun- 
 day with his bride and her sister. Julius had re- 
 turned home, and promised to come: but changed 
 his mind, and disappeared for the day. 
 
 "He is so constantly changing his mind and 
 plans, that I hardly know what to make of him. I 
 do wish he had a wife of his own," said the elder 
 brother, with a sigh. "But a sister will be better 
 than nothing: you must be very good to him, Edna." 
 
 "I will," said Edna, in her quiet way. And 
 then they all spent together — contentedly, yet half 
 solemnly — the last Sunday of so many Sundays, 
 the last which would ever see them as they were. 
 It hardly seemed real — this great change — and 
 it had come about so naturally that they felt none 
 of the agitation and excitement which a marriage 
 brings. No one made any imnecessary fuss; and 
 even when Letty took Dr. Stedman upstairs to see 
 the bridal finery — tlie white muslin dresses and 
 white bonnets gloriously displayed — he only said, 
 "Very pretty," and came down looking happy, in- 
 deed, but rather grave. 
 
 Indeed they were all three a little subdued, and 
 arrangements being now completed — for the wed- 
 ding was fixed for Tuesday — they had little or 
 nothing to talk aboxit. Tea over, they were sinking 
 into rather a sombre silence, when, to their amaze- 
 ment, Julius appeared.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 265 
 
 The sisters had uever seen him since the day 
 of the Exhibition, and the Avelcome they gave hira 
 was hearty and warm. He received it with eager 
 happiness. 
 
 "Yes, I thought I would come, if only to have a 
 last look at Edna Kenderdine. Though I know I 
 am frightfully in the way : not wanted — never shall 
 be wanted — anywhere — by anybody." 
 
 "Oh, Julius!" said Edna, reproachfully, then, 
 without more words, she busied herself in getting 
 him tea, and all those creature comforts which a 
 man sorely needs, esjjecially when he comes in worn 
 and worried — as Julius did. After the first flush of 
 excitement had faded, she saw, and was shocked 
 to see, how great was the change in him during 
 these few weeks. He had grown exceedingly thin, 
 and had at times a restless, hunted look, as of a man 
 pursued by one relentless idea which he vainly tries 
 to master, but which conquers him against his will. 
 He was quieted a little, however, during the tea and 
 talk, and recovered his own self, so charming, bro- 
 therly, and kind. 
 
 William Stedman looked on, pleased and smiling, 
 but he said nothing. Nor did Letty, which was a 
 still more remarkable fact; and, when Julius — hav- 
 ing accomplished his usual aim by asserting volubly, 
 to everybody's great amusement, that he must retire 
 to the kitchen, as his sole purpose in paying this 
 final visit was to take a farewell sketch of it and the 
 cat, — disappeared, Letty drew herself up with dig- 
 nity, and, instead of accompanying him, went upstairs. 
 Whence, however, she was soon heard to descend,
 
 266 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 Letty being one of those people wlio prefer any- 
 body's company to their own. 
 
 "I hope she will be kind to him, even though he 
 has neglected you and her a little of late," said 
 William innocently. "I do ti'ust they will get on 
 Avell together — our brother and sister. They ought, 
 for there is such a deal of good in poor Julius. He 
 shows it, by being so very fond of you. He told 
 me last night, when I was urging him to end his 
 nonsensical flirtations, and get honestly engaged to 
 some nice girl, that he would if only I could find 
 him such a girl as my Edna." 
 
 Edna laughed. 
 
 "Do you know he once made me half jealous — 
 I mean when I began to want you myself, and fancied 
 he did the same. Now, little Conscience, if it had 
 been so, what ought I to have done? Given you up 
 to my brother, ehr*" 
 
 Edna's light laugh ceased. She thought a minute, 
 and then said, seriously, "No. If you loved me, and 
 I loved you, you ought to have married me in spite 
 of all the world." 
 
 So talked they — lialf merry, half grave — recall- 
 ing their ])ast, or planning their future, and then 
 scarcely talking at all; content with the simple fact 
 of being together. 
 
 Meantime, in the kitclien there was also com- 
 parative silence. Not tlie talking and laughing which 
 generally went on between Letty and Julius, who 
 always ridiculed the extreme soberness of "the folks 
 in love." Just a low murmur of conversation some-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 267 
 
 times, and then long pauses — so long that even tlie 
 betrothed paii- in the next room noticed it at last. 
 
 "I wonder if the sketch is finished. Shall we go 
 and see, William?" 
 
 "Not yet — please not just yet. I must leave 
 early this evening, and you will not let me come to- 
 morrow. But after to-morrow you will never get rid 
 of me." 
 
 "Never, all my life! I am so" — sorry, a co- 
 quette would have said; but Edna, wholly true, had 
 not a spark of coquetry in her, first or last. She 
 said "glad." 
 
 "Thank you, my blessing of blessings!" And 
 then they talked no more. 
 
 But when at length Edna, with a certain uneasy 
 feeling that she could not get rid of, though she kept 
 it strictly to herself, wondering at the long stillness, 
 went to see, she found Julius sitting all by himself 
 over the fire, which out of its dull, burnt-out hollow 
 threw occasional sparks of flame, giving a ghostly 
 look to the neat kitchen, as neat and pretty almost 
 as a parlour, whicli Julius lased to say was "the fin- 
 est room in the house." He was so absorbed that till 
 Edna touched him on the slioulder he did not notice 
 her entrance. 
 
 "Where is the sketch, Julius?" asked Will. 
 
 "And where is my sister?" 
 
 "Gone upstairs. Hey, Will! is that you, man? 
 I'm going home." 
 
 "Not this minute; not before supper," pleaded 
 Edna. 
 
 "Supper! I've had mine. I've 'supped full of
 
 268 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 horrors,' like Macbeth. Now, 'to bed — to bed — 
 to bed ! ' Edna , couldn't you give a poor fellow some- 
 thing to make him sleejj — for ever?" 
 
 "Ju," said Will, "what is the matter with you? 
 You're half asleep now, I think; wake up, man!" 
 
 "I will!" cried Julius, springing to his feet with 
 a violent gesture. "I have been asleep — but I'm 
 awake now. Give me my hat, I'll take a walk and 
 come back to my senses, and to supper likewise, if 
 you please, Miss Edna." 
 
 But he never appeared. Letty came downstairs, 
 flushed and uncomfortable-looking, and to William's 
 jesting question if she and Julius had been quarrel- 
 ling, gave an answer so sharp that Dr. Stedman said 
 no more. Silently, uneasily, ended the last evening 
 of so many merry evenings which they had spent in 
 that little house, every corner of which Edna felt 
 she should love to the end of her days. 
 
 Yet as she stood at the door on the solemn dark 
 night — for it had been raining heavily, and there 
 was not a star visible — even though her hand was 
 clasped in her lover's, and his safe arm round her, 
 a weight of foreboding sadness gathered over her. 
 
 "Oh, William, if trouble should come!" 
 
 "We will bear it, whatever it is, together." 
 
 And when he said that, and drew her closer, 
 and she felt the beating of his warm, living, loving 
 heart, so tender and so true, she knew that she could 
 bear it. 
 
 After Dr. Stedman was gone, Letty called Edna 
 into the parlour — Letty, still flushed, and full of 
 the excitement of a secret.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 269 
 
 "Don't be running off tlie very minute yon have 
 sent your lover away. You might have some little 
 sympathy with other people's love affairs — mine for 
 instance." 
 
 "Oh, Letty!" 
 
 "Yes, you need not look so shocked. It has 
 just come to that. I knew it would. I have been 
 afraid of it for ever so long. Very provoking. A 
 wretched business altogether. How could the poor 
 fellow be such a goose! though I suppose he couldn't 
 help it." 
 
 And Letty tried to look grave, while a furtive, 
 gratified smile twinkled round the corners of her 
 mouth. 
 
 "But you could have helped it, if it is as I sus- 
 pect," cried Edna, greatly distressed. "How could 
 you let him do it? For of course it is Julius — poor 
 Julius !" 
 
 Letty nodded. "I promised not to tell anybody, 
 and of course I won't. You will notice, I have never 
 mentioned his name, and I never told you of it, 
 though I have suspected it for months. Poor fel- 
 low, he is desperately fond of me." 
 
 "Oh, Letty!" 
 
 Edna could not say another Avord. She saw, as 
 in an ominous vision, Julius's face, as he snatched 
 up his hat and rushed from the house — a wild, tierce, 
 maddened face — full of that overwhelming passion, 
 a compound of the senses and the imagination, which 
 sometimes seizes upon a young man. Whom, having 
 played at love throughout his first fantastic youth, it
 
 270 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 takes hold of at last in terrible earnest, either mak- 
 ing or marring liim for the rest of his life. For 
 Julius was one of those weak, loving natures, who 
 must cling to somebody, be in love with somebody. 
 And he had fallen in love with Letty, the very last 
 person, any third party would say, whom he ought 
 to choose. But third parties are not infallible, 
 and Edna snatched at a fragment of comfort and 
 hope. 
 
 "Surely, Letty, you like Julius?" 
 
 "Like him? Oh, yes; very much; — in a sis- 
 terly way. I told him so. I promised to be the 
 best sister possible to him, as I always have been, I 
 am sure. But as to marrying him, that is quite an- 
 other thing. Why he has not a halfpenny but what 
 he earns, and he will never earn much — geniuses 
 never do. He Avill be poor all his life. And, oh, 
 dear me, Edna," shrugging her shoulders with a trick 
 she had learnt at her Paris pension^ "yt»u know 1 
 have had quite enough of poverty." 
 
 "But you might wait." 
 
 "Wait — till my appearance was all gone. He 
 is an artist, and has an eye for that, I know," said 
 Letty, with the pathetic intuition which sometimes 
 dawned, through all lier silliness, of favour being 
 deceitful, and beauty vain. "Wait till I got old and 
 ugly, and couldn't enjoy good fortune when it came? 
 Oh, no, Kdna! that would never do. Better even 
 for the young man himself that I won't marry him. 
 And yet he is frantically in love with me — he is 
 indeed. 1 had no idea there was so much earnestness
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 271 
 
 in him about anything-, till now. Would you be- 
 lieve, he almost frightened me!" 
 
 And Letty, sitting at the kitchon-fire, meditatively 
 warmed her lovely foot; glancing round half tri- 
 umphantly, half pensively, at her sister, whose heart 
 slowly, slowly sank, heavy as lead. For vainly she 
 sought in those beautiful eyes some trace of the 
 feeling — call it love, nay, passion if you will — 
 which , however sad , however unfortunate , when 
 earnestly and honestly felt, ennobles any woman; 
 while that other side of it — the weak pleasure of 
 conquest, the petty egotistical vanity of being loved 
 — only deteriorates and degrades. 
 
 "Oh, how blind, how careless I have been!" 
 cried Edna, almost in a sob. "And you, Letty, you 
 have been playing with edged tools — you know you 
 have. That poor fellow! And you guessed it all, 
 yet you let him go on. How could you? But it is 
 not quite too late. Perhaps you don't know your 
 own mind. Perhaps you really love him?" 
 
 Letty laughed. "How should 1 know? Certainly 
 not in your sort of love. I'm very fond of him, and 
 I told him so, as a sister. For anything else — But 
 it's no use thinking of that, as you must see; for 
 us to be engaged, Julius and me, would, in our cir- 
 cumstances, be ridiculous — perfectly ridiculous." 
 
 Edna answered, with a strange harshness, which 
 she repented afterwards, or wonld have done but 
 that Letty did not seem to })erceive it at all, "I 
 think you are right. It would be even worse than 
 ridiculous. When Julius is my brother, I shall warn
 
 272 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 him tbcat the most fatal tiling lie could do would be 
 to many my sister Letty." 
 
 "Yes," said Letty, composedly misapprebending, 
 "I considered that point also. Two brothers mar- 
 rying two sisters rarely get on together. And then 
 there would be the difficulty of the money matters; 
 for Julius said be only wished me to be engaged to 
 him; he would never think of marrying me till he 
 had an income of his own, and was quite inde- 
 pendent of his brother. And I couldn't wait. I 
 really couldn't, you know. So it is a great deal 
 better as it is. Of course he will get over it; men 
 always do," added Letty, looking as if she were 
 comfortably persuaded to the contrary. "After all, 
 it has been a little excitement. One isn't quite an 
 old woman yet, I see." 
 
 And then, scarcely observing Edna's dead silence, 
 Letty unbound her great golden sheaves of hair, 
 and while she l)ruslied and combed them, chattered 
 unceasingly of Julius; all he had said; all he had 
 done; his frantic pleadings; his bitter despair; till 
 Edna — thinking of the heart that would bleed for 
 every wound of Julius's, the heart whose every 
 emotion she kept sacredly to herself, and always 
 would have done, whether she had loved him or not 
 • — Edna started up in a passion of wrath, and grief, 
 and sliame. 
 
 "Letty, hold your tongue. I won't hear you. 
 The last time you talked like this, I was a girl, 
 and I did not understand it — did not mind it. 
 Now I do. I say you have done a wicked thing. 
 Every woman who thinks a man loves her, aiad lets
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 273 
 
 him go on loving lier till he asks her to marry him, 
 and then gives him No — a cold, prudent, heartless 
 No — does a wicked thing. I am ashamed of you 
 though you are my own sister. I am bitterly ashamed 
 of you." 
 
 Letty opened her eyes in the utmost astonish- 
 ment. She did not get angry, it would have been 
 almost a comfort if she had done so: but she sulked 
 a little, and then melted into tears. 
 
 "I couldn't help it, and you have no right to 
 scold me. It was partly your fault; you should 
 not have left us so much together, or you should 
 have spoken to me beforehand. I always listen to 
 what you say, Edna. You are very, very unkind: 
 but now you are happy, and going to be married, 
 it does not matter what becomes of me." 
 
 And so, with that strange tyranny of weakness 
 to which the strongest often mournfully succumb, 
 she softened her sister's heart towards her, and de- 
 spite her common sense, her conscience, her bitter 
 bitter grief for Julius, and Julius's brother, Edna 
 kissed Letty, and scolded her, as she called it, no 
 more. 
 
 Instead, slie talked to her, seriously and ten- 
 derly, of things concerning which she had often 
 talked before, till she gave it up as hopeless. But 
 now her reasoning was not, as then, out of theories 
 which Letty had always set aside as "romantic," 
 "impossible." She spoke of what she knew, out of 
 her own blessed experience, of the sacredness of 
 love, given or received-, the wickedness of trifling 
 with it; the awful responsibility it was: things once 
 
 The Woman's Kingdom. I. lo
 
 274 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 dimly dreamed of by Edna Kenderdine, but no^vN' 
 seen by William Stedman's bride, with a fatal vivid- 
 ness, and a passionate intensity of belief, that made 
 her fearless either of ridicule or contradiction : deter- 
 mined to speak out, whether listened to or not. 
 
 Letty did listen — as she said, she generally 
 listened to Edna — at the time •, and this time, either 
 through the excitement of the evening, or because 
 she was really touched by Julius's devotion, she 
 listened with an expression of earnestness which 
 made Edna almost believe she understood it all. 
 
 "What you say may be very true, Edna. I 
 am sure I hope it is. Only you seem to fancy love 
 is the only thing in life. Now I think there are 
 many other things." 
 
 "So there are: but love is the first, the best, 
 the root and crown of all the rest. And more for 
 men even than women. If that goes wrong with 
 them, everything goes wrong. Oh, Letty, take 
 care!" 
 
 "Nonsense! what must I take care of? It isn't 
 my fault that men fall in love with me." 
 
 "No; but it is your fault if you treat them in 
 such a way that they never believe in love again; 
 they despise it, and despise you." 
 
 "Will Julius despise me, do you suppose? I 
 hope not!" 
 
 "Then behave to him so that, whatever you 
 make him suffer, he may still respect you. I don't 
 know what has been, how far you have gone on 
 with him, but oh, Letty, from this time be very 
 careful how you treat him!"
 
 THE WOJrAx's KINGDOM. 275 
 
 "Bless us!" said Letty, half crossly, half laugli- 
 ing, "how seriously you do take it! I might be 
 going to murder the young man." 
 
 "You do murder him, in reality, when you 
 trifle with him - — play fast and loose, warm and 
 cold, as I have seen you do with some people. 
 Don't do it with him — it will be the ruin of him. 
 Oh, Letty!" — and she grasped her sister's hand in 
 an agony of entreaty — "for my sake, for William's 
 sake, take care!" 
 
 "Wliat on earth am I to take care of? As if 
 Julius were the first man that ever was crossed in 
 love. He must just get over it." 
 
 "Yes: but how? We women don't understand. 
 We can but break our hearts; but they — they turn 
 wicked. If Julius does, I shall blame you." 
 
 Letty looked uneasy. 
 
 "I am very sorry. I am sure I did not mean 
 any harm, and I hope none will come, for it would 
 be extremely vmpleasant. But what am I to do? 
 It is the most uncomfortable thing. Oh! I wish I 
 had never been brought into it. I wish you were 
 not going to marry William Stednjan, or that some- 
 body was going to marry me — some suitable man, 
 with plenty of money, who would take me quite 
 away out of all these troubles." 
 
 "Then joii do not care — not one atom — for 
 Julius?" 
 
 "Oh yes, I do. I like him very much. I 
 daresay I shall never get any one to be so fond of 
 me again. I would take him to-morrow if he had 
 a tolerable income, or a chance of getting on in the 
 
 18*
 
 276 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 world. But he has none; and as I told you, I can't 
 wait. So he must go." 
 
 "Clearly," said Edna, setting her firm little 
 mouth together, — not without a curl of contempt 
 in it; and rising to light her candle and go to bed. 
 
 "Oh, stop a minute. Do help me. Tell me 
 how I am to manage it all. What do you mean 
 by my treating Julius so as to do him no harm, and 
 to make him respect me?" 
 
 Edna paused to think. Unto her, in her brim- 
 ming happiness of contented love, Julius's lot seemed 
 bitter to an almost exaggerated degree. She mourned 
 for him from the very depth of her heart, yet she 
 could not, she dared not, urge Letty to accept him. 
 She knew that "love bidden is love forbidden;" and 
 that far safer for Julius would be a short, sharp 
 blow, and over, than the torturing suspense of un- 
 certainty and indecision. 
 
 "I hardly know what to advise. Except that 
 you must meet him as seldom as possible; I will 
 manage that. But when you do meet, though you 
 need not be unkind to him — still you must never 
 let him doubt your mind. You must not waver; 
 you must keep firm, Letty — as firm as a rock." 
 
 And then the impossibility of firmness to that 
 weak, vain, pleasure-loving nature, which always 
 did the easiest thing at the time, without much 
 regard to consequences, forced itself upon Edna with 
 a mournful foreboding. Yet, for a little while, 
 Letty's evident sincerity gave her hope. 
 
 "I will do everything you tell me; I will in- 
 deed," said she, her ever-ready tears flowing down
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 277 
 
 apace. "Poor Julius! I am so sorry for him: so 
 sorry if this makes you and William unhappy. For 
 of course you will tell William, though I wish you 
 wouldn't." 
 
 Nevertheless, Letty's looks betrayed a sort of 
 satisfaction that William was obliged to be told. 
 
 "Yes, I shall tell William. Oh, my poor Wil- 
 liam!" sighed Edna to herself, knowing how keen 
 would be the pain to that tender heart, in whom the 
 best love of all only made all other affections the 
 stronger. "Letty, we can't help what is past, but 
 you 7nust do what is right now, you must make 
 William respect you, ay, and Julius too, even though 
 you refuse him. I don't know it of myself — thank 
 God! nobody ever loved me but William — still, I 
 am sure it is quite possible for a good woman to 
 turn her rejected lover into her truest friend. That 
 is, if he had nothing to blame her for except re- 
 jecting him. But we will talk no more now. Let 
 us go to bed, sister. Oh, my sister! my only sister!" 
 
 Worn out with all the emotion of the day, 
 Edna threw her arms round Letty's neck, and they 
 clung together — like sisters : in whom no difference 
 of character could break the tie of blood — at least, 
 not yet. And then they went to sleep in peace 
 together. 
 
 All next day — the day before the wedding — 
 Letty went about the house "nitli a very sad and 
 serious face, though it brightened up occasionally — 
 especially at sight of anything in the shape of 
 clothes. And when she tried on her own dress, a 
 costume so tasteful and becoming that she looked fit
 
 278 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 to be bridesmaid to a queen, instead of to that 
 dainty, wliite-robed , yet plain little woman, who was 
 to William Stedman all his heart's desire — Letty's 
 spirits rose amazingly. 
 
 "I wonder if there will be anybody to look at 
 us-, it is a shame to waste all these pretty things 
 uj)on the parson and the clerk, and old Mr. March- 
 mont" — a City merchant, whose house had been 
 Edna's only situation as resident governess, and 
 who, in default of nearer friends, had claimed the 
 pleasure of giving her away. 
 
 "Except Julius, if Julius comes," said Edna, 
 gravely. 
 
 Letty looked a little conscience-smitten. "He 
 is sure to come; he told me he should. He did not 
 wish William to find out anything, and besides it 
 would be his last look of me. He means to go 
 abroad — to Switzerland, I think. Poor fellow! 
 I am really very sorry for him," added Letty, as 
 she glanced in the glass, and could not — who 
 could? — help smiling complacently at the charming 
 image reflected there. 
 
 But Edna said nothing, and shortly afterwards 
 went out of the room. 
 
 Strange! she could not have believed it of any- 
 body else, yet any one who knew her uiiselfish 
 nature might have believed it of her — but Edna, 
 oven on her marriage-eve, thought less of herself 
 and her own feelings than of poor Julius. Do what 
 slie wo\ild, she could not get him out of her mind. 
 Tlie contrast between him and the rest — William 
 and she going off together on a marriage tour to
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 279 
 
 their old haunts in the Isle of Wight; Letty, taken 
 to a cheerful visit in the Marchmont's luxurious 
 home, where, among these wealthy, but rather dull, 
 City people, she, with her beauty and her fami- 
 liarity with "high families," was very popular; — 
 and foi'lorn Julius, left alone to bear his grief how 
 he might, — all this smote Edna with exceeding 
 pain. She was one of those who find it hard to 
 be happy when others are not; who would liaA'e 
 leaned over the edge of Paradise itself, to drop 
 bitter tears upon the poor souls in purgatory. And 
 when, towards evening — the last day of her maiden 
 life — she left Letty, still busy about some trifling 
 adornment, and started on a quiet, solitary stroll, 
 to consider what was to be done, and how and 
 when she should tell the sad secret to William, she 
 felt so unhappy that she could hardly believe to- 
 morrow was her wedding-day. 
 
 Nevertheless, she walked on, trying to compose 
 herself by walking, when she heard footsteps behind 
 her — light, quick, and hurried — and turning 
 round, saw Julius. 
 
 She looked in his face, and he in hers, and both 
 understood that each knew all. She put out her 
 hand to him, he grasped it hard, and then turned 
 away. They walked along side by side for some 
 distance, before either spoke. Wlien Julius did, his 
 voice was hollow and unnatural. 
 
 "I have been hanging about here all day. You 
 know why; she would be sure to tell you. She pro- 
 mised not, but of course she did. Women always 
 do."
 
 280 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Yes, she told me." 
 
 "Well, I don't blame her. Perhaps if I had 
 told you myself before now, I might have been 
 saved all this. You knew her mind?" 
 
 "No," said Edna, firmly, afraid lest his eager 
 questioning might betray her into any admission 
 that might lead him astray; "I could have told you 
 nothing, for I had not a suspicion of such a thing- 
 till last night — I mean, till just lately." 
 
 "You did suspect then? You thought she cared 
 for me?" said Julius, eagerly. "You must have 
 seen I cared for her? More fool I! But it's over 
 now. Women are all alike — all alike." 
 
 "Julius!" said Edna, appealingly, and lier soft 
 eyes brimmed over. For he was so changed, even 
 in those few hours: so haggard and wild-looking, 
 with neglected dress and excited manner. 
 
 "I beg your pardon; no, you are different. I 
 know Will has found his good angel, as he deserved. 
 I deserved nothing — and got it. Edna, you once 
 told me to wait till my time came. It has come, 
 from the minute I first saw her beautiful face through 
 the lodging-house window. It was a madness! — 
 quite a madness! If ever the devil comes to a man 
 as an angel of light — as the Bible says he does 
 come, you know — he came to me in the shape of 
 your sister Letty." 
 
 "Hush!" said Edna, putting her arm through 
 his, and drawing him on, for his loud voice and 
 violent manner had caught the notice of a stray 
 passer-by. "Come with me: I am going a walk, and 
 you can tell me everything."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 281 
 
 "Everything!" 
 
 "Yes, everything," said Edna, with firmness, for 
 he was so past all self-control, that it became neces- 
 sary. "You need not mind speaking to me — I never 
 chatter to anybody. Besides, to-morrow I shall be 
 your own sister — William's wife." 
 
 "William's wife! Oh happy, happy Will! But 
 you'll promise not to tell him, not till after to- 
 morrow? And you'll see how I'll behave. He shall 
 guess nothing, for it would vex him so. Dear old 
 Will! I'm right glad he is happy. Lucky, lucky 
 Will!" 
 
 Edna could not speak for crying. Her tears 
 seemed to calm her companion in some degree. He 
 pressed her hand. 
 
 "Are you so very sorry for me, you good little 
 woman? Then you think there is no hope?" 
 
 Edna shook her head in a silent negative. She 
 dared not do otherwise. For knowing her sister as 
 she did — and seeing Julius now, in the new light 
 in which his passion had shown him — the expres- 
 sion she had used last night of "playing with edged 
 tools" but faintly expressed the danger of any trifling. 
 Foolish Letty! — she might as safely emulate the 
 juggler's tricks of swallowing fire, or tossing up and 
 catching gleamimg daggers, as attempt with her, 
 weak, womanish, uncomprehending nature, her small 
 caprices and coquettish arts, to deal with such a 
 man as Julius Stedman. Well might she say she 
 was "frightened of him." Edna almost was. Never 
 before had she witnessed the desperate agony of 
 thwarted love, as shown in one who was capable, by
 
 282 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 fits, of self-repression — but of self-government had 
 none. What joassed between her and Julius for the 
 next few minutes Edna hid in the deepest, darkest 
 recesses of her pitying heart; she never betrayed it, 
 not even to William. 
 
 At length she said softly, "Tell me how it hap- 
 pened. How came you to care for Letty, or to fancy 
 Letty cared for you?" 
 
 "Fancy! It was no fancy. You know better 
 than that. She must have told you? No? Then 
 I'll not tell. I'll not be such an ungentlemanly 
 wretch as to tell. I was mistaken — that's all. But, 
 Edna— I'm not a conceited ass, I hope. And when 
 a girl lets you talk to her, sit by her, hold her hand, 
 kiss her — " 
 
 Edna started, and then Julius also drew back in 
 bitter shame. 
 
 "I was a coward to say it, but no matter. It 
 was no harm: only 'sisterly.' She told me so. No 
 blame to her, of course. Only, Edna, mind this, if 
 a girl wants to send a young fellow to hell, body 
 and soul, bid her treat him 'as a sister.'" 
 
 Edna walked on, sadly silent. Mad as his words 
 were, there was truth at the bottom of them, though 
 much might be said on the other side. For Julius 
 implied, thougli he did not actually own, how this 
 passion had come upon him — fierce as retributive 
 justice — when he was first amusing himself, as he 
 had often done before, with that tender philan- 
 dering, half love, half friendship, saying nothing, 
 yet implying everything, by which so many a young 
 man has broken the heart, and blighted the life of
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 283 
 
 a young, foolish, innocent girl, who would only have 
 laid to his charge the pathetic lament of Ophelia — 
 when Hamlet says, "/ did love yoti dearly once;''' and 
 she answers, ''Indeed^ my lord, you made me helieve 
 sor 
 
 Yet two wrongs can never make a right: Letty 
 was inexcusable. And the worst of it was, she 
 would never be conscious that she needed excusing. 
 But the mischief was done. Here was this young 
 man, to whom a strong, real passion for a good 
 woman, however hopeless, would have been salutary 
 — might have shaken liim out of his frivolities and 
 follies, and awakened him to that new and holier 
 life which elevates a man, less by possession, than 
 by striving after the nobleness which deserves to 
 possess — but, trifled with by such a girl as Letty, 
 he would sink, lower and lower — whither? For 
 there are no depths of depravity to which a man 
 may not fall, from whose heart and lips comes the 
 bitter cry which startled Edna many a time during 
 their miserable walk — "They are all alike — all 
 alike. I will never believe in any woman more." 
 
 "But," she said at last, "you will believe in 
 men. By-and-bye you will come and talk to William. 
 He will help you. Why," she said, trying at last 
 playfulness, when all serious arguments failed, "you 
 are not the first man who was refused and got over 
 it, married somebody else, and lived happy ever 
 afterwards. Even Shakespeare says, 'Men have died 
 and worms have eaten them, but not for love.'" 
 
 Julius laughed angrily. "No; I shall not die. 
 You may tell Will that, if he cares about it."
 
 284 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "You know he does. It would break his heart — 
 both our heai-ts — if you broke yours. But you will 
 not. You will yet find a far sweeter woman, a far 
 more suitable wife, than my sister Letty." 
 
 "Suitable? Yes, that was the word she used. 
 It was not a 'suitable' marriage. That is, I could 
 not give her a carriage and pair, and a house in 
 Belgravia. Nor, indeed, could I marry her at all 
 just yet. I could only love her, and she did not 
 care for that. — Edna," and he turned fiercely round, 
 "Edna, I'd honour the meanest milliner girl to whom 
 I came with only a wedding ring, or perhaps with 
 no ring at all, and said, 'Love me,' (if she did love, 
 and some of them do, poor things!) more than your 
 fine lady who will accept anybody, no matter who, 
 so that she is well married. But it isn't marriage 
 at all — it's — " 
 
 "Be silent," interrupted Edna in her clear, firm 
 voice, severely sweet as Milton makes that of his 
 angels. "You are speaking of what you do not 
 understand. You only see half a truth. Because one 
 side of a thing is wicked, does it make the other 
 good? There are people like what you say, — who 
 marry in unholiness, or who love, omitting marriage, 
 in equal unholiness; but there are others who love 
 with all their hearts, and marry because they love, 
 like William and me. Come to us, we will take care 
 of you. We will not let you 'go wrong.'" 
 
 "You can't help it." 
 
 "No; but you can. Julius, a man may be 
 grievously injured by a woman; but if he lets him- 
 self be ruined by lier, he is one of two things, either
 
 THE WOSrAx's KINGDOM. 285 
 
 a coward or a fool. You are neitlier; you are a man. 
 Be a man and bear it." 
 
 He turned towards her, tlie sweet woman, so 
 loved, so happy, who oxit of all her happiness could 
 spare thought and sympathy for others — for his 
 miserable self She stood looking up at him with 
 her pale, tear-stained eager face, through which, in 
 midst of all her grief, gleamed that hopeful courage, 
 which women often possess so much more than men, 
 given to them perhaps tliat they may the better help 
 men. The strong spiritual attraction mastered Julius 
 in spite of himself 
 
 "You are an angel," he said, in a broken voice. 
 "I think, if anything could save 7ne from going to 
 the devil, it would be my sister Edna. Tell Letty — 
 no, tell her nothing. Tell William " 
 
 "What?" asked Edna, seeing he hesitated. 
 
 "Everything; I had rather he knew it. Tell him," 
 — with a feeble smile, — "tell him to-morrow after- 
 noon. And then say, he need not vex himself, for 
 I shall go to Switzerland to-morrow night — to work 
 hard and trouble nobody. And, mind you, nobody 
 need trouble themselves about me, since I shall 
 come to no harm, for three months — ■ I promise 
 you that." 
 
 "And afterwards?" 
 
 "God knows." 
 
 "Yes," Edna answered reverently, "God does 
 know. And He never tries any one of us more than 
 we can bear. "Now, walk Avith me to the end of 
 the lane. Then go straight home."
 
 286 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 Julius obeyed, without tlie slightest resistance, 
 aud with the gentleness of a child. 
 
 Next morning, quite early, for they were to start 
 at once, there being no wedding breakfast, — with 
 Letty looking charming as bridesmaid, though a little 
 nervous and agitated, but not unbecomingly so; with 
 Julius as best man, very handsome, well dressed, 
 and agreeable, but on the whole more absorbed in 
 attention to the bride than to the bridesmaid, which 
 fact much surprised Letty 's warm admirer, old Mr. 
 Marchmont, — next morning, William and Edna 
 were married. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A Dark wet November night — or evening; but 
 it looked like night, for the houses were all shut- 
 tered up, and there was no light, except the gas- 
 lamps and the one red doctor's lamp, to break the 
 dreariness of the long monotonous shopless street, 
 where every house was so exactly like another. 
 Outside at least. Witliin — what an immeasurable 
 difference! 
 
 What is it makes a house bright? pleasant to go 
 to — to stay in — even to think about, so that even 
 if fate totally annihilates it we recall tenderly for 
 years its atmosphere of peace, cheerfulness, loving- 
 kindness — nay, its outside features — down to the 
 very pictures on the walls, the pattern of the papering, 
 the position of the furniture? Whilst other houses — 
 we shiver at the remembrance of them , and the
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 287 
 
 dreary days we spent in them — days of dulness, 
 misery, or strife — these houses we would not revisit 
 for the world! 
 
 Why is this? If a house with fair possibilities 
 of home comfort is thoroughly comfortless — if there 
 is within it a reckless imjDOSsibility of getting things 
 done in the right way or at the right time — or if, 
 on the contrary, it is conducted with a terrible re- 
 gularity, so that an uninvited guest or an extempore 
 meal sends a shock throughout the whole abode — 
 if the servants never keep their places long — and 
 the gentlemen of the family are prone to be "out of 
 evenings" — who is to blame? 
 
 Almost invariably, the women of the family. 
 The men make or mar its outside fortunes; but its 
 internal comfort lies in the women's hands alone. 
 And until women feel this — recognise at once their 
 power and their duties — it is idle for them to chatter 
 about their rights. Men may be bad enough out-of- 
 doors; but their influence is limited and external. 
 It is women who are in reality either the salvation 
 or the destruction of a household. 
 
 Dr. Stedman's household had done with its 
 bachelor freedom, and passed into feminine sway. 
 A sway more complete than in most; and yet there 
 are many professional men who, like a doctor, are 
 so engrossed by outside toil that they are obliged to 
 leave everything else to their wives. Well for them 
 if, like William Stedman, they have married a woman 
 who is fit not only to obey, but to rule. Especially 
 so when, as in this case, there are few appliances of 
 wealth to aid her — no skilled servants , no well-
 
 288 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 appointed and well-furnished establishment; but one 
 which requires in every point, not only the mistress's 
 head, but her eye, and often her hand. 
 
 Thus in the drawing-room where Edna sat sewing, 
 always sewing — and, for a wonder, Letty was sewing 
 too — there was a combination of old things and new: 
 the furnishing being accomplished by means of devices 
 which would have shocked a respectable — ■ and ex- 
 pensive — upholsterer. Yet the general effect was 
 neat and pretty; an ordinary eye would have dis- 
 covered no deficiencies, and a good heart, even if 
 discovering them , would have been touched by, 
 rather than have laughed at, these pathetic incon- 
 gruities. 
 
 The mistress was not unlike her house: care- 
 fully, though anything but richly, dressed; still she 
 was dressed for dinner, with her soft hair all smooth, 
 and her laces dropping daintily over the little busy 
 hands. Some people said — and not untruly — that 
 Edna had grown a deal prettier since her marriage. 
 Yet she was worn and thin, as if she had a rather 
 anxious life; but there was no anxiety in her eyes 
 at this moment — nothing but j^erfect content — per- 
 fect rest. 
 
 She listened ■ — patiently, though with a far-away 
 look, as if she only heard half of it — -to Letty's in- 
 cessant stream of rather fretful talk about the incon- 
 veniences of the cstablisliment. 
 
 "I am sure I am quite glad to do all I can, and 
 be of use in the house; but there seems no end to 
 all we have to do, Edna. It's much harder work 
 than keeping school, I think."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 289 
 
 "Perliaps," said Edua, smiling. For there was 
 some truth in Letty's complainings. Dr. Stedman, 
 in his bachelor helplessness, had been compelled to 
 marry first and "settle" afterwards; and the settling 
 cost more trouble — and money also — thau they had 
 calculated on. Happily, there was Edna's share in 
 the goodwill of the school — Letty's being con- 
 scientiously invested for herself-, still, as William, 
 like the sisters, held strongly to the only safe rule 
 for poor people — of never buying what he could not 
 at once pay for — the difficulties of furnishing were 
 not small; and it required all Edna's cleverness to 
 reduce extraneous expense;, and make sixpence go 
 as fiir as sixpence lionestly would. Thus the first few 
 months of their married life were not easy. 
 
 None the more so because Letty shared them. 
 All people make mistakes sometimes; and Edna and 
 William soon discovered that for a young couple to 
 have the constant presence of even the least ob- 
 noxious "third party" is not to be desired. Poor 
 Letty! they tried to keep her from suspecting this, 
 and to make the best of it, till the change Avhich 
 she already began to talk about and long for — 
 namely, going out again as a governess — should 
 arrive; but still she helped to make the first six 
 months of her brother and sister's marriage the most 
 difficult portion of their lives. 
 
 Nevertheless they were happy — blessed as two 
 people must be who love with all their hearts, and 
 trust each other from the inmost depths of their souls. 
 That their life was all smooth I do not aver; but it 
 was like what learned men tell us of the great ocean 
 
 The WuiiKiii's Ki>igdoiii. I. •'■«'
 
 290 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 — the storms only troubled its surface, and. came 
 from extraneous agencies, such as no life is free from; 
 in its deepest depths was a perpetual calm. 
 
 Calmness perhaps was the strongest characteristic 
 of Edna's face now. She had been a restless little 
 woman heretofore — easily moved — ready to catch 
 each flitting shade of pleasure or of pain-, now she 
 had learnt the self-control which every human being 
 must learn who has another human being to care 
 for — bound by the only tie Avhich entirely takes 
 away the solitude of individuality. This fact alone 
 made a difference wider than had before existed be- 
 tween her and Letty, and it made her also very 
 patient with Letty. 
 
 She heard all the grumblings — giving an oc- 
 casional gentle reply — till a loud knock thrilled 
 through the silent house — the master's knock. 
 
 "There he is!" 
 
 And Edna ran down-stairs to ojien the door to 
 William — a foolish custom which Letty ahvays con- 
 demned — ■ declaring she wouldn't do it to her hus- 
 band, it spoiled one's collar and one's hair, and 
 gave far too much trouble! Uncomprehending Letty! 
 
 So William's first greeting at his own door was 
 always his wife's face — bright and gay, with all the 
 worry smoothed out of it and the anxiety banished 
 
 — he had enough of botli outside. 
 
 "All right, my darling?" 
 "Yes; quite right." 
 
 "I'll go up and change my clothes. I have just 
 come from the hospital. Then we'll have dinner." 
 A doctor's wife has a hai-d life, as Edna found.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 291 
 
 Yet there was something grand in it, even in its 
 dangers, something heroic enough to touch her sense 
 of the ideal, which in this little woman was very- 
 strong. Continually there was much to be done, 
 and as much more to be suffered — silently and 
 without ap])eal. When Edna first married, and 
 realised all that her husband went through daily 
 and hourly, she found it veiy hard to bear. It was 
 an agony to her every time he entered a fever-ward, 
 and was sent for to those dens of misery and crime 
 where a doctor is often the only messenger of good 
 that ever comes. But now she bore all quietly. She 
 knew his life was in God's hands — that he must do 
 his duty — ■ and she hers , which was to help rather 
 than to hinder him. Yet often when she saAv other 
 wives whose husbands went into no danger, were 
 exhausted by no hard work, and William came 
 home, as to-day, utterly worn out, so that the smile 
 with M^liich he always met her only lasted a moment 
 — the sinking at her heart returned, the deadly fear 
 or wild outcry of prayer that all who love can under- 
 stand. 
 
 But she said nothing; and when she took the 
 head of her husband's dinner-table, it Avas Avith the 
 cheerful face that a wife ought to wear, and which 
 does more good than food or warmth to a weary 
 man. 
 
 "Oh, this is such a pleasant room," said Dr. 
 Stedman, looking round it with a sense of infinite rest, 
 and comfort, and relief. "I am glad I have not to 
 go out again. It is such a wretched night outside. 
 I hope Julius will wait in Paris, and not be thinking 
 
 19 »
 
 292 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 of crossing till tlie weather alters. There is his 
 letter, Edna, which came to-day. He speaks of 
 being in London soon." 
 
 This was said, looking at his wife, but not over- 
 looking her sister, who maintained a demure silence. 
 
 To Letty, William had never spoken one word 
 on the subject of Julius, nor indeed very many to 
 Edna. He had heard all, of course, and been deeply 
 moved; but afterwards, with a man's sharp cutting 
 of many gordian knots which women wear their 
 lives out in untying, he had disposed of that painful 
 domestic complication by simply saying — 
 
 "What is done cannot be undone. We shall 
 not mend it by talking about it, and we may make 
 it much worse. Let us say no more, and it will all 
 gradually slip by." 
 
 Nor was he cold or hard to Letty, perhaps, 
 manlike, he was ready to find excuses for a woman 
 — and a woman so beautiful. Whatever he felt on 
 the subject , he had only shown his feelings by 
 writing long, and unfailingly punctual, letters to 
 Juliiis, with a persistency rather rare in a man and 
 a brother. And now — Avith that good common sense 
 of his, which never made unnecessary fuss about 
 anything — lie just mentioned, in an off-hand way, 
 the fact of Julius's coming home. 
 
 "He comes home rather prosperous too. He has 
 just sold a large picture to your friend Mr. March- 
 mont, Letty." 
 
 "I am sure I am very glad to hear it," answered 
 Letty, looking down. 
 
 "And he sends me back — honest fellow! — his
 
 THE woman's kingdom. " 293 
 
 quarter's allowance, saying he can well do without 
 it, better than we: which is partly true, Edna, my 
 dear." 
 
 "AVe'll keep it for him, in case he wants it," 
 said Edna, kindly. "What has he been doing 
 lately?" 
 
 "Eead, and you will see. He and the March- 
 monts seem to get on capitally. He has shown 
 them Paris, and speaks a good deal of them; think- 
 ing of them much as you do — worthy, kindly people, 
 with heaps of money and not too much of brains. 
 Except, perhaps, your pupil. Miss Lily, who he says 
 is so pretty." 
 
 "Lily Marchmont pretty?" cried Letty. "I never 
 heard such nonsense! Why, she is a mere roly- 
 poly dot; as red as a cherry and as round as a ball. 
 What can Julius be thinking of? Is he falling in 
 love with her? But, indeed, I should be very glad 
 to hear of anything of the kind," added Letty, with 
 a sudden accession of demureness. 
 
 "So should I," replied her brother-in-law, gravely. 
 "Nothing in this world would make me more glad 
 than to see Julius married — happily married. He 
 is the best fellow I know, and would be better still 
 if he had a wife — just such a wife as mine." 
 
 And with eyes overflowing with love, William 
 glanced across the table to the sweet face that was 
 all his sunshine, all his delight. Yet, just as in her 
 case towards him, the joy was not without its at- 
 tendant pain. 
 
 "You are looking pale, my wife: you have been 
 over-tiring yourself."
 
 294 TPiE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "A little. I was in town to-day. I was obliged 
 to go." 
 
 "Those horrid omnibuses! Oh, I wish I could 
 give you a carriage. Do you know, sister Letty, I 
 am seriously thinking of following your constant 
 advice, and starting a brougham, which people say 
 is a sine qua non to a doctor commencing practice; 
 it makes such an excellent impression. Supjjose I 
 try it? Only you must be sure not to tell the mis- 
 tress. She would be so exceedingly displeased." 
 
 He laughed while he spoke, and gave a glance 
 over to Edna — half joking, half anxious — as if 
 feeling his way, and seeing how the land lay. Was 
 "the mistress" grown such an alarming little person 
 after all? 
 
 She smiled, but said not a word. Letty dashed 
 eagerly into the question. 
 
 "I am sure Edna Avould never be so foolish as 
 to object to anything that was for your advantage. 
 Besides, a carriage would be such a great con- 
 venience to us. You might have it all the day, and 
 we could use it of evenings instead of a nasty cab 
 which always spoils one's dresses. And how grand 
 it would sound — 'Dr. Stedman's carriage stops the 
 way' — at theatres and evening parties!" 
 
 "That implies you have both to go to. But I 
 dare say you would. If I started a brougham, people 
 would think I had no end of practice, which would 
 create more. The world always worships the rising 
 sun. Yes, perhaps it miglit be an advisable invest- 
 ment," added William, changing from his satirical
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 295 
 
 tone to tlaat prudent Avorldliness, wliich agreed ill with 
 his honest voice and mien. 
 
 "Not so much an investment as a speculation, 
 since at present we have no money to pay for it," 
 said Edna, gently. 
 
 "No more have half the world that rides in car- 
 riages. Yet how content it looks, and how com- 
 fortable its carriages are!" 
 
 "Very comfortable," said Letty, "and if care- 
 fully lined, always so clean and nice for one's 
 clothes." 
 
 "And consciences," added "William, with a light 
 laugh; "which I see by her looks, is what Edna is 
 
 thinking of What! another message? Have 
 
 I got to go out again to-night?" 
 
 And he rose, not looking particularly glad-, but 
 when he opened the letter he showed uncontrollable 
 surprise and delight. 
 
 "Who would have thought it? While I was 
 speaking about him, Julius was close at hand. Bid 
 the messenger wait; he shall have an answer in a 
 few minutes. Yes, Edna, you had better show it to 
 Letty." 
 
 For Letty, not wholly unmoved, had come to 
 look over her sister's shoulder at the few words 
 which explained how Julius had just come in from 
 Paris, and Avas at a coffee-house close by, where he 
 said he would be glad to see his brother. 
 
 "Of co;xrse you will go to him at once, dear?" 
 
 "Certainly. Poor fellow! how very glad I am!" 
 
 And William's eyes were shining, and his fatigue 
 all vanished. Then, suddenly, his countenance changed.
 
 296 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "I forgot — I really quite forgot for the minute 
 — but, Edna? No, I suppose that is not to be 
 tliought of. Yet it's hard that I cannot fetch my 
 own brother at once to my house. Of course nobody 
 is to blame. Yet it is very sad — very annoying." 
 
 Dr. Stedman did not often speak so irritably, as 
 well as sorrowfully. Edna knew not what to say. 
 Letty drew herself up with a dignified air. 
 
 "I assure you, William, if out of consideration 
 for me " 
 
 "No; I'm not considering you at all," was the 
 blunt answer. "I am considering my brother, Letty. 
 I have never named this matter to you before, and 
 do not suppose I am blaming you now, you had a 
 right to give Julius any answer you pleased. More- 
 over, I have every reason to believe that he has 
 quite 'got over it,' as you women say, and would no 
 more mind meeting you than any other lady of his 
 acquaintance." 
 
 "I am sure I am delighted to hear it." 
 
 "Only, if you do meet," continued William, 
 pointedly, "it nnist be clearly understood that you 
 meet only as acquaintances." 
 
 "Certainly," replied Letty, tossing her head, and 
 retiring to the other end of the room while the hus- 
 band and wife consulted together in an undertone. 
 At last Edna came up to her sister. 
 
 "Letty, should you object to Julius coming here 
 for a day or two; that is, if he will come? if William 
 can bring him back with him. It would make 
 AVilllam so happy."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 297 
 
 "Tlieu for goodness' sake do it. Keally nobody 
 hinders you. I don't. I am sure it is very hard 
 for me to be the cause of family dissension. I will 
 set you all free by and bye. I will go away and 
 be a governess as soon as ever I can." And Letty 
 began to weep. 
 
 William Avas touched. "Come," he said, laying 
 his hand affectionately on her shoulder. "Don't be 
 foolish, Letty. Don't let us be making miseries 
 where none exist, or exaggerating any little dif- 
 ficulties that we have. Rather let us try to get 
 through them. If you never cared for Julius, and 
 Julius has ceased to care for you, there can be no 
 possible objection to your meeting, or to his coming 
 here. Shall I say so, and ask him to come?" 
 
 Letty brightened up at once. "Do, for I am 
 sure it would be the very best plan. There is plenty 
 of room in the house, you know. Besides, we are 
 rather dull — Edna and I — Avith you away so much. 
 And Julius used to be so very amusing." 
 
 So William departed-, and after half-an-hour of 
 rather anxious expectation, the two sisters welcomed 
 the two brothers, in changed relations certainly, but 
 with all the warmth and cordiality of yore. And 
 then William and Julius stood on the hearth together, 
 the elder Avith his arm on the younger's shoulder, 
 regarding him with eyes out of Avhich beamed the 
 old affection — the old admiration. 
 
 The brothers had always been strikingly dissimilar, 
 but noAv the dissimilarity was ])articularly plain. Not 
 so much in face, as in the difference Avliich character 
 and circumstances make in outAvard appearance,
 
 298 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 which increases rapidly as people grow older. No- 
 thing conld be a greater contrast to the hardworking 
 doctor than the fashionable young artist — who 
 laughed and talked so fast, with more than his former 
 brilliancy, greeted everybody, complimented every- 
 body; admired the house, and paid the tenderest 
 attentions to its mistress. 
 
 "You have grown quite a foreigner. I should 
 hardly have knoAvn you, Julius," said Edna. "There 
 is scarcely a bit of your own old self left in you." 
 
 "Perhaps not, and all the better," answered he; 
 then added, gaily, "But I don't see the least change 
 — indeed, I should not like any change — in my 
 little sister. I hope she means to be as good as 
 ever to me?" 
 
 "No fear of that," said William, looking from 
 one to the other in great content, and really almost 
 forgetting Letty, who, on her part, took very little 
 notice of the rest, but remained aloof in stately 
 dignity. 
 
 Neither did Julius take any special notice of her, 
 nor manifest any agitation at meeting her. In fact, 
 the whole tiling passed over so very quickly and 
 quietly that Edna almost smiled to think of what an 
 anxiety it had been to her and William. Glad as 
 she was, it gave her a certain sad feeling of the 
 mutability of all things, and especially of men's 
 love in general — lightly won, lightly lost. Was 
 every man's love so, except her own William's? 
 
 "No," she said to herself, as she watched the 
 brilliant Julius, the beautiful Letty — both equally
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 299 
 
 self-controlled, and self-satisfied. "No, we need not 
 be in the least afraid. Nothing will happen." 
 
 Undoubtedly it was a relief, and a great pleasure 
 to spend such a merry evening. Julius gave end- 
 less accounts of his Continental life, where he seemed 
 to have made good use of his time — in bringing 
 back sketches innumerable, and in making acquaint- 
 ance with foreign artists of note — of whom he talked a 
 great deal. He spoke also kindly, though with an 
 undertone of sarcasm, of his rich and stupid patron 
 Mr. Marchmont. 
 
 "You saw a good deal of the Marchmonts," 
 observed Edna. 
 
 "Yes, they needed me, and I needed them-, so 
 we made it mutually convenient." 
 
 "And you call Lily Marchmont pretty?" here 
 broke in Letty, irresistibly. "I never heard of such 
 a thing. Lily Marchmont pretty!" 
 
 "Are not all young ladies pretty — just as all 
 young men are estimable — when they are rich?" 
 said Julius, laughing. 
 
 Letty drew back and spoke no more. 
 
 But as, in the course of conversation, Julius 
 made as much fun of the young lady as he did of 
 her respectable papa, Edna thought there was not 
 much to be hoped for in his praise of Miss Lily 
 Marchmont. 
 
 In truth, glad as she was to see him — gladder 
 still to see her husband's happiness in his return — 
 there was something about Julius which inexpressibly 
 pained Edna. No human creature ever stands still; 
 we all either advance or deteriorate, and Julius had
 
 300 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 not advanced — either in earnestness , or simplicity, 
 or manliness. Externally, his refinement had de- 
 generated into the air of the petit maitre; the man 
 who placed the happiness of his existence on the set 
 of a collar or the wave of a curl; while his conver- 
 sation, lively and amusing as it was, flitted from 
 subject to subject with the lightness of a mind which 
 had come to the bitter conclusion that there is 
 nothing in life worth seriously thinking of. He was 
 not unaffectionate, and yet his very affectionateness 
 saddened her; it showed how much there was in 
 him that had never had fair play, and how his best 
 self had been stunted and blighted till it had shot 
 out by force of circumstances, into a far smaller and 
 more ignoble self than Nature had originally intended. 
 Of course, a strong character would have controlled 
 circumstances; but who is always strong? Clever 
 and charming as he was, Edna felt something very 
 like actual pity for Julius. 
 
 He refused to stay in his brother s house, alleging 
 that his ways were not their ways — - they were 
 married, and he was a gay young bachelor — he 
 sliould scandalize them all; but he commissioned 
 Edna to procure him lodgings close by. 
 
 "Such lodgings as I troubled you about once 
 before, only tlie trouble was all Avasted, like other 
 lliiiigs," said he. And this was the only reference 
 he made, even in the remotest degree, to anything 
 of the past. Of tlie future he talked as little. In- 
 deed, he seemed to live Avholly the life of the 
 present. — "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow 
 we die." As for his passionate love for Letty, he
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 301 
 
 seemed to have quite forgotten it. But there is an 
 oblivion which is worse for a man than the sharpest 
 remembrance. 
 
 "Yes," said William's wife, as, Julius having 
 left, and Letty having gone to bed immediately, her 
 husband came and sat beside her at their fireside. 
 "Yes, we might have spared ourselves all anxiety 
 about Julius. Oh, William, how seldom does love 
 last long with anybody!" 
 
 "You did not surely wish this to last, you most 
 unreasonable and contradictory little woman? You 
 must feel it is far better ended?" 
 
 "I suppose so. And yet— " Edna was half 
 
 ashamed to own it, biat she was conscious that in 
 the depth of her foolish, faithful heart she should 
 have respected Julius much more if he had not in 
 six little months — ay, it was this very day six 
 months that he had poured out to her compassionate 
 ear all the agony of his passion — so completely "got 
 over" it. 
 
 She sat down by her husband's side for the one 
 quiet half-hour when the master and mistress of the 
 household were left to themselves, to discuss the 
 affairs of to-day, and arrange for those of to-morrow. 
 Although so short a time married, Edna and AYil- 
 liam had already dropped into the practical Avays of 
 "old married people," whose love demonstrates itself 
 more often by deeds than words — by giving one 
 another pleasure, and saving one another pain, which 
 latter, in their busy and hard life, was not the 
 lightest portion of the duty. Neither ever dwelt 
 much upon anything that must needs be a sore sub-
 
 302 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 ject to the other, and so a few more words ended 
 the matter of Julius. It was William's decided 
 opinion that their brother and sister should be left 
 as much as possible to themselves; not thrown together 
 more than could be helped; but still neither watched 
 nor controlled. 
 
 "For," said he, "we really have no right to 
 control them, or to interfere with them in the smallest 
 degree. If there is one decision in life which ought 
 to be left exclusively to the two concerned, it is the 
 question of marriage. If I had a dozen sons and 
 daughters" — Edna half smiled, faintly colouring — 
 "I woiald give them all free liberty to choose any- 
 body they liked; only taking care to bring them up 
 so that they would choose rightly — in a manner 
 worthy of themselves and of me." 
 
 "What an admirable sentiment, and so oracular, 
 it ought to be printed in a book," answered Edna, 
 laughing. William laughed too at his own energetic 
 preac])ing. 
 
 "But now," said he, "I am going to preachify in 
 earnest; and, my darling, it is about a very serious 
 thing, which you must give all your wise little mind 
 to, and tell me what you really think about it. I 
 want to set up a carriage." 
 
 He said it a little hesitatingly, between jest and 
 earnest. Edna looked up. 
 
 "You don't mean it, William? You are only 
 jesting with me?" 
 
 "Not in the least. I mean what I say, as I am 
 rather in the habit of doing;" and the dominant 
 hardness which was in his nature, as it is in the
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 303 
 
 nature of every strong man, betrayed itself a little. 
 "I have been thinking of the matter ever so long, 
 and it is an experiment I feel strongly inclined 
 to try." 
 
 Edna was silent. 
 
 "Something must be done, for my practice is no 
 better than it was two years ago, except for my 
 fixed salary, which, of course, we have need to be 
 thankful for. Still, I want to get on; to make a 
 handsome income; to give you everything you need." 
 
 "That is not very much," said Edna, softly. 
 
 "I know it. You are a careful wife, my love. 
 But our lot is somewhat hard." 
 
 "We knew it would be hard." 
 
 "Yes: but I want to alter things; to make a 
 desperate effort to get on. This is a plan which 
 many young doctors try. Some, indeed, say that 
 nothing can be done without it. It is like setting a 
 tub to catch a whale — baiting with one's last trout 
 for a big salmon, as we used to do in my glorious 
 fishing-days of old. Ah, I never go a-fishing now! 
 Never shall again, I suppose." 
 
 "I wish it was different," said Edna, sadly. 
 "You get no holidays, and I don't know when you 
 will. They are among the pleasant things you have 
 lost through marrying." 
 
 "My darling!" But there is no need to par- 
 ticularise William's answer, or what he thought of 
 the loss and the gain. "And now," said he at last, 
 "let us go back to practical things. This car- 
 riage "
 
 304 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 He met somewhat uneasily his wife's fond, grave, 
 questioning eyes. 
 
 "Y"es, this carriage. Do you really require it? 
 For the sake of your health, I mean? You are often 
 very much worn out, William?" 
 
 "But not with walking: I wish I were! I wish 
 I had enough of patients to wear me out. No, Edna, 
 I cannot conscientiously say I require a carriage; 
 but I want it, just for the look of the thing. We 
 must meet the world with its own weapons: if it 
 insists upon being a humbug, why, I suppose we 
 must be humbugs too. Don't you see?" 
 
 "I am afraid I don't." 
 
 Dr. Stedman laughed; not his own joyous, frank 
 laugh, but one more like Julius's. "Oh, jon are 
 such an innocent, my darling! Why, many a 
 fashionable doctor, now earning thousands, has 
 started upon nothing, and lived upon credit for the 
 first two or three years! Just make people believe 
 you have a large practice, and you get it. Patients 
 flock to you one after the other, like sheep. That 
 'Sawbones,' in the funny talc by some young fellow 
 named Dickens, which you read last night, who sent 
 his boy about delivering unordered medicines, and 
 liad himself fetched out of church every Sunday on 
 imaginary messages, had not a bad notion of the 
 right way of getting on in the Avorld." 
 
 "The right way, William?" 
 
 "Well, the best way — the cleverest way." 
 
 "But — the honest way?" 
 
 "I was not talking of honesty." 
 
 Edna regarded her husband keenly. Like every
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 305 
 
 married woman, she had to learn that there is much 
 in masculine nature difficult to understand; not ne- 
 cessarily bad, only incomprehensible. As, no doubt, 
 William Stedman had before now found out that his 
 angel was a very woman, full of many little woman- 
 ish faults that his larger nature required to be 
 patient -with. It was good for both so to be taught 
 humility. 
 
 "Don't let us discuss this matter to-night," said 
 Edna, rather sadly. "Do let it rest." 
 
 "No, it cannot rest. You do not see — women 
 never can — that a man, if he has any pluck in him, 
 will not sit quiet under ill-fortune. He must get on 
 in the world, by fair means or foul. But this is no 
 'foul' means. It is only doing, for the sake of ex- 
 pediency, a thing — which, perhaps, one does not 
 quite like. Yet " 
 
 "But how can you do it at all? Keeping a 
 carriage, you say, will cost two hundred a-year, and 
 we have, altogether, only five hundred a-year to live 
 upon." 
 
 "Yes, but — in plain English, Edna, we must 
 strain a point, and do it upon credit." 
 
 "Upon credit!" 
 
 "I see you don't like that, neither do I; but 
 there is no other way." 
 
 "No way to get on in the world without making 
 people believe we are better off than we really are, 
 in the chance of becoming what we pretend to be?" 
 
 "You put the matter with an ugly plainness, 
 considering how many people do it, and think no- 
 thing of it. Wliy, half London lives beyond its in- 
 
 Tlie Woman's Kingdom. I. 'M
 
 306 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 come — peers, ministers of the crown, professional 
 and business men — why not a poor, struggling 
 doctor?" 
 
 "Why not? if he can bend his pride, and re- 
 concile his conscience to such a life," said Edna, 
 with — ah, let us confess it — a slight thrill of scorn 
 in her clear voice — " Only, I should despise him so 
 much that I should not like his name to be Doctor 
 William Stedman!" 
 
 Will sprung up. He was more than annoyed 
 — angry, with that sudden wrath which has its 
 origin in sundry inM^ard twinges, that sometimes hint 
 to a man he is not quite so much in the right as he 
 tries to believe himself to be. He walked up and 
 down his dining-room, much displeased. 
 
 Let us give him his due. He was a very good 
 man, and a truly good man is, in some things, better 
 than any woman, because he has so much more 
 temptation to be otherwise. But the best man alive, 
 who is compelled to knock about in the world, re- 
 ceiving and giving many a hard thump sometimes, 
 finds it not easy to preserve quite unstained that 
 instinctive, ideal sense of right and wrong, which 
 seems to be set in every good woman's breast, like 
 a deep, still pool in a virgin forest. Happy the 
 man who can always come to its pure, safe brink, 
 and find heaven, and nothing but heaven, reflected 
 there! 
 
 It was not in William Slcdman's nature long to 
 boar anger against any one, least of all against his 
 wife. They differed occasionally, as any two human 
 beings must differ, but they never quarrelled; for
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 307 
 
 the bitterness wliicli turns mere diversity of opinion 
 into personal disputes, was to them absolutely un- 
 known. After a time Dr. Stedman stopped in his 
 rapid walk. 
 
 "William," said Edna, "come over here and ex- 
 plain what you mean, and I will try to understand 
 it better. You must not be vexed with me for say- 
 ing what I think." 
 
 "Certainly not. I told you, when I married 
 you, that I wanted a thinking, feeling, rational, com- 
 panionable wife, not a Circassian slave. A man 
 must be either a fool or a tyrant who likes a woman 
 to be his slave." 
 
 "And I am afraid I could never have been a 
 slave, even to you," replied Edna, laughing with her 
 old gaiety. "Because I should first have despised 
 you, then rebelled against you, and finally I believe 
 I should have run away from you! But I won't do 
 that, William. Not just yet!" 
 
 She put her arms round his neck, and looked at 
 him with eyes loving enough to have melted a heart 
 of stone. She might be a very fierce little woman 
 still: undoubtedly she was imjiulsive and irrational 
 sometimes; but she loved him. 
 
 Dr. Stedman sat down again, and began to ex- 
 plain, repeating, though not quite so forcibly as at 
 first, the many advantages of meeting the world on 
 its own ground, and of guiding one's conduct by 
 that intermediate rule between right and wrong — 
 the law of expediency. No doubt all he said was 
 very wise; but he did not seem to say it with his 
 
 20*
 
 308 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 heart in it, and there was an undertone of sarcasm 
 which pained Edna much. 
 
 "I wonder," said she, "whether all the world is 
 a sham and the encourager of shams?" 
 
 "Or the dupe of them? It's a melancholy 
 truth, Edna; but I do believe my only chance of 
 getting a good practice is by pretending to have it 
 already. Then, no doubt, I should soon become a 
 successful physician." 
 
 "And if so, would you really enjoy it? Would 
 you not rather despise the success that had been 
 obtained by a lie?" 
 
 William started. 
 
 "You are awfully severe. Who spoke of telling 
 lies?" 
 
 "An acted lie is just the same as a spoken one. 
 And to spend money when you have it not, and do 
 not know when you may have it, is nearly as bad 
 as theft. Oh, William, I can't do it! I can't re- 
 concile my conscience to it. You must act as you 
 choose — I have no right to prevent you; but don't 
 ask me to help you. Don't ask me ever to put my 
 foot into your grand carriage or to enjoy the 
 prosperity that was purchased by a deception — a 
 cheat!" 
 
 She spoke vehemently, the tears gusliing from 
 her eyes; and then she clung to her husband and 
 begged his pardon. 
 
 "I have said it wi'ongly — violently; I know I 
 have: but still I have said tlie truth. Oh, please 
 listen to it! I want to be proud of you, William. 
 I am so proud of you — the one man in the world
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 309 
 
 that I am tliankful to liave for my husband and 
 my " 
 
 Edna stopped. Moved by some strong emotion, 
 she hid her face and began to tremble exceedingly. 
 
 William took her closer to him. 
 
 "What is the matter with you? My darling, 
 what is wrong?" 
 
 "Nothing is wrong. Oh, no! Only, will you 
 listen to me?" 
 
 "Yes: say your say." 
 
 She repeated it — in quiet Avords this time, and 
 Dr. Stedman listened also quietly; for he was too 
 wise a man to be unreasonable. 
 
 "There, now you speak like a rational woman," 
 said he, smiling, "and you don't use bad language 
 to your husband, for it was very bad, Edna, my 
 dear. 'Liar' and 'thief I think you called me, 
 or nearly so." 
 
 "Oh, William!" 
 
 "Well, I'm not quite that — at present. And, 
 my darling, I own there is some little truth in what 
 you say. I am afraid I should not care for any 
 success that was not fairly earned — without need 
 of resorting to a single sham. And if it did not 
 come — if I failed to make a practice after all, and 
 found myself fathoms deep in debt like some poor 
 wretches I know " 
 
 "Still, that is not the question. I was not arguing 
 as to consequences. Dearest husband, don't do this, 
 I beseech you, but only because it is not right to 
 do it."
 
 310 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 William paused a little — lialf thoughtful, half 
 amused; then he said, with a smile — 
 
 "Well, then, I won't. But, my little woman, if 
 you have to trudge on your two poor feet all your 
 life long, remember it's not my fault. Now kiss and 
 be friends." 
 
 Ay, they were "friends." Neither goddess and 
 worshipper — tyrant and slave — simply and equally 
 friends. 
 
 "And now tell me, Edna, what you were going 
 to say just now when you broke off so abruptly, and 
 got into such a state of agitation as I never saw you 
 before? You foolish little woman! Why were you so 
 fierce with me?" 
 
 "Because I did not Avant you to do anything not 
 quite right, or that you might afterwards be ashamed 
 of, since you will have to think not only of ourselves, 
 
 but " her voice fell and her head drooped, "of 
 
 more than ourselves. Because next summer, please 
 God, if He keeps me safe and alive — " 
 
 She threw herself on her husband's bosom in a 
 passion of tears, and he guessed all. 
 
 "I was afraid to tell you," Edna said, after a 
 long silence, "you had so much anxiety, and this 
 Avill add to it. I know it must. Are you afraid? 
 Are you sorry?" 
 
 "Sorry!" the young man cried with all his soul 
 in his eyes, as he clasped his wife to his heart. "I 
 sorry? Let us thank God!" 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
 PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHEH.
 
 COLLECTION 
 
 OF 
 
 BRITISH AUTHORS. 
 
 VOL. 984. 
 
 THE WOMAN'S KINGDOM. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. II.
 
 TAUCHNITZ EDITIO:!J. 
 By the same Author, 
 
 JOHN HALIFAX , GENTLEMAN in 2 vols. 
 
 THE HEAD OF THE FASHLY in 2 vols. 
 
 A LIFE FOR A LIFE in 2 vols. 
 
 A WOMAN'S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN . in 1 vol. 
 
 AGATHA'S HUSBAND in 1 vol. 
 
 ROMANTIC TALES in 1 vol. 
 
 DOMESTIC STORIES in 1 vol. 
 
 MISTRESS AND MAID in 1 vol. 
 
 THE OGILVIES in 1 vol. 
 
 LORD ERLISTOUN in 1 vol. 
 
 CHRISTIAN'S MISTAKE in 1 vol. 
 
 )iREAD UPON THE WATERS in 1 vol. 
 
 A NOBLE LIFE in 1 vol. 
 
 OLIVE in 2 vols. 
 
 TWO MARRIAGKS " in 1 vol. 
 
 STUDIES FROM LIFE in 1 vol.
 
 THE 
 
 WOMAN'S KINGDOM. 
 
 A LOVE STORY. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 "JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN," 
 
 &c. &c. 
 
 COrYTdCni EDITION. 
 
 ' I N T A\' V L U M E S . 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LEIPZIG 
 BERN H A K D T A U C II N 11 Z 
 
 18G8. 
 
 The Rig:ht of Translation is rcso'rd.
 
 THE WOMAN'S KINGDOM. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was in sunshiny summer weather — like those 
 days in the Isle of Wight when she Avas first mar- 
 ried — that Edna's little baby came to her. The 
 same evening there came to the tall elm-tree in their 
 little bit of garden a blackbird, which, like Southey's 
 thrush, took up his abode there, and sung — morn- 
 ing, noon, and night — his rich, loud, contented 
 song to the mother, as she lay, a "happy prisoner," 
 with her first-born by her side. In after days, Edna 
 never heard a blackbird's note without remembering 
 that time, and its ecstasy of restful joy. 
 
 What need to write about it? a joy common as 
 daylight, yet ever fresh: to the queen Avho gives an 
 heir to millions, or the poor toiler in field or mill 
 who brings only a new claimant for the inheritance 
 of labour and poverty. But upon neither does the 
 unknown future look with angry eye: the present is 
 all in all. So it was with Edna. Her eldest son 
 was born amidst considerable straitness of means, 
 and many anxieties. His mother made him no costly 
 baby-clothes, nor welcomed him in a grand nursery, 
 with every device of fantastic love: she only took
 
 6 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 liim in her arms and rejoiced over him — as tlie 
 Hebrew women rejoiced of old — her man-child, lier 
 gift from the Lord. 
 
 And William Stedman — the young man thrown 
 ignorantly and untliinkingly, as most young men 
 are, into the mystery and responsibility of father- 
 hood — how did he feel? 
 
 Whatever he felt, he said little: he was not in 
 the habit of saying much — except to his wife. Nor, 
 at first, did he take very much notice of the small 
 creature, in whom his own face Avas so funnily re- 
 produced. But he never forgot something repeated 
 to him by his sister-in-law during a certain fearful 
 half-hour Avhen his wife lay, half conscious, her life 
 hanging on a thread — "Tell William to be a real 
 father to my poor baby." 
 
 Many a time, when nobody saw him. Dr. Sted- 
 man Avould creep in and look at liis boy, a grave 
 tender look, as if be were pondering on the future 
 — his son's and his own — with infinite humility, 
 yet without dread. More sadly wise than Edna in 
 worldly things, and not liaving — no man has — 
 that natural instinct for cliiblren which makes them 
 a pure joy, and, at first, notliing else: yet it Avas 
 clear that he too was striving to take uj) tbe conjoint 
 burden of parenthood — accepting both its pleasant- 
 ness and its [)ain: and so was likely to become 
 worthy — oh, lunv ^{'^v men are! — of being a 
 father. 
 
 Letty did not understand her sister's felicity at 
 ;iU. Slie tliought i\w, baby would be a great trouble 
 and a groat expense, Avben tbey had cares enough
 
 THE WOMAN S KINGDOM. i 
 
 already. She wondered how people could be so 
 foolisli as to marry unless tliey had everything' nice 
 and comfortable about them — as was far from the 
 case here, especially of late, wlien doiible work had 
 fallen upon poor Letty's elegant shoulders. She had 
 more than once declared that if ever a baby was 
 born she would look out for a situation, and relieve 
 her brother-in-law from the burden of her main- 
 tenance, and herself from the alarming duties of a 
 maiden aunt. But Letty always talked of things 
 
 much oftener than she did them; and besides • 
 
 But it is useless attemjiting to analyse her motives-, 
 probably for the simple reason that she had no mo- 
 tives at all. As she said one day to Julius, who all 
 this winter and spring had kept coming and going, 
 sometimes absenting himself for weeks, then again 
 appearing every evening at his brother's house, to 
 sit with Edna and Letty, though he paid tlie latter 
 no pai'ticular attention — "What did it matter where 
 she went or what she did? — nobody cared about 
 her — she was a solitary creature, and therefore 
 quite free." 
 
 The evening she gave utterance to this pathetic 
 sentiment, Aunt Letty was a very lovely object to 
 behold. She had taken the baby, for though not 
 enthusiastic over it, she was a woman still, and liked 
 to nurse it and "cuddle" it sometimes. As it lay 
 asleep on her shoidder, with one of its tiny hands 
 clutching her finger, and her other hand supporting 
 it, she looked not unlike one of Raffaelle's Ma- 
 donnas. 
 
 "Stop a minute — just as you are; I want to
 
 8 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 sketch you," said Julius, rousing himself from a 
 long gaze — not at the baby, for whom, though it 
 was his namesake, Uncle Julius had testified no 
 exuberant admiration. Biit still, it being safely asleep, 
 he continued sitting with Letty in tlie drawing-room, 
 as he had got into a habit of doing of evenings, 
 since Edna's disappearance upstairs. 
 
 "Dear me, Julius, I should think you were quite 
 tired of taking my likeness; but Edna will be in 
 raptures if you draw the baby." 
 
 Julius curled his satirical lip • — more satirical 
 and less sweet than it once was, and then said with 
 a certain compunction, "Oh, very well; I'd do much 
 to please Edna, the dearest little woman that ever 
 was born. How, she puts iip with a fellow like me 
 is more than I can tell. I think, that night I Avalked 
 our street with Will, and we did not know but that 
 she might slip away from us before the morning, I 
 would almost have given my life for poor Edna's." 
 
 The voice was so full of feeling, that Aunt Letty 
 opened her eyes wide to stare at Uncle Julius — 
 only to stare: the penetrating, yet loving gleam of 
 sympathy was not in those large beautiful orbs of 
 hers. 
 
 "Not that my life would have been much of a 
 gift," added Julius. "It is of little value now to me 
 or to anybody. Once, perhaps, and under different 
 circumstances, it might have been." 
 
 Letty dropped her eyes. It was the first time 
 her rejected lover had made any reference to those 
 "circumstances," tliough she had sometimes tried, a 
 little coqucttishly, to find out whether he remem-
 
 THE WOMAN S KINGDOM. i) 
 
 bered them or not. For it was provoking, to say 
 the least of it, that he should so quickly have over- 
 come a passion which he had vowed would be eter- 
 nal — that he could see her — Letty — in all her 
 fascinations, weekly, daily, if he so wished, and yet 
 be as apparently indifferent to her as he was to the 
 many other young ladies of his acquaintance, whom 
 he was always talking about and criticising, as pro- 
 bably he criticised her to them in return. The idea 
 rather vexed Letty. 
 
 She, and even his own brother, knew little of 
 Julius's life beyond what they saw when he made 
 his erratic appearances and disappearances. Now, 
 as of old, all his brother's friends were his, but only 
 a small proportion of his friends were also his bro- 
 ther's. Julius cultivated a class of intimacies which 
 William had never cared mucli for, and now cared 
 less — the floating spin-drift of literary, artistic, and 
 semi-theatrical society, clever men, and not bad men; 
 at least nobody much knew whether they were bad 
 or good, and certainly nobody much cared, brains 
 being of far greater use, and at a far higher pre- 
 mium than morals. With this set, lounging about 
 during the day, and meeting of nights at various 
 well-known symposia of men, — only men, and not 
 their wives, even if they had any, — Julius spent 
 much of his time. But he never brought these 
 friends to his brother's house, or, indeed, said much 
 about them, except that they were "such jolly clever 
 fellows — so excessively amusing." 
 
 Amusement was, however, not his whole pur- 
 suit. He sometimes took vehement flts of work,
 
 10 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 wliicli lasted a day or two, perliaps a week or two; 
 then he would throw up his picture, in whatever 
 stage it was, and devote himself to every form of 
 ingenious idling. In short, he was slowly drifting 
 into that desultory, useless existence, grasping at 
 everything and taking a firm hold of notliing, which, 
 without any actual vice , is the very opposite of 
 that calm, pure life — laborious and full of labour's 
 reward — which is the making of a real man. 
 
 And its effects were already beginning to be 
 painfully apparent. Sallow cheeks , restless eyes, 
 liand shaking and nei'vous-, brightening up towards 
 night, but of mornings, as he confessed, utterly good 
 for nothing excejit to lounge and smoke, or lie and 
 sleep in thankful torpor — all these signs foreboded 
 fatally for poor Julius. His brother began to doctor 
 him for "dyspepsia-," but Edna, less learned, yet 
 clearer-eyed detected a something more — a sick- 
 ness of tlie soul, far sadder, and more difficult of 
 cure. 
 
 He who liad no one to think of l)ut himself, who 
 earned a tolerable livelihood which he spent wholly 
 upon himself, was beginning to look older and more 
 anxious than his brother with all his burdens. 
 
 Now, while Letly and Julius wore talking lightly 
 fl own-stairs, in Edna's room overhead was a grave 
 silence. William, coming in to spend a quiet hour 
 beside his wife's sofa, had fallen dead asleep through 
 sheer weariness. And Edna was watching him as 
 Letty watched his brother, but with, oh! what a 
 different sort of gaze! The difference which always 
 had been, and Avould be to the last; eyes that said
 
 THE woman's KIXGDOM. 11 
 
 lionostly, "I love you;" and the coquettish, down- 
 dropped glance that inquired selfishly, "I wonder 
 how much you love me?" 
 
 Women are often attracted by their opposites in 
 men, and perhaps some woman, bright and wise, 
 with large patience, and courage enough to sustain 
 lioth herself and him, might have loved deeply and 
 understood thoroughly this Julius Stedman. But 
 Letty — beautiful Letty — Avas not that sort of avo- 
 man. Therefore, while he made his last remark 
 about his life being of no value to anybody, she only 
 sat and looked at him. 
 
 "Yes, mine is a wasted life, Letty. I shall end 
 life like that stranded ship on the Isle of Wight 
 shore; you remember it?" 
 
 "Nonsense!" said Letty, blushing a little. "Or 
 if it is so, it will be your OAvn fault. You artists are 
 always so miserably poor." 
 
 "Some of us do pretty Avell though, if we run 
 after titled patrons and high society. Or if we 
 happen to be especially fascinating, we marry rich 
 wives, and " 
 
 "Perhaps t^at is what you are tliinking of 
 doing," interrupted Letty, with some acrimony. 
 "Indeed it struck me there was more than met the 
 eye in a hint Mrs. Marchmont gave me to-day, as I 
 daresay Mr. Marchmont has given to you." 
 
 "What?" asked Julius, eagerly. 
 
 "That, if you liked to change your career, he 
 thought so well of you, and of your extreme clever- 
 ness for everything — business included — that he
 
 12 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 would take you into their house at once; first as a 
 clerk, and then as a partner." 
 
 "'Marchmont and Stedman, indigo-planters!' 
 How grand it would sound! What an enviable 
 position!" said Julius, satirically; though not con- 
 fessing whether or not the news had come upon him 
 for the first time. 
 
 "Very enviable indeed," said Letty, gravely, 
 "and especially with Miss Lily Marchmont to 
 share it." 
 
 Julius winced, but turned it off with a laugh. 
 
 "Lily Marchmont — poor Lily! A nice crea- 
 ture! if she were only a little taller, and not quite 
 so fat." 
 
 "She is getting as thin as a shadow now, at 
 any rate," said Letty, in much annoyance. "But 
 it is no use speaking to you, or trying to get any- 
 thing out of you, Julius. Indeed, you're not worth 
 tliiuking about." 
 
 "I was not aware you ever did me the honour 
 to think about me at all." 
 
 "Oh, yes," returned Letty, with an air of sweet 
 simplicity. "Wlio could help it when you are al- 
 ways here, and everybody is so fond of you, and 
 makes sucli a fuss over you? Edna told me that if 
 anything had happened to her, you were to come 
 back and live here again. I Avas to tell you that 
 she depended upon you to take care of and comfort 
 William." 
 
 "Poor Edna — dear Edna — to fancy I could 
 comfort anybody! But this is ridiculous!" added 
 ho, abruptly. "Here arc Edna and Will both as
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 13 
 
 jolly as possible, and that young rascal besides, to 
 carry down the ug-ly name of Stedraan to remotest 
 ages. Everybody is all right — except me — and 
 as to what becomes of me, who cares? Not a soul 
 in this mortal world. But I beg your pardon, and 
 I am wasting your time. Just move your right 
 hand, Letty, jilease. No, the fingers closer together. 
 May I place them?" 
 
 "Yes, only don't wake the baby." 
 
 "That would be a catastrophe." 
 
 Julius knelt down , and with hot cheeks and 
 hands that trembled visibly, tried to arrange his 
 group to his satisfaction. Letty bade him, "take 
 care," and leaned her other hand on his shoulder, 
 carelessly enough; she tliought nothing of it. Be- 
 sides, was he not, as she sometimes called him, her 
 ' ' half-brother-in-law ? ' ' 
 
 At her touch the young man looked up — a look 
 no woman can mistake: it is madness, or deliberate 
 badness, if she does mistake it; and then, turning, 
 pressed his lips on her arm — not tenderly, not re- 
 verently, but with a passionate fierceness that was 
 less a kiss than a wound. 
 
 So the barrier was broken down between them, 
 and Letty knew — as any girl of common perception 
 must have known — that the indifference was all a 
 sham, that her discarded lover was just as desperately 
 in love with her as ever. 
 
 Was she glad or sorry? She really could not 
 tell; but she was considerably agitated. She started 
 up, regardless of the baby, and shook down angrily 
 her lace sleeve.
 
 14 THE AVOMAn's kingdom, 
 
 "Julius, you ought to be ashamed of yourself." 
 
 "I am not. You used to let me kiss you once. 
 Give me the right to do it again." 
 
 And he came nearer, and was on the point of 
 carrying out Avliat the threatened, when some instinct 
 of gentlemanhood made him pause. But he grasped 
 both her hands, and looked in her face, half mad 
 with the passion that was consuming him. No sen- 
 timental philandering — no child's play, or silly flirta- 
 tion — but a violent passion, the first he ever had, 
 and — woidd it be the last? 
 
 ^ Some women might have hated him for it, and 
 the manner in which he showed it — strong, proud, 
 reticent women , whose love must be given as a 
 free gift, or else is wholly unattainable — but Letty 
 did not hate him. Indeed she rather liked being 
 taken by storm in this way. It was decidedly amus- 
 ing. 
 
 "Let me go," she cried. "See, you are Avaking 
 the baby." Wliich remorseless infant now set up a 
 howl loud enough to frighten away all the lovers in 
 Christendom. 
 
 Julius stoj)ped his cars. "Take it away — horrid 
 little thing! liut, Letty," and he seized her hands 
 again, "you must come back to me at once, for I 
 Avant to spoak to you. 1 shall Avait here till you 
 come back if it is till midnight, or next morning. 
 So you had better come. Promise you Avill." 
 
 She })romised, though with a very dim intention 
 of keeping her Avord. In truth, all she Avantcd at 
 that moment was to get rid of liim — any how, in 
 any way; for slie felt ratlier afraid of him. "He
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 15 
 
 looked," she afterwards confessed to Edna, "as if lie 
 could have kissed me, or killed me, it'Avas all one, 
 and didn't much matter which." 
 
 It was true. Men — no worse men than Julius 
 — have sometimes killed the women they were in 
 love with, on scarcely more provocation. 
 
 But when, having resigned her charge to the 
 nurse, Letty ran up into her own room, she began 
 to recover herself. There was a pleasui-able excite- 
 ment in being once more made love to, when she 
 had half feared such a thing would never happen 
 again-, that she should have to sink into a drudge 
 and a maiden aunt, obliged to help in other people's 
 Avork, and contemplate from a distance other people's 
 joys — a picture not too attractive in the eyes of 
 Miss Letty Kenderdine. Now, at least, she could be 
 married if she chose ■ — it was entirely her own fault 
 if she were not. After her dull life in her brother- 
 in-law's house, perhaps unconsciously, the spirit of 
 the old song ran in her head — 
 
 "Come deaf, or come blind, or come cripple, 
 O come, ony ane o' ye a' ! 
 Better be married to something, 
 Than no to be married ava." 
 
 And Julius Stedman was not a despisable "some- 
 thing." He had youth, good looks, good manners, 
 good brains. Everybody admired him — so did Letty 
 too, in her way. And then he was so frantically in 
 love with her. 
 
 "Poor fellow!" she thought, as she stood arrang- 
 ing her hair at the glass which gave back by no 
 means a disagreeable reflexion. "Poor fellow! I'm
 
 16 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 sure I could have liked him vei*y much, If he had 
 but had a liltle more money." 
 
 She was here summoned for some inevitable house 
 business, which she got through absently — there 
 Avas little pleasure in keeping other people's houses. 
 If she had one of her own now — really pretty and 
 comfortable — it would be quite different. And she 
 caught herself reckoning, Avith arithmetical precision, 
 how much it would be possible for Julius Stedman 
 to earn per annum, supposing he painted a picture 
 regularly every tliree months, as, of course, he might 
 easily do, and sold it, which was a little more diffi- 
 cult. 
 
 So serious a calculation made Letty look a little 
 grave — ■ at any rate quiet — when she entered her 
 sister's room, and stood watching the group there. 
 William, shaken from his sleepiness by the energetic 
 howling of his little son, had resigned himself to 
 circumstances, and now sat, looking very tired in- 
 deed, but exceedingly amused, and contented, watch- 
 ing that young Iicro take his supper. While the 
 mother — the pale, bright-eyed, smiling mother — 
 but God only knows what is in the heart of mothers. 
 It was but a poor room, plainly furnislied too, but 
 in its narrow compass it rounded the wliole circle of 
 this Avorld's best joys. 
 
 "Come here, Letty," said William, kindly; "just 
 look at that young gentleman. Isn't he enjoying 
 himself? He will be taking a walk in the Park, 
 and giving liis arm to liis Aunt Letty, in no time." 
 
 Letty laughed. I'erliaps she was a little touched 
 by the happiness before her; perhaps there came
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 17 
 
 also a little of the sad feeling ■\vliicli must come to 
 the best and most unselfish of unmarried women at 
 times, to see the rest of the world running its hxisy 
 race, enjoying daily its natural joys, and she shut 
 out. She, Letty Kcndcrdiuc, handsome and admired 
 as she was, or had been, was now first object to no 
 one — except that jwor fellow downstairs. 
 
 "Letty looks as grave as a judge," said Edua, 
 turning a moment from her sucking child — her 
 little blossom of paradise, to the common world. 
 "Is anything the matter?" 
 
 "Oh, no!" answered Letty, with a novel reti- 
 cence, and blushing extremely. "Only When 
 
 is William coming down to supper?" 
 
 "I don't know," said William, stretching him- 
 self out in lazy content, and regarding tenderly his 
 
 wife and son. "Tell Julius By-the-bye, is he 
 
 here still?" 
 
 "I think so." 
 
 "Tell him, I wish he would have his supper 
 without minding me. If he had been up nearly 
 every night for a week, and had a wife and baby 
 on his mind besides, I am sure he would excuse 
 me. You'll take care of him, won't you, Letty? 
 See that he is comfortable, and be kind to him. 
 He has been so very kind and good lately — poor 
 Julius!" 
 
 Letty felt that fate was against her. To explain 
 to William — then and there — William, whom she 
 was always a little afraid of — the reason why she 
 could not go down and entertain his brother, was 
 simply impossible. At least she said to herself that 
 
 The Woman's Kingdom. II. <"
 
 38 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 it "was. Besides, would it not be better in every- 
 way, would save trouble and prevent future mis- 
 understandings, tliat sbe sbould just bear wbat 
 Julius bad to say, give liim bis answer, and put a 
 stop to tbis nonsense at once? For it must be put 
 a stop to — of course it must. And tben sbe would 
 again go out as a governess, and wbo knew wbat 
 migbt bappen? Some wealtby, sedate, respectable 
 widower — about wbose circumstances and position 
 there could not be tbe least doubt — wbo would not 
 expect too mucb, and would make ber very bappy 
 and comfortable. And tben sbe tbougbt of Julius 
 — bow bandsome be was, and bow wildly in love 
 witb ber, — and Letty sigbed. 
 
 Sbe took a long time to order supper, and again 
 went up into ber room wbile it was being laid, to 
 give to ber dress a few last touches, so as to make 
 herself look as well as possible. 
 
 Yet it would be unfair to human nature to 
 declare that Letty was quite composed, quite cold- 
 blooded. As sbe looked in tlie glass at tbe fair 
 face which was already beginning to fade, she 
 thought of Edna, wbo never was pretty, wbo had 
 never cared wbetlier she was pretty or not, to whom 
 growing old had no terrors; for was sbe not wife 
 and mother, loved with a love that was at once 
 strong and tender, protecting and adoring? Letty's 
 heart beat a pulse or two faster. Yes, such a love 
 would be "nice" to have. Neither solemn nor satis- 
 fying, delicious nor desperate, merely "nice." But 
 of course it could not be. A year's experience of
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 19 
 
 what marriage is — upon a limited income — had 
 given Letty a deeper dread than ever of poverty. 
 
 "Oh, dear me!" thought she, "why are some 
 people so very fortunate and others so very un- 
 fortunate, and all for no fault of their own?" And 
 then she gave the final brush to her shining hair, 
 and went down to "that poor fellow." 
 
 He was a poor fellow. He was mad — literally 
 mad — with a passion against which he had struggled 
 as much as was in his nature to struggle, but in 
 vain. This insanity — shall we anatomize it? — I 
 think not. Grod knows what an awful thing it is; 
 and some women know it too, and have witnessed 
 it, as Letty did now. But seldom the best or highest 
 kind of women ; for the lover is very much what the 
 loved one makes him to be; and no passion, how- 
 ever hopeless, which has not been needlessly tortured 
 by its object, stung with coldness one day and lulled 
 by tenderness the next, is ever likely to degrade 
 itself by grovelling in the dust — as, his first burst 
 of impetuous tyranny over, Julius grovelled this 
 night. 
 
 "Oh, have pity on me, Letty!" he cried, throw- 
 ing himself before her, kissing her hands, her feet, 
 the very hem of her gown. "I have tried all these 
 months to forget you — to live without you — and I 
 cannot do it. If you will not marry me I shall go 
 to utter ruin. For I can understand now how men 
 drink themselves to death, or take to gambling, or 
 buy a pistol and " 
 
 "Oh, stop!" exclaimed Letty, shuddering; "please 
 
 2*
 
 20 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 do not talk about sucli dreadful tilings. You are 
 very cruel to frighten me so." 
 
 And she began to sob — real honest sobs and 
 tears. They drove Julius quite beside himself for 
 the time being. 
 
 "I frighten you? Then you do care for me? 
 Oh, try to care for me!" 
 
 He sprang fi'om his knees and clutched her — 
 a clutch rather than a clasp — tight in his embrace, 
 and kissed her innumerable times. 
 
 "Julius, for shame!" was all she said, still 
 sobbing angrily like a child. 
 
 He released her at once. 
 
 "You are right. I am ashamed of myself. I 
 have acted more like a brute than a gentleman. 
 Shall I atone for it by going away, never to enter 
 your presence more?" 
 
 "I — I don't quite see the necessity of that," 
 said Letty, half smiling. 
 
 And then the poor frantic fellow snatched her to 
 his arms once more, and vowed that if she would 
 only say to him one loving Avord, neither heaven 
 nor hell should ])rcvent his marrying her. 
 
 "But," said Letty, when she had suffered him to 
 calm down a little, and had taken a brief opjior- 
 tunity to arrange her hair, and scat herself in her 
 proper place at table, in case anybody should come 
 in, "what in the wide world are we to marry 
 upon?" 
 
 "Never mind — I'll see to that. I shall be as 
 strong as a lion, as bold as Hercules, as patient and 
 hard-workiug as — well, as my brother Will himself,
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 21 
 
 if you vill only love me, Letty — only love me! 
 Oh, say it! — say it over and over again!" and his 
 dry and thirstin*^ eyes seemed ready to drink in, 
 like water in the desert, every look of this beauti- 
 ful, beloved woman. "Tell me, my sweetest, that 
 you really love me?" 
 
 Letty hardly knew what had come over her. 
 As she afterwards confessed to Edna, it was the 
 greatest piece of folly she ever committed in her 
 life — she could scarcely tell even if it were speak- 
 ing the truth or not — but what could she do? she 
 was obliged to say something just to quiet him. 
 So she looked into her lover's face, and answered 
 smilingly, "Yes." 
 
 It is not the first time that a man's undoing has 
 been the woman's doing. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Dr. Stedman did not get the quiet evening he 
 had promised himself — a comfort in his busy life 
 only too rare. He might easily have endorsed, out 
 of his own experience, the brief question and answer 
 recorded of two companions — "My dear friend, 
 when shall you take a little rest?" "In my grave!" 
 But if any such thought came across him, this brave 
 Christian man would have smothered down the weak 
 complaining, knowing that life is meant for labour, 
 and the grave is our only place of righteous rest, — 
 or, perhaps, not even there. 
 
 Still, for the time being, the hard-worked doctor
 
 22 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 felt excessively tired — too tired to talk much. He 
 laid his head on his wife's shoulder, and watched 
 the baby, who was fast asleep across her lap, until 
 his face gradually softened, so that it was difficult 
 to say whether child or father looked most peaceful 
 and content. Very like they were too — with that 
 strange inherited likeness which is seen strongest 
 immediately after birth — often then vanishing, to 
 reappear years after in the coffin; but it made the 
 young mother's heart leap when she looked at her 
 child. 
 
 "I am so glad he is like you, dear," she said. 
 "I hope he Avill grow up your very image. I could 
 not wish him a better blessing." 
 
 "I could — ay, and I'll help him to get it as 
 soon as ever he can." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "A wife! — and just such a wife as his mother!" 
 
 "Oh, Will! — oh, papa, I mean — for you must 
 learn to be called that now," said Edna, with her 
 own merry laugh, though all the while in each eye 
 was a bright, glittering tear. And then she held 
 up her face to be kissed, and the two overfull hearts 
 met silently together over the little creature that 
 owed its being to tlioir love — whose future was to 
 them utterly, awfully unknown — except so far as 
 it lay, humanly speaking, in their parental love — 
 to guide or misguide — to ruin or to save. 
 
 "And now I must go down and bid good-night 
 to Julius — Uncle Julius. I wonder whether his 
 nephew and namesake will at all take after him." 
 
 Edna shrank involuntarily, and then said, with
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 23 
 
 the infinite yearning pity that happy people feel 
 towards those who have missed happiness — 
 
 "Tes, you should go down to him for a little 
 — poor Julius ! — and bring me up my work-basket 
 out of the little room behind the dining-room, for I 
 have his gloves there, which I promised to mend 
 three weeks ago. Oh, what an age seems to have 
 gone by since then!" 
 
 "Yes, thank God!" muttered Will, as he went 
 away quietly — all the house dreaded to commit the 
 enormity of waking the baby • — and hunted for 
 several minutes in the little room — his wife's s^oecial 
 room. There all her household relics lay scattered 
 about , Letty's regency not being remarkable for 
 neatness. But the right mistress would soon be back 
 again to resume her place, and put everything in 
 order. And oh, to think what might have been! — 
 of the households, of which he happened to have 
 known several lately — where the mistress had 
 vanished thus, and never come back again — alas, 
 never more! 
 
 The young husband shuddered, and then, with 
 a thrill of thankful joy, put the sickening thought 
 away from him, and went back into his ordinary life 
 and ordinary cares, of which not the lightest was 
 his brother Julius. 
 
 In early youth, people find it hard enough to 
 bear their own burdens; later on, they learn to be 
 thankful when these are only their own; for each 
 day brings with it, in a manner that none but the 
 wholly selfish can escape from, only too heavy a 
 share of the burdens of other people. As Will ful-
 
 24 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 filled his wife's small mission, lie pondered with an 
 anxiety, sometimes dormant, but never quite sub- 
 dued, over Julius. 
 
 The dining-room was so silent, that at first he 
 thought Julius was gone, and entered suddenly — 
 to see, Avhat made him for the moment instinctively 
 draw back, feeling himself exceedingly de trop. 
 
 The supper-table, laid an hour before, remained 
 just as it was; while, sitting on a sofa together, 
 sitting very close together, with his hands clasping 
 both hers, and his eyes fixed on her face — the in- 
 tense passionate gaze which told but one possible 
 tale — ■ were Letty and Julius. 
 
 Both started up, and sprang apart-, but Letty 
 recovered herself much the sooner, saying, in quite 
 a careless voice, though her cheeks were hot and her 
 manner slightly nervous — 
 
 "Come in, William. We have been waiting 
 for you." 
 
 William stood, quite confoimdcd, doubting the 
 evidence of his eyes and ears. Then he said, rather 
 sharply — "You need not have waited, for I told 
 you I was not coming to supper:" and paused for 
 some explanation. 
 
 But none came. Letty, with great composure — 
 she was used to this sort of thing — ^took her seat at 
 the table, and officiating tlicre, managed not only to 
 eat a good su^iper, but to keep up an easy conver- 
 sation. True, slie had it all to herself. Will was 
 too honest to say more than half-a-dozen common- 
 place words, and shrank into silence; and Julius,
 
 THK woman's kingdom. 25 
 
 after meeting' a Avarning glance from Letty, did 
 the same. 
 
 But the young lover was like a lover, painfully 
 nervous, trembling Avith smothered excitement. He 
 could not look his brother in the eyes; yet William 
 was struck by the mixture of sadness and rapture 
 that came and went in lights and shadows over his 
 sensitive face. His was not the calm of assured 
 happiness, but the fitful, desperate joy of a child 
 who has hunted down a butterfly and caught it under 
 his cap, yet scarcely dares to believe it is safe there, 
 or to look for it, lest he should find it flown away 
 after all. 
 
 Supper over, Letty, with a brief good -night to 
 Julius, coquettish rather, but careless and indiflfercnt 
 as any other good-night, vanished upstairs, and the 
 two brothers were left alone. Julius took up his 
 hat to go. 
 
 "Ju!" said Will, laying his hand on his shoulder 
 and looking him hard in the fcice, "have you nothing 
 to tell me?" 
 
 "No, nothing!" The words came out hurriedly, 
 and then he repeated them in an altogether changed 
 and suppressed tone — the sudden and causeless de- 
 pression Avhich Avas one of his characteristics. "No, 
 nothing!" 
 
 Will of course said no more. 
 
 But Avlien he had sluit the hall-door upon his 
 brother, he AAcnt up to his wife Avith a countenance 
 on which it was hard to say Avhether anger or grief 
 predominated.
 
 26 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Oil, husband, what is the matter? — what has 
 vexed you?" 
 
 "Vexed is hardly the word; but I am sorely 
 grieved and perplexed. Where is Letty?" 
 
 "Gone upstairs. She looked in here a minute 
 and went away." 
 
 "Did she say nothing — tell you nothing?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 And then, seeing how pale his wife grew, he 
 told her in a few words all he had witnessed. 
 
 "If I had not seen it, I could not have believed. 
 I don't know how you women feel in such matters 
 — that is, ordinary women: not my wife — I know 
 her mind ! — but if Letty is not engaged to Julius, 
 and allows this I might say a few sharp words con- 
 cerning her, even though she is your sister." 
 
 Edna was silent. The strong tie of blood, which, 
 in tender and faithful hearts, Avill bear such long 
 straining, kept her silent, but she looked ex- 
 ceedingly sad. 
 
 "The girl cannot know what she is doing," said 
 Dr. Stedman, rising and pacing the room in ex- 
 ceeding annoyance. "It is like the fable of the boys 
 and the frogs — sport to her and death to him. For 
 he is just as mad after her as ever. I saw it in his 
 eyes. And she will never marry him; she will marry 
 nobody that is not well off; I heard her say so only 
 yesterday." 
 
 "Are you sure of that?" 
 
 "Quite sure; and I entirely agree with her. It 
 would be madness in any poor man to think of 
 marrying her. She wants, not loving husband, which
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 27 
 
 some people I could name were silly enough to care 
 for and think worth having, hut an establishment 
 and a few thousands a-year." 
 
 Edna could not answer. She knew this was true. 
 
 "Not that 1 blame her; and I hope she'll get her 
 desire," said Will, waxing hotter every moment. 
 "But in the meantime she shall not make a fool of 
 my brother Julius. And it is not merely making a 
 fool of him; she is making him despise her, and 
 through her, all women. Edna, when once a man 
 gets that notion into his head — that you are no 
 better than we are; that there is nothing worshipful 
 about you; nothing for a poor fellow to look up to 
 and hold fast by in this wicked, contemptible world 
 — it's all over with him! If he does not respect 
 women, he respects nothing. Ho goes down, down, 
 to the bottomless pit. Oh, I wish I had been wiser, 
 and had never taken her into my house, or never 
 let my brother set foot within it. For I know what 
 he is, and what she is. She will be the ruin of him!" 
 
 William spoke with a passion that even his wife 
 could hardly understand; and yet she felt he had 
 right on his side. 
 
 "But," she pleaded, "perhaps we entirely mis- 
 take. She may have accepted him." 
 
 "Then why not say so? Why should he not say 
 so? I gave him the chance. Of course, a man holds 
 his tongue till he is really engaged. Ju and I have 
 never once named Letty's name between us. But 
 depend upon it there's something wrong, something 
 bad.^ or weak, or cowardly, when a man dare not 
 tell his own brother that he is going to be married.
 
 28 THE WOMAn'8 kingdom. 
 
 And as for her — Edna, I am sorry, sorry to my 
 heart, to think ill of your sister-, but I cannot 
 help it." 
 
 "No, you cannot: I see that. Still she is my 
 sister; and, as you said, she does not know what 
 she is doing." 
 
 Will stopped in his angry walk, and contem- 
 plated the little figure sitting on the sofa corner, in 
 white dressing-gown and cap, so matronly, calm, 
 and sweet. 
 
 "You arc right, my darling: she does not know. 
 Women never do. I was not a bad fellow as a 
 bachelor — only selfish, rough, worldly: but oh! how 
 I have learned to hate my old self now! Hoav thank- 
 ful I am that a certain little woman I know of came 
 and laid her fairy hands upon me, and led me right, 
 as only women and wives can ! Strong, pure, loving 
 hands they must be: if they are not, or if they lead 
 not the right way but the wrong — ■ Edna, if Julius 
 goes to the bad, it will be Letty's doing." 
 
 "What is Letty's doing? and why is William in 
 such a passion? Have I got into disgrace about the 
 dinner again? I'm always getting into disgrace, I 
 think. Nobody can please him but you, Edna." 
 
 Lotty stood at the door with a pretty air of inno- 
 cent sulkiness, her candle in her hand, Avhich, while 
 in the dusky twilight it hid from her the faces of 
 her brother aiul sister, vividly displayed her own. 
 Such a lovely face; more dazzling than ever in its 
 expression of mischievous triumph. A face that, 
 whether or not it could soothe or comfort a man, 
 had assuredly in it the power to drive him wild.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 29 
 
 "So you have notliing to say to me after all? 
 And you both look exceedingly conifortable, and 
 don't want me, I'm sure. Good-night, then, for I'm 
 going to bed." 
 
 "I have something to say to you, sister Letty," 
 replied William's grave voice. "Stay: for I had 
 better say it at once." 
 
 Now in her secret heart Letty had a great respect 
 for William. He was the only young man of her 
 acquaintance who had come within fair reach of her 
 charms and not succumbed to them; who had been 
 to her the kindest of friends, but never a lover-, over 
 whom, well as he liked her and showed it, her 
 fjxscinations had not the slightest influence. She 
 knew it, and stood in awe of him accordingly. 
 
 She set down her candle, and answered rather 
 meekly than otherwise — 
 
 "Well, if you are going to scold me I had better 
 take a chair, for I am rather tired. Your brotlier 
 kept me talking so very long. But, then, you told 
 me to make him comfortable. And really Julius is 
 so clever — so exceedingly amusing." 
 
 She spoke flippantly, and yet not unobservantly, 
 she seemed Avishful either to throw dust in her 
 brother-in-law's eyes, or to find out how mi;ch he 
 really knew of the state of things. But her finesse 
 was all lost upon William. He said bluntly and 
 angrily — 
 
 "I wonder, Letty, you dare look me in the fticc 
 and mention my brother's name." 
 
 "Dare! Why should I not?" 
 
 "You know why."
 
 30 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 There was an awkward pause, and then Letty 
 said, carelessly — 
 
 "Oh, if you mean because he once made me an 
 offer and I refused him, as I have refused a dozen 
 more. I couldn't help that, you know." 
 
 "No, and I never blamed you for it. But it 
 ought to have been a plain, decisive 'No,' as I 
 understood it was, and an end to the matter. 
 Now " 
 
 "Well, Dr. Stedman, and now?" mimicked Letty, 
 half mischievously, and yet for some reasOiVi or other 
 unwilling to betray herself until the very last. 
 
 "It isn't an easy thing to say to a lady; but I 
 have eyes in my head," said William, much annoyed, 
 "and from what I saw this evening I can only con- 
 clude " 
 
 Letty began to laugh. "Oh, pray don't conclude 
 anything. You are so very particular." 
 
 William Stedman turned away in anger — in 
 something worse than anger— contempt, and was 
 quitting the room abruptly, when his wife caught 
 his hand. 
 
 "William, stop. Letty, do explain things to him. 
 Perhaps you meant nothing-, or you may not quite 
 know your own mind." 
 
 "Then she ouglit to know it; it is mere M^eak- 
 ness if she does not. And in such cases weakness 
 is wickedness. Yon women dance with lucifer- 
 matches over powder-magazines. I beg your pardon. 
 Miss Kenderdine. Your love affairs are no business 
 of mine; nor should I take the liberty even of naming 
 them, were it not that Julius happens to be my
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 31 
 
 brother. I know liim, and you do not. As I have 
 just been saying to my wife, if you do not take care 
 you will be the ruin of him." 
 
 "Shall I?" said Letty, a little frightened, and a 
 little touched also, for there is something in an honest 
 man's righteous wrath which carries conviction to 
 even the shallowest natures. "Perhaps I may be; 
 I told him so ; but it won't be in the way you imagine. 
 I didn't mean to speak — not just yet , for there's 
 many a slip between the cup and the lip — and I 
 know I am doing a very silly thing, which I didn't 
 
 mean to do, only somehow he persuaded me; but 
 
 Well, brother Will," and she laughed and cast down 
 her eyes, "instead of abusing me, you had better 
 kiss and forgive me, for I'm not going to harm 
 Julius. I have promised to marry him; that is, as 
 soon as he can afford it." 
 
 She held out her hands in a pretty beseeching 
 way, and her eyes glistened with something not un- 
 like tears ; in truth, the beautiful Letty had not often 
 looked so womanly and so sweet. 
 
 William was melted. He embraced her warmly, 
 and said he was glad to have her as a double sister. 
 As for Edna, she sprang to Letty's neck — almost 
 forgetting the baby — and did — as women always 
 do on these occasions; women who, judging others' 
 hearts by their own, believe true love and happy 
 marriage to be the utmost blessedness of life. 
 
 Then they all three settled down, as people will 
 settle down from the highest tide of emotion to a 
 corresponding ebb, a little dull perhaps, seeing that, 
 after the first warm impulse, each of them had ne-
 
 32 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 cessarily some reserve. Besides, they were not very 
 romantic — at least, Will and Letty Avere not. As 
 for Edna? Mercifully heaven puts into some natures, 
 especially those destined for a not easy life, a certain 
 celestial heaven — a sense of the heroic, lovely, and 
 divine — which the world calls romance, but which 
 they themselves know to be that which sustains them 
 in trial, braces thejn for bitter duties, comforts them 
 when outside comforts are faint and few. Edna was 
 a "romantic" woman. You saAV it in her eyes. 
 Whether she was the better or the worse for this her 
 life showed. 
 
 "My darling, you look as pleased as if you were 
 going to be married yourself." 
 
 "Do I, Will?" and she took a hand of her hus- 
 band and sister — her two dearest on earth — and 
 cast a fond look on a third small creature, still so 
 much a piece of herself that she hardly regarded it 
 as a separate existence at all. "Yes, never was a 
 hnppicr woman than I am this night, with you and 
 baby, and Letty and Julius, all right. Oh, how 
 glad I am! IIow very glad I am!" and the wife's 
 and mother's heart danced within her at all the joy 
 (hat was coming to her sister. 
 
 "I know Julius will be a good husband, not so 
 good as AVilliam — nobody could be that — but very, 
 very kind and good. And, Letty, you will be his 
 lady and his queen. Don't laugh. We are queens, 
 wo women — queens and handmaids too, and as royal 
 when we serve as when wc rule. It is only when 
 we step down from our throne and turn into nautch-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 33 
 
 girls and harem slaves tliat we degrade ourselves 
 and our husbands too." 
 
 "You are talking poetry, my love," said Will, 
 with a tender pptrouisiug. "And so I must turn the 
 tables, and talk a little prose. Sister Letty, may I 
 ask, Avhen shall you and Julius be married?" 
 
 Letty didn't knoAV. She hoped rather soon, as 
 she had a great objection to long engagements. 
 
 "And what are you going to marry upon?" 
 
 "Ay, that is the difficulty which your brother 
 and I were talking over just Avhen you came in." 
 
 "What, already?" said Edna. 
 
 "Yes, why not? It was the most important point 
 of the matter; for, as I told him, I have been poor 
 all my life, and very uncomfortable I have found it, 
 so I am determined when I marry it shall not be to 
 poverty. I told Julius he must contrive to make an 
 income — a good settled income — Avithin a reasonable 
 time, or our engagement must necessarily fall through. 
 Though I should be sorry for that, for I do like 
 Julius; he is handsomer than anybody I ever knew 
 — and so exceedingly amusing." 
 
 The husband and wife met each other's eyes 
 Avith an anxious, mournful meaning, and then hope- 
 lessly turned the matter off with a jest. 
 
 "Edna, my wife, I am afraid you are by no 
 means the handsomest person of my acquaintance." 
 
 "Nor you the most amusing of mine." 
 
 "Yet, you see, Letty, we contrive to jog on to- 
 gether, but shall be delighted to be outdone by you 
 and Julius. Let us reckon. Since the whole ques- 
 tion apparently resolves itself into pounds, shillings, 
 
 The Woman's Kingdom. IT. »>
 
 34 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 and pence — liow much does lie make a-year — not 
 
 counting " 
 
 "Not counting your allowance to him, if you 
 mean to refer to that. He told me of it to-night, 
 but says he will not accept it any more." 
 
 "I did not m.ean it, but am very glad to hear 
 it," returned William, gravely. "No man ought to 
 marry upon another person's money. But how does 
 he intend to manage without it?" 
 
 "That is the thing; and I wish you would try 
 to persuade him," cried Letty, anxiously. "There 
 is a matter on which I have been persuading him 
 with all my might-, in fact, I have told him I don't 
 think I can marry him unless he does it." 
 "Does what?" 
 
 "Gives up art and takes to business." 
 "Takes to business — which he so dislikes!" 
 "Gives up art — which he loves so much!" 
 "You may say what yovi like, both of you," 
 Letty replied to these exclamations, "but I know it 
 would be the most ])ruc]ent thing. I have said my 
 say, and I mean to stick to it. He has grand ideas, 
 poor fellow! about how well he should get on when 
 we were married, and he had me for his model — 
 his inspiration — his muse, I tliink he said, but I 
 told him that was all nonsense; he had much better 
 have me as the mistress o'f a good house, with every- 
 thing nice and comfortable about me. I should be 
 happier, and he too. Now, William, don't you think 
 so?" 
 
 "My dear sister, I have given up thinking about 
 this matter of you and Julius. I have no call to
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 35 
 
 interfere, or to do anything but oiFcr you my best 
 wishes." 
 
 "And your advice — pray give him yoi;r advice," 
 cried Letty, with more anxiety and eagerness tlian 
 she had yet shown. "Make him understand how 
 foolish he would be to reject Mr. Marchmont's offer 
 — of entering his house of business, first as a salaried 
 clerk, then becoming a junior partner." 
 
 "DidMr. Marchmont really offer that? I wonder 
 Julius never told me." 
 
 "He only told me to-night, or rather I told him; 
 for I heard it this morning. It was the first thing 
 which made me think seriously of marrying him." 
 
 The excessive candour of Letty's worldliness 
 often disarmed indignation. Dr. Stedman could hardly 
 help smiling. 
 
 "Letty, you are the oddest girl I ever knew! 
 Whatever else you may be, you are no hypocrite. 
 And so you want me to help you in. turning my 
 brother's life clean upside down. Is he mad enough 
 to do it, I wonder, for you or any woman alive?" 
 
 "I don't consider it mad; and I am almost sure 
 he will do it for me. He had nearly promised me 
 when you came into the room." 
 
 "Well, that is some consolation. It was not a 
 kiss I intruded upon — only a bargain." 
 
 "William, do be serious," cried Letty, really 
 annoyed. "Can't you see what a good chance it 
 is ? Here is old Mr. Marchmont with no son — only 
 Lily " 
 
 "Perhaps he does it with an eye to Lily, as you 
 hinted once she liked our Julius."
 
 36 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Oh, no, that was all a mistake;" and Letty 
 tossed her head. "At least, Julius won't many Lily 
 — she is never likely to marry anybody. For all 
 her red cheeks, she is dying of consumption, and 
 they know it." 
 
 "Poor thing — poor father and mother!" said 
 Edna, stopping in her busy hushing of the baby to 
 listen. "But perhajDS she really liked Julius, and 
 for her sake, even though she is dying, they wish to 
 do him good." 
 
 "That is your romantic version of the affair, but 
 the plain sense of it is that Julius has received such 
 an offer; if he accepts it I'll marry him, if not I 
 won't. So there is an end of the matter. And now 
 I'll go to bed." 
 
 But still she lingered, watching her brother and 
 sister. Edna sat leaning against her husband; and 
 he had his arms round both her and the child, his 
 rugged, yet tender face looking down protectingly 
 upon both. A pretty picture, unconsciously made, 
 yet full of meaning, Avhich even Letty saw. Some- 
 thing of nature — sweet, true, human nature — 
 tugged at her heart-strings. 
 
 "Don't be vexed with me. I know I am not so 
 good as you two. I cannot, for my life, see things 
 as you do; but I'll try my best, indeed I will. 
 Please don't be angry with me." 
 
 And sliding to her knees, she laid her cheek on 
 Edna's lap — or rather, on the baby — and kissed 
 the sleeping hands which lay there, curled like tiny 
 rose-leaves. God knows what was in tlie woman's 
 mind; perhaps a momentary gleam — all womanly
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 37 
 
 — of that maternal instinct wliicli in some women is 
 stronger even than conjugal love — exists before it, 
 and long survives it; or, possibly, only a sudden 
 thought of how far removed she was both from her 
 sister and from that innocent babyhood, fresh from 
 heaven, which none of us can look at without wonder 
 and awe. But there she knelt, and shed on the tiny 
 hand and pretty white frock — her own working — 
 more than one tear; maybe the purest, houestest 
 tears that Letty Kenderdine ever shed. 
 
 "Go away, William, please," whispered Edna; 
 and when the door closed upon him, she took her 
 sister in her arms, wished her happiness anew, and, 
 moreover, told her how to earn it and keep it — as 
 women well beloved always can. The listener, if 
 she did not understand much, at least listened with 
 a tender, touched expression; and when the two 
 sisters parted for the night, they felt more thoroughly 
 sisters, more near together than they had ever done 
 in their lives. 
 
 For William, he followed his first natural im- 
 pulse, snatched up his hat, antl, late as it was, went 
 off straight to his brother s lodgings. 
 
 It was still dusk, not dark; and through the 
 balmy summer night the nightingales were singing 
 shrill and clear — as they used to sing twenty years 
 ago from the tall trees of Holland Park. But Ken- 
 sington High Street shone all a-glare with gas-light 
 still, for it Avas Saturday night; and filing through 
 it and its wretched-looking crowds came a string of 
 grand carriages from some entertainment at the 
 Palace. Dr. Stedman looked carelessly in at the
 
 38 THE woman's KINaDOM. 
 
 lovely faces and flashing diamonds, and thought of 
 the little figure in the sofa-corner, and the other one, 
 as yet scarcely to him an entity at all, asleep on her 
 lap. His heart leaped — the husband's and father's 
 heart. He had tasted the life of life: he could afford 
 to let its empty shows go by. 
 
 With a blithe step Will entered his brother's 
 room —half parlour, half studio — which, though a 
 good room in a handsome house, was always strewn 
 with what the doctor called artistic rubbish. Still 
 Julius's keen sense of beauty and fitness had hitherto 
 kept it in some sort of order. Now it had none. 
 Utter neglect, all but squalid untidiness, were its 
 sole characteristics; and the owner sat alone, not 
 even smoking, though the room was redolent of stale 
 tobacco, but lolling on the table, his head hidden 
 U2:»on his arms, so absorbed, or else half asleeji, that 
 he did not even notice the opening door. 
 
 "Hollo, old fellow, what's the matter with you? 
 A pretty sight I find you, after turning out at this 
 late hour just to wish you joy." 
 
 "Wish me joy!" Julius sprang to his feet, his 
 flushed face gleaming wildly. "What do you mean?" 
 
 "What do you mean, you deceitful, shut-up, un- 
 brotherly fellow, not to tell me what I should be so 
 glad to hear? Of course she told." 
 
 "What did she say?" 
 
 William laughed, though a little vexed at this 
 excessive reticence, till the agony of suspense in 
 Julius's face startled him. 
 
 "Don't mock mo, Will; tell me what she said — 
 what she really thinks. For, before Heaven, I
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 39 
 
 declare to you this minute I have no idea whether 
 she will marry me or not. I only know that if she 
 does not— — " He hiug-hed hoarsely, and made a 
 sharp, quick sound with his moutli, like the click of 
 a pistol. 
 
 ''Don't be a fool," said Will, angrily; then 
 clapped him on the shoulder. "You are a fool, of 
 course; we are all fools in our day about some wo- 
 man or other. But cheer up; you'll get what you 
 want. Letty said distinctly to her sister and to me 
 that you and she were engaged to be married." 
 
 Evidently Julius had been strung up to such a 
 pitch of excitement and despair, that, with this 
 sifdden reaction, his self-control entirely left him. 
 He threw himself back in his chair, covered his face 
 with his hand, and sobbed like a woman, or a child. 
 Alas, there was about him, and would be till the 
 day of his death, much both of the woman and the 
 child. 
 
 Will walked to the window. If the young man 
 had been any one else — But all his life Julius had 
 won from him an exceptional tenderness. The look 
 of slight contempt faded from the doctor's face, 
 leaving it only grave and sad; and it was a kind 
 and cheery hand he laid on his brother's shoulder 
 once more. 
 
 "Come, come, Ju! this is not exactly the Avay 
 to begin life; for you are beginning it quite anew, 
 as every man does when he is engaged to be married. 
 I give you joy, my lad, and so does Edna!" 
 
 "Thank you both." 
 
 The brothers shook hands, brotherly and friendly ;
 
 40 THE avoman's kingdom. 
 
 and then, without more waste of emotion, Will 
 plunged into the practical side of the affair; asked 
 Julius Mdiat were his future plans, and especially 
 what was that offer of Mr. Marchmont's to which 
 Letty had alluded, and which seemed too extra- 
 ordinary to be true. 
 
 "Yes, it is quite true. Sit down, and I'll tell 
 you all about it." 
 
 And then, with some natural and not discredit- 
 able hesitation, he confided to his brother one of 
 those romances in real life which, when we authors 
 hear of and compare with those we invent, we smile 
 to think that were we to make our fictions half as 
 strange as truth, nobody would read us. « 
 
 The rich merchant's only child had fallen in 
 love with the poor artist, frantically, desperately, 
 and held to him with a persistent affection that, 
 being concealed, came in time to sap the very 
 sjjrings of life. In fact, she was dying — merry, 
 rosy-faced Lily Marchmont — dying literally of a 
 broken heart. How far Julius was to blame nobody 
 could say: he himself declared that he Avas not — 
 that he had never made love to her, never intended 
 such a thing. And when at last — Lily's secret 
 being discovered — her miserable parents betrayed 
 it to him, and made him a definite proposal for her 
 sake, he declined it. Whatever he had done once, 
 he did the right thing now. He was too honourable 
 to degrade a woman by marrying her for mere Jiity, 
 when he felt f )r her not an atom of love. 
 
 "You (lid right," said Will, with energy. "And 
 all this was going on, and we knew nothing. Yoii
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 41 
 
 kept it so close. "What joxi must have suffered, my 
 poor fellow!" 
 
 "Never mind me; there's another I thiuk of 
 much more. Poor little thing! God forgive me for 
 all the misery I have caused her!" And could she 
 have seen Julius then, Lily might have felt herself 
 half avenged. 
 
 ''Does she know about Letty?" 
 
 "Yes; I told her — clear and jilain. It was the 
 only honest thing to do. But it signifies little now: 
 she is dying; and before she dies, she wants her 
 parents to secure my future by taking — me into 
 the house of business, either in London or Calcutta 
 
 — first as a clerk, with a rising salary, and then as 
 a partner. She settled it all, poor girl, and her 
 father came and implored me to accejit the situation. 
 But I never thought of it, not for one minute, till 
 they told Letty, and Letty urged me to consent. 
 She has no scruples about poor little Lily." 
 
 "And Lily?" 
 
 "Lily only thinks of Letty — that is, of me 
 through her. Poor, faithful soul! — She says, 'she 
 Avants me to be happy with Letty when she is gone.' 
 Oh, it's a queer world!" 
 
 Will thought so too, as he recalled the merry 
 little girl, Avhose governess his wife had been, who 
 had now and tlien come to his house, and whom he 
 knew Edna was fond of — rich, young prosperous 
 Lily Marchmont — dying. He looked at the 
 haggard face wliich even happiness could not brighten 
 much : he remembered his talk with Letty that night 
 
 — Letty, who considered it almost a misfortune to
 
 42 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 marry Julius — and the strange incongruities and 
 inequalities of life forced themselves vividly upon 
 his mind. Yet perhaps things were less unequal than 
 they seemed. In the awfully uncertain future, there 
 might come a time Avhen Lily Marchmont in her grave 
 Avould be more happy than either Letty or Julius. 
 
 However, to forecast thus mournfully was worse 
 than useless — wrong. Will rose. 
 
 "I must go now; my wife will wonder where I 
 am. Yes, lad, as you say, it is a queer world, but 
 we must make the best of it. You'll come over to 
 breakfast to-morrow." 
 
 Julius hesitated. 
 
 "Nonsense — -you must. Letty will expect you." 
 
 Poor fellow — how his whole countenance glowed! 
 Yes, that was one certainty in all this perplexity, 
 Julius was deeply, devotedly in love, — not a bad 
 thing for any man. 
 
 "You're very far gone — quite over head and 
 ears, I see," said Will, smiling. "I wonder you 
 never told me of it till now." 
 
 "How could I, whilst I had nothing to tell, ex- 
 cept that I was perfectly mad? She kept me in a 
 state something like Tantalus or Ixion, or some of 
 those poor ghosts that I've been trying to paint 
 here. I ought to be successful in painting hell : — 
 these six months I have assuredly been in it." 
 
 "You're out of it now though, old fellow, so 
 cheer up and forget it. You'll be all right soon. A 
 man is not half a man till he is married, and when 
 he. is he may face the whole world. Tliat's my 
 opinion and experience. Now I'm off. Good-night."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 43 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Julius accepted Mr. Marclimont's offer, and Letty 
 Kenderdine accepted him. That is, conditionally, 
 promising to marry him as soon as his income war- 
 ranted what she called a "comfortable establish- 
 ment." The exact sum, or the exact date, she de- 
 clined to give, and she wished the engagement to be 
 kept as private as possible. "For," said she, "avIio 
 knows what might happen, and then it would be so 
 very awkward." 
 
 So they were betrothed, to use the good old 
 word — now almost as obsolete as the thing — and 
 two days afterwards Lily Marchmont died; slipping 
 away, quietly and happily, to a world which long 
 sickness had made to her a far nearer world than 
 this. Her former governess, Mrs. Stedman, was with 
 her at her death-bed, and mourned her affectionately 
 and long. 
 
 Julius also, — let him not be too harshly judged ! 
 For many days after Lily's death, even amidst his 
 own first Hush of happiness, he looked pale and sad; 
 and while playing the devoted lover sudden glooms 
 would come over him, which Letty could not in the 
 least understand, and which affronted her extremely. 
 Doubtless she Avas very proud of him and his pro- 
 spects, for in her secret heart she had always looked 
 down upon the profession of an artist as not quite 
 the thing, not exactly respectable. Besides, how
 
 44 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 could it ever have supplied the house in Philliraore 
 Place, or some place like it, upon which she had set 
 her heart, and which she furnished and re-furnished, 
 imaginarily, a dozen times a-day? Likewise, her 
 mind was greatly occupied by her future carriage, 
 and the difficulty of deciding Avhether it should be 
 a brougham or a britzska, Julius being gloriously 
 indifferent to both. But all these splendours loomed 
 in the distance; his present income was only 300/. 
 a-year, a sum upon which Letty declared it was 
 quite impossible to marry. 
 
 So she lived on in her brother-in-law's house, 
 and her lover in his lodgings hard by: meeting 
 every day, and enjoying, or they might have en- 
 joyed, to their fullest content, the sweet may-time of 
 courtship; when restless hearts gain strength and 
 calm, and true hearts grow together, learning many 
 a lesson of patience and forbearance, self-distrust 
 and self-denial, from which they may benefit all 
 their lives to come, if they so choose. 
 
 But these tAvo were rather uncomfortable lovers. 
 They did not "sliake down together," as Will in- 
 sisted they must be left to do, without any inter- 
 ference from the sympathetic Edna. To whom — 
 luckless little sister! — they both came in their 
 never-ending small "tiffs;" forsaking her, of course, 
 when the troubles were over. No doubt Julius was 
 madly in love still, which, considering the silly 
 things Letty often said and did, and how little of 
 real companionship there was between them — 
 affianced lovers though they were — sometimes 
 roused Edna's surprise. But she comforted herself
 
 THE woman's kixgdom. 45 
 
 by the common excuse, tliat tastes differ, and people 
 who seem the most ghiring'ly dissimilar to others, 
 often between themselves find a similarity and suit- 
 ability, which makes them jjrow together, and in the 
 end become perfectly united and happy. 
 
 "As truly I hope Letty and Julius will be," re- 
 peated Edna for the twentieth time, concluding a 
 talk on this subject with the only person to whom 
 she ever confided it. "Dearest, what a mercy it is 
 that each one thinks his or her choice best, and no- 
 liddy ever wishes for anybody else's wife or hus- 
 band!" 
 
 Will laughed, it was impossible to help it; but 
 as he kissed her earnest, innocent eyes — as inno- 
 cent as her baby's eyes — he thanked Heaven for 
 tlie safe assuredness of his own lot, even though at 
 the same time he half sighed over the uncertainty of 
 his brother's. 
 
 Dr. Stedman was no poetical optimist, or 2)ur- 
 blind dreamer; just an honest ordinary man, Avork- 
 ing hard among the world of men, with his eyes 
 wide open — as a doctor's must be — to all its 
 misery and sin, yet shrinking from neither: walking 
 straight on, tlu'ough foul ways and clean, with a 
 steady, upright, pure heart, as an honest man can 
 do. But being thus sadly wise, and seeing only too 
 far into the depth of things, made him more than 
 ever anxious over his brother Julius. 
 
 For the first fcAv months of his engagement Ju- 
 lius seemed happy. He had gained, as he said, his 
 heart's desire; and he was young enough to bear a 
 little of hope deferred. His changed career he did
 
 46 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 not actually dislike. Either lie liad a little wearied 
 of unsuccessful art, and business, Avitli its settledness 
 and regularity, had a soothing and strengthening 
 effect on his excitable temperament; but he vowed 
 that his "erratic" days were done, dubbed himself a 
 regular "City man;" came home punctually; and 
 daily, as the clock struck eight, his little, slender, 
 lissom figure might be seen hurrying round the 
 street-corner, and his quick, impetuous knock Avas 
 heard through the evening qviiet of Dr. Stedman's 
 house. Then he would just put in his smiling face, 
 to what was formerly a consulting-room, then the 
 dining-room, and afterwards the domain of Edna 
 and baby; would give a brotherly jest or two, and 
 leap upstairs, three steps at a time, to the drawing- 
 room, where sat, always sweetly smiling and prettily 
 dressed, his expectant Letty. 
 
 They were pleasant days, these courtship days; 
 and a pleasant sight Avere the two lovers — when in 
 their good moods — both so handsome, light-hearted, 
 and bright. Still dark days did come — they come 
 soon enough in all loves, and all lives — and then 
 Edna had a hard time of it. Yet still, in her fond 
 romance, her earnest faith in the saving power of 
 love, she put up with everything, hoping for the 
 best, and determined to do so till the end. 
 
 Wliich end, after six months of love-making, 
 seemed as far off as ever, until an unexpected turn 
 of affairs brought it to a crisis. 
 
 One January night Julius came in, "all in the 
 sulks," as Letty called it, — one of those moods to 
 which he was so liable, — and to escape which his
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 47 
 
 betrothed always, as now, ensconced herself behind 
 tlie safe shelter of the family circle, and sewed away, 
 unconscious, or pretending unconsciousness, of the 
 sad, passionate, beseeching looks wliicli followed her 
 every movement. She had grown used to his devo- 
 tion, it was nothing new now; and the silly woman 
 threw away as dross that which some other woman 
 — poor Lily Marchmont, for instance — might have 
 gathered up and stored as the wealth of two lives. 
 
 But Letty stitched and stitched, wholly occupied 
 with the effect of her white tarlatane and pink rib- 
 bons. 
 
 "And, after all, I shall have to ruin it in a com- 
 mon street cab. How very provoking! Will, do you 
 ever mean to set up your carriage?" 
 
 "You would not benefit much by it, Letty," re- 
 turned Will, rather gruffly, since from behind his 
 newspaper he often saw more than he was given 
 credit for. "I suppose you will not live with us 
 always." 
 
 "Heigho! It looks very like it." 
 
 Julius Avinced. "That is not my fault, Letty, as 
 well you know. May I tell William and Edna what 
 I was telling you yesterday, and ask their opinion?" 
 
 "If you like-, but I take nobody's opinion. I 
 said, and I say it still, that five hundred a-year is 
 poverty — actual poverty. Look at Edna-, she has 
 not, to my certain knowledge, had a new dress these 
 six months." 
 
 "Because she wanted none," said Edna, hastily. 
 "But come, Julius, your news! Has Mr. Marchmont 
 raised your salary? He told me he sliuuld: you were
 
 48 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 so clever — had taken to Inisiness so aptly — were 
 sure to get on." 
 
 Julius shook his head despondently. "He thinks 
 so, but Letty doesn't. She will not trust herself to 
 me — not even with five hundi-ed a-year." 
 
 "No," said Letty, setting her lovely lips together 
 in the hard line they would sometimes exhibit. "You 
 may all preach as you like, but I don't approve of 
 poverty, and anything is poverty under a thousand 
 a-year." 
 
 "Then we may as Avell part at once!" cried 
 Julius, violently. 
 
 Letty stopped her sewing, to turn round upon 
 him a placid smile. 
 
 "Indeed, my dear Julius, I sometimes think that 
 would be by far our best course." 
 
 Julius answered nothing. His very lips grew 
 white; his anger ceased; he was ready to humble 
 himself in the dust at Letty's feet. 
 
 "Letty, how can you?" whispered Edna in 
 jjassing. "You speak as if you did not love him 
 at all." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I do," returned Letty, carelessly, as 
 she devoted all her energies to her last pink bow. 
 "But he miglit wait a little longer for me without 
 grumbling. He is not near so wretched as he makes 
 himself out to be — has comfortable lodgings — 
 heaps of friends." 
 
 "Take care. Better not drive nic back to my 
 'friends.' " 
 
 "Why, Julius? Were they so very " 
 
 "Never mind what they were — I have done
 
 THE woman's KIXGDOM. 49 
 
 ■with them now. Only keep nne from going back to 
 them. Dearest, if you wish to save me, keep me 
 beside you. Take me, and make the best of me, 
 my Letty — my only love!" 
 
 The latter words were in a whisper of passionate 
 appeal, such as a man sometimes makes to a woman 
 — a cry for help, strength, salvation, such as she, 
 and she only, can bring. But this woman heard it 
 with deaf, ignorant ears, neither understanding nor 
 heeding. 
 
 "Oh, my dress — my beautiful new dress — you 
 are trampling over it — ruining it! Julius, do get 
 away!'' 
 
 He moved aside at once. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," and his old satirical man- 
 ner returned. "I ought to have remembered that 
 women's first object in life is — clothes." 
 
 But the next instant, when Letty rose to quit 
 the room, he threw himself between her and the 
 door. 
 
 "Have I vexed you? Oh, say you are not dis- 
 pleased with me. It will kill me if you quit me in 
 anger! Oh, Letty, I will work — I Avill slave — to 
 get you all you want." 
 
 "I am sure I want nothing, except not to be 
 married just yet — until you can make me com- 
 fortable," said Letty, in an injured tone. "And you 
 do worry me so!" (which perhaps was true enough). 
 "It's very hard for me." 
 
 "It is hard." Then suddenly and impetuously, 
 "Would you like to get rid of me? Because — there 
 is a way. No, not that way," seeing Letty looked 
 
 The Vt'omau's Kingdom. II. ^
 
 50 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 really fiiglitened. "I am not such a fool, thougli I 
 have sometimes said it. And the other way would 
 be almost as sure. Mr. Marchmont could secure me 
 a thousand a-year — your great ambition — if I 
 would go out at once to India for — let us say ten 
 years." 
 
 "Go out to India — for ten years!" cried Edna. 
 "Oh, Julius, surely you would never think of such 
 a dreadful thing!" 
 
 "Is it so dreadful, my kind little sister?" replied 
 Julius, tenderly. "But, Letty, my own Letty, .what 
 does she say?" 
 
 Letty had turned eagerly round, on the jioint of 
 speaking, but when her sister spoke, she drew back 
 a little ashamed. 
 
 "Of course, as Edna says, it would be a very 
 dreadful thing in some ways; especially at first; but 
 you might get used to it. And consider, if you 
 were to make your fortune, as Mr. Marchmont did 
 — as people Avho go out to India always do " 
 
 "And you would share it? Or" — a new idea 
 seemed to strike the desperate lover — "you might 
 lielp me to win it. Tell me, if I went out to India, 
 would you go too?" 
 
 Letty looked down demurely. "Perhaps I might. 
 I don't know. I always had a fancy for India, 
 where one could ride in a palanquin, and have plenty 
 of diamonds and beautiful shawls. Yes, jjerhaps I 
 might be persuaded to go — some time." 
 
 Julius covered her hand with grateful kisses, 
 and Letty allowed herself to be led back to the
 
 THE WOMAN'S KINODOM. 51 
 
 fireside, where tlie project was entered into seriously 
 in family conclave. 
 
 But, in truth, Letty, assuming, for tlie first time 
 in lier life, a will of her own, decided the question. 
 In one of those rare fits of resolution which the 
 weak and irresolute take, she had convinced herself 
 that going to India Avas the best thing possible for 
 herself and Julius. "Herself and Julius." Her un- 
 conscious wording of the matter was the key to it all. 
 
 For Julius, all places were alike to him so that 
 he had Letty beside him — Letty wholly his own. 
 He betrayed even a wild delight at the idea of 
 having her all to himself — away from her kith and 
 kin, in the mysterious deptlis of India. He was in 
 that condition when the one passion, less a passion 
 than a monomania, swallows up all lesser feelings 
 — overwhelms and determines everything. So, after 
 discussing the point inconclusively until past midnight, 
 he went away and came back next evening at his 
 usual hour with the brief words, "I have done it." 
 
 "Done what?" asked Letty. 
 
 "Exactly what you wished me to do. I have 
 arranged with Mr. Marchmont to go out to Calcutta. 
 And now, my dearest, you can set about your pre- 
 parations at once." 
 
 "Preparations for what?" said Letty, innocently. 
 
 "Our marriage. We must be married and go 
 out in three weeks — only three weeks. Oh, my 
 Letty, my Letty!" 
 
 He clasped her in his arms, almost beside him- 
 self with joy. 
 
 4*
 
 bZ THE W0MA:N' S KINGDOM. 
 
 But Letty drew back, primly protesting, "She 
 had had no idea of such a thing. She did not like 
 being married in such a hurry. How could she 
 possibly get her things ready? Besides, she had 
 never promised — she was quite certain she had 
 never promised. No, if he went, he must go by 
 himself." 
 
 Julius stood literally aghast. 
 
 "What have I done? Oh, Edna!" for seeing 
 him turn deadly white, Edna had sprung up from 
 her work, and caught him by the arm. "Edna, 
 this is what comes of trusting a woman!" 
 
 And then ensued one of those scenes — only too 
 common now — of anguish, bitterness, protestation, 
 appeals, ending by Letty's being moved to tears, 
 and Julius to contrite despair accordingly. Edna 
 said nothing; they had both grown quite careless of 
 her })resence at such times; and how could she, or 
 any third person, interfere between them? She was 
 only thankful William Avas not by — William, who 
 had less patience than she. But she trembled as she 
 thought of the future of these two lovers, wlio made 
 love not a blessing, but a torment — a burden, almost 
 a curse. If it were thus with thorn before marriage, 
 what would it bo afterwards? 
 
 Presently the storm lulled. For once Letty had 
 overstrained her power. Even in this Armida's 
 garden where she held him bound, the poor Kinaldo 
 began to feel blindly for his old armour, and to 
 struggle under his flowery chains. 
 
 "It is of no use talking, I must go, and by the 
 next mail. I promised Mr. Marchmont; and I will
 
 THE WOMAN S KINGDOM. iiO 
 
 keep my promise. Am I not riglit, Edna?" And 
 he walked across the room to her. 
 
 She held out her hand to him. "Yes, I think 
 you are." 
 
 Then Letty, seeing her scepter slipping from 
 her, gave way a little, and said in a complaining 
 tone — 
 
 "You are all very unkind to me. How can I 
 get ready to go out in three weeks? And to be 
 married and left behind, a "widow bewitched," .as 
 Julius proposes, would be dreadful. If he would 
 go first, and make all comfortable for me, I could 
 follow in six months or a year — young ladies often 
 do it, under proper escort." 
 
 "Would you? — oh, my darling — would you 
 come out to me, all alone?" 
 
 And Julius, again in the seventh heaven of 
 rapturous devotion, was ready to consent to any- 
 thing; if only he might win her at last. 
 
 The matter was settled, and Letty, having got 
 everything her own way, made herself sweet as 
 summer to her lover, who hung upon her every look 
 and Avord; so that the brief intervening time before 
 his departure was the smoothest and lia]tpiest of his 
 whole courtship. This, without any hypocrisy on 
 Letty's part; for she was really toiiched with his 
 devotedncss. And besides, in great crises, people 
 rise to be their best selves; and many a love which 
 would soon wax meagre and threadbare in the daily 
 "w^ear and tear of life, drapes itself heroically and 
 beautifully enough at the supreme hour of parting.
 
 54 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 So Julius sat, in his last evening at an English 
 fireside — his brother's, of course; fv")r he declared 
 that beyond it was not a single soul whom he cared 
 to say good-bye to; sat, not broken-hearted by any 
 means, for the excitement of this siidden step, and 
 his eager anticipations in his new career, seemed to 
 deaden pain. Still, lie keT)t desperate hold of Letty's 
 hand, and gazed continually in her ftice, with that 
 eager, passionate gaze, half of artist, half of lover, 
 which seemed never to tire of its beauty. And now, 
 it wore a softness and tenderness which made parting 
 grow into a delirious ecstasy, less of grief than joy. 
 
 Edna and William Avere not sad neither. Their 
 long suspense over these two was apparently ended; 
 the future looked briglit and clear; nor did they 
 blame the lovers for a somewhat selfish enjoyment 
 therein. For they knew, none better, this happy 
 husband and wife, that those who mean to become 
 such, have a right to be all in all to each other, to 
 go out cheerfully together into the wide world, and 
 feel all lesser separations but as a coinjiaratively 
 little thing. 
 
 "Yes," Will said to his brother; "I'm glad you're 
 going — thoroughly glad. You may have your 
 health better in India tlian here, if you take care. 
 And you will have a wife to take care of you. You 
 will do well, no doxibt, — perhaps come back a 
 nabob before your ten years are out. And though 
 I may be old and grey-headed when I see you again, 
 still, my lad, I say, I'm glad you're going." 
 
 Thus talked he, to keep up his own and every-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 55 
 
 body else's spirits, while, (piick as lightning, the 
 final minutes flew by. Edna sat behind the tea-urn, 
 in her customary place, and was waited upon by 
 Julius in the long- familiar way; he tried so hard to 
 be good and sweet to her, and to pay attention to 
 her baby, who, not to detain the mother, had been 
 l)rought doAvn unlawfully, cradle and all, to a corner 
 of the dra"\^'ing-room , where he contributed his best 
 to the hilarity of the evening by sleeping soundly 
 all through it. 
 
 "Poor little man! he will actually be a man, or 
 nearly so, before I set eyes on him again. I only 
 hope, Edna dear, that he will grow up a better man 
 
 than his namesake. And yet not so " Julius 
 
 turned rouud, his countenance all glowing: "Not a 
 better man than I mean to grow — than she will 
 help to make me." 
 
 Letty smiled — her sweet, unmeaning, contented 
 smile — and that was all. 
 
 She sat by her lover's side — sat and looked 
 pretty; did not talk much, except to give a few 
 earnest advices about jjractical things, the sort of 
 house — or bungalow, she believed they called it — 
 which she should like him to take — the number of 
 servants and horses which they should keep — upon 
 all which facts she "was found to have informed 
 herself very accurately. She promised, faithfully 
 and affectionately, to get her "things" — which 
 seemed her chief care — ready without delay, so as 
 to follow by the first feasible opportunity; and she 
 begged Julius to write her every particular about
 
 56 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 Calcutta, and every information necessary for lier 
 own voyage thither. 
 
 But she never once said, as some fond, foolish 
 women might have said — "Take care of yourself — 
 the dear self which is all the world to me." 
 
 Thus passed, in the strange unreality of all part- 
 ing hours, this last evening, as if every succeeding 
 evening would be just like it, and its cheerful chat, 
 its quiet fireside pleasure, would come all over again 
 next night, instead of never coming again in all this 
 mortal life; as by no human possibility cotfld it 
 come — -just as now — to these four. 
 
 At last Dr. Stedman looked at his watch; there 
 was only time to catch tlie train to Southampton, 
 whence Julius was to embark the foUoAving morn- 
 ing. 
 
 "I'll close up your portmanteau for you, Julius, 
 my lad; you never could do it for yourself, even 
 when we were at school. Come, Edna, come and 
 help me." 
 
 Edna, shutting the door bcliind her, followed 
 her husband; and as she stooped over him while he 
 was fastening the valise, slie kissed him softly on 
 the shoulder. He turned and kissed her also, both 
 feeling, as in moments of sharp pain like this, all 
 such married lovers must feel, the one intense, un- 
 speakable thankfulness that "naught but death parts 
 thee and me." 
 
 "Julius, ready?" Will called outside the drawing- 
 room door, and shortly afterwards his brother ap- 
 ])eared; Letty, likewise. She looked pale, and was 
 crying a little. For him — never as long as they
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 57 
 
 lived did Edna and William forget the look in 
 Julius's face. 
 
 "Now, not a minute to spare," Edna said, as she 
 threw her arms round her brother-in-law's neck and 
 kissed him fondly, forgetting all his little faults, re- 
 membering only that, to her at least, he had never 
 been aught but brotherly and good. "Take care of 
 yourself! — oh, do take care of yourself!" 
 
 "Take care of her!'''' he answered hoarsely, then 
 staggering blindly forward, indifferent to all be- 
 holders, he snatched frantically to his bosom the 
 woman who he so madly loved. 
 
 "Oh, be true to me!" he gasped. "For God's 
 sake be true to me! Edna, don't let her forget me! 
 Letty, remember your jDromise — your faithful pro- 
 mise!" 
 
 "I will!" said Letty, with a sob, and offered her 
 lips for the last kiss. It was given in a frenzy of 
 passion and grief; then Will took his brother by the 
 arm, and lifted rather than led him to the cab at 
 the door — and they were gone. 
 
 About nine months after this night a group of 
 three persons found themselves in the gloom of 
 a muggy, disagreeable November evening at the 
 entrance-gate of one of the docks of East London, 
 whence trading vessels start for the Indies. It was 
 William Stedman, his wife, and her sister. They 
 groped and stumbled through the dirty, devious ways, 
 guided by a man with a lantern, which showed dimly
 
 58 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 the great black hulls of ships laid up in dry dock, 
 or the ghostly outline of masts and rigging. Strange, 
 queer noises came through the dark — of men shout- 
 ing and swearing, the lading of cargo, the tramp of 
 horses and carts. 
 
 "What a horrid place! Oh, I wish I had never 
 come here! I wish I were not going away at all!" 
 
 "Never despair, Letty! Take my arm. We 
 are safe now. This is certainly the Lily Mnrch- 
 montr 
 
 For by the Lily Marchmont — strange, pathetic 
 coincidence! — Letty Kenderdine was going out to 
 India to be married to her lover. 
 
 Julius had waited — been compelled to wait — 
 until some good opportunity offered for the safe con- 
 duct of his bride; for Letty was not the person to 
 do anything without a due regard to both comfort 
 and propriety. Indeed she delayed as long as she 
 could, until all possible excuse for hesitation was 
 removed by the offer of a passage in this ship, Avliich 
 belonged to the firm, and Avas taking out to Calcutta 
 Mr. Marchmont's nephew and his young wife. AVith 
 them Letty could reside until she was married, and 
 the wedding could take place from their house Avith 
 all hint; for they were well-to-do, and very kindly 
 people. 
 
 So the matter was settled; tliough Letty might 
 have lingered yet longer, had not the strain of nar- 
 row means and an increasing family rendered her 
 lirotlior-in-law's house a less desirable home for her 
 than even the comparatively small establishment 
 which awaited her in India. New clothes were now
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 59 
 
 scarcer than ever to poor Mrs. Stedinaii: they were 
 all wanted for little Julius, and for anotlier child 
 that was to come by-and-bye, not long after Aunt 
 Letty was gone. In Edna's face was increasing, 
 day by day, the anxious, worn look which all 
 mothers have at times, and never wholly lose — 
 never can lose — ■ until their sons and daughters 
 close the coffin -lid upon the heart that can feel 
 anxiety no more. Still, when Letty said to her sister, 
 as often she did, "Oh, Edna, I wonder your ever 
 married!" there would come such a light into the 
 thin face, such a holy patience aird calm content, as 
 none but wives and mothers ever know. 
 
 But the cares of Dr. Stedman's household were 
 numerous enough to lessen his sister-in-law's regret 
 at leaving it. She did regret a little, clinging to 
 them both with a curious fitful tenderness as the 
 time went by, but still she made up her mind — 
 and her trousseau, absorbing tlierein all her own 
 money, which William had carefully kept for her, 
 declaring that her help in his house Avas a full equi- 
 valent to him for her residence there — and departed. 
 Not, however, without many complainings and self- 
 pityings, even to the final moment, when after a 
 visible hesitation, as if at the very last she were half 
 inclined to draw back, poor Letty climbed up from 
 the gloomy dry-dock side to the still gloomier deck 
 of the Lily Marchnont. 
 
 But when they descended to the bright, cheerful, 
 handsomely fitted up cabin, where everything had 
 been arranged for the comfort of the young married 
 couple, and her own, her spii-its revived. Her fair
 
 60 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 looks made her at once popular witli strangers, and 
 as she stood talking- to the young Marchmonts — 
 after being briefly introduced to the only two other 
 passengers, a little, fat, elderly Dutchman and a 
 lady, his sister, Avho were to be landed at the Cape 
 of Good Hope — Letty Kenderdine was herself again. 
 Well dressed — for she had made the utmost of her 
 small means, and even contrived a little present or 
 two from Aunt Letty to the baby that she would 
 not see; well preserved, and, though past her first 
 youth, much younger-looking tlian Edna — Miss 
 Kenderdine shed quite a sunshine of feminine beauty 
 abroad in the little cabin. Her sister, forgetting all 
 parting pain, smiled to think what a sunshine she 
 would also bring to poor Julius, yearning for her 
 so terribly, in his busy, lonely, anxious life of amass- 
 ing wealth — wealth that perhaps he, with his care- 
 less artistic temperament, might never have cared 
 for — certainly never would have struggled for, ex- 
 cepting for her sake. 
 
 But Letty herself seemed less absorbed in the 
 future than in the j)rcsent. "When lier four fellow- 
 passengers quitted the cabin , to allow her in quiet 
 the few farewell words with her own friends, she 
 glanced after them depreciatingly. 
 
 "Good people, I daresay, but dull, very dull. 
 I am afraid I shall have a dreary voyage. 1 wish 
 I had taken tlic overland route — if only I could 
 have afforded it. Oh, Edna, the misery of poverty!" 
 
 And then, struck with a sudden com])Unction — 
 a sudden impulse of tenderness for these two, so 
 contentedly bearing theirs, and sharing with her, for
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 61 
 
 these last two years and more, every little comfort 
 tliey had, Letty flung herself into her sister's arms. 
 
 "Oh, forgive me! you have been so good to me, 
 both of you. I'll never forget you — never! Do 
 not forget me!" 
 
 "No, no!" said William, as he hurried his wife 
 away, for he saw that the trial of parting was more 
 than she could bear. "Kiss her, Letty, and bid her 
 good-bye." 
 
 But — the sharp final wrench over — he himself 
 came back again, to say a last kind word to his 
 sister-in-law, on whom depended his brother's whole 
 future in this Avorld. 
 
 "Letty," whispered he, very earnestly, "I trust 
 you. Make Julius happy. Remember, his hajipi- 
 ness all rests with you." 
 
 "I know that." 
 
 "Never forget it. Be to him all that my wife 
 is to me. Good-bye! God bless you!" 
 
 Letty leaned over the ship's side, violently 
 sobbing. 
 
 "Go back into the cabin, Letty dear," Dr. Sted- 
 man called out. "Is there nobody who will be kind 
 enough to take charge of my sister?" 
 
 "May I assist you. Miss?" said a funny Dutch 
 voice, and William thankfully consigned her to the 
 care of the elderly merchant. 
 
 Next morning, spreading her white Avings in the 
 winter sunrise, and moving as gracefully as when a 
 poor little hand — now mere dust — had given her 
 her christening libation, the Lily Marchmont weighed 
 anchor, and sailed away to the under world.
 
 C)2 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Fifleeu Years After. 
 
 It was a small junction station on one of the 
 numerous lines of railway tliat diverge from London 
 Bridge, and a dozen or so of j^a^ssengers Avere walk- 
 ing up and doAvn the narrow platform, in the early 
 dark of a winter afternoon, waiting, patiently or 
 impatiently, as their natures allowed, for the never- 
 punctual train. They consisted chiefly of homely 
 people — Kentish farmers, labourers going home, 
 and London youths starting for their Saturday-to- 
 Monday holiday. The only lirst-class passengers — 
 in outward appearance at least — were a lady and 
 a little girl, Avho Siit in the small waiting-room, ab- 
 sorbing the whole of the welcome fire. She was a 
 tall and remarkably handsome woman — handsome 
 still, Ihougli she nuist have been quite five-and-forty. 
 So fair was her skin, so regular were her features, 
 that, but for an cxpi^ession of rooted discontent, she 
 would have been ahnost as comely as a young lady 
 in her teens. 
 
 Tlie child — her own ■ — for she addressed lier 
 us "mamma," was not like herself at all; being a 
 short, round-faced, button-nosed little maid of about 
 twelve years old; far from pretty, but with a sweet, 
 sensible look, which we sometimes see in little girls, 
 and prognosticate tenderly what sort of women they
 
 THE woman's kingdom. G3 
 
 will grow up to be — Avhat comforts at home and 
 helps abroad — what uus^ieakable blessings to all 
 
 about them as daughters, sisters, and Avell! 
 
 men are sometimes so blind that these good angels 
 of maidenhood never turn into waves. But they are 
 not therefore left forlorn; Providence always finds 
 them work enough — aye, and love enough, too, to 
 the end. 
 
 This little plain child hovered about her hand- 
 some mother with a tender protectingness rather 
 amusing, if it had not been so touching, to see; 
 feeling if her feet were warm, collecting her parcels 
 for her — they had evidently been shopping — and 
 then beginning a careful search for a missing rail- 
 way-ticket, about which the lady worried herself 
 considerably. 
 
 "We shall have to pay it over again, Gertrude, 
 I suppose," said she appealingly to her little daugh- 
 ter, as if she were already accustomed to lean upon 
 her. "Your papa will be cross, and call me stupid, 
 as usual. However, we'll not mind. Don't look 
 for the ticket any more. Papa can pay for us when 
 he meets us at the station." 
 
 She spoke languidly — she seemed rather a 
 languid lady — and shaking out her voluminous 
 silk dress, and gathering up her ermine muflp and 
 boa, rose and stood at the waiting-room door. Her 
 little daughter, who had no encumbrances except a 
 pet dog, — a small Skye terrier, which she carried 
 fondly in her arms, and vainly tried to keeji from 
 barking at everybody and everything, — stood 
 silently beside her, noticing all that was passing,
 
 61 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 witli a pair of bright, acute, and yet most innocent 
 childish eyes. 
 
 "Mamma," at last she said, "do you see those 
 three soldiers with their knapsacks? 1 am so sorry 
 for them, they look so shivering and wretclied this 
 cold day. They seem as if they were just come 
 home from India or somewhere. For how shabby 
 their uniforms are, and how brown their faces, nearly 
 as brown as the Caffres that used to " 
 
 "Oh, stop, child, don't talk about Caffres; don't 
 put me in mind of our dreadful life at the Cape. 
 Now we are safe in England, do let us forget 
 it all." 
 
 "Very well, mamma; only, please, would you 
 look at those soldiers'? I am sure they have been 
 in a great many battles, and gone through a deal 
 of hardship. That one, the shortest of them, with 
 his face half covered in a long, grey beard, has the 
 very saddest eyes I ever saw." 
 
 The motlier directed a careless glance to where 
 her compassionate little girl indicated. 
 
 "Yes, he does look ill, poor fellow. Perhaps 
 he has had fever, or cholera, or something; -^ don't 
 go near him. It is so cold standing here, I think I 
 will return to the fire, wliile you wait and Avatch for 
 the train. It cannot be very long now." 
 
 She took out a watch all studded with brilliants, 
 but it had stopped; and Avith a discontented ex- 
 clamation about "her watches being always wrong," 
 she settled herself in her old position, her feet on 
 the fender, staring vacantly into the blazing coals. 
 
 Hers was a face so remarkably handsome that it
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 65 
 
 could not pass unnoticed, and noticing, you would 
 not only admire, but pity it; in perhaps a deeper 
 degree than the little girl pitied the three broken- 
 down soldiers. For therein, any experienced eye 
 could read too plainly the tale of a disappointed 
 life. In spite of her line clothes and evident asso- 
 ciations of wealthy ease, the lady's look, fretful, 
 weary, inane, reminded one of the sigh of the young 
 beauty exhibiting to her late bridesmaid her mar- 
 riage jewels; — "Ah, my dear, I thought I should 
 have been perfectly happy when I had a diamond 
 necklace. And yet " 
 
 That mysterious "and yet," the one hidden 
 hitch in the wheels of existence! most of us know 
 what it is, though some contrive to get over it, and 
 make the wheels run on smoothly enough to the 
 end — but this lady apparently had not done so. 
 There was no actual badness in her face: none of 
 the sharp maliciousness visible in too. many faded 
 beauties; yet her mouth, that feati;re Avhich time and 
 developed character alter most, indicated incurable 
 Aveakness, unconquerable discontent. 
 
 She sat, paying little heed to anything that 
 passed; warming her feet over the tire, and leaving 
 everything to her young daiighter, until an un- 
 pleasant episode roused her from her lazy ease. 
 
 The dog, accustomed to genteel and well-dressed 
 company, took offence at a little innocent aduiiration 
 which had been shown him by one of the shabby 
 soldiers, the youngest and strongest -looking; and 
 showed his wrath indiscriminately, as his betters 
 often do, by barking furiously at another of them, 
 
 The yVomcm's Kingilom. 11. O
 
 66 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 the grey -bearded man, wlio came sliivering to catch 
 a distant glimpse of the waiting-room fire; at which 
 presum^ition Brau began to gi'owl furiously, and at 
 last, springing out of Gertrude's arms, flew at the 
 man, bit his heels, tore his already ragged trousers, 
 and even set his teeth in the flesh. The soldier, 
 uttering an execration, shook him off; then giving 
 the creature an angry kick, sent him howling across 
 the platform on to the rails, where a train was just 
 gliding up. 
 
 "Oh, my doggie, my doggie, he'll be killed!" 
 screamed Gertrude in despair, and instinctively 
 darted after Bran. Nobody saw her, or else nobody 
 had the sense to stop her. In half a minute the 
 train would been upon her, and the bright kindly 
 little life quenched for ever, had not tlie grey- 
 bearded soldier, with a spring as light as that of a 
 hunting leopard, leaped on to the rails, caught her, 
 and leaped back again; the train advancing slowly, 
 but so close, that it almost touched the little girl's 
 frock as it passed. Of course everybody thought 
 tlie dog was killed, until tlie poor brute came yelping 
 out from under tlie carriages, terribly frightened, 
 but quite unharmed. 
 
 "Oil, my doggie, my doggie!" cried Gertrude 
 again, in an ecstasy of joy, snatching him up in 
 her arms, and neither thinking of her own danger, 
 nor how she had been rescued. Nor, in the con- 
 fusion, did anybody else notice it; so the soldier 
 got no thanks, which did not seem greatly to 
 astf)nish him. lie retired, sullen and angry, rubbing 
 his hurt leg, while a sympathetic crowd — porters,
 
 THE -WOMAx'fj KINGDOM, 67 
 
 passengers, station-master, and all — j^athered round 
 the lady and child, who seemed perfectly well known 
 at the junction, and far too respectable for anybody 
 to sugg^est — as, had Gertrude been a poor woman's 
 child, would assuredly have been siiggested — that 
 she should be taken up and brought before a 
 magistrate for attempting to cross the line. 
 
 They passed on, respectfully escorted by porters 
 and guard, to their first-class carriage, the lady's 
 long dress sweeping across the very feet of the poor 
 soldier, who still hung aloof, rubbing his leg aiid 
 growling to himself. Now, however, he just looked 
 up, and caught the lady's profile as she went by. 
 
 A violent start, a sudden step forward, and then 
 the poor fellow recovered himself and his manners. 
 
 "Who is she?" asked he of a porter. 
 
 "Her there? Oh, she's Mrs. Vanderdecken , of 
 Holywell Hall. Her husband's the richest old cove 
 in all these parts; and that little maid is their only 
 child. If miss had been killed, there'd have been 
 a precious row kicked up." 
 
 "Mrs. Vanderdecken, of Holywell Hall," re- 
 peated the soldier, as if to fix the words on his 
 memory, and clenching his thin yellow fingers 
 tightly over his stick, for he was shivering like a 
 person in an ague. "Holy^vell Hall. Where is 
 that? hoAv far from here?" 
 
 "Eight miles. Second station after this is the 
 one you stop at. I'd go there, gov'nor, if I was 
 you. For I seed you catch hold o' the little miss, 
 and depend upon it, if you tell him you saved her, 
 her father' 11 come down with something 'andsome. 
 
 ^ 5*
 
 08 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 If he don't believe you — for old Van's a Lit of a 
 screw over his money — call me for a witness. Eh! 
 the fellow's oft' already. He's a sharp 'un, that." 
 
 "Stone! Hollo, Jack Stone!" shouted the other 
 two soldiers. "Stop, you're in the wrong train!" 
 
 But wrong or right, their comrade had leaped 
 into it, already moving as it was, and leaving all 
 his baggage — not much to leave — behind him, 
 was carried off rapidly and irrecoverably in the 
 opposite direction from London, whither the rest 
 were apparently bound. 
 
 They made a few grumbling remarks to the 
 station-master, telling him the name of their com- 
 panion — John Stone, late of ^ regiment, dis- 
 charged invalided; and leaving his box to be claimed 
 if he called for it, went on their way. 
 
 Meanwhile, Stone had jumped into the carriage 
 — a third class — next to the one occupied by the 
 lady and child. They were alone, in all the dignity 
 of wealth, but he had plenty of company, cheery, 
 conversational: and especially Avcll disposed, as the 
 humble ]5ritish public almost always is, towards a 
 red coat, and one that has apparently seen foreign 
 service. Besides, it was just after the Indian mutiny, 
 when the British heart was at once fierce and tender, 
 ;uid burning with curiosity over Indian affairs. But 
 frank and talkative as tliird-class passengers gene- 
 rally are, there Avas something in this soldier which 
 made tliein hesitate to speak to him, and look at 
 III 111 curiously several times before interrupting the 
 Itrown study into which he fell, as he curled him- 
 self up in his corner. The last bright western glow
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 69 
 
 sliowcd liis sallow and sickly face, sickly enough to 
 touch any heart, at least any woman's, with keen 
 compassion; and at last, one old woman, a decent 
 body with a market basket in her hand, did venture 
 to address him. 
 
 "You be just home from furrin' jjai'ts, I reckon, 
 soldier?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "From India, likely? I had a son as was killed 
 at Delhi. Maybe you've heerd of Delhi, sir?" For 
 the good soul seemed to feel, instinctively, the minute 
 he opened his eyes and answered her, that she Avas 
 speaking not exactly to a common soldier, or at least 
 to one who might have dropped to that from a rank 
 higher. 
 
 "Delhi? Y^es, I have been at Delhi." 
 
 "Was it there you was shot?" touching his arm, 
 which rested in a sling. "Shot, like my poor Tom-, 
 only not killed." 
 
 "No, worse luck for me," growled the man, as he 
 turned roughly away, but the old woman would not 
 be beaten. 
 
 "Yes, it's bad luck either way for poor soldiers. 
 Either they get killed — as my Tom was — or 
 they come home, fit for nothing, with a pension as 
 won't half keep them, and too old to turn to any- 
 thing like a trade, as you'll find, my man. You'll 
 be over fifty, I take it? Got a missis, or any little 
 
 uns 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Eh, that's a blessing," sighed tlie old woman. 
 "I've had to look after poor Tom's five. Well,
 
 70 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 they're not bad children," continued she, addressing 
 herself to the comjiany at large, "and they'll take 
 care of me some o' these days, so it's all right. Good 
 night, for I'm stopping here, to tea with Tom's 
 wife — and there's little Tom a-waiting for me. He's 
 very fond of his granny. Good night, soldier; may- 
 he you're going to see yoiu- own folk. A good jour- 
 ney and a happy coming home." 
 
 "Thank you," said the man, with a sharp laugh, 
 then curled himself into his corner so repellently, 
 that none of his fellow-travellers had the courage to 
 address him more. 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs. Vanderdecken and her daughter 
 composed themselves, after their great fright and 
 agitation, in the solitude of tlieir comfortable carri- 
 age. The former made considerable use of her 
 smelling-bottle, which she really needed, and Ger- 
 trude cax'essed and comforted her doggie until stopped 
 by her mother's sharp voice. 
 
 "Do let that stupid dog alone, and tell me 
 how all this happened. You were within an inch 
 of being killed, cliild. How could you frighten me 
 so?" 
 
 "I couldn't help it, mamma. The soldier kicked 
 Bran." 
 
 "Kicked Bran!" 
 
 "Oh, but 1 don't wonder at that," said the child, 
 hastily, "for Bran bit him, and I am sure hin-t him 
 very much. Still he was the man that jum])cd on to 
 the rails after me. I didn't remember at the time, 
 but I am sure of it now." 
 
 "Why didn't you say so, child, and I would
 
 THE WOJIAn's KIN(iDOM. 71 
 
 have given liiin some money, lie would be sure to 
 expect it — those sort of people always do. Now 
 he may be finding out who we are, and coming and 
 bothering papa for a reward, and that will make 
 papa so angry. Oh, Gertrude, my dear, how very 
 stupid it was of you!" 
 
 "I know it was, mamma," replied Gertrude, half 
 humbly, half iudift'ereutly, as one well used to com- 
 ])laints and scoldings. 
 
 "Perhaps after all we had better say nothing 
 to papa about the matter. You are quite safe, 
 my child;" and the mother's eyes had a touch of 
 sincere affection in them, "and so it does not sig- 
 nify." 
 
 "Only I should have liked jiist to have said 
 'thank you' to the poor soldier, and asked if Bran 
 had hurt him very much. Naughty, naughty Bran! 
 You ought not to bite people just because they 
 are shabby-looking. I wouldn't. I'm ashamed of 
 you." 
 
 And the little loving hand, pretending to beat 
 him, was licked by the loving dog, who perhaps, 
 after all, had a moral nature not much inferior to 
 his neighbours. For rags are rjigs — ugly and un- 
 pleasant things — which seldom a man sinks to un- 
 less, in some way or other, by his own fault. True, 
 there may be what the French law-coiirts call "ex- 
 tenuating circumstances;" but how is a dog to judge 
 of these? Kags are rags, and he treats theni ac- 
 cordingly. 
 
 Most bipeds would have treated similarly the 
 poor soldier, for he could not have been a good man
 
 72 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 — scarcely even a respectable man — since, when on 
 putting liis head out to ask, "Is this the station for 
 Holywell '? " he was answered roughly as porters 
 usually answer third-class passengers, he returned 
 evil for evil in language equally rough • — nay worse, 
 after the manner of soldiers. It contrasted ill with 
 his delicate ajDjDearance, small hands, refined fea- 
 tures, and so on — which had made the old woman 
 call him "sir;" or else it showed that in whatever 
 rank of life he had been born, he had dropped from 
 it down and down, acquiring gradually the habits 
 and manners of the class to which he fell. If he 
 had been born a gentleman — which was possible, 
 remembering the many foolish youths who run away 
 and " 'list" — to repent it all their lives afterwards 
 
 — no one could accuse John Stone of being a gentle- 
 man now. The terrible law of deterioration, as 
 certain as that of growth and amendment, had worked 
 in him, equally as in the unhappy-looking lady in 
 the next carriage, who was probably a lovely, merry 
 girl once. For the soldier, whatever he might once 
 have been, was now neither interesting nor attractive. 
 Even his grey hairs, if they indicated old age, — 
 which is not the case always, — failed to indicate 
 also that 
 
 ''Ilonour, lovo, obodionco, troops of fricmls," 
 
 which, as Shakespeare says, ought to "accompany" 
 it. They only affected one with a sense of pity. 
 Wrinkles were there — not few; weary crows' feet 
 were gathering round the dark, deep-set eyes; but
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 73 
 
 of tlio quiet, the dignity, the blessedness of old age, 
 this man had none. 
 
 The train stopped at a small station hidden be- 
 tween two gravelly, furze-crowned banks •, and a 
 porter, passing from carriage to carriage, shouted 
 the name of the place. It startled the soldier out of 
 a sleep, or a dream " — it might be either: he leaped 
 hastily on to the platform, where half-a-dozen other 
 passengers were also getting out — among the rest, 
 Mrs. and Miss Vanderdecken. 
 
 "There's papa!" cried the little girl, and ran to- 
 Avards a figure, short and roiind, and made rounder 
 still by a large fur great-coat. 
 
 The old man — he looked not far from seventy 
 — greeted and kissed her with evidently a fatherly 
 heart, and then stood waiting by the open door of 
 an extremely elegant carriage, which — what with 
 its size and its handsomeness, its spirited pair of 
 horses, its burly coachman and two footmen, much 
 taller and grander-looking than their master — slied 
 quite a lustre upon the little roadside station, and 
 was evidently regarded with no small respect by the 
 other passengers, who crept humbly out — passing 
 behind it, or ducking under the horses' heads — all 
 save the soldier. 
 
 But he, too, stared with the rest at this dazzle 
 of wealth, which formed such a contrast to his own 
 lonely and forlorn poverty. He watched Mr. and 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken get into their carriage, followed 
 by their little daughter, who — sweet soul! — had 
 sharper eyes and a longer memory than they had-,
 
 74 THE womak\s kingdom. 
 
 for just before driving away, she whispered in her 
 mother's ear — • 
 
 "Mamma, I do believe there is that poor sol- 
 dier." 
 
 "Nonsense — impossible!" answered the lady. 
 "And, Gertrude, do leai'n to speak more softly, or, 
 deaf as he is, papa will hear many things we don't 
 want him to hear. Hush now!" 
 
 "Very well, mamma;" and Gertrude relapsed 
 into her corner; but too late, for Mr. Vanderdecken, 
 in the shrill, suspicious tones of deaf persons, asked 
 "what the child was talking about?" 
 
 "Only about some people who amused her on 
 the journey to-day," said the mother. "She is al- 
 ways taking such fancies — little goose! But what 
 are we waiting for? Mr. Vanderdecken, will you 
 bid tlie coachman drive on ? You know we are 
 going out to dinner to-night. I wonder, is it rain- 
 ing?" 
 
 She put her head out of the carriage window, 
 and the station lamp fell full on her face — which 
 must once have been so beautiful, and had much 
 beauty remaining still. 
 
 The soldier, detained by the porter at the gate, 
 leant forward to stare at her. No — not stare — 
 glare is rather the word: an expression that might 
 be in the eye of a hunted animal coming at last face 
 to face with its enemy — its destroyer — the Ne- 
 mesis wliich had pursued it everywhere , as the 
 spectral liounds pursued Action, even to the deeps 
 of hell. 
 
 But this is poetic phraseology, which may ap-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 75 
 
 pear simply ridiculous in describing a poor, broken- 
 down, invalided soldier gazing at a rich and hand- 
 some lady: so let us content ourselves with merely 
 saying that — in common with the rest of the world 
 — John Stone took a good look at Mrs. Vander- 
 decken, as he was certainly justified in doing — and 
 then moved away, walking rather staggeringly, as if 
 his feet were weary or numb , to the further end of 
 the station. 
 
 Ere long he reappeared and presented himself be- 
 fore the station-master. 
 
 "I could easily have cheated you, and got away 
 without paying; but I'm an honest man, you see," 
 he laughed. "I came from —," naming the junction: 
 "being in a hurry, I jumjjed in without a ticket. 
 What's to pay?" 
 
 His red coat, and perhaps his grey hair and 
 weather-beaten, sickly looks, stood him in good stead, 
 for after some demur , his word was taken , and 
 he was allowed to pay the few pence of fare re- 
 quired. 
 
 "I assure you it's all right," said he, taking off 
 his knapsack, and showing hidden there a purse full 
 of sovereigns. " I am a capitalist , you see — there 
 was plenty of 'loot' for all of us at Delhi. Tele- 
 graph for my baggage which I left on the platform 
 
 at . Name, John Stone, — th Regiment; and 
 
 you can keep my traps here till you see me again, 
 which you may pretty often, for I mean to stop in 
 these parts." 
 
 "Very good, sir;" — the "sir" being due partly 
 to the sight of the sovereigns, and partly to an im-
 
 76 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 pression made apparently on otliers besides the old 
 woman, mother of defunct "Tom" — that this man 
 was a little above an ordinary private soldier — better 
 born — better educated. If better in any other way, 
 who could tell? Alas, the higher the height, the 
 deeper the fall! 
 
 He fastened up his knapsack again, undid from 
 it his grey soldier's overcoat, and wrapped himself 
 in it, with a shivering look out, for the brief bright 
 sunset had closed in a drizzle of rain. With a care- 
 less nod to the station-master, he shouldered his 
 property and passed out; then stopped. 
 
 "Hollo, porter! you'll be civil now, I dare say. 
 Which is the road to Holywell?" 
 
 "Holywell village, or Holywell Hall?" 
 
 "Not the Hall, this time. Is there a village too? 
 How far off?" 
 
 "Three miles." 
 
 "Straight road? No missing of one's way, as 
 fools do sometimes, and I ahvays was a fool. Come, 
 look sharp, man, for it's turning out a Avet night, 
 and I haven't a carriage to go home in, like your 
 big Mr. Vandcrdecken." 
 
 "Do you know him, sir? Then maybe you be- 
 long to these parts, and are going home?" 
 
 "Yes, I'm going home some day. But not just 
 yet. I don't look very lit for work, do I now? but 
 I've got a precious deal of work on my hands before 
 I go home." 
 
 "I'm glad to hear it," returned the porter, a little 
 frightened at his excited manner; he had heard of 
 such things as sunstrokes in India; this poor soldier
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 77 
 
 miglit have had one and got liis brain a little turned. 
 So putting up compassionately tN'ith Jiis oddness and 
 roughness, the man, who was a good specimen of 
 the thoroughly respectable British peasant, as railway 
 porters often are, let him civilly out of the station 
 gate, and took a good deal of pains to direct him in 
 the right road, and start him ofif therein; not sorry 
 to be safely rid of him. 
 
 "That's a queer fish," said he, confidentially, to 
 the station-master. "He's seen some rough usage in 
 his life, I reckon. A little cracked here," tapping 
 his honest forehead. "Hope the poor fellow '11 do no 
 harm to hisself or liis neighbours." 
 
 Meanwhile John Stone pursued his road inno- 
 cuously enough. Whether "cracked" or not, he 
 seemed to meditate no evil to anybody. He walked 
 quickly on, more quickly than his delicate appearance 
 would have made probable, until he came to a place 
 where there were a few small houses and a church, 
 when his speed suddenly flagged. He leant against 
 the churchyard wall, behind which a few scattered 
 grave - stones glimmered in the rainy dark , and 
 coughed convulsively and painfully, so that a woman, 
 standing at her open door, crossed over to look at 
 him, saying, — 
 
 "You seem rather bad." 
 
 "Not I; only I've walked fast, and my breath's 
 short." 
 
 "I'll get you a drink, if you like?" 
 
 "Thank you," and accepting the literal "cup of 
 cold water" — for he would take nothing else, though 
 she offered him beer — John Stone leant a few
 
 78 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 minutes longer against the low wall, with the church- 
 yard on one side of him, and on the other the open 
 cottage-door, casting into the darkness a flood of 
 cheerful light. 
 
 The soldier cast his eyes from one to the other 
 of these two houses — of the living and the dead — 
 neither of which opened for him. Perhaps he thought 
 thus, for he sighed, then thanked the civil woman, 
 in a softer tone than he had yet used to anybody, 
 adding in answer to her question, — 
 
 "No, I can get on quite well. I'm not in a con- 
 sumption, though it looks like it. I'm used to this 
 cough — • it's only that my heart is rather queer: I 
 once had rheumatic fever." 
 
 "Eh, rheumatic fever leaves folks' hearts queer 
 as long as they live. I know that by my master. 
 He had it terrible bad ten years ago, and I've got 
 to look pretty close after him still. Have you got a 
 missus to look after you?" 
 
 "No. Good-night!" 
 
 It was said sharply, fiercely almost, as the soldier 
 suddenly started off' at his old quick pace and dis- 
 appeared into tlie gloom. 
 
 Another long mile did he tramp through muddy 
 country roads, guiltless of gas or pavement, or even 
 raised footpath, to guide the traveller through their 
 miry abysses. Sometimes he came upon a few cot- 
 tages, but they were all closed and dark. It was 
 growing into one of those dreary November nights 
 when everybody is glad to shut even the humblest 
 door. At last he ])assed them all by, and came out 
 upon a high common, across whose blank gloom
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 79 
 
 nothing was visible except a liuiix; windmill, a\ liicli 
 stretched its ghostly anns skywards, and interposed, 
 its still blacker bnlk against the level darkness. For 
 not a star had appeared, tlie rain came driving and 
 pelting, the wind had arisen, and now on the ex- 
 posed ground blew fiercely enough. It seemed in 
 travelling over the miles of invisible country belo\v, 
 to have carried with it, like an overtaking fate, all 
 the damps and fogs of the unknown or forgotten 
 region it had passed over. It pierced to the bone 
 the Indian soldier, and then blew him about at its 
 mercy, helpless as a withered leaf. 
 
 He tried to draw his cap over his eyes, and 
 ])ulled his coat closer about him, so as to meet it 
 like a man — a Briton — -this wholesome British wind; 
 but he had just come from a foreign climate, and 
 the time of youth and strength was with him gone 
 by. After struggling on a little he cowered and 
 quailed before the blast, and sank down, vainly 
 trying to shelter himself under a furzy bank, nnit- 
 tering something between an oath and a moan. At 
 this moment, two glowworm-like lights came glinmier- 
 ing across the pitohdark common, travelling nearer 
 and nearer till he distinguished the sound of horses' 
 feet; and there passed him a close carriage, satin- 
 lined, and with a lamp inside, so as to show plainly 
 the two occupants. They were an old man, and a 
 lady, still only middle-aged, or she looked so, in the 
 becoming splendours of her dinner-dress, her white 
 fur, her velvet and diamonds. She sat in her corner, 
 and her companion in his: neither paying any heed 
 to the other, as wealthy married couples going out
 
 80 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 to dinner could scarcely be expected to do. They 
 looked comfortable indeed, but not liappy — it is a 
 curious fact tliat "carriage people" seldom do look 
 liappy, and as they drove slowly past, the soldier 
 had no difficulty in recognising the magnates of the 
 neighbourhood, Mr. and Mrs. Vanderdecken. 
 
 Of course they no more saw liim than if he had 
 been a bush at the road-side. But he saw them, and 
 as soon as they passed, he leaped up and shook his 
 fist at them in a manner that almost justified the 
 railway joorter's suspicions as to his sanity. 
 
 "Curse you! curse you! by day and by night, 
 by bed and board, eating and drinking, sleeping and 
 waking — curse you ! " 
 
 Was it the frantic howl of poverty against wealth 
 — of failure against success — of misery against 
 happiness? Or was it something deeper still — some 
 old link of the past which these fine folks stirred in 
 the breast of the poor j^oldier, so as to turn him, for 
 the time being, into a veritable madman? 
 
 Yet he was neither mad nor sun -struck, and 
 when his sudden fit of fury had subsided he gathered 
 himself up to try and battle with the wind a little 
 further. He seemed to have been long used to "rough 
 it," as soldiers must. 
 
 ]*rcscntly lie came to the verge of the common, 
 and saw tlirougli the misty, rainy gloom a line of 
 houses, implying some sort of a village; and coming 
 nearer, the wet and weary man cauglit the welcome 
 glow and sound of a blacksmith's forge. He en- 
 tered it. 
 
 "Is this Holywell?"
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 81 
 
 "No, Holt. Holy well's nigh half <a mile further." 
 
 Stone leant against the doorway utterly worn out. 
 
 "Can I get a night's lodging here?" 
 
 "I reckon not. There's no public near, except 
 Mother Fox's over the way, where there's 'good 
 entertainment for man and beast.' If one don't suit 
 'ee tother may. Ho, ho!" 
 
 "Ho, ho! I wish I was a beast," laughed the 
 soldier, with a careless air, as if he were acciistomed 
 to put up with all sorts of jokes, and every kind of 
 company. "Then, at least, I'd get a dry stable to 
 put my head into this horrible night. But come, 
 show me the way to Mother Fox's." 
 
 It was a small, old-fashioned, village public-house, 
 and as he laoked in at the door, which ojiened at 
 once upon the bar, he was stared at hard by the 
 little knot of Saturday-night customers, whom the 
 landlady was serving as fast as she could. 
 
 "Can you give me a liight's lodging here?" 
 said he. 
 
 Either his voice sounded unlike what might have 
 been expected from his appearance, or some other 
 cause made the busy landlady stop and notice him, 
 and at once he recognised in her the inquisitive old 
 lady who had addressed him in the railway carriage. 
 
 "Bless us, is that you? Wlio'd ha' thought it? 
 But come in, my good man, and I'll make you very 
 welcome. I've a warm heart to soldiers. Deary me, 
 how wet yoii are!" feeling his coat -sleeve*, "and 
 you're just as thin as a skeleton besides. Come in 
 to my kitchen fire and warm yourself." 
 
 "Thank you," said Stone, gentler. Under all his 
 
 The Woman's Kingdom. II. t)
 
 82 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 surly ways lurked a vague, pathetic gentleness, or 
 as if lie had been gentle once. " You are very good 
 to me, Mrs. " 
 
 "Fox, my name is. Dorothy Fox, — and this is 
 the Groat and Compasses, a very respectable house, 
 though I says it as keep it, and uncommon com- 
 fortable." 
 
 "And joxi can take me in?" 
 
 "Well, sir," said she, after eyeing him over again 
 pretty sharply, "we don't usually take in travellers 
 as we knows nothing of, indeed the place is too 
 small. But my daughter's away, and if you likes 
 to have her room till Monday, you can." 
 
 "How do you know I shall not take myself ofi' 
 without paying my bill on Monday? .We're a bad 
 lot, we soldiers." 
 
 "So poor Tom said. But you can't harm me 
 much, and I'll trust you. Come along." 
 
 He followed her, and was soon basking in the 
 bla/.e of the huge lire with an air of comfort that 
 seemed to afford liis hostess real pleasure. She 
 looked at him incjuisitively, esi)Ocially when he took 
 off' his forage cap and showed his bare bald crown, 
 though the fringe of curly locks under it, unlike his 
 beard, was still black, or only slightly touched with 
 grey. 
 
 "You're not so old as 1 took you for, my young 
 man — for you're young comjtared to me. How 
 many years might you have been in the service?" 
 
 "A dozen or more ])erha[)S. I don't remember." 
 
 "Tlien you didn't 'list as a lad? Volunteered, 
 maybe?"
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 83 
 
 "Ay." 
 
 "And you're only just back to old England, did 
 you say? Ycu must find everything very strange." 
 
 "Very strange. Get me my supper, will you? 
 I'm starving." 
 
 lie spoke in a sharp, irritable tone, which even 
 a woman and a landlady could not well submit to; 
 so she brought him his bread and cheese in offended 
 silence, and troubled him no more till he had moved 
 from the table to the old-fashioned settle near the 
 fire-place, where, overcome by weariness and warmth, 
 he soon fell fast asleep. 
 
 Then Mrs. Fox's heart relented. He must have 
 been so excessively tired, poor fellow, and, besides, 
 heavy slumber is such a softener of most faces. Not 
 of all — some people look all the uglier or the 
 wickeder; but others seem to slip back through the 
 gates of sleep — as of death — into the land of their 
 pristine innocence, and wear a look so helpless and 
 appealing that one could not hate even one's direst 
 enemy if one came upon him fast asleep. 
 
 John Stone slept, in his great exhaustion, as 
 soundly and softly as a baby — slept, sitting as he 
 was, for no doubt his military life had accustomed 
 him to go to sleep anyhow, anywhere. He scarcely 
 moved from his original posture, but just let his 
 head fall against the high back of the settle: while 
 his hands, thin and yellow, di-opjiod upon each knee, 
 and then curled up drowsily, like a baby's hand. 
 His foi'ehead lost its knotted wrinkles, and if one 
 could have seen his mouth through that long, rough, 
 grizzly beard, doubtless it would almost have smiled. 
 
 G*
 
 84 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 For he seemed, under the influence of the plea- 
 sant warmth and the strange contradictory vagaries 
 of slumber, to be carried entirely out of the present 
 into some golden dream-land. He gave vent to a 
 little low sound — almost like a laugh — and then 
 began to talk in his sleep — at first quite unin- 
 telligibly, and then uttering a name: "jSe^^y," Mrs. 
 Fox thought it, and concluded it was his wife's or 
 his sweetheart's — probably long dead and gone. 
 
 "Poor fellow, maybe that's what he 'listed for. 
 Likely he's seen a peck o' troubles," said she to 
 herself, looking at him, and uncertain whether she 
 should wake him or not, for it was time to shut up, 
 only she grudged rousing him out of what seemed 
 such a happy slumber. 
 
 But fate broke it, as she does many a deeper 
 dream. There was a sudden clatter of pewter pots 
 and glasses in the bar, creating such a stir that the 
 soldier started up with the frightened look of one 
 who did not know where he was. 
 
 "Never mind — there's nothing the matter. You 
 dropped asleep and was a-dreaming, my dear," said 
 Mrs. Fox, jiatting liim on tlie shoulder with a motherly 
 air. "You're at tlie Goat and Compasses, the best 
 public in all these parts, and Dolly Fox '11 make 
 you very comfortable. Your bed's ready — hadn't 
 you better be a-taking yourself off now?" 
 
 "Thank you," said the soldier, sliaking himself 
 wide awake, tliough he still stared about him some- 
 what wildly. "Yes, I remember all now. Give me 
 a light. I'll go to bed — I'll go to bed." 
 
 He disappeared, and was not seen or heard of 
 again till far into the Sunday morning.
 
 THE wojla.n's kingdom. 85 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Sunday was a quiet and respectable day in Holt 
 village. No Cockney Sabbatli-breakers or Sabbath 
 holiday-makers, according as people chose to term 
 them, had as yet found out its prettincss, or if they 
 had, its distance from the nearest railway station 
 saved it from being a place of easy resort. Con- 
 sequently, its Sunday was still a rest-day. No 
 swarms of destructive feet trod down its green fresh 
 common, where fern, thyme, and heather flourished, 
 and the bright yellow furze blossomed all the year 
 round. No tea-garden, or bedizened public-house, 
 or even a solitary refreshment-stall, destroyed the 
 delicious peacefulness and thorough rurality of the 
 spot : the windmill, the forge, Mrs. Fox's small, A^diite- 
 washed, old-fashioned inn, and a few cottages of 
 similar date, being the only harm it had as yet re- 
 ceived from bricks and mortar. 
 
 And on this Sunday morning, when after a wild, 
 rainy night the weather brightened up, as it does 
 sometimes in November, and the whole earth and 
 sky became transfigured into a wonderful blueness 
 and clearness, that showed the landscape, distinct 
 and exquisitely-coloured, for many, many miles, — 
 this upland common, so fresh and breezy, quiet and 
 fair, Avas a sight to do a man's heart good in spite 
 of himself That is, a man whom nature had made 
 sensitive to external influences — as not every man
 
 86 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 is; but to those who are, life's delights are doubled. 
 Also, perhaps, its pains. 
 
 John Stone crawled down, late and lazy, to his 
 long-waiting breakfast in Mrs. Fox's parlour. 
 
 "Pull down the blind — I hate sunshine," was 
 all he said to her, as he fell languidly to his solitary 
 meal. 
 
 'Wlien she came to remove it, she was dressed 
 all in her Sunday's best, and hinted that Holt Church 
 "went in" at eleven o'clock, and it was a good mile's 
 walk across the common. 
 
 "I never go to church," said the soldier, ab- 
 ruptly. Then, as with a second thought, "But don't 
 let me hinder you from going. I shall want nothing 
 more." 
 
 " Thank' ee. Only Avhat shall you do when I'm 
 out'? — for I always lock up the house o' Sundays. 
 I'm a lone Avidow as can run no risks." 
 
 Stone laughed. "Do you think I look like a 
 swindler or a burglar — that I shall break open your 
 cu]»boards and carry off your plate? No, no. I'm 
 a bad fellow enough, but I'm not in that line of 
 business. Make your mind easy, old lady. Lock 
 up your house, and I'll turn out and wander about 
 somewliere till you come back." 
 
 "You're very obliging," said Mrs. Fox, looking 
 somewhat compunctioiis. "I'll be back in two hours, 
 and yoii might amuse yourself that while seeing the 
 Park. It's a })rctty ])ark — the Vanderdeckens'." 
 
 John Stone jumped up from his chair, savagely 
 ])ushed it from him, and began Avalking up and down 
 the room.
 
 THE WOMAN'S KINGDOM. 87 
 
 "Big people are tliey? and have a fine place, no 
 doubt? I'll go. Where is it?" 
 
 "Just across the next common. You turn along 
 the park-palings till you come to a stile, where there's 
 a board put up witli 'Please to keep the foot-path.' 
 That's old Vanderdecken's doing. He couldn't stop 
 the right of way, but he narrowed it down as much 
 as he could, and made the place as private as pos- 
 sible. That's the trick of your stuck-up new-comers, 
 as never kneAv their own grandfather. Not like the 
 good old families that are quite sure o' themselves, 
 and so they're never frightened to let us poor folk 
 come a-nigh them, lest we should find out that the 
 only thing as makes the difference between us and 
 them is clothes." 
 
 Either John Stone, who looked a clever fellow 
 liimself, was struck by the old woman's sharpness 
 — or in his loneliness he rather liked a little con- 
 versation — but he did not discourage her gossip. 
 He even asked a question or two about these Van- 
 derdeckens, and when they had come to the neigh- 
 bourhood. 
 
 "Three years ago. He bought the Hall, which 
 was just dropping to ruin, and built it into a big- 
 house — far too big for him, poor silly old man , for 
 he has got no son to come after him — only one 
 little daughter. But lie's mighty fond of her, they 
 say — fonder than lie is of anything, except his 
 money." 
 
 "He's a miser, then?" said the soldier, eagerly. 
 
 "Not exactly — or else, like most of your miserly 
 folks, he'll spend pretty well where lie fancies it, or
 
 88 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 where the money shows. Though I'm not saying 
 aught agin the Vanderdeckens-, she's a kind lady 
 enough, and wonderfully good-looking, and sees after 
 the schools, and has her finger in all the charity 
 doings. And he has restored Holt Church — they're 
 very regular church-goers, both on 'em — and put in 
 it a big painted window in memory of Anne, only 
 sister of Jacob Vanderdecken, who died at the Cape 
 of Good Hope, some'at about fourteen years ago. 
 You see I knows it all off by heart, sir, for I sits 
 opposite to it every Sunday, and sometimes when 
 I'm inclined to be sharp upon "Old Van," as we 
 calls him hereabouts, I've thought folks' memories 
 are so short in this world, that there must be some'at 
 not bad in a man Avho remembers his sister for more 
 than a dozen years. But I beg you pardon for 
 going on like this." 
 
 "No, no," said Stone, absently. "As you say, 
 folks' memories are short, very short. There's a 
 proverb about a man's name outliving him half a 
 year, if he builds churclies-, and about funeral baked 
 meats that did coldly fiiniish forth marriage tables." 
 
 "Be that in the Proverbs — the Bible, I mean?" 
 
 "No, in a much better book." Then, seeing how 
 shocked and scandalized the good soul looked, he 
 half apologized: "You think me a heathen, or an 
 infidel?" 
 
 "Not a bit of it, sir. I hope you're a good 
 Christian." 
 
 "There you mistake," said the soldier, looking 
 up witli gleaming eyes. "I'm no thief. You needn't 
 be afraid of my robbing your house and murdering
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 89 
 
 you. But I am uo Cliristian. I don't believe in 
 anything, or anybody." 
 
 'Tm sorry for it. But you're young still, I 
 reckon, and perhaps before you die the Lord will 
 bring you to a better mind." 
 
 "Will He? Then why hasn't He done it already? 
 Why didn't He do it years ago?" 
 
 "I can't tell, sir," and the old lady laid down 
 the table-cloth she was folding, and clasped together 
 her Avithered hands. "That's just Avhat I said to 
 myself when poor Tom was shot, while Jim Brady 
 beside him, as was nobody's son and nobody's hus- 
 band, and all the village was glad to get rid of — 
 Jim hadn't a scratch. Why doesn't the Lord do a 
 many things that He doesn't do, and leave undone 
 a lot more that one thinks He ought to do? I can't 
 tell, sir, and I suppose nobody can. However, there's 
 the bells beginning, so I'll go to church and say my 
 prayers: that can't come amiss anyhow." 
 
 The soldier was silent till just as she had cleared 
 everything away, when he said suddenly, — 
 
 "I'll go to church with you, Mrs. Fox, if you 
 are not ashamed of my company." 
 
 "Oh, sir." 
 
 "But, mind you, I'm not like you. I don't go 
 to say my prayers: I go for my own— amusement. 
 Yes, we'll call it amusement;" and he laughed. 
 
 "Never mind, if only you'll go. Them as isn't 
 against Him is for Him, says the Bible. And you'll 
 see our church; and as for our parson, whether or 
 not you like his sermon, it'll do you good only to 
 look at his face."
 
 90 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 So in a few minutes more tliat strangely matched 
 pair of churcli-goers — they could not be called 
 worshi2Jpers — the stout landlady in her best black, 
 permanent widow's weeds, and the thin, spare, sickly 
 soldier, took their way across the common, guided 
 by one of those fine peals of bells such as are heard 
 nowhere but in England. It poured through the 
 windless, sunshiny air in the familiar chime — ting, 
 ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting — and then a 
 clash, as if tlie whole eight bells had rushed upon 
 one another and fell crushed into one solid mass of 
 music. The soldier stopped to listen-, his hollow face 
 grew still more wan, and his lips began to tremble. 
 
 "You like our bells? we reckon 'em very fine," 
 said Mrs. Fox, gratified, "I suppose it's pretty long- 
 since you've heard a good chime of English bells?" 
 
 He nodded. "What's that?" pointing to some- 
 thing in the view, perhaps to make a diversion in 
 the conversation. 
 
 "What do you mean — them steeples?" 
 
 "No, that (picer sort of building, which seems 
 crawling along tlic horizon like a big caterpilLar, 
 witli two towers, like horns, one at its head, and the 
 other at its tail?" 
 
 "You're very funny, sir," answered Mrs. Fox, 
 excessively amused. "1 daresay you must have been 
 rather a droll cliap altogether when you was young. 
 A caterpillar! Well, it is like it; and to think tliat 
 you didn't know what it was! To be sure, you've 
 Ijeen a good bit away from England. But did your 
 folk never send you any newspapers, and never tell 
 you about the Crystal Palace?"
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 91 
 
 "No," replied tlic soldier, in such a sliarp, 
 trenchant tone, tliat Mrs. Fox determined never to 
 mention his "folk" to him again. She was convinced 
 there was "some' at wrong" concerning them, and 
 though by no means deficient in feminine curiosity, 
 still there had been quite enough of household tra- 
 gedy in her life of seventy years to make her com- 
 prehend that every heart has its own burden of 
 grief, and that it is often kindest and best to notice 
 nothing, but to "let sleeping dogs lie." So, without 
 further questioning, or indeed any conversation at 
 all, she took her companion across the common and 
 down a village street, to the church, against the low 
 wall of which he had leant the night before. 
 
 It was an old building, but modernised into com- 
 fortable unpicturesqueness. Nothing about it was 
 very noticeable, except a solitary yew-tree, which 
 kept guard over a few ancient, nameless graves. Of 
 the modern memorials, one caught Stone's eye, as 
 it would anybody's, being a long, wooden board, 
 ])lantcd lengthwise on a grave, with the name and 
 dates very plain, and underneath, bigger and plainer 
 still, the Avarning text, ''^ Watch therefore^ for ye know 
 not at what hour the Lwd comethy 
 
 The soldier turned and regarded it with some 
 curiosity, which slowly faded away into a con- 
 temptuous sneer. He might have been going to say 
 something sneering, doubtless, but the old woman 
 beside him Avas walking on so rpietly witli her 
 grave Sunday face-, and likewise he seemed to no- 
 tice for the first time that she was in widow's weeds. 
 So, infidel as lie was, or called himself, Stone shut
 
 92 THE woman's KINaDOM. 
 
 his lips together, aud followed Mrs. Fox in silence 
 to the church-door. 
 
 "Take oflf your hat," she whispered — not too 
 soon, for he was marching into the half-filled church 
 like a man in a dream, regardless alike both of the 
 place and the people. 
 
 Still, when warned, he recollected himself, atid 
 obeyed, blushing a little, like a reproved child. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Fox; I had forgotten 
 my manners. I have not been inside a church-door 
 these fifteen years." 
 
 "Oh, my dear soul, how shocking! Stop, stop!" 
 again restraining him. "The church is free*, but 
 somehow we always leaves them foremost seats for 
 the gentry. Sit you down here." 
 
 For he was going right up to the chancel, where, 
 close in front of the Avhite-s])read communion-table, 
 which some old-fashioned folk still call, and believe 
 to be, "the table of the Lord," was a handsome pew, 
 oak-carved, crimson-cushioned, and well furnished 
 with Bibles, prayer-books, and hymn-books, of the 
 hugest size. 
 
 "You mustn't go in tliere, it's the Vanderdeckens' 
 seat-, but you can see their window just as Avell from 
 here, and the clergyman too. Do sit down, sir." 
 
 For she still kept putting in the instinctive "sir," 
 as with a suspicion tliat the man was, or once had 
 been, Avhat peoj)]e term a gentleman. And he both 
 interested and fidgeted her so mucli, that the poor 
 old woman hurried over as fast as possible her cus- 
 tomary prayer, aud then turned, uneasy as a hen
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 93 
 
 over a yoiing duckling, to see what lier /protege was 
 doing". 
 
 Notliing di-eadful, certainly. "\Aniatever lie him- 
 self might be — Jew, Turk, infidel, or heretic (Mrs. 
 Fox classed them all together, as the Prayei'book 
 does, and knew no more) — he had sat down de- 
 corously and harmlessly beside her, staring about 
 liim a little too much, perhaps, but still not more 
 than many Avell-bred people stare, at the "gentry" 
 who came filing in — the good old families who 
 lived in the good old red-brick houses, solid and 
 square, of the Georgian era, which Mrs. Fox had 
 pointed out on their way to church. 
 
 "None o' them's the Vanderdeckens, though; 
 they always comes in by the chancel-door; and she's 
 worth looking at, being a fine woman still, and 
 dresses mighty grand. I sees her in a new bonnet 
 every second Sunday at least." 
 
 John Stone bent his head assentingly to this 
 whispered feminine communication, and then sat 
 quietly and decently enough, his hands clasped on 
 his knees, and his eyes steadily fixed at the opening 
 door, too much in shadow to be very noticeable, else 
 he too might have been thought worth looking at. 
 He had been decidedly handsome, and, had he had 
 a smooth life, might have been handsome to extreme 
 old age; but it was one of those artistically moiilded 
 faces, dark yet delicate, and all alive with what our 
 grandmothers used to call "sensibility;" in which 
 a hard or troubled career soon wears out all the 
 beauty, and, indeed, alters the whole appearance; so 
 that after some years a mother would scarcely re-
 
 94 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 cognise her own son. And his bald head and full 
 grey beard gave him, at first sight, the look of a 
 man not far oS sixty, though, examining him closer, 
 he was not nearly so old. 
 
 He sat, staring about him-, for, as he had averred, 
 he came to clmrch not to pray, but merely to amxise 
 himself, until, last of all the congregation, appeared 
 the Vauderdeckens. 
 
 There were a group of three — father, mother, 
 and little girl. A big footman preceded them to 
 their pew, shoAved them in, placed an additional 
 book there, and left them. Then this wealthy family 
 dropped their heads on their hands for a minute's 
 space of prayer, like other "miserable sinners." 
 
 Yet undoubtedly they looked exceedingly com- 
 fortable. Mrs. Vandcrdecken's violet silk dress was 
 rich in hue as the painted window, and her ermine 
 fui-s were dazzling as the purest snow. Certainly 
 she knew the art of dressing well, and had every 
 opportunity for exercising it. Her little girl, too, 
 was clad as a rich man's daughter should be, though 
 no splendour of clothes could make her anything 
 but an oi'dinary cliihl, in whom one vainly sought 
 the smallest trace of the mother's beauty. Another 
 thing, also, one did not find ha])[)ily, — the mother's 
 peevish, unsatisfied expression, which dulled all her 
 loveliness, like a sweet landscajie oversj^read with 
 mist and rain. 
 
 Gertrude's (piick eyes roamed round the church, 
 and soon met John Stone's. She whis[)ercd some- 
 thing to her mother, and then Mrs. Vanderdcckcn 
 also turned, and fixed her eyes — her large, blue,
 
 THE woman's KIKGDOJl. 95 
 
 soulless, uncomprelienfiing eyes — upon the poor 
 soldier. Fixed them leisurely, looked him all over 
 from head to foot, apparently secinji; nothing in him 
 but a very shabby, broken-down fellow, and then 
 turned back again to her daughter, wliispering some- 
 tliing back. Something kindly no doubt; for the 
 little girl blushed and looked pleased, and continued 
 her investigation of the soldier in shy glances, which 
 she hardly restrained from breaking out into j)ositive 
 and most undecorous smiles. 
 
 But the mother did not look again. She had 
 done her duty, all that could be expected of her; 
 and then the poor man evidently passed from her 
 memory. He did not belong to her and her circle 
 of thought at all-, she put him aside and settled 
 hei'self to her comfortable devotions. 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken was, as Mrs. Fox had said, 
 decidedly worth looking at; and John Stone did 
 look at her all church-time. Just a glance or two 
 did he expend upon the little fat old man beside 
 her, one of those men who are only remarked in 
 society as their wives' husbands; yet there was an 
 obstinate jn-otrnsiou of his undt'r lip, and a glitter in 
 his small keen eyes, whicli accounted for Mrs. Van- 
 derdecken's hesitation at "telling papa," and imjilied 
 at least a possibility that the large handsome lady 
 married to the ugly little man was not so much "the 
 grey mare," as appeared probable. 
 
 John Stone apparently was a stiuh'ut of luiinan 
 nature, for he seemed to take in all this and more. 
 From his post of observation he let not a movement 
 in the Vanderdecken pew escape him. No avenging
 
 9G THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 ghost could fix u]Don it and its occupants steadier or 
 stonier eyes. He paid attention neither to the prayers 
 nor to the sermon-, merely got u^) and sat doAvn when 
 Mx'S. Fox urged him to do so, but otherwise made 
 no pretence of worsliip. Whatever he was, he was 
 at least honest. And when, escaping from his hard 
 fierce stare, which harmed them not, for they never 
 saw it, the Vanderdecken family, with the humbler 
 portion of the congregation, bent their heads to re- 
 ceive the final benediction, "the peace of God which 
 passeth all understanding," this man, in whose 
 countenance was no peace, held it up, as if at once 
 hating them and accusing them to the silent heaven, 
 which had beheld all, and prevented nothing. 
 
 "Come," said Mrs. Fox, touching him as he 
 stood erect and motionless, "the likes of us always 
 goes out first, the gentry afterwards. Though it's 
 being sacrament Sunday, the most of 'em stops 
 behind; the Vanderdeckens always do, except the 
 little miss. Come along." 
 
 She led him, walking more like an automaton 
 than a man, down tlie church aisle, and out into the 
 air, wliicli blew shar])ly across tlie cliurcliyard, and 
 made him sliiver witJi Iruliau sensitiveness all ovei*. 
 
 "Let's make haste," said the old woman. "It's 
 coming on to rain, and I've my Sunday clothes on; 
 besides, I want to get home and cook a bit o' 
 somc'at hot for your dinner; — you'll want it this 
 shar}) day." 
 
 "Thank you; you're very kind to think of me," 
 said — with a sudden change of voice — the poor 
 soldier.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 97 
 
 It did rain, and rained, pitilessly, the whole re- 
 mainder of the day, as these bright winter mornings 
 have a trick of doing; so neither Mrs. Fox nor her 
 charge, as she now seemed fairly to consider him, 
 crossed the threshold again. Stone spent half the 
 afternoon in sleeping, with his head against the 
 scitle, dropping off as if from sheer weakness, on 
 the intervals of smoking his pipe, which he did to 
 an unconscionable extent. Beyond it, indeed, he 
 seemed to care for nothing, neither amusement nor 
 occupation; asked for no books, though Mrs. Fox 
 brought him several; good Sunday books — "Pilgrim's 
 I'rogress" and "Hervey's Meditations among the 
 Tombs." At last, pitying his utter indifference to 
 anything, she risked her Christianity enough to fetch 
 liim a newspaper. But the world seemed to have 
 completely slipped from him, or he from it, so that 
 he took no more notice of the Times itself than if it 
 liad been a sheet of blank pa2Der. Never was there 
 a sadder spectacle of a man with nothing to do, and 
 no strength to do it; a sick soul in a worn-out body. 
 And yet, whenever he fell asleep, the boyish, in- 
 nocent look came back, till the old woman stood 
 and watched him with a pity that she could not 
 suppress. 
 
 "I doubt if you're long for this world, and 
 maybe you'll not be sorry to get out of it," said she 
 to herself, looking at him from over the big Bible 
 which she always scrupulously read of Sunday 
 evenings. "Poor fellow! I shouldn't like to be 
 your mother, I reckon. My Tom's happier where 
 
 The Woman's Kiiir/dum. II. <
 
 98 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 he is, and so am I, than if he'd come back to me 
 like you." 
 
 Yet the remembrance of poor Tom was so strong, 
 that when, just before bed-time, Stone asked her 
 abruptly if she would take him in for a few more 
 days ^ — -a week or two perhaps — Mrs. Fox, though 
 she had never seen the colour of his money, assented. 
 "You can stop if you like, for I've a weak side 
 to soldiers. Maybe you're a long way from your 
 home?" 
 
 "Yes — -a long way." 
 
 "Then you're right to try and get a bit stronger 
 
 before you go there. Holt is a healthy place, they 
 
 say, and then there's Holywell. You may spend 
 
 half your time in wandering about Holywell Park." 
 
 "I mean to." 
 
 "If you'd like me to name you to the butler 
 there — he's a friend of mine — you could come and 
 go about the place as you fancy, with nobody to 
 hinder you." 
 
 "Nobody will hinder me." 
 
 It might have been said either as fact merely, 
 or else a threat, for the tone of it caught Mrs. Fox's 
 attention. Slxe shook her head. 
 
 "Ah, my man, I'm afeared you're one of them 
 radicals as hates all ricli folk, for nothing on earth 
 hut being rich folk, whilo we belongs to what they 
 calls 'the lower classes.' But I never troubles my 
 head al)out such things; and when you're as old as 
 I am, and liavc gone through all I have gone through, 
 mayhap neither will you." 
 The soldier was silent.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 99 
 
 After awhile lie said, "I've been tliinking-, Mrs. 
 Fox, that I ought to tell you my name, or give you 
 some warrant for my respectability." 
 
 "Just as you like, sir. Of course it's better and 
 more satisftictory to all parties, and, besides, our 
 rector, he always calls when he sees a new face in 
 church, for he's as good as a father to the whole 
 parish, and I'd like to be able to tell him I'd got a 
 decent man in my house. Who shall I say, sir?" 
 
 "John Stone, private — th regiment; discharged 
 invalided, with a pension. Besides, in case I should 
 starve upon that — your British nation is not too 
 generous to broken-down soldiers — look here!" 
 
 He showed her, as he had done to the railway 
 porter, the bag of sovereigns. 
 
 "It's loot — honest loot, I assure you; at least, 
 so far as loot ever is honest. And perhaps your 
 millionnaires — your Vanderdeckens , for instance — 
 made their money in no more creditable way." 
 
 "Oh, sir, I never heard anything to Mr. Vander- 
 decken's discredit. He is a very respectable gentle- 
 man." 
 
 "Well, so am I; that's all. Will you trust me 
 now?" 
 
 The old woman looked at him hard. "I think 
 I'd have trusted you anyhow. But I can't tell. 
 I've been took in a good many times. I often think 
 the world's made up o' two sorts o' folks — thoui as 
 puts upon others, and them that is put upon their- 
 selves; and it's pretty hard for the last, only, maybe, 
 the Lord loves 'em best, after all." 
 
 "Does He?" 
 
 7*
 
 100 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Don't you sneer, sir-, you may live to think 
 different from what you do now. Young folks fancy 
 they've found out everything, but old folks know 
 they've never done learning." 
 
 "You're a wise woman, Mrs. Fox." 
 
 "I wish I was, sir; I wish I was! But good- 
 night to you. You've had a dull Sunday, if this is 
 your first Sunday in England." 
 
 An innocent trap which caught nothing. Stone 
 neither answered yes nor no. 
 
 "Anyhow, you'd better go to bed now, and per- 
 haps you'll feel not so bad on Monday morning. 
 Good-night. As the young ladies used to say where 
 I was nursemaid forty years ago (I was brought up 
 among my betters, sir, and I'm used to their ways), 
 'Sound sleep, pleasant dreams, and a blithe wak- 
 ing.'" 
 
 " Never in the world, and there may be no other 
 — I hope not, for I could not stand it. I am so 
 tired, so tired!" 
 
 It was not said bitterly or blasjthemingly, only 
 in utter Avcariness, and Stone left his thin wasted 
 hand for a minute in the old woman's palm, which 
 had grasped his own in rough cordiality. But she 
 was so shocked at what he had said that she dropped 
 it at once, whereupon he slowly turned away, took 
 his candle, and went uj)staii\s; to meet that long, 
 lonely night which is eitlier the utmost fear or the 
 only comfort of sucli as lie, • — till God prepares 
 for them that bed wliich may be sweeter than they 
 know.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 101 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Holywell Hall, whatever it had originally 
 been, Avas now transformed into one of those splen- 
 did modern mansions peculiar to England, and to 
 the taste of English merchant princes; exclusively 
 modern: for, like Mr. Vanderdecken , these com- 
 mercial magnates have seldom known a grandfather; 
 and most of them see the wisdom of escaping entirely 
 from the sombre glory of unattainable ancestral 
 dignity, into the tangible magnificence of present 
 wealth. 
 
 Everything at HolyAvcll was solely of to-day, 
 except a wall or two left standing for picturesque- 
 ness, and the gigantic trees of the park, which could 
 not well be re-grown, and made trim and new, or 
 very likely Mr. Vanderdecken would have done it. 
 In the house he did as he chose. The upholstery 
 was of the latest style; the tables, chairs, mirrors, 
 and pictures — all being equally regarded as furni- 
 ture — had not one antique Haw. In fact, the whole 
 contents of the mansion might have come — half of 
 it did come — bran-new and specklessly perfect, 
 from the Great Exhibition of All Nations, tlien just 
 closed. It was altogetlier a very splendid abode, 
 complete in all its arrangements, and lacking nothing 
 that money — which can purchase taste, among other 
 trifles — could supply. 
 
 The only thing it wanted — if, indeed, such a
 
 102 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 want is worth mentioning — was tliat intangible 
 something which may be called the soul of a house, 
 in contradistinction from its body; which makes you 
 conscious of the presence and influence of somebody 
 who loves the dwelling and takes 23leasure in it, 
 either for its own sake — we can get attached to 
 dead bricks and mortar, for want of anything better 
 — or for the sake of some human being belonging 
 to it. This soul, which can inhabit and inform with 
 its own beauty and brightness a very poor abode, 
 does not always dwell in a rich one, and certainly 
 did not dwell at Holyw^ell Hall. 
 
 Nevertheless, it was a fine place, and perfect of 
 its kind: quite above criticism, indeed, except that 
 a captious observer might say, if it had a fault, it 
 was that, like its mistress, its handsomeness verged 
 on too much of splendid solidity. You found in it 
 none of the play of variety, the SAveet little untidi- 
 nesses — such as a book out of its place, a bit of 
 work left in a chair, or a child's toy on the floor, 
 which make a house look inliabited and home-like. 
 From end to end you might traverse Holywell Hall 
 and not discover aught amiss, not even in Mrs. 
 Vanderdecken's boudoir, where she sat every morn- 
 ing — scarcely for business, domestic or otherAvise: 
 she had notliing to do; but merely because most 
 ladies in the neighbourhood had such a room, and 
 were always found sitting there before luncheon. 
 They also — as she found on coming home from 
 abroad — had the good old English habit of needle- 
 Avork, so Mrs. Vanderdcckcn likewise ado{)ted it, 
 and Avas generally seen Avith a beautiful embroidery
 
 THE WOilAN's KINGDOM. 103 
 
 frame before her, where she was making a fender- 
 stool for a charity bazaar. At least, she put in a 
 stitch or two when she felt inclined, and her own or 
 Gertrude's maid continued and completed the task. 
 
 The effect of the elegant work, and the diamond- 
 ringed fingers moving over it, was very good, while 
 as for the room, it was perfect, and arranged with 
 an especial view to those rosy half-lights which set 
 off to the best advantage a lady whose complexion 
 may naturally be supposed beginning to fade a little. 
 Very little in this case: and all that art could do to 
 sustain waning nature, was undoubtedly done for 
 the wealthy IVIrs. Vanderdecken. 
 
 Yet she looked dull, as she almost invariably did 
 of a morning, for visitors rarely came so early, and 
 she never saw Gertrude till lunch. The child was 
 always up and at work by eight, with her daily 
 governess, while the mother never rose till after ten, 
 leaving her husband and daughter to breakfast alone 
 together, as they had done ever since the little girl 
 was two years old. 
 
 Gertrude was an only child. Mrs. Vanderdecken 
 would have liked a son best — a son and heir to all 
 this property. Still, she was very fond of her little 
 daughter. Women, who seem otherwise to have no 
 heart to speak of, have very often the mother's 
 heart — at least, that natural instinct which belongs 
 equally to brutes and human beings, yet is a sacred 
 instinct in its way. Mrs. Vanderdecken had it. She 
 had petted Gertrude extremely during infancy, and 
 now, as she was growing up into a companion, clung 
 to her, as such silly women do cling to anybody
 
 104 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 who will take a little of tlie burden of existence off 
 their shoulders, 
 
 I have called her a "silly" woman-, but perhaps 
 that is not quite fair. There was no absolute silli- 
 ness in her, no more than there was absolute bad- 
 ness; she looked merely negative — made up of 
 negatives: the kind of woman who, if left alone, 
 Avill wilfully do no harm to any one, but sleep 
 thi-ough life like a Persian cat upon a velvet cushion 
 — sleek, and a little uninteresting; but quite harm- 
 less, — or looking so, at least. 
 
 She herself seemed interested in nothing to any 
 great degree. She had no favourite pursuits. Her 
 sitting-room was in perfect order; the book-case iin- 
 touched; the piano unopened. She idled wearily 
 over her embroidery, yawned two or three times, 
 and pulled out her jewelled watch to sec how the 
 time went on — time, wliich to some gallops so fast, 
 but which with her seemed perpetually to crawl. At 
 last, unable to bear her weariness of it or of herself 
 any longer, she rose and rung the bell. 
 
 "Tell Miss Vanderdccken to come up to me the 
 minute she has iinished lessons." 
 
 But when, shortly after, the child came bounding 
 in with an exuberance of life that made her almost 
 pretty for the time being, tlie mother's only welcome 
 was a fretful rcproacli. 
 
 "How rough you are, Gertrude! and liow very 
 long you have been at lessons! Wliat detained 
 
 you?" 
 
 "My history, mamma. I was in Queen Elizabeth's 
 reign, and I wanted to finish it."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 105 
 
 "That is a trick you have; — when you begin 
 a thing, you never rest till you have finished it. 
 You are just like your aunt " 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken stopped suddenly. 
 
 "Not like my aunt Anna, surely, though papa 
 fancies it sometimes. But I hope not; for nurse says 
 she was quite an elderly person, — and so fat. I 
 would rather be like my other aunt — aunt Edna; 
 isn't that her name?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Didn't I bring you this morning a letter from 
 my ai;nt Edna?^ — that is, I thought so; for the post- 
 mark was Brook Street," said the child, hesitatingly, 
 as if treading on a forbidden subject. 
 
 "It was from your aunt Edna. She remembered 
 my birthday, which nobody else has done for many 
 a year." 
 
 "Oh, mamma, why didn't you tell me your birth- 
 day? and I would have given you something pretty; 
 and wished you 'many happy returns.' Isn't that 
 Avhat they say in England?" 
 
 "I don't know; I have almost forgotten." 
 
 "Dear old mammy — darling mammy!" cried 
 the child, fondling her. "Now, won't you show me 
 the letter from aunt Edna? I should so much like 
 to see it. I wonder if she writes as nicely as she 
 talks? Where is it? in your pocket? Do give it 
 me." 
 
 "Little girls should not expect to see their 
 mamma's correspondence," Mrs. Vanderdecken an- 
 swered coldly; "and you know so little of your 
 aunt, that it is impossible her letter can interest you.
 
 106 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 She is well, and so are all the family. That is 
 enough for you to know." 
 
 Gertrude looked disappointed, but urged no 
 more. 
 
 "And, by-the-bye, child, you need not say any- 
 thing about the letter to your jiapa. He does not 
 know the Stedmans, and they are in such a different 
 sphere of life from ourselves, that it is not likely 
 we shall be very intimate with them. So the less 
 we talk about them the better." 
 
 "Very well, mamma." 
 
 The child's answer was given Avith that care- 
 less acquiescence which neither implies assent nor 
 obedience. Perhajis, unperceptive as she was, the 
 mother had sense enough to discern this, for she 
 said, after regarding her daughter uneasily, — 
 
 "You must really mind what I say to you, 
 Gertrude. You are always taking fancies to people, 
 and you are not old enough to choose acquaintances 
 for yourself Promise that you will make none with- 
 out telling me. You ought to tell me everything. I 
 mean your papa and me, of course." 
 
 "But, mamma, you don't ahvays tell papa every- 
 thing." 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken looked extremely annoyed, 
 and her vexation took refuge in dis2)leasure. 
 
 "You naughty, impertinent child, how dare you 
 say sucli rude things to your mother — your iwor 
 mother, who has no comfort in the world but you!" 
 
 Neither the anger nor the jjatlios seemed to affect 
 the child very deeply, probably she was well used
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 107 
 
 to both. She only stroked her mother's hand with 
 a sort of patronising affection. 
 
 "Dear okl darling, I didn't mean to vex you. 
 I'll never do so no more — till the next time; and 
 I'll be the goodest girl that ever was, if you will 
 only let me go once again to see my aunt Edna." 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken turned away very bitterly. 
 
 "You ungrateful girl, you don't care two pins 
 for your mother now. It is all your aunt Edna." 
 
 "No, it isn't; how could it be?" returned 
 Gertrude, jDractically. "Because my mother is my 
 mother, and my aunt Edna I have only set eyes on 
 twice, an hour each time, counting the hour last 
 week when I met her at the Crystal Palace with 
 cousin Julius." 
 
 "Julius; is that their eldest boy's name? Oh, 
 yes; I remember now. You seem to have caught it 
 up very readily." 
 
 "Because I thoiight it such a funny name, and 
 when we were walking together by the fountains, I 
 asked him who they had called him after — was it 
 Julius Ca;sar? and he said no, it was after an uncle 
 he had, who had been dead a great many years." 
 
 "Yes; a great many years." 
 
 There was something in Mrs. Vanderdecken's 
 manner which struck the child — who was as quick 
 to observe as her mother was slow — for she said 
 at once, — 
 
 "Did you know of him, mamma? What was he 
 like? Was he my uncle also? Did you ever see 
 him?" 
 
 No! the lady was just going to reply, but the
 
 108 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 contemptible lie — tlie lie of fear — died upon her 
 lips. Falsehood was so difficult, so impossible, with 
 her young daughter looking right in her face with 
 the honest gaze of a child. 
 
 "Yes," she said, "I did know him once a little. 
 But he was no relation of yours — only Dr. Sted- 
 man's brother. He went out to India and died 
 there." 
 
 "How did he die?" 
 
 "He was drowned, I believe." 
 
 "Where? in the sea?" 
 
 "In the river Hooghly, I think; but I never 
 heard much about it. And now, my dear, you need 
 not catechise me in this way, for I really can tell 
 you nothing more. And you must not ask any 
 more about — about Mr. Stedman." 
 
 "Why not? Oh, I understand," and the little 
 maid's face suddenly became tender and grave. 
 "We ought to be careful in speaking about people 
 who are dead. And perhaps they were very fond 
 of him — his own relations I mean — and very sorry 
 when he died." 
 
 "Perhaps they were," said Mrs. Vanderdecken. 
 
 She rose from her chair and stood, her full 
 height, opposite tlic full-lengtli mirror. Her lips 
 were a sliade ])aler tlian tlieir usual rich colour, and 
 she evinced a slight uneasiness and gravity of manner 
 sucli as most people show in speaking of any ini- 
 pleasant subject, a shocking accident, or discreditable 
 history, just enough to convince the quick-witted 
 Gertrude that somctliing mysterious lay behind, and 
 make her resolve, poor little unconscientious girl as
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 109 
 
 she was — alas! she had no example of conscienti- 
 ousness — that in sjiite of her mother's prohibition 
 she would question cousin Julius closely about his 
 uncle the very next time she got a chance of see- 
 ing him. 
 
 "There is the bell, let us go down to luncheon," 
 said Mrs. Vandordecken, with an air of relief, and 
 taking her little daughter's hand with an appealing 
 sort of fondness, which sat touchingly on the large 
 splendid woman, she passed slowly down the marble 
 staircase, crossed the hall, and entered the dining- 
 room-, where, in somewhat cheerless state, she, Ger- 
 trude, and the governess, were accustomed to take 
 their mid-day meal together. 
 
 She Avas very silent throughout it; but then who 
 could expect her to talk much to a mere governess? 
 Slie never interfered in the teaching, but always 
 showed the utmost distaste for, and ignorance of, tlie 
 jiroceedings of the schoolroom. And whenever she 
 addressed the little elderly lady who taught Gertrude, 
 and had been a teacher of children all her days, it 
 was with a reserved dignity that showed plainly the 
 difference between poor Miss Smith and Mrs. Vander- 
 decken, of Holywell Hall. 
 
 Yet she was not unkind, or uncivil, or unlady- 
 like: here too, the extreme negativeness of her 
 character prevented her from doing anything de- 
 cidedly amiss, and no doubt Miss Smith woidd quite 
 agree with Mrs. Fox, and with most other people, 
 in finding no fault with, nay, even praising the 
 great lady of the parish. It takes so little to gain
 
 110 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 popularity when one has an indefinite number of 
 thousands a-year. 
 
 Meantime, Gertrude chattered incessantly to her 
 mamma or her governess, with the Avondrous merry 
 heart of twelve years old, so that gradually the 
 vexed look — it was only vexation , not sorrow — ■ 
 passed from the mother's face, and she listened with 
 a lazy smile, glad to catch the present pleasure — ■ 
 and such an innocent pleasure too. If she ever 
 looked really happy, this poor rich woman, whose 
 life seemed so barren of everything but riches, it 
 was when in the company of her little girl. 
 
 "It is very odd," said she, half to herself, when 
 the governess had retired, and the child still went 
 chattering on, "but though, as papa says, you are 
 like the Vanderdeckens, and not a bit like me still 
 there is about you sometimes a queer look of your 
 aunt Edna." 
 
 "Are you sorry for that, mamma?" for while 
 Mrs. Vanderdccken spoke, she had slightly sighed. 
 
 "Sorry! what makes you fancy such a thing? 
 Dear me, no; except that your aunt Edna isn't pretty 
 — never was. Still, as I ahvays tell you, good looks 
 are of no importance. I'm sure I never got any 
 benefit from mine!" (with another sigh). "No, child: 
 you are better as you are, and I daresay your aunt 
 Edna would tell you tlie same thing." 
 
 "Would she?" and Gertrude indulged, for a 
 wonder, in a few moments of silent meditation. 
 "Please, mamma, when is aunt Edna coming here?" 
 
 "I really don't know." 
 
 "Will she never come here?"
 
 THE AV0MAn\'3 KlNflDO>f. Ill 
 
 "How can I say? Your papa asks to liis house 
 whoever he pleases; and probably he doesn't want to 
 ask my sister." 
 
 "But don't you want her, mamma? Did you 
 ever really tell papa you wanted her? Shall I tell 
 him?" 
 
 "Oh, dear no; not upon any account," said the 
 lady, hurriedly, caught, as she continually was, by 
 her honest child, in the very ambush under which 
 her weakness hid itself. "The fact is, the Stedmans 
 are so different from us that we do not care to invite 
 them; nor do we think they would enjoy themselves 
 if they came. But for all that, she is a good person, 
 an exceedingly good sort of person — your aunt 
 Edna." 
 
 So saying, Mrs. Vanderdecken rose and ordered 
 the carriage, while Gertrude, who hated being shut 
 lip in a close brougham, begged to be allowed to 
 take a run in tlie Park witli "old nurse," a coloured 
 woman over whom she ruled supreme. 
 
 "Just as you like," the mother said, peevishly; 
 "you are always glad to go out with anybody but 
 me, and to do anything that I don't particularly 
 want you to do. And what you can find to amuse 
 you in the park, these dull, damp, winter afternoons, 
 is more than I can see." 
 
 "0, mamma, I can amuse myself anywhere, if 
 only I am let alone." 
 
 "Just like your aunt Edna, — as like her as two 
 peas!" muttered Mrs. Vanderdecken. Then in her 
 velvet, fur-trimmed cloak, with her filagree gold 
 card-case in her hand, she stepped into her carriage,
 
 112 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 to pay the never-ending, still-beginning round of 
 visits, which constituted the principal duty and solace 
 of her life. 
 
 Her little daughter trotted off: trotted is just the 
 word for the round, compact little figure, pattering 
 resolutely upon its small dots of feet, the merry 
 face shining under a round cap of chinchilla fur, the 
 hands tucked inside her muff, and gathering close 
 about her a scarlet cloak, like Little Red Riding 
 Hood. She was not a pretty, nor even a picturesque 
 child; but she was a child; which is a great deal to 
 say for her in the present generation. And, withal, 
 she was a quaint, self-contained, self-dependent little 
 soul, not taking much after either parent, but be- 
 longing to some far-back, long- forgotten Dutch type; 
 while, ever and anon, there reappeared in her that 
 curious likeness to her mother's English sister, which 
 seemed at once to annoy and to touch Mrs. Van- 
 derdecken. 
 
 She trotted through the park, this funny little 
 maid, appearing and disappearing among the bushes, 
 in her scarlet brightness, not unlike a cheery, plump, 
 merry robin -redbreast. 
 
 It was one of those dull days, when, foreignei's 
 say. Englishmen are all inclined to go and hang 
 themselves. Tlie mossy Avalks, once so soft and 
 green, were now spongy and sodden; dead leaves 
 lay everywhere in rotting masses, except the few 
 left on the trees, which fluttered mournfully against 
 tlie murky sky. l]verythiug was at the transition 
 time when earth seems as if slie could not reconcile 
 herself to winter, but lies, abject and helpless, grieving
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 113- 
 
 over her own decay, with the grief of a man over a 
 wasted life, or a woman over her love-life all done. 
 — Dark days, di-eary days, Avhether in the year 
 or in human existence; yet they must come to 
 us all. 
 
 Ay, even to poor little Gertrude; though as yet 
 she understood them not, nor seemed in the least 
 affected by the gloominess of the day. She went 
 gaily on, stamping on the wet moss, and leaving it 
 in little ponds, shoe-shaped, behind her; or kicking 
 the dead leaves about at every step, in exceeding- 
 fun. Soon she quite distanced the nurse, who, in- 
 deed, was only too glad to be let slip, and returned 
 to the house, as was her custom, telling nobody — 
 and well certain that Gertrude would tell nobody — 
 of her absence; inconvenient candour being by no 
 means the rule of the Vanderdecken household. So 
 Gertrude came alone to her favourite play-place, — 
 an odd-shaped ornamental pond, possibly, in far back 
 centuries, the original "holy well." Several oaks, 
 now huge and hollow wdth age, with quantities of 
 ferns, and even stray brambles, growing in their 
 hearts and on the crevices of their gnarled ai*ms, 
 had been planted round its brink. Also a ycAv-tree, 
 Avhose enormous branches swept the water, and 
 stretched over it almost to the island in the centre, 
 which some later hand had made and adorned with 
 rhododendrons and other flowering plants. A some- 
 what dreary spot, because it was not wholly Nature, 
 • — Nature never is dreary, — biit had in it a forlorn 
 mingling of art. But Gertrude made herself quite 
 happy there, and after feeding her water-fow'l, the 
 
 The Woman's Kingdom. II. O
 
 114 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 only inliabitants of tlie spot, wlio swam towards lier 
 in a chilly appealingness, as if the black-looking 
 pond were almost too much, even for ducks, she 
 climbed to her favourite post — the arm of the largest 
 oak-tree which overhung the water — and sat swing- 
 ing there, Ophelia-like, — not singing, certainly, but 
 indulging in cii^tle-building, as this solitary rich 
 man's child, so unlike both her jjarents, was rather 
 prone to do. 
 
 Hers was, however, a very modest and matter- 
 of-fact castle: nothing more than a pretty summer- 
 house, which she Avoxild coax the gardener — Gertrude 
 was hand-in-glove with all gardeners and humble 
 folk on her father's property — to build for her, and 
 to which she would invite, if possible, who? . . . 
 Casting her thoughts round about, she could find no 
 better visitors, or more to her mind, than her aunt 
 Kdna's five boys, with cousin Julius at their head, 
 if only cousin Julius — a big, manly youth — would 
 only condescend to come. Perhaps there, under the 
 influence of tea and cake and cousinly feeling, she 
 might coax out of him what she was sure must be 
 most romantic and mysterious — the whole history 
 of his uncle and namesake, Julius Stedman. 
 
 In default of this, she began to invent it for 
 herself, being in the habit of making up stories, 
 heroic and pathetic at will. By-and-bye, she grew 
 so absoi'bed in her own imaginations, that she let 
 lier muff dro]» off into the water, and was nearly 
 following it herself, when a strong hand caught hold 
 of her. 
 
 It was a man, wlio liad cre2)t near and been
 
 THE womanVs kingdom. 115 
 
 watching her intently for Kevoral minutes, only in 
 her absorption she neither heard nor saw him. I'ro- 
 hably he had not meant to be seen, since he had 
 hidden himself behind the yew-tree, save for the 
 instinct which made him stretch out a hand to save 
 the child from ftilling into the water. 
 
 "Take care, little miss," said he, gruffly. "That's 
 an unsafe seat for a child like you. Are you alone?" 
 
 Yes, she was alone. Not a creature to protect 
 her from the grini man, Avho spoke so roughly, as if 
 he hated her, and was ready to do her any sort of 
 mischief. But Gertrixde was not a cowardly child; 
 if frightened at all, it was usually at supernatural 
 things; and this was only a man. In fact, as she 
 perceived the minute she took courage to look at 
 hiln closer, a man already knoAvn to her by sight — 
 the poor soldier, avIio she believed had saved her 
 life, and whom she had thought of a good deal since. 
 Surely he never meant to harm her. 
 
 She did not scream, but looked him composedly 
 in the face. 
 
 "Yes, I am quite alone. Why did you ask me? 
 What are you going to do to me?" 
 
 "Do to you, simpleton! what should I do? I'at 
 you up, as the wolf ate Red Hiding Hood? Do J 
 look like it?" 
 
 And he laughed — a horrid kind of laugli, the 
 poor little girl thought — and glared at her with the 
 Avildest eyes she had ever beheld^ or ever imagined, 
 in ogre or giant. Yet he was a small man, com- 
 paratively: thin, and sickly-looking; and while con- 
 siderably frightened, she also felt sorry for him. 
 
 8*
 
 116 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 Perhaps he Avas a little crazy, and she had heard 
 that madmen ought to be humoured, and treated as 
 if one were not the least afraid of them. So she 
 answered, though inwardly quaking, as gently as she 
 could, — 
 
 "You would be a very bad cruel man, to kill a 
 poor little girl who never did you any harm." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 "And if you did kill me," gathering courage as 
 she spoke, "you would be punished for it. Papa 
 would have you hanged." 
 
 The soldier laughed again. "And how would 
 that benefit you? For instance, your father's hanging 
 me would not bring you back to life again? Might 
 comfort him, though; for revenge is sweet — very 
 sweet " 
 
 And he went on muttering to himself the rest of 
 his sentence. 
 
 Gertrude now grcAv seriously alarmed. She would 
 have run away home; but the man leaned against 
 the oak-tree trunk, and so blocked up her passage. 
 She was compelled to remain sitting on the branch, 
 with her poor little legs dangling over the pond. 
 Thus they kept their positions, these two; for her 
 gaoler seemed to have forgotten her presence, and 
 dropped into a fit of musing, till at last Gertrude 
 ventured to address him again. 
 
 "Please, kind man, let me go. It can't do you 
 any good to be cruel to a little girl like me. I'm 
 very sorry for you, you look so ill; and I would 
 give you some money, only I have none in my
 
 THE WOSIAn's kingdom. 117 
 
 pocket. But 111 tell mamma about you wlien sLe 
 comes home." 
 
 "Is she out, your mother?" 
 
 "Yes, out driving. You might wait for her at 
 the lodge-gates, and she would be sure to give you 
 something. She is very good, my mamma." 
 
 "That's a lie!" answered the soldier, fiercely. 
 
 Then the little maid forgot her fear in a sudden 
 blaze of indignation. 
 
 "How dare you say so? What do you know of 
 my mamma? She is a lady, and you only a com- 
 mon man: not even a gentleman, or you wouldn't 
 talk to me about 'lies.'" 
 
 "Shouldn't I?" returned the man, eyeing in a 
 sort of curiosity the small, fearless face, all ablaze 
 with wrath. Then he said, "You're not like her — 
 not one bit. I won't harm you; you may step 
 down. Allow me to assist you. Miss Vanderdecken." 
 
 He offered her his hand with such a courteous 
 air — not like an ogre at all, she thought, but more 
 resembling the politeness of the yoi;ng prince in the 
 "White Cat," or the Beast, after Beauty had turned 
 him human by loving him — that Gertrude regarded 
 the man with dumb surprise. Instead of taking to 
 her heels, as she had meant to do, she turned and 
 oflPered to shake hands with him. 
 
 "Good-bye. You seem to know my name. I 
 am much obliged to you, and so will my mamma 
 be. For she knows who you are" — (the soldier 
 started) — "and so do I too." 
 
 "Indeed! Who am I?" 
 
 "I think you are the man who pulled me from
 
 118 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 under the train one Saturday niglit. I have not 
 said much about it since; for mamma does not like 
 talking about unpleasant things; and she is easily 
 frightened. But I knew quite well that but for you 
 I should have been dead and buried, and gone to 
 heaven by this time." 
 
 He smiled at the quaint wording; but he could 
 not deny the fact. In truth, with the peculiarity of 
 his nature, in which impressions that seemed slight 
 at first, instead of wearing out deepened down with 
 time, during these three days it had more than once 
 occixrred to him, with a strange, creepy feeling, hoAv 
 very near he had been, and the child too, to the 
 "going to heaven" which she talked about, — going 
 together. How odd such an accident would have 
 appeared! and what a queer coincidence it would 
 have been if they two had been di-agged out dead 
 from under tlie train, and idontiiied (as, though 
 careless enough about himself living, he always took 
 care his body should be identified), — himself and 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken's little daughter! 
 
 Half in mockery, and yet drawn towards her 
 by an attraction for which he could not account, 
 and Avith not at all the sort of feeling which he 
 expected to have had toAvards her, he intently ex- 
 amined the child. 
 
 "Wotild you have liked to 'go to heaven,' as 
 you call it?" 
 
 Gertrude pondered a minute. "No. At least 
 not just yet, I tliink." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because I am quite happy as I am."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 1 1 It 
 
 "Hajipy!" echoed the man, and looked half 
 contemptuonsly, half pitifully at the child. "Is 
 anybody happy, do you think? Is your mother 
 happy?" 
 
 "Of course she is. No, stop a minute-," and 
 the honest little face took an expression which, in 
 its flitting-, shadowy sweetness reminded the soldier 
 of another, — far back in ghostly ages; even as we 
 sometimes see, with a start, the dead and the lost 
 come back to us for a minute in the likeness of 
 some little one of a new generation. "No , I am 
 afraid mamma is not ahvays happy, for she some- 
 times tells me I am the only comfort she has; and I 
 am sure that is very little." 
 
 A gleam of satisfaction — wild satisfaction — lit 
 up the countenance of the poverty-stricken soldier. 
 "Really! she is not happy? All her riches cannot 
 make her happy; nor her husband neither? She 
 and your father quarrel sometimes, don't they?" 
 
 The man seemed (juite carried away out of him- 
 self, or he must have seen the astonishment, mixed 
 with reproof, of the little girl's look. 
 
 "You must be a very odd sort of person, to talk 
 to me in this way about my papa and mamma. 
 Wliat can you know of them? I am very, very 
 sorry for you, and very grateful to you for saving 
 my life; and any amount of money that papa could 
 
 pay — " Here the little girl stopped, confused, 
 
 touched by an instinct stronger than all her educa- 
 tion. 
 
 "I suppose you think — doubtless your mother 
 has taught you — that money can do everything :
 
 120 THE woiian's kingdom. 
 
 but it cannot. I want notliing. I know I saved 
 your life; and I prefer to hold you in my debt for 
 doing so. You may say this to your papa, if you 
 like." 
 
 Gertrude looked puzzled. "I wish I could tell 
 him, and then he might thank you, as I do. But 
 papa knows nothing about this accident, or about 
 you: mamma would not let me tell him." 
 
 "Then she keeps secrets from him — from her 
 own husband?" said the soldier, eagerly. 
 
 "I don't know what you mean by keeping 
 secrets-, and, indeed, if you will let me go away, 
 I had rather not talk to you any more," answered 
 the little girl, almost beginning to cry, with a vague 
 fear which she could not quite get over; while, at 
 the same time, her keen sense of the romantic — 
 and under her funny little Dutch outside there was 
 a deal of romance in Gertrude Vandcrdecken — was 
 interested and excited to the highest degree. 
 
 The soldier had apparently meant more con- 
 versation; indeed, he had taken the trouble to divest 
 himself of his overcoat, and made of it a cushion 
 for the little girl on the tree-arm beside him: but 
 now he took it up again. 
 
 "Very well: you can go whenever you like. 
 Good-bye." 
 
 "Good-bye." Gertrude began walking off as 
 fast as she could fur twenty yards or so, then turned 
 and looked behind her. 
 
 The man was sitting as she left him, with his 
 elbows on his knees, gazing down into the black 
 water. His appearance and attitude were so forlorn,
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 121 
 
 SO wretclied — lie seemed so utterly lonely, sitting 
 there on tlie dreary December afternoon, with the 
 damp white mist beginning to crawl over every- 
 thing — that the little girl, who was going home to 
 a good fire and a bright drawing-room, where she 
 always shared her mamma's cosy five-o'clock tea, 
 felt her heart melt towards him. 
 
 She returned, and touched him on the arm. 
 
 "I beg your pardon; I forgot one thing. Tell 
 me who you are, and where you live? If it is in 
 this parish, I am sure mamma will come and see 
 you; for she has her district, and goes round 
 regularly, unless when she sends Nurse and me in- 
 stead. And I should like to come and see you, too. 
 What is your name?" 
 
 A simple question — the simplest possible, and 
 given with the most innocent, up-looking, kindly 
 eyes; yet it made the soldier start, grow pale, and 
 then blush violently all over his face. He turned 
 sharply away. 
 
 "What does my name matter to you? Why do 
 you question me? What right has your mother to 
 come and see me?" 
 
 "Oh, she always goes to see poor people, or 
 sick people: all the ladies in the parish do. But 
 she shall not come, if you do not wish it. Indeed, 
 if you dislike it so nmch, I will tell her nothing at 
 all about you." 
 
 "That's right!" said the man. And then, with 
 a sudden thought, he added, "If you will promise to 
 tell your mother nothing at all about me, I will 
 meet you here every afternoon, if you like; and I'll
 
 122 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 tell you all sorts of pretty stories, and queer tales 
 about foreign countries. I have been half over 
 the world, I think, and seen curious things without 
 end." 
 
 "Have you really?" said Gertrude, opening 
 wide eyes of delight. Here was an opportunity 
 such as she had often longed for — an adventure 
 delicious as any fairy tale; and the small fact of 
 its being a surreptitious enjoyment did not lessen, 
 but rather increased the charm of it to this poor 
 little soul, who had never been brought up in that 
 holy atmosphere of simple trutli which makes want 
 of candour as impossible to the cliild as it is to the 
 parent. There is a rough and bitter proverb, "As 
 the old cock crows the young cock learns;" and 
 those who sow in small shams not unfrequently reap 
 in large deceptions. In this case Gertrude's better 
 nature made her hesitate a little. "Mamma always 
 bids me tell her everything; but then, to hear end- 
 less stories, as you say — oh! it would be so nice!" 
 
 "Very nice," sneered the soldier; "and all true, 
 of course. Everybody always tells the truth, your 
 mamma included. Come, shall we make a bargain, 
 and shake hands upon it?" 
 
 Yet as the warm little hand dropped upon his, 
 in the sudden foolish confidence of cliildhood, on his 
 side, too, tlie man's higher nature felt a slight u])- 
 springing of conscience, but he battened it down 
 tight and close. To the little girl herself he knew 
 he intended no harm, nay, ho rather liked her than 
 otherwise, and for aught else ^ — what did it matter? 
 
 "Very well, my dear," said he kindly, trying
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 123 
 
 to teach himself to speak to her as he supposed 
 children were accustomed to be spoken to. "Then 
 "we have made what the Scotch call 'a paction' 
 between us. Take care you don't break it. I 
 shall not." 
 
 "Nor I. But" — her ciiriosity getting the better 
 of her — "I should so like to know your name?" 
 
 "John Stone." 
 
 "Thank you. And good-bye again, for I hear 
 the carriage coming." 
 
 She flew off like a bird — like the little winter 
 robin that she so much resembled — and left him 
 alone in the gloomy, darkening mist. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Almost daily, and for many days, John Stone 
 the soldier, and little Miss Vauderdecken, met — 
 accidentally it appeared, but nevertheless by design 
 — in quiet nooks of the wintry, deserted park. 
 Sometimes Gertrude's nurse was with them, some- 
 times not. At any rate. Stone contrived to secure 
 the woman's fidelity, botli by money and by talking 
 to her in her native Hindostanee, she having been 
 originally an .ayah, brought fi'om Calcutta to the 
 Cape. This done, he had no other fear of pre- 
 mature discovery, for at Holywell Hall, as in most 
 large establishments, the comings and goings of any 
 individual item therein were scarcely noticed; not 
 even though it were the young lady of the house. 
 Besides, everybody was accustomed to Miss Ger-
 
 124 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 trude's independent proceedings, wliich formed such 
 a contrast to lier motlier's graceful laziness; con- 
 sequently, the carrying out of this surrejititious ad- 
 venture was easy enough. 
 
 The only trouble in the matter was the child's 
 own conscience, which sometimes woke up, and she 
 begged leave to tell everything to her mamma; but 
 Stone always quieted her with promises that she 
 should do so very soon. Besides, he said, if she 
 were ever found out, and asked any questions, she 
 had nothing to do but to tell her mother the direct 
 truth. 
 
 "But suppose mamma is angry with me, and 
 forbids me to see you any more, what shall I do?" 
 
 She spoke in eager anxiety, for the fascination 
 of this man's company, the charm of his talk, and 
 the interest inspired by his looks and manner — 
 so unlike a common soldier, and so very like, she 
 thought, to a prince in disguise, as she every day 
 expected he would turn out to be — had quite in- 
 toxicated the romantic child. She was not exactly 
 fond of him — was almost afraid of him sometimes, 
 for he had such queer ways — such sudden bursts 
 of excitement; and yet day and night she never got 
 him out of her mind, and Avas always thirsting to 
 meet him again, and hear something new. 
 
 "Your mamma angry?" repeated Stone, with a 
 sneer. "I tliought line ladies were never angry. 
 However, in that case, just send her to me — John 
 Stone, lodging at Mrs. Fox's of the 'Goat and Com- 
 passes,' and I'll make things straight for you di- 
 rectly."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 125 
 
 "Will you really? And will you explain to her 
 that it was all because you made me make a promise, 
 and I could not break it? People should neA^er break 
 their promises." 
 
 "Did she teach you that?" 
 
 "No, but papa did; pajja is A'ery particular. He 
 says, tt'ue in small things, true in great; that if you 
 deceive one person, you'll be sure to deceive another; 
 and he sometimes talks about all this in such a way 
 that he makes mamma cry." 
 
 "Why?" asked Stone, grasping at the family 
 skeleton which the child had betrayed, and inves- 
 tigating it with the zest of a ghoul burrowing into 
 a grave. 
 
 "Oh, because she is a little frightened of him, 
 I think; and yet he does not mean half he says. 
 He is never unkind to me. Only he dislikes mamma's 
 asking him for money; and sometimes he gets into 
 a passion and calls her ugly names, and she begins 
 to sob, and wishes she had never married; and it 
 makes me so unhappy, you can't think. But I ought 
 not to tell you all this." 
 
 "It's no matter. — I'll not tell again. I can 
 keep a secret. Besides, I have nobody to tell it 
 to." 
 
 "Have you no relations — nobody at all belong- 
 ing to you?" 
 
 Stone shook his head. 
 
 "I wish you had had a little girl of your own 
 for me to play with. You were never married, I 
 suppose?" 
 
 "No."
 
 126 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "But you had a father and mother ■ — perhaps 
 brothers and sisters, once?" 
 
 "No sisters." 
 
 "Oh, what a pity! It must be so nice to have 
 a sister. I have no relations at all; at least, none 
 that I shall ever see much of. But that is a secret 
 too," added the child, looking^ graver. "I can't 
 imagine why it is, but mamma cannot bear my talk- 
 ing much altout my aunt — the only one I have — 
 aunt Edna." 
 
 The soldier started. He had been sitting with 
 the child beside him, in the hollow of an old oak, 
 telling his Miinchhausen-like stories, of which how 
 much was fiction, how much fact, he alone knew, 
 and afterwards he had fallen into a sort of dream, 
 as he was prone to do, watching the sunset, and lis- 
 tening to a wren on a tree-toj) near, singing as loud 
 and merrily as if it were the year's beginning instead 
 of its close. Now he seemed startled out of his me- 
 ditations into exceeding agitation. 
 
 "1 beg your pardon, say that name again. I 
 was not listening. Your aunt who?" 
 
 "Aunt Edna, mamma's only sister; indeed I 
 never knew she had a sister till about a year ago, 
 when in driving through London mamma saw the 
 name on a door — IJr. Stedman. That is aunt 
 Edna's husband. He is a doctor, you must know." 
 
 "And he lives — where?" 
 
 "In Brook Street, Hanover Square," answered 
 the little maid, delighted with the importance of 
 giving information. "It is but a little house. When 
 mamma called there, she wondered how they could
 
 THE avoman\s kingdoal 127 
 
 live in sucL a pokey hole, Liit she supposed it was 
 because they were poor still?" 
 
 "Poor?" 
 
 "That is, compared with us; but I don't think 
 they can be really poor people, or if they are, they 
 don't mind it. They all look so happy and merry 
 
 — aunt Edna and her five sons." 
 
 "Five sons, has she?" said Stone, who after his 
 first violent start had settled doAvn into an attitude 
 which he was prone to fall into — stooping forward 
 with his hand over his eyes. He said he had had 
 moon-blindness, and sometimes wore green spectacles. 
 "And — her husband — your uncle?" 
 
 "Oh, you mean Dr. Stedman. Of course, he 
 is my uncle; but I have never seen him. We have 
 only called once, and they never come here." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Nobody seems to Avant it, except me. But I 
 Avant it A'ery much. I should so like to haA^e my 
 cousins to play with, especially cousin Julius." 
 
 Stone sprung up, and then suddenly sat down 
 again, catching hold of a half-rotten branch, and 
 breaking it in little bits as he spoke. 
 
 "I beg your pardon. Go on, child. Toll me all 
 aboixt your aunt, and uncle, and cousins." 
 
 "Would you really like to hear?" cried Ger- 
 trude, highly delighted. "Not that there is much 
 to tell; for I knoAv so A'ery little aboiit them. But 
 they live in Brook Street, as I said, and they are 
 such a happy family, and seem so fond of one an- 
 other. Tavo of the boys are bigger than aunt Edna 
 
 — she is a A^ery little Avoman, you must know —
 
 128 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 and tliey pet her and play with her, and yet seem 
 so proud of her. They tell her everything, Julins 
 says, just as mamma desires me to tell A^'r," added 
 the child, sighing — "only, somehow, I can't. Don't 
 you think there is something about a person which 
 makes you tell them things? But you can't do it, just 
 because they desire you, any more than you could love 
 people because they compelled you to love them." 
 
 The little girl had hit upon a great mystery — 
 perhaj)S the greatest mystery in parental government; 
 but no such ethical or moral question interested the 
 soldier. Yet he did seem interested — keenly — 
 painfully, in what she was saying. 
 
 "Go on. Tell me more." 
 
 "About aunt Edna and her house? Oh, I am 
 sure it must be the happiest house in the world. No 
 wonder they don't care to come to ours." 
 
 "Is that so? Who says it?" 
 
 "Mamma." 
 
 "Oh, then of course it must be true." 
 
 "I wish you saw my aunt Edna. I do like her 
 so!" cried Gertrude, enthusiastically. "She is not 
 pretty, and not a fine lady at all — dresses very 
 plainly, but then she is so bright, and sweet, and 
 kind. The first time I saw her, she took me on her 
 knee and kissed me, and cried a little, saying to 
 mamma that she once had a dear little girl of her 
 own, but it died when a baby. However, she seems 
 very hap})y Avith her iive boys. Oh, I could be so 
 fond of aunt Edna if they would let me! But — 
 hark! I think 1 hear wheels. I must run indoors 
 before mamma comes home. Good-bye."
 
 THE avoman's kingdom. 129 
 
 "GJood-byc," said Stone. He had seemed to pay 
 little attention to hdv latter words; but when she 
 was quitting him, he called her back. "Stop. Your 
 uncle is a doctor, you say. I might want one. I 
 am ill enough sometimes. Give me his address." 
 
 Gertrude gave it eagerly. 
 
 "Oh, do go to him. I am sure he woxild do you 
 good. And then, perhaps, you would see aunt Eldna, 
 and my cousins, and would tell me all about them 
 when you come back. Only you had better say 
 notlung to them about me." 
 
 "Of coui-se not." 
 
 "I wonder," said the little girl, lingering, as a 
 sudden brilliant idea struck her , " whether you, 
 liaving been at Calcutta , and actually sailed up 
 the Hooghly river, might know anything about — 
 about — " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing particular. Yes, it is something 
 particular, as I can guess from mamma's telling me 
 never to speak about it. There is a secret whicli, 
 if I could only find it out, might be as interesting 
 as any of the stories you have told to me. Listen:" 
 and she placed her lips to his ear in the approved 
 fashion of mystery-mongers: — "Cousin Julius told 
 me that he had, once upon a time, an uncle." 
 
 This communication made nothing like the im- 
 pression she intended. Stone heard it, sitting, rigid 
 as his name, with his eyes fixed on the ground. At 
 last he said — 
 
 "Is he alive?" 
 
 The Wmnnn's Kinjlom. II. 9
 
 130 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "No — ■ dead many years ago, mamma told 
 me." 
 
 The soldier started a little. 
 
 "How did he die — how did she say he died?" 
 asked he, after a pause. 
 
 "He was drowned in the Hooghly. But there's 
 nurse beckoning. I must run. Good-bye." 
 
 "Good-bye;" and Stone sat where she had left 
 him, pondering. 
 
 "Dead! — drowned!" he repeated to himself, and 
 then laughed. "Dead, years ago! Well, it's all true 
 — all true; and better so." 
 
 He rose, hearing the rumble of distant carriage- 
 wheels, and hurried by a short cut to a corner of 
 the park, where he generally lingered at this hour, 
 behind a thick holly bush which was near the park- 
 gates. Thence, he could watch Mrs. Vanderdecken 
 drive slowly through in her phaeton, or brougliam, 
 or landaulet — she had an endless variety of car- 
 riages — but always alone, always dull, as if no- 
 thing in this world ever liad given, or could give 
 her, ])leasurc. 
 
 When she had passed, Stone started up from 
 liis liiding-place, and ranged wiklly over bush and 
 brake, like a man out of his senses, till he came out 
 upon the common, where, seeing decent labourers 
 walking decently homewards in twos and threes, he 
 also did the same, and soon found himself at Mrs. 
 Fox's door. 
 
 The good woman had been very kind to him, 
 though, as she (old confidenlially to all her neigh- 
 bours, she thought liim a little "cracked." But as
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 131 
 
 he was quite harmless, and paid his bill regularly 
 — every morning, because, he said, no one knew 
 what might happen before night — she did not ob- 
 ject to have him staying with her. He had his 
 meals in her parlour; gave hardly any trouble; went 
 early to bed, and was late to rise; never complaining 
 of either his food or his lodging. He took very little 
 notice of anybody, yet there was in him a pathetic 
 gentleness, which won the heart of every creature — 
 certainly every woman — who had anything to do 
 with him. 
 
 "I'll be bouiid he has seen better days, and had 
 folk mighty fond of him some time," was Mrs. Fox's 
 deliberate opinion. "Wliat has brought him to this 
 pass, goodness knows." 
 
 "Drink perhaps," somebody suggested. 
 
 But Mrs. Fox indignantly repelled this accusation, 
 though she owned he sometimes looked as if he had 
 been drinking, and besides his tobacco there was 
 now and then a qixeer smell in his room, like a drug- 
 gist's shop. But it was not brandy, she was certain: 
 nothing ever passed his lips but water in her sight, 
 and if out of it, she would soon have discovered the 
 fact, for she was a great lover of temperance, even 
 though she kept a public-house. 
 
 So, much as they talked him over, the little 
 circle which revolved round the "Goat and Com- 
 passes" could come to no conclusion about John 
 Stone, except that he was rather queer, but certainly 
 not sufficiently crazy to be treated as a lunatic. 
 Still, they let him alone as much as possible: all 
 save the good landlady, who, partly from a love of 
 
 9*
 
 132 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 patronising', and j^artly through real kindness, took 
 him in her charge entirely, and it mixst be owned, 
 very devotedly. 
 
 "Mrs. Fox, what is the earliest train to London 
 to-moiTOW?" 
 
 She was so amazed at the question, that she forgot 
 her ordinary deference, which rather increased than 
 diminished, the more she had to do with Mr.~(as she 
 now always called him) Stone. 
 
 "My dear soul, you don't mean to say you're 
 going ujj to Loudon?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, I am glad of it. It'll amuse you, maybe. 
 Is it for good, or only for a day or twoV" 
 
 "Only for a day or two. 'For good,' as you 
 say, I am not likely to go anywliere. I shall leave 
 my traps with you, and return very soon. Come, 
 come, I daresay in your heart you're not sorry to be 
 rid of me." 
 
 The old woman shook her head Avith one of her 
 sententious remarks. 
 
 "Them as (lielr friends is glad to get rid of, 
 Mr. Stone, are generally them as have never tried 
 to make 'em want 'em. You're no trouble here — 
 f(uite a pleasure; and you'd better stop with me till 
 you goes back direct to yoixr own folks." 
 
 This latter was a thrust, deliberate and pru- 
 dential, for she often felt her responsibility very 
 great, and would liave l)cen really thankful to find 
 out souiething delinite respecting the lonely, sickly 
 man, who might at any time fall ill, or even die 
 upon her hands; but Stone took no notice of what
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 133 
 
 she liad said. Indeed, after the matter of the train 
 was fixed, he scarcely spoke anotlior word, but 
 smoked incessantly till he went to Led. 
 
 He was very late up, so late that he nearly 
 missed his breakfast and his chance of a lift to the 
 station in the butcher's cart, Avhich Mrs. Fox had 
 kindly arranged for him. And as she started him 
 off he looked so haggard, so feeble, that she shook 
 her head more ominously than ever. 
 
 "He'll drop off" some day like the snuff" of a 
 candle. I wish I knew who his friends were, and 
 I'd write to 'em, Avith his leave or Avithout it, that's 
 all." 
 
 But the busy and the poor have not too much 
 time eA'en for compassion, and before Stone was a 
 mile aAvay even his kindly hostess had forgotten him. 
 
 Not a thought from her, or any Imman being, 
 followed the solitary soldier as he took his journey, 
 and at length found himself di'opped into the Avild 
 whirl of London streets, Avhich he trod Avith an un- 
 certain step and dazed, bewildered air, as of a man 
 Avho had noA-er been there before, or so many years 
 ago, that liis experience AA'as no help to him now 
 A\ hatcA'er. 
 
 Besides all this, he had at first a friglitenod look, 
 as if he expected continually to be recognised or 
 spoken to — a fancy whicli country people often 
 have, till they understand London better. London 
 — that mad Babel — so croAvded, yet so intensely 
 lonely, that among the myriads one jostles against, 
 to meet a known face is almost an impossible chance. 
 So he was drifted on — this atom, this nomad, this
 
 134 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 forlorn bit of humanity — ■ in tlie great human tide 
 that went surging right and left down either side 
 the street. Gradually he let himself be swept on by 
 it, as unimportant and unnoticed as a bubble down 
 a stream. 
 
 He turned westward, more by instinct than de- 
 sign, apparently — for he walked like a man half 
 blind and stunned. By slow degrees, however, he 
 seemed to grow accustomed to the crowd; breasted 
 it less awkwardly and timorously, and looked around 
 him a little, as if trying to recollect the places he 
 saw — above all, to recollect himself. 
 
 Then he got on as far as the Cheapside corner 
 leading to St. Paul's Churchyard, when the sudden 
 boom of the great cathedral bell striking eleven 
 o'clock, sent such a shock through his frail, nervous 
 frame, that he leaned staggering against a shop 
 window. 
 
 "Hollo, man, are you drunk, or Avliat?" cried a 
 passer-by, catching hold of him, but meeting no an- 
 swer, no resistance, let him go again. "You're ill, 
 sir. You'd better get into a cab and go home;" but 
 there was no cab at hand, so the stranger hailed an 
 omnibus, Avhicli Stone silently indicated as it passed, 
 and civilly helped him into it, perhaps feeling that 
 he was safer among companions than alone. 
 
 The omnibus was full of the usual average of 
 omnibus passengers, all busy, and self-absorbed, 
 every one going his own way, and paying little heed 
 to his neighbour. Nobody noticed Stone, who turned 
 his face to the glass and watched the gliding by of 
 the various familiar objects along the great western
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 135 
 
 outlet tVoin tlie city. They were scarcely clianged. 
 London looked precisely as he had left it, even after 
 this long interval of years. It seemed only yester- 
 day that he had taken his last omnibus ride home- 
 ward on this very route, the day he left England, a 
 young man, Avith life all before him and nothing 
 behind. Now ? 
 
 Well, we all of us must meet such crises; times 
 when some sharp sudden curve of the river of life 
 brings us face to face with the lost past, and we 
 stand and gaze on it for a moment or two — • startled, 
 saddened , or smitten Avith intolerable pain — then, 
 knowing it irrecoverable, turn our backs upon it, 
 and go on, like our neighbours, our inevitable way. 
 
 Most men, who have at all neared their half 
 century of existence, can understand this feeling; 
 but then few have such a past to look back ujjon as 
 John Stone. 
 
 He rode on a good distance, and then got out 
 and walked, through the quietest and least frequented 
 streets of the West-end, losing himself several times. 
 The only place he stopped at Avas, oddly enough, an 
 upholsterer's shop, in the window of which there 
 happened to be for sale a large swing glass. Stone 
 looked at himself, carefully, from head to foot. 
 
 His was a figure, certainly peculiar, but not 
 peculiar enough to attract notice among the many 
 odd fishes who swim safely and unobserved through 
 London streets. Spare and short — the shortest 
 statui-e admissible by the regulation heiglit of the 
 army — the faded scarlet just glimmering under his 
 grey coat, the foraging cap pulled closely over his
 
 136 THK woman's kingdom. 
 
 brows, and the I'cst of his face almost hidden by liis 
 spectacles and long beard, any special personal ap- 
 pearance lie had was so concealed, that his own 
 mother might have passed him in the street and not 
 have known him. 
 
 Apparently, he satisfied himself as to the result 
 of his self-examination, for shortly, paying no heed 
 to the jeer of a small London boy, that "p'raps he'd 
 know tliat 'ere party agin when he met him," Stone 
 tnrned away from the mirror and passed on — walk- 
 ing much more confidently than before. 
 
 He reached at last Brook Street, that favourite 
 habitat of physicians and other strictly respectable, 
 but not ultra-fashionable people, and walked right 
 down it till he came to Dr. Sted man's door. 
 
 A quiet, unpretending door it was, and belonging 
 to one of those small houses, at least nmch smaller 
 than tlie rest, Avhich ai'e sometimes to be found 
 in tliis neighbourhood. The brougham standing op- 
 posite to it was of the same character; a neat doctor's 
 carriage, arranged with all appliances for books, &c. 
 — evidently that of a man who works too hard not 
 to economise time as well as money by every jios- 
 siblc expedient. The coachman, a decent, elderly 
 man — one of those servants who are not only 
 thoroughly respectable, but confer resj)ectability on 
 their employers — sat on his box, waiting patiently 
 for his master. 
 
 He liad not to wait long. I'unctually at twelve 
 o'clock Dr. Sleduian came out, and stood on the 
 (ioor-stej), talkiug to a poor Avoman who had just run 
 u|) (() lihii: so that the soldier, if he wished it, had
 
 TUB woman's kingdom. 137 
 
 a full opportunity of observing the physician whom 
 he had said he might consult some day. 
 
 Dr. William Stedman — as his door-plate had 
 it — was a tall, strongly built, middle-aged gen- 
 tleman: fair-featured — a little florid perhaps — but 
 Avitli the ruddiness of health only. He was muscular, 
 but not stout, and very Avholesome looking, even 
 though he was a doctor and lived in London. His 
 mouth was placid, his eyes Avere kind. His whole 
 appearance was that of a man who has fought his 
 battle of life somewhat hardly, but has got through 
 the worst of it, and begins now to jjut a cheerful 
 sickle into the harvest of his youth — to reap what 
 he has sown, and prepfire to go forth rejoicing witli 
 his sheaves. A season, often the very best and 
 lirightest of existence to such a man: and the very 
 bitterest to a man who has come to his harvest time 
 with no harvest ready, and finds out the awful, in- 
 exorable truth, that whosoever has soAvn the wind 
 miist reaji the Avhirhvind. 
 
 While Dr. Stedman stood, talking to his patient 
 or applicant — a very poorly-clad and sad-faced 
 woman — John Stone watched him intently. He 
 even crept on a little further, holding by area rail- 
 ings as he went, that he might see him better, and 
 so remained, until the ])hysician, having finished his 
 talk with the Avoman, dismissed her, and then, as 
 with a second thought, called her back, took her 
 into his carriage, and drove aAvay. 
 
 Wlien he Avas gone Stone clung to the railings, 
 tight and fast. One of his violent fits of coughing
 
 138 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 seized him, and for a little he could hardly stand or 
 speak. 
 
 No one took any notice of him — those things 
 are too common in London. He came to himself 
 soon, and then paused to consider what he should 
 do. Bodily exhaustion guided him as much as any- 
 thing, and the horrible fear that he might drop in 
 the street. He went into the nearest shop, a baker's, 
 and asked for a penny loaf and a glass of water. 
 But after he had munched a few mouthfuls, he put 
 the food aside, and taking out of his pocket a queer 
 little eastern-looking box, which emitted a still queerer 
 smell — not tobacco — he extracted and ate a small 
 fragment out of its contents. 
 
 "What's that?" asked the baker's wife, uneasily. 
 "Not poison?" 
 
 "Oh, no! It's my physic — my food — my drink 
 
 — my chief comfort in life, I assure you!" said 
 Stone, in an excited manner, as laying down six- 
 pence and forgetting to take up the change, he hur- 
 ried out of the shop, and was soon lost once more 
 in the maze of London streets. 
 
 Lost — how sad a word it is — how sad and yet 
 how common! And who are the lost? Not the dead 
 
 — God keeps them, safe and sure; though how and 
 where we know not, until we go the way they all 
 have gone. But tlie living lost — the sinners, who 
 have been over-teinptcd and have fallen — the sinned 
 against, who have been hunted and tortured into 
 crime — the weak ones, half good, half bad, with 
 whom it seems tlie chance of a straw whether they 
 shall take the right way or the wrong — who shall
 
 THE woman's kixgdom. 139 
 
 llud tliem? He Avill one day, we trust; He wlio in 
 His whole universe loses, finally, notbinji;. 
 
 Poor Stone had much of this "lost" look, as he 
 wandered about London; uncertainly, idly, like a 
 man who has given up all stake in life and takes 
 no particular interest in anything. Sometimes he 
 stopped at a shop-window, generally a print-shop, 
 and vacantly gazed at its contents, but he never 
 lingered long anyrvhere, and being in his exterior 
 neither a beggar nor a rogue, bust just up to the 
 decent level which makes a man an object neither of 
 fear nor compassion to his fellow-creatures, he was 
 not much noticed by anybody, but just allowed to 
 go his own way • — to work or be idle — feed or 
 starve — live or die, as it pleased himself and Pro- 
 vidence. 
 
 Wherever he wandered, during that long day, 
 Stone always came back to the little house in Brook 
 Street, hovering about it as a ghost might haunt its 
 body's grave; walking to and fro, sometimes on one 
 side of the street and then on the other, and watching 
 every one who went in and out. 
 
 There were many, for Dr. Stedman's seemed both 
 a full and a busy house. People were perpetually 
 coming and going, not a few with those eager, 
 anxious countenances that are ever haunting a doctor's 
 abode. He appeared to have a good practice, and 
 to be not without friends, for several daintily-dressed 
 lady visitors called; and one or two gentlemen in 
 carriages, grave, professional, eminently respectable 
 — the sort of connexions which gather round a man 
 when he begins to rise in the world, and the world
 
 140 THE woman's kikgdom. 
 
 discovers that it may be rather proud of liim than 
 otherwise. 
 
 John Stone the soldier saw all these things. 
 Pacing- the street, and sometimes, that he might 
 awaken no suspicion, hanging about with other for- 
 lorn and shabby-looking loungers on area-steps and 
 at shop-windows, he watclied M'ith hungry glances 
 the continually opening door. Once, struck by a 
 sudden impulse, he even went up to it, and laid his 
 hand upon it, but just that minute two young lads 
 came springing up the steps behind him, all life and 
 gaiety. 
 
 "Hallo, here's an old soldier. Did you want my 
 father, eh, old man?" looking into the stranger's face 
 with a frank, bright smile, which carried with it 
 such a ghostly liJveness, that, after a moment's eager 
 glance at (lie lad. Stone, trembling like an aspen, 
 sliook his liead in silent negative, and went sham- 
 bling away. 
 
 "Tliey must be his boys, of course," nuittercd lie 
 to himself. "Such big lads! Ifis hoys. It seems like 
 dre;iming. But I'm always dreaming." And he laughed, 
 l)ut tlie laugh was half a moan. 
 
 After a few minutes, the two lads reappeared, 
 liringing out witli (hem in (riunijih a litde lady, well 
 furred and cloaked, and evidently jircjiared to meet 
 the still damp day and enjoy it as much as cither of 
 her sons. For mother and sons they were, there was 
 no mistaking that. Tlie elder gave lier his arm, 
 patron isingly and tenderly, as if it Averc a new right 
 wliicli he was ratlier jiroud of claiming, wliile the 
 younger walked beside her, seizing by force her um-
 
 THE WOMAN'S KINGDOM. 141 
 
 brella aud ba.s", and fiouvisliinp,- tliciii about Avitli jiTeat 
 liveliness. Both lads were so full of themselves, and 
 of her, g-uardiug" her on either side, and enjoying 
 lier company with undisguised delight, that they 
 were rather regardless of passers-by, and the elder 
 brushed past Stone somewhat roughly. 
 
 "Take care, Julius," said the lady, in a gentle, 
 feminine voice, fit to win over any number of boys, 
 and yet rule them too, for there was neither weak- 
 ness nor indecision in it. Then turning to the soldier, 
 she added, "I beg your pardon; my son did not 
 mean to be rude to you." 
 
 Stone made no reply, and, after a passing glance 
 at him, she walked on. However, ere crossing the 
 street, she looked back and said a word or two to 
 her second son, who immediately came and spoke to 
 him, civilly and kindly. 
 
 "Are yoii not avcII? Is there anything I can do 
 for you?" 
 
 "No, nothing. Let mc alone!" said Stone sharply, 
 and Imrried away. 
 
 A few minutes after, however, he was haunting 
 the same street — the same door. Almost tliat instant 
 the doctor drove u]) to it, when two little lads, not 
 long past babyhood, going out with their nurse, 
 blocked his way. 
 
 "Papa, papa!" rose in unison, a })erfect shriek 
 of welcome. 
 
 Dr. Stedman stopped and tossed them ujt, one 
 after the other, in his strong arms. 
 
 "My Castor and l^ollux, is it you?"
 
 142 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "We're not Castor and Pollux, we're David and 
 Jonathan. Papa, give us another toss." 
 
 "Not to-day, I'm very husy. Run away, Gemini. 
 Nurse, is mamma at home?" 
 
 And hearing she was not, a momentary cloud 
 crossed his face. 
 
 "Ah, well, she'll be back by dinner-time, and so 
 shall I. Tell her so." And he hurried in with the 
 preoccupied look of a man who has no idle moments 
 to lose. Very soon he came out again, and was 
 hastening to his carriage , when his quick eye 
 caught sight of the figure leaning against his area- 
 railings. 
 
 "Did you want me, my good man? Any mes- 
 sage? Are you a patient of mine?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "I don't reluember your face. But you look ill. 
 I am unfortunately in haste," taking out his watch-, 
 "but still, I could spai-e fully three minutes, if you 
 wanted to consult me." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Good afternoon, then." 
 
 "Good afternoon." 
 
 Pre-occupled as he evidently was, the kind physi- 
 cian gave one half-compassionate glance beliind him, 
 tlien closed his carriage-door and drove away. John 
 Stone stood in the street alone. 
 
 Yes, quite alone now — alone as few men ever 
 are until death. He had come hither Avith no definite 
 intention beyond the natural impulse of most men, 
 to see old ])laces and familiar faces again. After- 
 wards, driven by some vague yearning, some last
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 143 
 
 clinging to this world ;ind all its tender ties, he had 
 experimentalized thus on a mere chance, hardly 
 knowing whether he wished, to succeed or fail. He 
 had failed. 
 
 It was neither improbable nor unnatural that he 
 should have done so, and yet the certainty of it 
 smote him hard. 
 
 "I am quite safe," he said, bitterly. "Nobody 
 knows me. I may go among them all as harmless 
 as a ghost." 
 
 And not unlike a ghost he felt — a poor, wander- 
 ing ghost revisiting the upper world, where his place 
 was now as completely filled up as, j)orchance, even 
 the best-beloved, most honoured dead Avould find 
 theirs, could they return after a season to the hearths 
 tliey sat at, the friends and kindred who once loved 
 them so well; ay, and love them still, only with a 
 different sort of love. It seems sad, and yet it is 
 but a law of nature, most righteous, most merciful, 
 if we look at it as we believe our dead do, grieving 
 no more, either over themselves or us, but rejoicing 
 in their new and perfect existence. 
 
 But Stone was a living man still, and he found 
 his lot hard to bear; yet it was, in some sense, his 
 own choosing. He had slipped away, first in mad- 
 ness, and then with a stunned indifference to life 
 and all its duties; suffering himself to drop without 
 a struggle into the great sea of sorrow, which at 
 some crisis in our lives is ever ready to overwlielm 
 each one of us. It had closed oA'er him. He had. 
 gained his desire. Years of oblivion had rolled be- 
 tween, changing the terrible present into a harmless
 
 144 THE woman's KINODOJt. 
 
 past; and now liis own lAiice and liis own jjeople 
 knew liim no more. 
 
 He turned into Hanover Scj[uare, and walked 
 round and round it, in the gloom of the early dusk, 
 avoiding the houses and keeping to the inner circle, 
 Avhere a Avhite frosty fog hung over the trees like a 
 shroud. 
 
 "It's all right," he muttered, talking to himself, 
 as was his habit — the habit of most solitary j^eople. 
 "They are happy, perfectly happy, as they deserve 
 to be. They have Avholly forgotten me. Of course; 
 they could not but forget. I wished them to forget 
 me. What M^as there to remember except pain? And 
 yet — oh, Will! Kind, loving, good old Will!" 
 
 A sharp sob broke his words. Ashamed, lie turned 
 to see if any chance passer-by was near him; but 
 there Avas no one. The place was as London scjuares 
 are on a Avinter evening — lonely as a desert. 
 
 "Five sons the child said he had. Plenty to keep 
 XI]) the name — the honest, honourable name — Avhich 
 he used to say I should make famous some day. I? 
 What a mockery it seems now! Five sons. Not a 
 bad lielj) for a, nuui when he grows old. That eldest 
 — tlie big fellow, so like his father — must be the 
 one that was the baby. iS/ie used to pet him and play 
 Avith liim." 
 
 lie ground his teeth as he spoke, and talking 
 to himself no more, sped on round and round the 
 circle, like a man possessed; sometimes sto])ping 
 JVom sheer exhaustion, and tlien hurrying on again 
 as if there were an evil spirit behind him. At length,
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 145 
 
 quite worn out, lie crawled back to tlie old spot — 
 the bright little liouse in Brook Street. 
 
 It looked doubly bright in the now thickly- 
 gathering darkness of the street. The Venetian 
 blinds had been drawn down, but not closed, so 
 that any one looking through the interstices could 
 see into the room quite plainly. 
 
 A cosy dining-room, warm and cheerful; gilt- 
 framed prints shining on the crimson-papered walls; 
 a large bookcase at one end; a mirror and sideboard, 
 garnished with what looked like presentation plate, 
 goblets, a claret-jug, &c. , on the other; between, 
 the shining, white-spread family dinner-table, with 
 chairs all round it, evidently meant to be filled as 
 full as it could hold. Standing on the hearth-rug, 
 apparently waiting and watching, but knitting still 
 — for the firelight flickered on the glancing needles, 
 and made a star of light out of one fine diamond 
 Avhich glittered on the rapid little hands — was a 
 figure that looked like the good fairy, the presiding 
 genius, the guardian angel of the whole. 
 
 She was a little person, thin and fragile, more 
 so perhaps than a matron should be, and her fiice 
 was not witliout a look of care — or rather the faint 
 shadow of care gone by. And when it fell into 
 repose there was, as there is in almost all faces past 
 their youth, a slight sadness, enough to make you 
 feel that she had felt, and understood, sorrow. Her 
 hair was already whitening under her little lace 
 cap, and her black silk dress had not the slightest 
 pretence of girlishness aboiit it. Yet there was a 
 youthfulness , light and gay, and an almost childish 
 
 The 'Woman'i Kingdom. II. 10
 
 116 TUB woman's kingdom. 
 
 sweetness in both face and figure, tliat withstood all 
 tlie wear and tear of time. It made folk say, even 
 ordinary friends, but especially lier boys and licr 
 husband, "Ah, mamma will never be an old woman." 
 No, never: for while her heart beat it would be a 
 young heart still. When, more than once, at the 
 sound of wheels she lifted up her face to listen, the 
 brightness that came into her eyes was like that of 
 a girl hearing the lover's footstep outside the door. 
 
 Stone watched her; clinging meanwhile to the 
 railings, grasping them hard, as if the cold iron had 
 been a warm loving hand. Perhaps for a minute 
 his heart misgave him — his bitter, cynical, unbe- 
 lieving heart. One step, one word, and might he 
 not pass out of the loneliness and cold into — what? 
 Would it be a welcome? After all these years, all 
 this change, would it be welcome? He looked 
 down on his rags — they were becoming such, 
 for his money was dwindling away; he put his 
 hand to his head, where the deadly food which he 
 had been chewing at intervals since morning, was 
 slowly bvat surely confusing his facxdties, making 
 him more and more unfit for and averse to all 
 society, or anything that might snatch him out of 
 the drugged n(jcturnal clysium which alone enabled 
 him to bear the torments of the day. 
 
 "No — no; too late! To them I should only 
 be a burden and a shame. Better as it is — better 
 as it is." 
 
 And just as the doctor's carriage drove up, and 
 the door opening of itself, slunved a dainty head 
 leaning anxiously forward from the lighted hall.
 
 THE woman's kinudom. 147 
 
 Stone sluuk back hastily, and staggered aAvay, round 
 tlie street corner, into the misty square. 
 
 Half-an-hour afterwards he crawled back again, 
 but by that time the Venetian blinds had been closed-, 
 the house was all dark. Only through an inch of 
 the upper sash, Avhich was left open for air — it Avas 
 such a small house for a large family — the hungry, 
 weary, shivering man fancied he could hear the 
 clatter of knives and forks, the chatter of lively 
 voices around the cheerful dinner-table, where parents 
 and children met together after the labours and plea- 
 sures of the day. 
 
 "Will! — Edna!" he called, but faintly, and as 
 hopeless of reply as a bodiless spirit might feel, 
 vainly trying to make itself known to the living 
 flesh and blood unto whom it was once so near. 
 "Will — Edna — you were fond of me once, and I 
 was fond of you. I'll not harm you, or trouble you. 
 Be happy! — It is quite true — I am dead, dead — 
 long ago. Good-bye!" 
 
 He hurried away and was soon lost in London 
 sti'eets — the glaring, splendid, Avickcd, miserable 
 streets — once more. Lost ! — lost ! — lost ! 
 
 10*
 
 148 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "Mamma, only listen." 
 
 "Please do, mammy darling!" 
 
 "Lovey! we'll be so good." 
 
 "Children, will you hold your tongues, and not 
 speak more than three at a time? Tlie dear little 
 mother is perfectly deafened with you." 
 
 Mrs. Stedman smiled at her eldest son — her 
 "right-hand," as she often called him — her grave, 
 kind, helpful Julius; but it being, as he said, quite 
 impossible for her to hear herself speak just then, 
 she only shook her head with a Burleigh-like 
 solemnity, and waited till the outburst subsided. 
 
 She had all her young flock at home for the 
 holidays, which, especially in winter, most mothers 
 will recognise as a position not the easiest in the 
 world. Yet Edna was well fitted to be the mother 
 of boys. AVithiu her tiny feminine body lurked a 
 spirit unconquerable even by tlie husband who 
 adored her, and the sons who inherited their own 
 from her. Bright, brave, active, decided, she had 
 learnt to hold her own in midst of the most tumultuous 
 state of things, as she did tliis day. And however 
 gently she might utter it, all knew and recognised 
 that her yea Avas yea, and her nay nay. No one 
 ever attempted to gainsay or dispute either. 
 
 There arc bad women — God have mercy on 
 them! fallen angels, worse than any men — by whom
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 149 
 
 lovers, husbands, sons, are led on to destruction; 
 but almost worse than these are weak women, who 
 have sufficient good in them to make them* half 
 loved while they are wholly despised, by the men 
 belonging to them. Now, whether Mrs. Stcdman's 
 sons loved her or not, it was at once seen that they 
 respected her; respected her as gentle, wise firmness 
 is ever respected; and relied on her, as upon quiet 
 strength, whether of man or woman, childi'cn always 
 learn to rely. 
 
 Silence being restored, she said — 
 
 "No, boys; I am very sorry for you, but you 
 cannot go skating to-day. The ice is not thick 
 enough." 
 
 "Biit, mamma, I saw ever so many on it when 
 Bob and I walked down to the Serpentine after 
 breakfast." 
 
 "You did not go on it yourselves?" 
 
 "Of course not. We |)romised, you know," said 
 Will, with an injured air, at which his mother patted 
 him on the shoulder tenderly. 
 
 "That's my good boy — my good boys, whom 
 I can always rely on. It is hard for you, I allow 
 that; and many harum-scarum, fool-hardy lads may 
 tell you that your mother is a great coward " 
 
 "No, no, no," cried all the lads in chorus, and 
 declared she was the "pluckiest" little mother that 
 ever lived. 
 
 "Very well," she answered, laughing; "I am 
 glad you think so." And then seriouisly, "No, boys, 
 I hope I can bear inevitable risks, nor do I shrink 
 from lawful dangers. Julius will have one of these
 
 150 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 days to take Ms turn at the fever hospital; Will may 
 go in for a Civil Service examination, and be off to 
 India, and Robert turn sheep-farmer in Australia, as 
 soon as his schooling is done. I'll hinder none of 
 yon from risking life in doing your duty; but I will 
 hinder you, so long as you are in my care, from 
 throwing away your lives in a reckless manner. A 
 pleasant thing for papa and me if you went out this 
 forenoon, and were brought home at dinner-time — 
 drowned!" 
 
 "Ju says I'm born to be hanged, and so I shall 
 never be drowned," observed Bob, dryly. 
 
 "Drowned," repeated Will, meditatively. Will 
 was the clever one of the family; always striking 
 out new and brilliant ideas. "It Avould be a curious 
 thing to try what drowning is like. People say it 
 is the easiest death tliat any one can die — quite 
 ]iloasant indeed. Mamma, did you ever know any- 
 body who was drowned?" 
 
 "Hush!" said the eldest brother, quick to notice 
 the slightest shadow in his mother's face. "You for- 
 get Uncle Julius was drowned." 
 
 No more questions were asked. Though the 
 children kncAV no particulars, they Averc well aware 
 that over the life and death of this unknown uncle, 
 their father's only brother, hung a tender, sad mys- 
 tery, which made their mother grave whenever his 
 name was mentioned; and their father sometimes 
 looked at Will, who was thought to resemble him — 
 U)oke(l, and turned away Avitli a sigh. And when 
 somcljnics, being deluded, as fathers dcliglit to be, 
 into telling talCvS of his own boyliood to his boys,
 
 THE woman's KINaDOM. 151 
 
 these adventures chanced to inchide Uncle Julius, 
 he would bi'cak off abrujitly, and Ins hearty merri- 
 ment changed into the saddest silence. Also the 
 elders noticed that, except concerning those boyish 
 days, their fatlier never spoke much of Uncle Julius. 
 Whether the latter had done something "naughty," 
 though nobody ever hinted at such a thing, or 
 whether he had been very unhappy or very unfor- 
 tunate, the lads could none of them satisfactorily 
 decide, though they often held long arguments with 
 one another on the subject. But one thing was 
 quite clear — Uncle Julius must have been a re- 
 markable person, and very deai'ly loved by botli 
 their parents. 
 
 So, being boys trained from liabyhood in the 
 sweet tact whicli springs from lovingness, they let 
 Will's mal-apropofi remark pass by without comment, 
 and hung round their mother caressingly till tlicy 
 brought her back to her own bright self again. 
 
 "Yes," she said, laughing, "you are very good 
 boys, I own, though you do worry mamma pretty 
 well sometimes." 
 
 "Do we, darling? We'll never do so any 
 more." 
 
 "Oh, no, not till the next time. There, there, 
 you babies!" 
 
 And she resigned her little fur-slippered foot for 
 the twins to cuddle — the rosy, fat, good-tempered 
 twins, rolling about like Newfoundland puppies on 
 the hearth-rug — laid one hand on Bob's light curls, 
 suffered Will to seize tlic other, and leant her head 
 against the tall shoulder of her eldest son , who
 
 152 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 petted liis motlier just as if she had been a beauti- 
 ful young lady. Thus "sub-divided," as she called 
 it, Edna stood among her five sons; and any stranger 
 observing her might have thought she had never had 
 a care. But such a perfect life is impossible; and 
 the long gap of years that there was between Eobert 
 and the twins, together with one little curl — that, 
 wrapped in silver pajjer, lay always at the bottom 
 of the mother's housekeeping purse — could have 
 told a different tale. 
 
 However, this was her own secret, hidden in her 
 heart. When with her children, she was as merry 
 as any one of them all. 
 
 "Come now," said she, "since you are such 
 good boys, and give up cheerfully joxir pleasures, 
 not because mother wishes it, but because it is 
 right " 
 
 "And also because mother wishes it," lovingly 
 remarked Julius. 
 
 "Well, well, I accept it as such; and in return 
 I'll make you all a handsome present — of my Avhole 
 afternoon." 
 
 Here uprose a shout of delight, for every one 
 knew that the most valuable gift their mother could 
 bestow on them was her time, always so well filled 
 up, and her bright, blithe, pleasant com])any. 
 
 "It is settled then, l)oys. Now decide. Where 
 will you take me to? Only it should bo some nice 
 warm place. Mamma cannot stand the cold quite as 
 you boys do. You must remember she is not so 
 young as she used to be." 
 
 "She is — she is!" cried the sons in indignant
 
 THE woman's klkgdom. 153 
 
 love; and tlie eldest pressed her to liis -Wcarm young 
 breast almost witli the tears in his eyes. That deep 
 affection — almost a joassiou — which sometimes exists 
 between an eldest son and his mother, was evidently 
 very strong here. 
 
 "I know what place mamma would like best 
 — next best to a run in the country, -uhere, of 
 course, we can't go now — I jn'opose the National 
 Gallery." 
 
 Which was rather good of Bob, who, of himself, 
 did not care twopence for pictures; and when the 
 others seconded the motion, and it was carried un- 
 animously, his mother smiled a special "thank you" 
 to him, which raised the lad's spirits exceedingly. 
 
 It was a lively walk through the Christmas streets, 
 bright with holly and evergreens, and resplendent 
 with every luxury that the shops could offer to Clirist- 
 mas piu-chasers. But Edna's boys bought nothing, 
 and asked for nothing. They and she looked at all 
 these treasures with delighted" but uncnvious eyes. 
 They had been brought up as a poor man's children, 
 even as she was a poor man's wife — educated from 
 babyhood in that noble self-denial which scorns to 
 crave for anything which it cannot justly have. 
 There was less need for carefulness now, and every 
 time the mother looked at them — the five jcAvels of 
 her matron crown — she thanked God that they 
 would never be dropped into the dust of poverty; 
 that, humanly speaking, there would be enough 
 forthcoming, both money and influence, all of tlioir 
 father's own righteous earning, to set them fairly 
 afloat in the Avorld — before William and she laid
 
 154 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 down their lieads together in the quiet sleep after 
 toil — of which she began to think perhaps a little 
 more than she used to do, years ago. 
 
 Yet when the boys stopped her before tempting 
 jewellers' or linendrapers' shops, making her say what 
 she liked best, Edna would answer to each boy's 
 question as to what he should give her "when he 
 got rich" — 
 
 "Nothing, my darling, nothing. I think your 
 father and I are the richest people in all this world." 
 
 When she got into the National Grallcry, and 
 more than one person turned to look after her — the 
 little mother with such a lot of tall boys — Mrs. 
 Stedman carried her head more erect than usiial, 
 and a Cornelia-like conceitedncss dim[)led round her 
 mouth. Tlien, she being slightly fatigued — she 
 was not the very strongest little woman in the world 
 — Juliiis settled her carefully in the most comfort- 
 able scat he could find, and left her there in the 
 midst of the pre-liaffaellite saints and martyrs, and 
 mediitival Holy Families, to spend some (juict minutes 
 in pleasures whicli throughout her busy life had been 
 so rare. For many of Edna's special tastes, as well 
 as ]icr husband's, liad been of necessity smothered 
 down. In the long uphill struggle of their early 
 married life, luxuries liad been impossible. During 
 all the years when her little ones were young she 
 had read few books, scarcely seen a picture, and 
 confined lier country ])loasures to Avatcliing the leaves 
 bud and grow green and fall, in Hyde I'ark or Ken- 
 sington Gardens. It was rarely that tlie busy mother 
 got even a few minutes' rest like tliis to go back to
 
 THE woman's KINGDOSr. 155 
 
 tlic day-dreams of lier yoiitli — now fading away in 
 the realities, sad or sweet, of her matiirer years. 
 
 Slie almost felt like a girl again, as after a brief 
 rest she rose, and took leisnrcly the circuit of the 
 room, where many an old familiar jiictnre looked at 
 her with ghostly eyes — pictm-es fixed on her 
 memory during the days when Letty and Julius, she 
 and William, used to haunt this place. The years 
 between seemed to collapse into nothing, and for a 
 moment or two she felt almost as she felt then — at 
 the outset of her life, in the tender dawn of her love: 
 her heart full of hope that coloured everything rose- 
 hue, and faith in God and man that never knew a 
 cloud. 
 
 Well, that time had gone by for them all fom-. 
 She and William were middle-aged parents now; 
 Letty and Julius — poor Letty! jioor Julius! — she 
 hardly knew which to grieve over most, the living 
 or the dead. 
 
 80 had passed all these passing shows of mortal 
 life, fleet as a shadow that departeth; and still the 
 fair Saint Catherine stood beside her wheel, smiling 
 her martyr's smile, and Del Piombo's ghostly Lazarus 
 arose out of the dark sepulchre, and the numberless 
 ]\[adonnas who used to thrill Edna's heart with an 
 ex(pusite foi'cboding of what mother-bliss must be, 
 sat, calm as ever, holding their Divine cliildren in 
 their arms — always children, who never grew up, 
 never died. And Edna thought of her o"s\ni little 
 lost baby — her one girl-baby of three months' old 
 ^- and tried to fancy how she looked now, perhaps 
 not unlike these. Continually, amongst all her living
 
 156 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 children — lier perjjetual daily blessings — came the 
 memory of tbis one, a blessing too, as onr dead 
 should always be to us, more and more perhaps the 
 older we grow, since they bridge over the gulf be- 
 tween us and the world unseen. Edna was not the 
 less a happy and a cheerful mother, that besides all 
 these breathing, laughing, loving children, she had 
 still another child — a little silent angel, waiting for 
 her in the celestial land. 
 
 While she was thinking of these things, in her 
 own peaceful way, and enjoying the old delicious 
 atmosphere of beauty and grace, which had been 
 the faixy-land of her youth, her boy Robert, after 
 romping about, tormenting alternately his two elders 
 and the twins, came back to her. 
 
 "Mamma," said he, in a loud whisjier, "there's 
 a very grand lady staring at you, and has been for 
 ever so long. She looks as if slie wanted to speak 
 to you, but couldn't make up her mind. Do you 
 know her?" 
 
 Edna looked round. No mistaking the stately 
 figure, the sweeping satin robes. 
 
 "Yes, I know her," blushing while she spoke, 
 and startled at the difliculty of exjtlaiuing to her 
 boy that it was her own flesh-and-blood sister, as 
 near to her as Julius or Will to him, who thus met 
 her, looked, and — Mould she pass by? "I know 
 her, llobert, but do not let us turn that way. She 
 has seen me; she can come and speak to me if she 
 cliooses. It is your aunt, Mrs. Vanderdecken." 
 
 "Oil!" said Bob, with difficulty repressing a
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 157 
 
 whistle. "What a stunning woman slie is! But why 
 doesn't slie come and speak to you, mamma " 
 
 "Husli, slie is coming." 
 
 She came, slow and stately, and held out her 
 hand with a patronising air. 
 
 "You here, Edna? I thought you never went 
 anywhere." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I do sometimes, when my children 
 carry me oflF with them. And you — who would 
 have expected to find you here?" 
 
 "I came with my little girl. She is learning 
 drawing under a celebrated artist — a lady artist of 
 course, who brings her here once a-week or so to 
 study the old masters. I leave them to go round 
 together, while I sit still. I don't care for pictures." 
 
 Edna was silent. 
 
 "Besides I am rather glad to give the child 
 something to amuse her, for she has been rather 
 dull of late." 
 
 "Not ill, I hope?" 
 
 "Oh, no, only cross. Do your children never 
 take sullen or obstinate fits, Edna? and how do you 
 contrive to manage them? I wish you could teach 
 me how to manage mine-," and Mrs. Yanderdeckcn 
 sighed. 
 
 While speaking, her distantly polite manner had 
 changed into a sort of querulous appeal — Letty's 
 old helplessness and habit of leaning upon every- 
 body, especially her sister. She made rooni for Mrs. 
 Stedman beside her with something of a sisterly air. 
 
 Now Edna and her husband, without mucli speak- 
 ing, had tacitly made up their minds on the subject
 
 158 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 of tlie Vanderdeckcns. They both felt that ties of 
 blood, so far as the duty of showing kindness goes, 
 are never abrogated, — but intimacy is a different 
 thing. To keep up a show of respect where none 
 exists — of love when it has been long killed dead 
 — is the merest folly, or worse, falsehood. The 
 doctor's wife had not an atom of pride in her, and 
 the condescending airs of her magnificent sister fell 
 upon her perfectly harmless, almost unperceived; but 
 Letty's total ignoring of the past, and meeting her, 
 both on the two former occasions and to-day, as in- 
 differently as if she were a common acquaintance, 
 was such a mockery of kinship that Edna, who had 
 believed in flesh-and-blood ties with the passionate 
 fervour of all loving hearts — until they are forced 
 into disbelief — drcAV back within herself, utterly 
 repelled and wounded. Still, hearing that sigh, she 
 said kindly, — 
 
 "Letty, if I can hclj) or advise you, I would 
 gladly do it. I have been a mother so many years 
 
 now." 
 
 "Ah, yes. How many children have you? I 
 quite forget. But they are all boys. Now, I do 
 think one girl is more trouble than half-a-dozen 
 boys; at least, if she is such a self-willed little puss 
 as mine. I often tell Gcrtnule I wish when she 
 was a baby I had broken tliat obstinate will of 
 hers." 
 
 "Don't say so," re]died Edna, earnestly, "I like 
 my children to have a will of tlieir own. J would 
 never break it, oidy guide it."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 159 
 
 "But do tlioy u])ey you? Are tliey at all afraid 
 of you? Gertrude is not one bit afraid of me." 
 
 "Children that obey from fear mostly turn out 
 either hypocrites or cowards. We rule ours by the 
 pure sense of right. God's will, whicli wc try to 
 teach them, is the real will to be obeyed, far beyond 
 either their father's or mine." 
 
 "Ah, I can't understand you — I never could. 
 But, Edna" — falling into the confidential tone of 
 old days — "what Avoidd you do if one of your 
 children had formed an accjuaintance which you ob- 
 jected to, though you could not absolutely forbid it, 
 and let you argue as you might with them they 
 wouldn't give it up?" 
 
 "Robert," whispered his mother, "run back and 
 stay with your brothers for a little. I want to talk 
 to your aunt." 
 
 And Robert, though dying with curiosity, obeyed. 
 
 "There, your boy obeys you in a minute, Edna. 
 Now I might reason with my girl for an hour on 
 the subject of that horrid old soldier! But I will just 
 tell you the whole matter." 
 
 She drew closer to Mrs. Stcdman, and in vexed 
 and injured tones explained, in her own lengthy and 
 contradictory fashion, how Gertrude had made ac- 
 quaintance with some poor invalided soldier who 
 lived in the village, had taken a great fancy to him, 
 and noAV that he was laid up ill at his lodgings 
 wanted to go and see him. When refused, she liad 
 sulked and fretted till slie made herself ((uite ill. 
 
 "The child must have a tender heart," remarked 
 Edna.
 
 160 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Of course she has, and I'm sure 1 encourage it 
 as much as possible. In her position she will have 
 to be very charitable, so I always take her with me 
 on district-visiting, and put her name down below 
 my own in subscription lists. But this is quite an- 
 other matter. I told her I would give the poor man 
 money, or send him his dinner every day, but as to 
 her going to see him, it was quite impossible. Why, 
 he lodges at a small public-house!" 
 
 "Is he a bad man, or a man of low character?" 
 "How do I know? soldiers often are. But to 
 tell the plain truth" — the plain truth generally 
 came out at the tail end of Mrs. Vanderdecken's con- 
 fidences — "I don't like to say too much against 
 him, for he certainly once saved the child's life — 
 pulled her from under a railway train; and though 
 I must own he has taken no advantage of this as 
 yet, I mean in extorting money, still he might do 
 so, and that would make Mr. Vanderdccken so 
 angry." 
 
 "Indeed! but you, I should have thought " 
 
 "Ah, Edna, one isn't always a rich woman be- 
 cause one is married to a rich man. I have every- 
 tliing I want — can run up bills to any amount, but 
 — would you believe it? — I rarely have a sov- 
 ereign in my pocket to do what I like with. Not 
 that I think Mr. Vanderdccken means to be unkind, 
 it's just his way; the Avay of all men, I suppose." 
 
 "Not all," said Edna, and thought of her own 
 ojien-handcd Will, wlio trusted her with everything; 
 wlio, like herself, never wantonly wasted a jjenny, 
 and therefore had always an honest pound to spare
 
 THE woman's kingdom. IGl 
 
 for tliose wlio needed. And slie looked witli actual 
 pity at her sister — so wealthy, yet so helplessly 
 poor. "Yes, I can see yours is not an easy position. 
 But does the child still fret? What does her father 
 say?" 
 
 "Oh, he knows nothing at all about it. We 
 never tell papa anything. At least," noticing Edna's 
 intense surprise, "we are obliged to be very careful 
 what we tell him. You see, Edna, my marriage is 
 not exactly like yours. I being so very much younger 
 than Mr. Vanderdecken, and perhaps — well, perhaps, 
 a little more taking in my appearance," she smiled 
 complacently, "he is apt to be just a bit jealous. He 
 cannot bear the least reference to my old ties, which 
 accounts for my not seeing as much of you, dear, as 
 I might do." 
 
 "I understand," replied Edna, gravely. 
 
 "And to tell the whole truth," it was dropping 
 out bit by bit, "if I were to say to him that that 
 poor soldier came from Calcutta, as Gertrude informs 
 me he did, my husband, who has never forgotten 
 the — the rather peculiar circumstances of my mar- 
 riage, would be quite furious. It's natural perhaps, 
 but," with a martp'-like sigh, "of course it is a little 
 awkward for me." 
 
 "A little awkward!" Edua Stedman turned upon 
 her sister full, steady, indignant eyes. "A little 
 awkward!" she repeated, and stopped. 
 
 And this was all that remained of the past; tlie 
 terrible tragedy which even yet she and lier husband 
 could hardly bear to s])Cak of; the agony of suspense 
 which had darkened their life for months and years. 
 
 The Woman's Kingdom. II. 11
 
 162 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 until it Avas ended by receiving chance evidence 
 which convinced them that Julius was not lost, but 
 dead. His st(ny Avas brief enough. On coming down 
 to meet his betrothed at the ship, and finding her 
 gone — she having (juitted it at the Cape of Good 
 Hope to be married to Mr. Vanderdecken — he had 
 suddenly disappeared. 
 
 Disappeared totally, leaving his lodgings just as 
 they Averc — • and lying on the tal)le, in an envelope 
 addressed tf) Messrs. Marchmont and Co., a brief holo- 
 graph will, bequeathing everything he had to his 
 brother, adding, "that he would never be heard of 
 more." 
 
 He never was. At first it was thought he might 
 have committed suicide — gone voluntarily to face 
 his Maker and ask Him the never-answered question 
 of so many miserable lives-, but Avhcn the news was 
 communicated to Dr. Stedman, he refused to believe 
 this. He thought rather that a fit of frantic despair 
 had induced his brother to run away, so as to lose 
 himself and his own identity for the time. So he in- 
 stituted wide inquiries, and inserted advertisements 
 in ncAvspapers half over tlie Avorld. But in vain. 
 
 At last Julius's Indian servant brought to the 
 office of Marchmont & Co. an old coat of his master's, 
 and a pocket-book, in Avhich was written "Julius 
 Stedman." ]3oth these lie s;u'd he had got from an 
 English sailor, who took them fi-om a droAvncd "body," 
 (juitc lun-ccognisable, that had floated past liis boat, 
 (loAvn the lloogly, tlu'ce years before. Hoav far the 
 story Avas true, could never be proved, but in dc-
 
 TIIE ^YOMA^I^S KINGDOM. 163 
 
 fault of all otlicr evidence it was at last accepted 
 cand believed. 
 
 So tliat w.as the end. After auotlier year's cling-iiig 
 to desperate hope, tlie will was proved, the family 
 put on moiiniing"; and now for more than twelve 
 years Julius Stedman had been numbcved among the 
 dead. 
 
 How much of all this Letty knew Edna could 
 not say, she herself having told her only the final 
 fact in a letter which Avas never answered." Yet when 
 she looked at her sister and remembered Julius, whom 
 she had so often Avatched sauntering about these very 
 rooms Avith his beloved on his arm, Mrs. Stedman 
 thought, Had Letty forgotten? Was it possible she 
 could forget? 
 
 "Gertrude, you stupid child, don't you see hoAv 
 yini are trampling on my di-ess?" 
 
 The peevish tone, the entire absorption in this 
 small annoyance of her little girl's rough but aft'ec- 
 tionate ways — yes, Letty had forgotten! All that 
 fearful history of a ruined life — ruined by Avhose 
 doing? — Avas regarded by her as "a little aAV'k- 
 Avard," nothing more. 
 
 But it was useless to speak, or to feel, in the 
 matter-, indeed Edna was incapable of a Avord. She 
 only drew her little niece to her side and caressed 
 her, in that lingering, loving Avay Avith Avhich she 
 always looked at little girls noAv. And then lifting 
 up her eyes, she saAV entering the room, and glancing 
 eagerly around in search of her, her husband. 
 
 "I had actually a spare hour this afternoon, 
 Edna, so I thought I Avoiild folloAv yon. Nurse told
 
 164 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 me where you were gone. I found the boys at once. 
 Now, hxcls, off with you home, for it is growing dark. 
 Mamma and I will just idle about for a little and 
 drive home together." 
 
 And Dr. Stedman sat down beside his Edna, 
 with the ail- of a man Avho, after nearly a score of 
 married years, still enjoys a stolen half-hour of his 
 wife's company, and thinks her society the plea- 
 santest in the world. The lady sitting on her other 
 side he never noticed at all. 
 
 Now Edna knew her husband well; his strong, 
 faithful, tender heart, which yet, under all its ten- 
 derness, had a keen sense of right and wrong, honour 
 and dishonour, that no warmth of friendship or near- 
 ness of blood could ever set aside. Slie was well 
 aware how he felt regarding Letty, and dreaded , with 
 a kind of sick dismay, any meeting between them. 
 But there was no alternative; it must take place. 
 
 "William," she said, touching his hand, "this is 
 my sister. You did not recognise her, I see." 
 
 The blood ruslicd all over Dr. Stedman's face, 
 and he stejjped back a moment with uncontrollable 
 repugnance. Then he seemed to remember that at 
 least they were a man and woman — a gentleman 
 and a lady. He bowed courteously, and when Letty 
 offered him her hand he did not refuse it. 
 
 "I hope your husband is well? Is this your 
 daughter?" 
 
 "Yes. Gertrude, shake hands witli Dr. Stedman. 
 She is a little like Edna, is she not?" 
 
 "Oh no," he replied hastily, "oh, no!" 
 
 And this was all that jjassed.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 165 
 
 For a minute or two more the three stood to- 
 gether, as they had stood so often on this very floor; 
 — with a fourth, who was now — where? They 
 must have thought of him , they coukl not but have 
 done so , yet none of them gave the least sign. Ahis ! 
 if we were all to speak out aloud concerning these 
 ghastly memories that rise up at many a festive 
 board, or walk beside us with soundless feet down 
 many a noisy street, what good would it be? Better 
 keep a decent silence, and go on patiently between 
 the two awful companies, which are ever siarrounding 
 us — the seen and the unseen — the living and the 
 dead. 
 
 Though all preserved their composure, the posi- 
 tion was so painful that even Mrs. Vanderdecken 
 perceived she had better end it. 
 
 "I must go now," she said. "Dr. Stedman, would 
 you allow one of your boys to call up my carriage?" 
 
 "I will see you myself to it, Mrs. Vanderdecken." 
 
 Coldly but courteously he offered her his arm, 
 and they descended the staircase together. 
 
 Edna, hardly knowing what she was about, so 
 like a dream did it all seem, wandered mechanically 
 on, looking at the mute pictures round her, chiefly 
 portraits of dead men and women, on whose faces 
 were strange histories — the ecj^ual histories of living 
 men and women now. 
 
 Pre-occupied as she was, she involuntarily stopped 
 at one — Andrea Del Sarto's portrait of himself. 
 Robert Browning must have had it in his mind when 
 he painted that wonderfvil word-picture of Del Sarto 
 and his wife, "his beautiful Lucrezia, whom he
 
 1G6 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 loved." All tLat sad story is plainly foreshadowed 
 in the face — full of a man's passion and a woman's 
 sensitiveness, perhaps also a woman's weakness, 
 which looks out from the centuries-old canvas; a face, 
 typical of the artist-nature, in all ages: often, too, 
 foreboding the artist's fate. 
 
 While looking, and moralizing over it, Edna 
 suddenly recognised why the portrait had struck her 
 with sxich a strange familiarity. It was almost as 
 like him as if it had been painted from him — poor 
 lost Julius! 
 
 She stood absorbed, for it seemed to speak to 
 her with its sad soft eyes, out of the depths of years, 
 when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned 
 round to her husband. 
 
 "Edna, what were you looking at?" 
 
 "That head. Don't you see the strong resem- 
 blance?" 
 
 Dr. Stedman, less imaginative than his wife, 
 might have passed it by, but the emotion in her 
 countenance giiided liim at once. He too saw, as if 
 it had risen up out of the grave, not Del Sarto's 
 face, but his dead brother's, full of genius, life, and 
 hope, whereon was no possible foreboding of the 
 ffite to come — a fate from which neither brother 
 nor sister could save him. 
 
 Cain's appeal, "Am I my brother's keeper?" 
 tliougli uttered by a murderer, is not wliolly untrue 
 or unjust. Beyond a certain point no human being 
 can help or save another. We tliink we can; we 
 arc strong and fearless, till taught in many a bitter 
 and humbling way that wo arc poor and blind, weak
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 1G7 
 
 and miserable, and that in God's liands alone are 
 the sj)irits of all flesh, their guidance and their 
 destinies. 
 
 But this is a hard lesson to learn. Edna saAv, 
 as she had seen many a time before during- those 
 heavy years when her husband went mourning for 
 liis brother — ay, at times even amidst the happiness 
 of his most happy home — the sharp pain amounting 
 almost to self-reproach, as if surely something- had 
 been left undone, or done miAvisely, by him, else 
 Julius's career would never have ended thus, in a 
 grief the mystery of which Avas ten times worse than 
 that of ordinary death. 
 
 She answered, as she sometimes ventured to do, 
 the unspoken thoughts which by long experience she 
 had learned to trace in William's mind, almost as 
 accurately as if they were her o"\vn. 
 
 "Nay, dearest, you must not grieve. You could 
 not help it — nor I. It was not our doing, and he 
 is at rest now." 
 
 "Yeg, he is at rest. But — she?" 
 
 Will spoke beneath his breath — fiercely, too — 
 so that his wife knew well enough how much, for 
 her sake, he had suppressed diu-ing the last half- 
 hour. Nor could she deny the truth — which he 
 felt, though he did not utter it — that if ever a 
 man's life Avas wasted and destroyed, it Avas that of 
 poor Julius; and it had been Lctty's doing. And 
 yet — and yet — oh, if God reckoned up against us, 
 not only the evil that Ave meant to do, but that 
 Avhich AA'e have been either carelessly or foolishly
 
 168 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 instrumental in doing, wliero should any of us 
 stand? 
 
 "Forgive lier!" implored Edna, as some such 
 thought as this passed through her mind, — she, the 
 mother of five children, who had all these young 
 hearts in her hand, as it were, and knew not how 
 in the unseen years to come they might be sinned 
 against or sinning — needing from others the pity 
 or pardon which their mother was not there to show. 
 "Husband — forgive her! I think even Julius would 
 do it now." 
 
 "I'll try." 
 
 Dr. Stedman pressed his wife's arm close to his 
 heart, and abruptly turned away. 
 
 For a little while longer they wandered about 
 the rooms, talking of indifferent topics, for Edna 
 knew that there are some things too sore to be 
 spoken much about, even between husband and wife: 
 until the rare comfort of an idle hour together 
 soothed them both, and made them feel, as married 
 people do, that all trouble is bearable so long as 
 each is left to the other. I'erhaps even after then 
 — for such love is not a mortal but an immortal 
 possession. 
 
 Then they descended, arm in arm, to whore, in 
 the chilly dark of Trafalgar Square, the doctor's 
 comfortable brougliam was waiting. 
 
 "I am glad I have a warm cosy carriage to put 
 my darling into now," said William, as he wrapped 
 her well up, and, stepping in beside her, took her 
 hand with lover-like tenderness. 
 
 Edna laughed ■ — almost the laugh of her girl-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 169 
 
 hood — ■ to hide the fact of two big tears which 
 came now as quickly to her eyes as they used to 
 do then. 
 
 "Will, you are so conceited-," and then leaning 
 against his shoiilder — creeping as close to him as 
 the propriety of Pall Mall allowed, she whispered, 
 "Oh, how happy we are — what a blessed life has 
 been given to us — God make us thankful for it all." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Gertrude missed and fretted after her friend the 
 soldier for many days. He and his stories had taken 
 firm hold of her imagination, and his feebleness and 
 sickliness, together with the fjict of his having saved 
 her life, had made a strong impression upon her 
 fond little heart. 
 
 Being questioned, she had told her mother, as 
 she always did when catechised, everything she was 
 asked: so Mrs. Vanderdecken now knew all parti- 
 culars regarding John Stone that were known to 
 Gertrude herself. But this roused in her shallow 
 and self-absorbed mind no si;spicion beyond an un- 
 easy feeling that her daughter's propensity for "low," 
 society — gardeners, keepers, and tlie common people 
 generally — must be stopped, and this was a good 
 opportunity for doing it. So having ascertained, in 
 a roundabout way, that Stone was still lying ill at 
 the "Goat and Compasses" — though not dying, nor 
 likely immediately to die — she commimicated these 
 facts to Gertrude, and promised, in the half-and-half
 
 170 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 way in wliicli the weak mother often pacified tlie 
 strong-willed child, to send and inquire for him 
 every day — in return exacting a promise that 
 Gertrude would, on no account, demean herself by 
 going personally to see him. 
 
 This precaution taken, the lady left the whole 
 matter to chance, and troubled herself no more about 
 it; Letitia Vauderdecken being, like Letty Kender- 
 dine, one of the many peojile who never shut the 
 stable-door until the steed is stolen. 
 
 But one luckless day, when she rolled away in 
 her splendid carriage for a three hours' drive, her 
 little daughter, having contrived to get rid of Nurse, 
 went roaming the ])ark in weary longing for some- 
 thing to do, something to play with — a permanent 
 want with the rich man's daughter. At last, in a 
 sort of despair, poor little Miss Vanderdecken was 
 driven to ]»crch herself, like any common child, on 
 the stile which divided Holywell Park from the 
 furzy moor Avhcrc she could watch, and envy not a 
 little, the groups of common children who, just tni-ned 
 out of the school-house, were disporting themselves 
 there. 
 
 It was one of those soft days, mild as spring, 
 Avhicli had followed the breaking up of the frost, 
 and the January sunsliinc, pale but sweet, slanted 
 across the moorland like a sick man's smile. Crawl- 
 ing along like a lly u|)()n a wall, and like herself, 
 idly watching the school children, Gertrude per- 
 ceived her friend John Stone. 
 
 Now, her motlier liad forbidden her to go and 
 sec him, and Gertrude ahvays literally kept to her
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 171 
 
 promises; but she had never promised not to speak 
 to him if she met him; Mrs. Vaiiderdeckeii, wlio had 
 heard, not without a vague sense of relief, that the 
 sick man was not likely soon to get better, having 
 never thought of providing against such a possibility. 
 Consequently, the first thing tlic little maid did Avas 
 to jump down from her stile and greet him in an 
 ecstasy of delight, at which Stone was mucli 
 bewildered. 
 
 He must have been very ill, so ill as almost to 
 confuse his mind, for he regarded the little red- 
 cloaked elf as if he had never seen her before. 
 
 ''I don't remember you. What do you want?" 
 
 Gertrude was a quick child, and possessed by 
 instinct that precocious motherliness which some 
 little girls show to all sick j)Cople whom they have 
 to do with. She said gently, — 
 
 "Oh, I dare say you have forgotten me, you 
 have been so ill. I am Gertrude Vauflcrdccken, the 
 little gii'l you used to tell stories to, and I have 
 missed you so much." 
 
 "Missed me? Is there anybody in the world 
 who would have missed me?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, and I would have come and seen you 
 had I been allowed, but mamma said — " 
 
 "Who is your mamma?" Then, as if memory 
 came back in a sudden flash, overwhelming liim and 
 changing his dull apathy into that fierce, lialf-insane 
 look whicli ahvays made the child shrink, though 
 she was too ignorant to be much afraid. "Oh, yes, 
 I knoAv, I remember. Go away, I want to get rid
 
 172 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 of you, of all belonging to yon. Leave me; let me 
 die quietly — quietly." 
 
 He stopped, and fell into such a paroxysm of 
 coughing that it left him quite exhaiisted. He found 
 himself sitting on the stile, with the little girl holding 
 his hand. 
 
 "You have not left me, child. I told you to go." 
 
 "But I did not wish to go," said Gertrude, who 
 had been slowly making up her mind to a pro- 
 ceeding, daring indeed, and worthy of the tender 
 romance which lay deep in her nature. She deter- 
 mined, henceforward, to take this poor sick man 
 under her immediate protection, though in what way 
 she did not quite know, and the first step was to 
 get over her mother's violent prejudice against him. 
 She thought if they could once meet, if her mamma 
 could but talk with him ([uietly. Ids jDoor, worn, 
 sickly face and shrunken figure, and, above all, the 
 air of refinement, which made him so different from 
 the "common people," as Mrs. Vanderdecken called 
 them, would make her as much interested in him as 
 Gertrude was herself. 
 
 So she concocted a plan for a sudden and un- 
 expected interview between the two — lier mother 
 and the poor soldier — which did her little brain 
 considerable credit, and was almost as romantic as 
 the stories slie read, or those she was in the habit 
 of making "oxit of her own head." 
 
 "This is far too cold a jdace for you to sit in," 
 said she, demurely. "Come with me, and I'll take 
 you to our winter garden, where you'll find it so 
 warm: almost like beini^: in India."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 173 
 
 "Oil!" said Stone, shivering, "if I could only 
 get warm. I feel as if I should never be warm 
 again-," and the impulse of physical suffering, which 
 seemed uppermost in him now, added to that state 
 of weakness in which a sick person can be persuaded 
 by anybody to anything, made him submit to Ger- 
 trude's guidance, almost in sjiite of himself. She 
 took him by the hand and led him across the park; 
 but when they came in sight of the white, stone- 
 fronted, handsome house, she stopped. 
 
 "Is your mother there?" 
 
 "I think not; she is out driving — at least she 
 was out." 
 
 "No prevarication; no weak deceptions; you'll 
 learn them soon enough. Where is your mother?" 
 
 "I don't know," said the child, boldly, "and if 
 I did I wouldn't tell you, for you look as if you 
 meant to be rude to her, and you ought not, for she 
 has never done you any harm, and would be very 
 kind to you if she knew you — - 1 am sure she would. 
 
 She is exceedingly charitable to " poor ^^eople, 
 
 Gertrude was going to say, but stopped. 
 
 "Exceedingly charitable! A most amiable, 
 generous lady — quite a Lady Bountiful! And that 
 is the house she lives in; whence she would kindly 
 throw a crumb or two to a poor wretched fellow like 
 me, or if I laid myself down at her gate she would 
 send her lap-dog out to lick my sores. Excellent — 
 excellent!" 
 
 Gertrude was no coward, or she might have 
 been frightened at the way the man talked and
 
 174 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 looked. But wlicu slie set her miucl upon doing a 
 tiling, slie rarely let it slip undone. 
 
 "Come," she said, taking firm hold of his hand 
 again, "don't talk, talking is bad for you. Just 
 come with mo into the winter garden." And ho 
 came. 
 
 It was one of those floral palaces, originated hy 
 Sir Joseph Paxton, and now often to he seen in the 
 domains of our merchant-princes, who, like Mr. 
 Vanderdecken, seldom enjoy or appreciate, hut only 
 pay for them. Under a high circidar glass dome 
 grew fresh, as if in their native clime, all sorts of 
 tropical bulbs — jialms, bananas, and so on — while 
 ranged round in that exquisite art, which knows its 
 best skill is to imitate nature, were a mass of 
 -floAvering-plaiits, which burst upon the eye in such 
 a glory of form and colour as to transform January 
 into June. 
 
 When, the instant Gertrude opened the door, 
 the moist, warm, perfumed atmosjdicre greeted 
 Stone's delicate senses, he drank it in Avith a deep 
 breath of delight. 
 
 "Truly this feels like what Mrs. Fox would call 
 "another and a better Avorld," wliich a week since 1 
 was supposed to be going t(j. 1 wish I were there 
 now." 
 
 "Where?" asked (Jertrude, innocently. 
 
 "In heaven, if there be such a jdacc. Do you 
 think there is, child?" 
 
 Slie looked puzzled, half shocked, and an- 
 swered, a little prindy, "Mamma says Ave ought
 
 THE woman's kik(;dom. 175 
 
 not to lalk about tliosc sort of tilings except on 
 Sundays." 
 
 "Ila, ha! Of course not. Wliat should she know 
 about heaven any more than I? But tell her, when 
 she j;"ets there, as no doubt she Avill, being such a 
 very benevolent lady — tell her to look over the 
 g'ates of it at nic, frying slowly, down in the other 
 jdace." 
 
 Here, catching Gertrude's horrified h)ok, Stijne 
 paused, struck by the same vague compunction 
 Avhich makes the profligate hold his tongue before 
 an innocent girl, or the drunkard snatch from a 
 young boy's hand the accursed glass. 
 
 "Never mind me: I was talking nonsense. I 
 often do. My head is not quite riglit. I wish some- 
 body would put it right." And he sighed, in that 
 sad helplessness which went to the very bottom of 
 the little maiden's heart. 
 
 She planned, with the rpiickness of lightning, the 
 rest of her scheme. 
 
 "I know somebody who Avould cure you at once. 
 Did you ever go to sec him, as yoii said you would 
 — Aunt Edna's husband, Dr. Stcdman?" 
 
 Stone sprang up from the easy garden-chair 
 where the child had placed him, and glared round 
 him with the eye of a hunted animal. 
 
 "Don't speak about him! don't remind me of 
 him, or tell him of me! Let me go! I am a poor, 
 lost, miserable man, that only wants to lay him 
 down and die in any quiet corner, out of every- 
 body's reach. I have changed my mind now: I'll
 
 176 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 promise to harm nobody, jjunisli nobody, only let 
 me die!" 
 
 "But I don't want you to die," said Gertrude, 
 upon whose childish ignorance two-thirds of his wild 
 talk fell quite harmlessly — considered, as he said, 
 to be mere "nonsense." "If you went to Dr. Sted- 
 man he would make you well. I am certain he 
 would, for I have seen him myself now, and he 
 looks so clever and so kind. I would go and tell 
 him or Aunt Edna all about you, only something 
 happened last week." 
 
 "Wliat happened? Any of them dead?" 
 
 "Oh, no!" 
 
 "That's right. They must live and be happy. 
 Nobody ought to die, except me; and I cannot. Oh 
 that I could! I am so tired, so tired!" 
 
 He looked up at the child, as she stood over 
 him, in her precocious womanly protectingness. Her 
 little firm face trembled, but only with pity. She 
 was not one bit irresolute or afraid. 
 
 "It is great nonsense talking about dying," said 
 the little maid, imperatively. "You are not nearly 
 so old as 2)apa, and I won't let him die for many 
 yeai'S yet-, for I love him dearly, and ho is very 
 good to me, even though he was cross at that thing 
 which happened." 
 
 "Wliat was it?" 
 
 "Perhaps I ought not to tell you. Mamma said 
 I had better not talk about it, it was not respectable 
 to have coolness between relations: but one day 
 when wo were in London avo met the Stedmans — 
 Aunt Edna aiad her husband, and all the boys; and
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 177 
 
 "whcu I tuld papa, for lie asked me, as lie always 
 does, where I had been and whom I had seen, 
 and, of course, I was obliged to speak the truth — 
 Avasn't I, now? — he was excessively angry, and told 
 mamma he would not let his little girl have any- 
 thing to do with them, for he hated the very name 
 of Stedman." 
 
 "Why? Did he say why?" 
 
 "I think, because of that uncle I told you 
 about, — the poor man who was drowned. He must 
 have known about him, and disliked him, for he 
 began speaking of him to mamma, abusing him 
 very much. He called him a penniless, worthless 
 fellow, and said everybody must have been glad 
 when he died." 
 
 "Everybody glad when he died!" repeated Stone 
 beneath his breath. 
 
 "Papa said it, and mamma seemed to think so 
 too; but then she never dai-es contradict papa when 
 he is in one of his passions. Still, for all that," con- 
 tinued Gertrude, chattering, and as if glad to have 
 out in words what she seemed to have been deeply 
 thinking about, "I can't get the poor man out of my 
 head. I feel so sorry for him. He might not have 
 been a very bad man, or would have grown better 
 if he had had anybody to be kind to him. But 
 away from his brother and Aunt Edna, living out 
 there in India quite alone, with nobody to take care 
 of him or be fond of him, what could he do?" 
 
 "Children and fools speak truth," cried Stone, 
 violently. "But I've heard enough. "What does it 
 
 The Vt'mnan'i Kingdom. II, 1*
 
 178 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 matter? He is dead now — dead and forgotten. 
 What's the nse of prating about him?" 
 
 Gertrude turned upon the soldier the wondering 
 reproach which Nature — no, Heaven — often puts 
 into the innocence of children's eyes: — "Why, do 
 not you too feel sorry for the poor man?" 
 
 "Sorry? Not I. There is a saying, "As you 
 make your bed, you must lie upon it." He did. 
 But no ! he did not make it : it was made for him — 
 full of briers and thorns and stinging serpents. A 
 wicked woman did it all!" 
 
 Gertrude opened her eyes in the utmost astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 "Should you like to hear about her, child? It 
 would be a pretty tale — a very pretty tale — as in- 
 teresting as any you ever heard. And you could 
 tell it to your mother afterwards. Ay, tell her — 
 tell her. That is a grand idea! I wonder I never 
 thought of it before." 
 
 Stone's whole frame quivered with excitement as 
 he spoke; but Gertrude's own curiosity was too 
 eager for her to notice his agitation much. 
 
 "Oh, do tell me — I should so like to know! 
 But how did you come to know about him — this 
 Julius Stedman — was not that his name?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Stone slowly. "Julius Sted- 
 man — that was his name. He was the friend — 
 of a friend of mine." 
 
 "And what was be like? Did you ever see him? 
 — with your very own eyes?" 
 
 Stone paused again ere he answered, with a 
 queer sort of smile, "No, I never saw him."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 179 
 
 Then, regaining forcibly his self-possession, 
 he began , and in his old fashion — he had in a 
 remarkable degree the artist faculty of graphic 
 narration — he told, as vividly as any of his other 
 stories, the story of the young painter and the 
 beautiful lady with whom he was so passionately in 
 love. 
 
 Nature stirs in a child's heart, often, sooner 
 than we think: there are very few little maidens 
 of twelve who cannot understand and appreciate 
 a love-story. Gertrude listened, intensely inter- 
 ested. 
 
 "And was she very beautiful? As beautiful 
 as — " the child stopped for a comparison — "as 
 mamma?" 
 
 Stone laughed. 
 
 "You may laugh!" said Gertrude, rather angrily, 
 "but mamma was once very beautiful. Everybody 
 says so 5 and she has lots of portraits of herself, 
 done when she was young — only she keeps them 
 locked up in a drawer, for papa cannot bear the 
 sight of them. But they are so lovely, you don't 
 know! Mamma must have been quite as handsome 
 as that lady — Avhat was her name?" 
 
 "What is your mamma's name?" 
 
 "Letitia; but I heard Aunt Edna call her 
 Letty." 
 
 The soldier dropped his head ■ndthin his hands. 
 Some ghostly memory, sweet as the hyacinth-breaths 
 beside him, which every spring comes freshly telling 
 us of many a spring departed — dead, and yet for 
 ever undying — must have swept over him , anni- 
 
 12*
 
 180 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 hilating every tliiug biit tlie delusive, never-to-be-for- 
 gotten dream of passionate love. He said to the 
 child — the child so utterly unlike her mother, that 
 her flesh-and-blood presence affected him less than 
 this accidental word — 
 
 "Not Letty. No, we'll not call her Letty. It 
 was such a pretty name — such a sweet, dear name ! 
 And she was a wicked woman, as I said. She mur- 
 dered him!" 
 
 Gertrude drew back, horrified. 
 
 "I don't mean that she killed him bodily — 
 with a pistol or a dagger. But there are other 
 ways of murdering a man besides these. I'll tell you 
 how she did it. And you'll not forget, child? — 
 you'll tell it, word for word, to your mother, some 
 day?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Gertrude, and again bent all 
 her mind to listen. 
 
 It was a touching story, even to a child. How, 
 far away in India, tlie young man had worked — at 
 work he did not care for — to make a home for his 
 betrothed bride-, liow he had strained his means to 
 the utmost, that she should have therein every luxury 
 she could care for ('She liked luxuries — pretty 
 clothes, handsome jewellery," said Stone, in paren- 
 thesis); and how, almost beside himself Avith happi- 
 ness, he had gone down to the ship to meet her — 
 his all but wife — his very, very own. 
 
 "And she came?" cried Gertrude, breathless 
 with emotion. 
 
 "The ship came," said Stone, in a cold, hard 
 voice. "She was not there."
 
 TiiE woman's kingdom. 181 
 
 Gertrude almost sobbed. "Was slie — was slie 
 dead?" 
 
 "Oh, no! only married!" 
 
 And then he related, in a few sharp, biting 
 Avords — for his breath seemed almost gone — how, 
 on the voyage, a rich man had fallen in love with 
 her — ("She was so very beautiful, you know!"), — 
 and she had landed at a port half-way, where his 
 estate was, and married him. 
 
 "Wliat a wicked, wicked woman! I hate her!" 
 And as she said this, Gertrude clenched her little 
 hand. Tears — those holy childish tears which burst 
 out irreprcssibly at any story of cruelty or wrong 
 — fell thick and fast; and her whole frame was 
 trembling with more than sorrow — indignation. "I 
 hate her!" 
 
 Stone had said. Revenge was sweet. He tasted 
 it fully now. But the taste could not have been 
 quite so sweet as he expected-, for, instead of exult- 
 ing over it, he rather drew back. 
 
 "Hush, child! — don't say you hate her!" 
 
 "But she Avas wicked — you told me so." 
 
 "If I did you need not say it. Children cannot 
 understand these things." 
 
 And a strange remorse came over him — the 
 childless man — for having put into any daughter's 
 hand a weapon that might pierce her mother to the 
 heart. He had not thought of this at first: he had 
 thought only of revenge — revenge, no matter how, 
 or by what means — but now, when he heard the 
 child's words, and saw her little face glowing with
 
 182 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 righteous wrath, he shrank back from the fire his 
 own hands had kindled. 
 
 "Stop a mimite," he said. "The world might 
 not judge her so harshly. Many people would say, 
 she had only made a prudent marriage: and that the 
 man — her lover — if he had any manhood in him, 
 ought to have got over it, lived an honest life, and 
 died beloved and respected." 
 
 "But he did die: he was drowned, I know. 
 Where was it? — -how?" 
 
 Stone could not answer. Even a hardened liar 
 might have been staggered by the accusing earnest- 
 ness of the child's eyes. And this man, once so 
 gentle — who, however often sinning, never sinned 
 without repenting — he knew not what to do; until, 
 whether for good or ill, fate interposed. 
 
 Fate, sweeping along in the purj^le silken robes 
 and white ermine mantle of Mrs. Vanderdecken 
 herself. 
 
 "Gertrude! Bless me! My dear Gertrude!" 
 
 No Avonder, perhaps, at the reproving sharpness 
 of the lady's tone. It was a trial. To see — sitting 
 in her beautiful conservatory, and beside her very 
 own daughter — a man, not merely one of the "lower 
 orders," as she termed them, but the very man for 
 whom, from being indebted to him for an unpaid 
 kindness (weak people so shrink from the burden of 
 gratitude!) she had conceived as much repugnance 
 as her easy nature was capable of feeling. The 
 more, as he paid her none of the almost servile re- 
 spect which Mrs. Vanderdecken was accustomed to 
 receive from her inferiors; made no attempt to rise
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 183 
 
 or bow, did not even take off his hat, but sat dog- 
 gedly there, staring at her. Once, as her voice, and 
 the rustle of her dress, reached his ears, he shivered. 
 It might have been a blast of cold air from the 
 opened door, or else — who knows? — some breath 
 that the still beautiful woman had brought with her 
 from the rose-gardens of his passionate youth — 
 those lost love-roses, of which, though form and 
 colour have been obliterated in dusty death, the per- 
 fume never wholly dies. 
 
 As to Mrs. Vanderdecken, all she beheld was a 
 shabby-looking, bearded man, with a pair of gleam- 
 ing eyes, which looked as if they would burn her 
 up; devouring all her grace and grandeur, though 
 without — and she felt this, dull as she was — with- 
 out having the slightest awe of either. 
 
 "Gertrude," she said, uneasily, "who is this — 
 this person?" 
 
 "Mamma, don't you remember him? Mr. Stone 
 — whom Bran bit — who was so good to me. He has 
 been very, very ill, and I brought him in here be- 
 cause it is so nice and warm. He likes warmth — 
 he has just come from India, you know." 
 
 "Oh, indeed," said Mrs. Vanderdecken care- 
 lessly. 
 
 G-ertri;de whispered in earnest entreaty, "Mamma, 
 please speak to him — be a little kind to him." 
 
 "I am sure, my dear, I am always ready to 
 show kindness to any poor people who need it, and 
 especially to poor people in whom you are interested. 
 But, really, you sometimes choose such extraordinary 
 sort of folk to make friends with, and show your
 
 184 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 charity in sucli an unsuitable way! In this in- 
 stance" — and her cold eye wandered carelessly over 
 the shabby soldier, and she spoke with the tone of 
 dignified rebuke which she was in the habit of using 
 to the drunkards and slatterns of her district — "You 
 must perceive, my good man, that for you to meet 
 Miss Vanderdecken in this way, and let her bring 
 you into our oM^n private domains, is quite un- 
 pardonable. In fact' — growing more angry under 
 the absolute silence of her hearer — "I consider it a 
 most impertinent intrusion, and desire that it may 
 never occur again." 
 
 "Mamma — oh, mamma!" pleaded Gertrude; but 
 Stone took no notice whatever. lie sat, as if in a 
 dream, staring blankly at Mrs. Vanderdecken. 
 
 The lady at last grew a little uncomfortable, so 
 fixed was the gaze, so impassive the attitude of this 
 strange fellow, who seemed to exercise over Gertrude 
 a perfect fascination. 
 
 "Come in, child — tea has been waiting this 
 half-hour, and I have to dress. You forget we have 
 a dinner party to-night. For you," turning to Stone, 
 "as my daughter says you are an invalid, I will 
 overlook your rudeness — for once; and since she is 
 kind enough to take an interest in you, I shall be 
 glad to assist you — with soup tickets, or out of my 
 village clotlilng fund, if you will give me your name 
 and address; also — I always exact this — a certifi- 
 cate of character." 
 
 "No!" thundered out the broken-down man, con- 
 fronting the elegant rich woman. "I'll give you 
 nothing — I'll accept nothing from you. Let me go."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 185 
 
 He rose, and staggered past lier, then turned, 
 and seeing her left hand hanging down — white, 
 glittering with many rings — he seized it, regarded 
 it a minute, crushed it in his own with a fierce pres- 
 sure, and flung it away. 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken gave a litte scream, but the 
 conservatory door had closed , and he was gone. 
 Then her indignation, not unmixed with fear, burst 
 out. 
 
 "Gertrude, this protege of yours is the rudest 
 fellow I ever saw — a perfect boor. A thief too! 
 for I am certain he meant to rob me. Didn't you 
 see him make a snatch at my rings? I wonder if 
 they are safe — one, two, three — yes, all right. 
 What a mercy! Only think if he had stolen these 
 beautiful diamonds." 
 
 "Mamma!" cried Gertrude, half in reproach, half 
 in entreaty, for she did not know what to say. Un- 
 doubtedly the poor soldier had been very rude, and 
 yet she could not believe him to be a thief. But all 
 her little plan had fallen to the ground. She saw 
 her mother was seriously displeased, and her com- 
 mon sense told her it was not without cause. The 
 poor child thought she would never try romantic 
 schemes for doing people good again. 
 
 Perplexed and miserable, she walked by her 
 mother's side into the house, Avhere she received her 
 cup of tea, and the severe scolding Avhich accom- 
 panied it, with a sad humility, and then waited be- 
 side Mrs. Vanderdecken while she dressed for a 
 dinner-party. The little plain child had an ardent 
 admiration for her mamma's beauty, and while she
 
 186 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 was meditatively watching the maid comb out those 
 masses of long light hair, in which, there was 
 scarcely a grey thread visible, Mrs. Vanderdecken, 
 chancing to turn round, saw her little girl's earnest 
 looks, and smiled, mollified. 
 
 "Come, my dear," said she, holding out her 
 hand, "I'll not scold you any more. We will be 
 the best of friends, if only you promise to have no- 
 thing more to do with that ruffianly soldier." 
 
 "But I can't promise; and he isn't a ruffian, in- 
 deed," said Gertrude, piteously, yet very decidedly. 
 She was an obstinate little thing, and had a trick of 
 always holding fastest to her friends when they 
 happened to be down in the world. "You would 
 not say so, mamma, if you once heard him talk as 
 he talks to me — as he had been talking all this 
 afternoon." 
 
 "All the afternoon!" cried the mother in dismay; 
 " a young lady like you to be talking a whole after- 
 noon with a low fellow like him! It's di-eadful to 
 tliink of I am perfectly ashamed of you. What 
 on earth were you talking about? Tell me every 
 word, I command you!" 
 
 Here Gertrude became much perplexed. Some- 
 how or other, whenever she spoke of the Stedmans, 
 she had always got into trouble with either father 
 or mother, or both; and so she had resolved in that 
 strong reserved little heart of hers, to shut them up 
 tight there, and never refer to any of them again. 
 She had kept this resolution so well that, in spite of 
 tlie charming excitement of this afternoon's discovery 
 concerning poor Uncle Julius, for tlie last half-hour
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 187 
 
 slie had borne lier mamma's reproaches in perfect 
 silence , nor let herself be betrayed into the slightest 
 allusion to the story which had interested her so 
 much. Now, being plainly questioned, she was 
 obliged to speak out. 
 
 'Til tell you anything you choose, mamma," 
 said she, sullenly, "but I know it will only make 
 you cross. I was hearing a long story about a 
 person whom neither you nor papa like, and whom 
 you told me never to speak about, and I wouldn't 
 speak, if you didn't ask me." 
 
 "What nonsense, child! Who was it?" 
 
 "Uncle Stedman's brother — Julius." 
 
 Had a ghost risen up before her, Mrs. Vander- 
 decken could not have been more startled. Her very 
 lips whitened as she said, — 
 
 "There must be some mistake. Gertrude, how 
 could you possibly know — " 
 
 "Of course I know, mamma. Didn't I hear you 
 and papa talking about him? and didn't you your- 
 self tell me who he was, and that he was drowned? 
 I know all about him now," added the child, with 
 childish conceit. "Mr. Stone told me his whole 
 story." 
 
 "His whole story?" 
 
 "Yes, mamma, about his being an artist when 
 he was young, and his falling in love with a beau- 
 tiful lady, and his giving up painting and going to 
 India to make a fortune for her sake; how she 
 promised to come out to him and marry him; 
 how — " 
 
 "Stop, child!" interrupted Mrs. Vanderdecken,
 
 188 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 with a subdued and even frightened air, "please don't 
 go chattering on so fast. I can't attend to you. 
 Wait till I am dressed. Take your book and be 
 quiet for a little." 
 
 Gertrude obeyed, yet still cast furtive glances at 
 her mother, who arranged her dress, and clasped her 
 ornaments in a hurried, absent manner, quite unusual 
 for one who was generally so particular about these 
 things. 
 
 "Mamma, what is the matter with you? Are 
 you ill? You look so white." 
 
 "Nonsense, child." 
 
 No more passed until the maid Avas dismissed, 
 and the lady sat down on the sofa by the fire, her 
 toilet complete, and an especially resplendent toilet 
 it was-, but, for once, it proved no consolation to her, 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdeckcn was very nervous; nervous 
 was the word, not startled, or shocked, or grieved, 
 but merely frightened. A vague apprehension seized 
 her of something going to haj)pen. Was it because, 
 after this long safe blank of many years, somebody 
 had turned up who knew something of her past life, 
 or merely because of tlic surprise of hearing from 
 her little daughter's lips that once familiar name? 
 True, it was only a name, .lulius Stedman was 
 dead, and could not harm her. Living he might, or 
 she fancied so, being a coward in her heart, and 
 knowing well her husband's jealoiis temper, nurtured 
 by that faint fear similar to tlie one Avhich Brabaiitio 
 first puts into the mind of Othello — 
 
 "Look to lior, Moor; have a quick eye to see; 
 She has deceived her father, and may thee."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 189 
 
 For — sucli is human nature, and so surely does fate 
 take its revenge — it had been one of the troubles 
 in Mrs. Vanderdecken's married life, to be not seldom 
 taunted for her broken pledge by the very man for 
 whom she had broken it. Mr. Vanderdecken of course 
 had known all about Julius Stedman at the time, but 
 being desperately in love, he had seen in her false- 
 ness to one man no obstacle to her marriage with 
 another, since that other happened to be himself. 
 Afterwards, when his passion had cooled down into 
 the indifference that was sure, at best, to be the out- 
 come of such a marriage, he despised his wife, and 
 took care to let her see that he did, for doing that 
 which he himself had persuaded her to do. It was 
 natural perhaps; and still, poor woman! it was 
 rather hard. 
 
 "Gertrude," she said, turning with a helpless 
 appeal to her child, who, thinking still that she was 
 not well, had stolen up to her, and taken her hand; 
 "Gertrude, you must not vex your poor mother, who 
 has nobody to be a comfort to her but you. You 
 must make her your chief companion, and tell her 
 everything, instead of taking queer fancies for old 
 soldiers and such-like." 
 
 "But, mamma, I never take any fancies that 
 make me forget you," said the little girl, earnestly. 
 "And that story, it was no secret. lie said I might 
 tell it you whenever I liked." 
 
 "Did he? Who is he? Oh, you mean the man 
 John Stone! Didn't you tell me that was his name? 
 Did he ever know that — that person?" 
 
 "Uncle Stedman's brother, whom you dislike
 
 190 THE WOilAN's KINGDOM. 
 
 SO? No: he told me lie had never seen him iu 
 his life." 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken breathed freer. Struck with 
 a vague apprehension, she had been beating about 
 the bush, afraid, and yet most anxious to find out 
 how much her daughter knew; but now she ventured 
 to say, carelessly, taking out her watch, — 
 
 "I have just ten minutes left. You may tell me 
 the story if you like, and if it amuses you." 
 
 "It wasn't at all amusing, mamma. I think it 
 was the saddest story I ever heard. Just listen." 
 
 And then, with the vividness with which Stone's 
 words had impressed it on her mind, and M'ith a 
 childish simplicity that added to its toucliingness, 
 she repeated, almost literally, what she had just heard. 
 
 Her mother listened, too much startled, nay, 
 terrified, to interrupt her by a word. The whole 
 history was accurate down to the remotest particu- 
 lars, facts so trifling that it seemed impossible for 
 any stranger to have heard them, nay, they had 
 escaped her own memory, till revived like invisible 
 writing, by being thus brought to light in such an 
 unforeseen and overwhelming manner. It seemed 
 as if an accusing angel spoke to her from the lips 
 of licr own child; as if after all this lapse of years 
 and change of circumstances, the sins of her youth, 
 which she had glossed over and palliated, and almost 
 believed to be no sin at all, because no punishment 
 had ever followed them, rose up and confronted her. 
 Also, her condonmation came from the one creature 
 in the world whom she loved dearly, purely, and 
 unselfishly — her only child.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 191 
 
 "Was she not a wicked woman, mamma?" said 
 Gertrude, lifting up her glowing face and looking 
 straight into lier mother's. "'After she had made him 
 miserable so long, first pretending she liked him, then 
 to change her mind and refuse him? When she had 
 at last faithfully promised to marry him, and he was 
 expecting her, and was so happy, to break her word, 
 and go and marry another man!" 
 
 "Who was the man?" asked the mother, in an 
 agony of dread. "Did — did he tell you the name?" 
 
 "No; only that he was ricli and Mr. Stedman 
 was poor. That A\'as why she did it. Wasn't it a 
 wicked, cruel thing? Oh, mamma," cried Gertrude, 
 in a burst of indignation, 'if ever, when I grow up, 
 I were to meet that lady, I should hate her. I know 
 I should. I couldn't help it." 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken shivered. All through her 
 fineries- — her silks, and laces, and jewels, she shivered; 
 and clutched the hand of her little daughter as if she 
 were drowning — like that poor drowned Julius — 
 and her child's affection were the only plank to which 
 she clung. 
 
 But soon every other feeling was absorbed in 
 apprehension — the overpowering, irrational terror 
 which seizes upon all weak natures when brought 
 face to face Avith a difficulty, the extent of which 
 their cowardice momentarily exaggerates. Therefore, 
 she did, what such folks generally do, she adopted 
 the line of pacification and deprecation. 
 
 "Gertrude, my dear, I am glad you have told 
 me this story. It is exceedingly interesting, and it 
 was kind of you to be so sorry for the poor man.
 
 192 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 Perhaps lie never meant to rob me, only just to look 
 at my diamonds. I wonder how be came to know 
 tbese facts, if they are facts. Did he tell you any- 
 thing more?" 
 
 "No, mamma." 
 
 "I should almost like to speak to him myself. 
 He might have heard particulars which the family 
 would be glad to know." 
 
 "Oh, mamma, if only you would see him! May 
 I go to him and tell him you will?" 
 
 "No, no," said Mrs. Vanderdecken, hastily. "Not 
 upon any account, my dear. Don't go near him, 
 and if you meet him promise me — Hark ! isn't that 
 your father?" 
 
 And the sound of heavy boots coming upstairs 
 made her, not wince and look annoyed as was her 
 wont, but actually tremble. 
 
 "Gertrude," she cried in an agony, "promise me 
 that you will not breathe a word to your father of 
 all this?" 
 
 "Very well, mamma," said Gertrude, greatly 
 puzzled, and a little vexed; but she was used to her 
 mother's feeblenesses and inconsistencies, and had 
 learned to regard them with a patience not wholly 
 unallied to contempt. 
 
 Yet she was fond of her, and when, ere her dis- 
 missal, she got a warmer kiss than usual, Gertrude 
 went away (juite hap])y. 
 
 Not so Mrs. Vanderdecken. Out of the smooth 
 surface of lier dull easy life had risen up a great 
 fear. Avenging Fate, whipping her with the cruellest 
 scourge by which wrong-doing is ever punished, had
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 193 
 
 humiliated her before, and caused her to stand in 
 actual dread of, her pwn child. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken's alarm and uneasiness did 
 not abate, as she hoped it would. In the pauses of 
 lier dinner-party, while smiling upon everybody and 
 doing the honours of her splendid establishment, to 
 all the "best" people of her acf|uaintance — it stood 
 behind her velvet chair, ghost-like, and would not be 
 driven away. Not though the blessings surrounding 
 her were real and tangible — plate , and furniture, 
 and elegant di-esses; polite neighbours treating her 
 with the utmost consideration and attention, as was 
 due to the pleasant and lady-like millionnaire's Avife 
 who had come into their circle; while the things she 
 dreaded were faint and shadowy, belonging to a 
 period in her life which she would fain have swept 
 away into total oblivion. 
 
 She said to herself many times, How ridiculous 
 it was to be so afraid! As if nobody besides her- 
 self had once been a governess, or had had a j^oor 
 lover whom she had given up for a rich one! Wliy, 
 such things happened every day; and if this dis- 
 reputable fellow. Stone, had known something of 
 Julius Stedman, was that any reason that the mistress 
 of Holywell Hall should trouble herself about him? 
 A five-pound note, no doubt, would settle the matter 
 and get him away fi-om ]\[i'S. Fox's, perhaps induce 
 him to quit the neighbourhood; where ho could only 
 
 Tho yComan's Kingdom. 11, i£>
 
 194 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 have come for tlie 2^urpose of extorting money. But 
 five pounds to tlie elegant wife of the miserly Mr. 
 Vanderdecken was as unattainable as if it had been 
 five thousand. 
 
 As she j^ondered, smiling all the while sweetly 
 on her right-hand neighbour, Sir Somebody Something, 
 Stone's face, haggard, and wild, and sad — yet cer- 
 tainly not that of a mercenary impostor — rose up 
 before her threateningly, and once or twice that 
 evening, when a gentleman named casually the "Goat 
 and Compasses," she felt herself grow hot with fear, 
 lest some fatality should briiig into the conversation 
 the names she dreaded; John Stone or — Julius 
 Stedman. 
 
 She woke next morning with the feeling of 
 "something going to happen" stronger than ever; 
 and, as was her nature, the more her fear pursued 
 her the farther she tried to flee from it. All day 
 she avoided being left alone with her daughter, 
 and did not venture once to refer to the subject of 
 the Indian soldier. For, when she came to con- 
 sider it, her plan of seeing him herself became dif- 
 ficult. What was she to say to him? How question 
 him about poor Julius without betraying that this 
 story, which had so oddly come to his knowledge, 
 was the last whicli slie Avould have desired to have 
 repeated to her daughter, or to any of her ncigli- 
 bours? In truth, to try and stop the man's moutli 
 seemed more dangerous than letting him alone. It 
 would be horrible if he should recognise in her — 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken — the woman who had so acted 
 that even Gertrude, her own little Gertrude, called
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 195 
 
 lier "a wicked woman," and declared she "bated" 
 her. 
 
 Alas, there was the sting, or else it was Heaven's 
 finger of liglit toiicliiug Letty's foolish, vain heart. 
 More than her husband's anger, her nciglibonrs' 
 gossip, she dreaded the condemnation and contempt 
 of her child. It seemed as if now for the first time 
 the errors of her youth took their true aspect, merely 
 from the dread she had lest her daughter should 
 hoar of them; and looking back on her past, she 
 knew what its blanks and misdoings must have 
 been, by the longing she had that Gertrude's life 
 might not be like her own. 
 
 Two days afterwards came Sunday, and still 
 nothing had occurred, and the mother had managed 
 so that not a word had passed between her and 
 Gertrude respecting John Stone. She had almost 
 contrived to persuade herself that the man was got 
 rid of entirely, when, coming into church, she saw 
 him sitting in the free seats beside Mrs. Fox, as on 
 the first day, and watching the Vandei'decken pew 
 with those fierce eyes of his, wliich he never re- 
 moved during the whole service. Mrs. Vanderdecken 
 shivered under them, and looked another way. 
 Church being over, she hurried out; but tliough he 
 did not attempt to speak, or to interfere with thorn 
 in any way, he followed them silently to their very 
 carriage door. 
 
 From that time every Sunday the man was in 
 his place, and many a week-day when she drove 
 out she saw him hanging about on the common, 
 or near the lodge-gates, watching, she fancied, for 
 
 13*
 
 196 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 Iier carriage to pass. But Sundays were the worst. 
 Then, the church being free to all, she could not 
 escape. Nobody could hinder his coming; nor order 
 him to change his seat; so there he sat, staring at 
 her, not with admiration, and still less with im- 
 pertinence, but with a cold, blighting contempt that 
 was almost a malediction. She felt as if he haunted 
 her — that miserable man — whom she thought 
 sometimes she must have seen before, yet could not 
 remember when or where. 
 
 For Mrs. Vanderdecken was not a woman of 
 imagination. An accepted fact she never thought 
 of contradicting or disbelieving. To doubt that 
 Julius Stedman was dead, or that John Stone, wlio 
 knew so mucli about him, might possibly be himself, 
 was a fliglit of fancy far beyond her. Besides , slie 
 never liked to face unpleasant things, and it was 
 sufficiently difficult to have to put off from time to 
 time Gertrude's earnest entreaties with the promise 
 that "she would see the poor fellow by and bye." 
 
 This sort of life went on for several weeks, 
 and Gertrude's tender heart being pacified by the 
 sight of her friend every Sunday, slie had almost 
 ceased to worry her mother about him, when a 
 small chance raised in Mrs. Vanderdecken's mind a 
 new alarm. 
 
 Tliough she never looked towards tlie man, and 
 tried hard not to see hiin, still one Sunday morning 
 she did see him, drawing his thin hand wearily 
 througli liis scanfy grey hair and abundant beard. 
 It Avas a remarkable hand, and hands often keep 
 their individuality when time has changed all else.
 
 THE woman's KINaDOM. 197 
 
 It startled Mrs. Vanderdecken by its likeness to 
 oue which, in the days of her girlhood, had so often 
 clasped hers. 
 
 What if it were possible — if this wretched, dis- 
 reputable soldier could be her old lover, not dead 
 after all? She had been sorry for his death, but 
 had never had courage to ask particulars about it, 
 and beyond Edna's brief communication by letter, 
 that he had been "drowned," of the circumstances 
 of his end she knew nothing. During their three 
 short interviews the sisters had never once men- 
 tioned Julius's name. 
 
 Now, Letty thought, if she could only find out 
 exactly when and where and how he died, it would 
 be a comfort and protection to her. Protection 
 against what? She could not tell. She only knew, 
 that with this continual dread upon her mind, with 
 the figure of that shabby man, whoever he was, 
 pursuing her constantly, her life was a daily burden 
 to her. The trifling annoyance had grown into a 
 perpetual and morbid fear. 
 
 To throw it off she determined one morning, 
 without telling Gertrude, to go to Loudon, and find 
 out as much as she could from her sister Edna. 
 
 It is a strange thing, and sad too, but sisters 
 do sometimes come to meet as these sisters met; 
 with mere courtesy — no more; to call one another, 
 as these did, by their married names — "Mrs. Van- 
 derdecken," "Mrs. Stedman," and to sit amiably 
 conversing together on indifferent topics like any 
 other ordinary acquaintances. Alas, tlicir fates had 
 drifted them apart, as brothers and sisters will drift,
 
 198 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 wlien there exists between them no real sympathy, 
 no tie stronger than the mere natural instinct of 
 flesh and blood. That may remain, and duty keeps 
 it alive in a measure, still it is only the mummy of 
 love which they dress up in decent clothes for the 
 world to look at. The soul of love — deep, close, 
 fraternal love — has fled for ever. 
 
 So it is, and must always be. Better accept 
 the fact as Edna accepted it, and received civilly 
 her sister's civil call, though internally thankful 
 tliat her husband was out, and that none of her 
 children were at hand to see into what the sisterly 
 bond can degenerate, under given circumstances and 
 with certain characters. 
 
 And yet she was sorry for Letty, and when — 
 her grand, patronising manner, and her air of 
 extreme condescension, as she examined the "little 
 poky house," having slightly worn off", Mrs. Vander- 
 decken betrayed unconsciously her inward troubles, 
 though in a round-about, irrelevant fashion, Edna 
 felt more sorry still. 
 
 "Was that what you came to speak to me 
 about?" said she, with her usual directness. "Yes, 
 it must be a great grief, to have your child setting 
 up for independent actions, making disreputable 
 acquaintances, and persisting in them after you 
 have forbidden them entirely." 
 
 "But I liave not done that, not exactly, for I 
 doubt if I could make her obey me." 
 
 "There I think you arc wrong," answered Edna, 
 in her quick, decided way, whicli made the j)eople 
 wlio did not like her — no person is liked by every-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 199 
 
 body — say she was too much given to preaching. 
 "I would Lay upon children as few restrictions and 
 commands as possible; but those made must be 
 rigidly enforced. And for that low fellow, who, 
 from what you say, is probably no soldier at all, 
 but an impertinent beggar, I would never allow 
 Gertrude to exchange another word with him." 
 
 "Do you think so? I wish I could do it; I 
 wish I dared." 
 
 "Dared! What, dare you not do an unpleasant 
 thing for the good of your own child V" 
 
 "It isn't that, Edna, not quite; but I will ex- 
 plain the matter another time," said Letty, hurriedly, 
 finding that it was impossible to get a true answer 
 to the ffilse impression which she had somehow con- 
 trived to give, and now felt difficult to remove. 
 "I'm sick of the subject, let us talk about some- 
 thing else. What a fine young fellow is that eldest 
 boy of yours! I met him at the door going out 
 with his brother." 
 
 "Will and Julius are constant companions, I 
 hope they will grow up the same, and be friends as 
 well as brothers. It is so sometimes, though not 
 always," said Edna, with a slight sigh. "Their 
 father and I often look at them with a full heart, 
 and wonder what their future will be. For Julius 
 we have no fear. You remember how healthy he 
 was — so good and sweet -tem2)ered, even as a 
 baby." 
 
 "Yes," said Letty, with a little return of her 
 stiff manner. 
 
 "But Will — the boys ought to have changed
 
 200 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 names, I tliink — Will is so deliccate, so sensitive, 
 in many tilings so strangely, painfully like " 
 
 Edna stoj^ped. 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken felt tlxat now or never was 
 her cliance, if slie wanted to find out anything about 
 her old lover, and her desperate anxiety to be free 
 from the doubt which had lately come, made her 
 bolder than usual. 
 
 "Yes, Will is likely to give yoii some uneasiness. 
 lie does not look strong, as if he had something of 
 that family weakness — was it consumption, or 
 what ? — which showed itself so plainly in poor dear 
 Julius." 
 
 "Poor dear Julius!" He had sunk to that, 
 uttered in the half-pitying, half-indifferent tone in 
 which dead peojxle, whose death is felt to be rather 
 a gain than a loss to their friends, come to be sjioken 
 of sometimes. 
 
 "And, by-the-bye," continued Mrs. Vanderdecken, 
 seeing that Mrs. Stedman remained quite silent, "1 
 have often wished to ask you, did you get that full 
 information Avhich you were in search of when you 
 wrote me the fact — the mere f ict — of his death in 
 India?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Edna, in a grave, consti-ained 
 tone. "Wo have, alasl no reason to doubt his 
 death; though at first we had, and it was a long 
 time before wo coidd reconcile ourselves to be- 
 lieve it." 
 
 "What!" cried Letty, turning pale; "Avas ho 
 not dead after all? I thought he was drowned in 
 the llooghly?"
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 201 
 
 "We supposed so, but liis body was not found, 
 and so we hoped lie might be yet alive-, had gone 
 up the country, or sailed to Australia, or perhaps 
 come dii-ect home to England, and then shrunk from 
 ilnding us out — but I will not trouble you with 
 these matters." 
 
 "It's no trouble. Please tell me. I shoitld like 
 to hear." 
 
 And though Mrs. Vanderdecken testified no dis- 
 tressing emotion — indeed the absolute' fact that 
 Julius was dead proved such a relief to her that she 
 could speak about him without any hesitation — 
 still she looked sad and grave, rather touched than 
 not. 
 
 "Do tell me all about him, Edna. Poor fellow! 
 I did not mean him any harm. I had no notion he 
 would have taken it so much to heart. Please tell 
 everything." 
 
 And she listened, not without feeling, while Edna 
 did tell her "everything:" down to the miserable 
 ending of that life, whose blessing she might have 
 been, instead of its fatality and its curse. 
 
 "Poor fellow! — poor fellow!" said Letty, sob- 
 bing a good deal. "And was he really not seen 
 after that day Avhen he went to the ship and found 
 me gone?" 
 
 "Never. We advertised for him half over the 
 world; the advertisements could not but have reached 
 him somewhere, if alive. And he would have come 
 home to us; I am siu-e he would. He knew how we 
 loved him."
 
 202 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "It must have been very painful," said Mrs. Van- 
 derdecken. "And so " 
 
 "And so, after two years of suspense, we got the 
 evidence I told you of. And some months later Ave 
 received his pocket-book, with his name written in- 
 side it, which he always carried about with him, for 
 it held" — she hesitated — "it held a lock of your 
 hair. It is all we have left of him. Would you 
 like to see it?" 
 
 "I think I should," said Letty, in a low tone. 
 
 "Then come up-stairs." 
 
 Letty followed to her sister's bed-room — a sacred 
 room, consecrated by both birth and death-, a mother's 
 room, where several toys strewn about showed that 
 the children had still free admittance into its pre- 
 cincts. But there was no baby in the house now, 
 and the little crib which had been occupied suc- 
 cessively so many years, was removed from its place 
 l)eside the bed and exiled into a ftir corner, to be 
 used as a receptacle for spare bhankets and other 
 extraneous things. The room and all its appoint- 
 ments were comfortable enough, but well worn and 
 a little old-fashioned, as if long after the need for 
 economy was gone, her love for the familiar objects 
 made Mrs. Stedman averse to any change in licr 
 apartment. 
 
 "That is your old dressing-table, and the ward- 
 robe too. I could almost fancy myself back in the 
 small house — where was it? I forget — that you 
 lived in when first you were married." 
 
 "Could you?" said Edna, as she unlocked a
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 203 
 
 drawer, and took therefrom a faded, water-stained 
 book. 
 
 Letty held it gently, crying- a little over it. 
 
 "Poor fellow! poor Jxilius! He was veiy fond 
 of me." 
 
 Asking no more questions , she retixmed the 
 pocket-book to her sister. The tribute to the dead 
 was paid, and its painfulness got over. Her emotion 
 had been sincere enough, but she was not sorry to 
 end it and revert to other things. She began turning- 
 over the various contents of the di-awer. 
 
 "What have you here? A pair of baby shoes. 
 I should have thought your stock of them had been 
 worn out long ago." 
 
 "These belonged to my little girl that died." 
 After a pause Edna added, "You never lost a child, 
 Letty?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 And then the two sisters — mothers both — 
 stood by the small treasure drawer, Avhere, besides 
 the shoes, lay one or two other trifles; sleeve ribbons, 
 a sash, relics of the dead that we all are prone to 
 keep somewhere or another, and learn in time to 
 look at quietly, as one day others will look at relics 
 of us. While gazing, their common womanhood and 
 motherhood melted both hearts. Letty silently clasped 
 Edna's hand. 
 
 "How old was she, poor little lamb?" 
 
 "Only four months. She was such a little de- 
 licate thing always, but the prettiest of all my babies. 
 I was ill for nearly a year after she died, and gave
 
 204 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 a deal of trouble to my husband, but be was so 
 good to me — so good!" 
 
 "Ah!" said Letty, sighing. 
 
 "However, I got well in time, and the year after 
 that my twins were born; twins like you and me, 
 you know," added she, aifectionately. "They com- 
 forted me, and now I am quite hapjiy again. Only 
 sometimes I wake in the night, fancying I hear my 
 little girl crying to me from her cot, and — it's 
 hard, Letty, it's hard." 
 
 Edna leaned her head on her sister's shoulder 
 and burst into tears. 
 
 Letty caressed her; kindly enough, but she was 
 puzzled to know what to say, and so said nothing. 
 Edna soon dried her eyes and quietly locked up the 
 drawer. 
 
 "That's right; you don't fret about baby noAv, I 
 hope? It would be wrong, Avith all your five sons." 
 
 "I know that; I know all is right both for her 
 and me, and I shall find my little angel again some 
 day. "Will you come down-stairs, Letty dear? I 
 hear the bell for the children's dinner." 
 
 At this meal "Aunt Letty," as she condescend- 
 ingly announced herself, was an object of great 
 curiosity and aAve. 1'hc young Stedraans evidently 
 viewed her with a slight distrust — all save Will, 
 who, imaginative lad as ho was, fell a captive at 
 once to his beautiful aunt, sat beside her, paid her 
 his pretty, boyish, gentleman-like attentions, and 
 watched her every movement Avith admiring eyes — 
 the very eyes of liis uncle Julius. I'leased and 
 flattered, touched jjcrhajis in spite of herself, by
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 205 
 
 some of those ghostly memories which the new genera- 
 tion often so strangely bring back to us all, Mrs. 
 Vanderdecken took especial notice of the boy, and 
 said to his mother, half sighing, that she wished she 
 had a sou like Will. 
 
 And during the hour she stayed Letty was al- 
 most the old Letty over again. She placed herself 
 in the fireside circle, where, with the mother as its 
 centre, the younger children soon made themselves 
 merry, and the two elders, busy with book and pencil 
 
 — strangely enough Will was very fond of drawing 
 
 — occujned themselves steadily and quietly, some- 
 times joining in the conversation just enough to 
 jirove that they were accustomed to be to their 
 parents neither playthings nor slaves, but, so far as 
 their years allowed, rational, intelligent companions. 
 She talked kindly rather than patronisingly, and 
 seemed anxious to make herself popular. Letty 
 never could bear not to be popular — for the time 
 being. 
 
 Also — let us give her her just due — there was 
 something in the atmosphere of this warm, bright 
 little hoitse which touched tlie heart, such as it was, 
 of the unsatisfied rich woman, who had a mansion 
 to dwell in, but no home; a niillionnaire to provide 
 for her, but no husband; and who, let her try to 
 compel it as she might, could never win from her 
 only child anything like the tender, mindful, re- 
 verential love that she saw in these five boys to- 
 wards theii' mother. 
 
 "How fond your children are of you!" she said 
 to her sister, as she stood arranging her purple
 
 206 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 ribbons round lier still fair face, careful as ever to 
 set it off to the best advantage. "And they seem to 
 obey you too. Now Gertrude is fond of me, poor 
 little thing, but she never minds me one bit. I wish 
 I could take a leaf out of your book." 
 
 "Do you?" 
 
 '■'And then your boys all seem to get on so well 
 together: never a cross look or a shar^J word; but I 
 suppose that is because you are never cross and 
 vexed yourself." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I am," said Edna, smiling. "But wc 
 are so many people in such a small house that we 
 should never manage at all if wc did not learn to 
 keep our little tempers to ourselves. Isn't it so, 
 Twinnies?" patting the round, curly heads which 
 had intruded up-stairs. "Come, jump up on a chair 
 and kiss your aunt Letty — your great, tall aimtie 
 — and tell her she must be starting — Will and 
 Julius shall take her to the railway station — and 
 she must come and see us again as soon as she 
 can." 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdeckcn distributed most affectionate 
 adieus all round, and departed with her two nephews. 
 But she took care to dismiss them at the earliest 
 o[)|)ortunity, to avoid any possible chance of meeting 
 at the train oil her some of her grand acquaintances, 
 or, Avorst of all, her husband. 
 
 At the journey's end her carriage was waiting 
 for her, and she drove alone through the lovely 
 Kentish country, beginning to wake up into all the 
 freshness of early s])ring. Did it remind her — after 
 her long absence from such scenes, for they had
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 207 
 
 wintered iu town last year — of many a long-ago 
 spring? that in the Isle of Wight, for instance, when 
 Edna nursed and petted her, and Dr. Stednian was 
 kind to her, and Julius adored her. Or, perhaps, of 
 later springs, Avhen she and Julius sauntered about 
 as affianced lovers, and watched the leaves come out 
 and the thrushes sing in Kensington Gardens? Days 
 when they were poor together — poor and hard- 
 working, but very happy, or, looking back, it seemed 
 that they were. And as she smoothed down her 
 silken gown, and leaned lazily back on the cushions 
 of her carriage, Mrs. Vanderdecken gave more than 
 one sigh to the memory — now a perfectly safe and 
 comfortable memory to dwell iipon — of poor, 
 drowned Julius, lost in his prime, forsaken, dead, 
 and forgotten. 
 
 Passing the school-house, she recollected that she 
 had told Gertrude to wait for her there, thinking it 
 a safe place of detention between the governess's 
 hour of leaving and her own return. But, with 
 fatal precaution, she had overshot her mark. For, 
 the moment after having descended, she saw, sitting 
 on the bench beside the school-house door, with 
 Gertrude standing beside him and eagerly talking 
 to him, the man Jolm Stone! 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken's anger, not unmixed with 
 fear, left her absolutely dumb. But Gertrude ran to 
 meet her without the slightest hesitation — betraying 
 no sense of having done wrong. 
 
 "Oh, mamma, I am so glad you are come! I 
 have been waiting to tell you something! Some- 
 thing so wonderful, which Mr. Stone has just told
 
 208 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 me. You will never be angry with liim any more. 
 And Aunt Edna will be so glad; everybody will 
 be so glad." 
 
 "At what, my dear?" asked Mrs. Vanderdecken, 
 a faint, cold fear thrilling through her. 
 
 "Stoop down and I'll whisper it, for it is a 
 secret still, and only you and I are to know," said 
 the little maid, her eyes bright and her cheeks 
 glowing. "But he says — Mr. Stone, I mean — that 
 he is quite certain Uncle Julius is not dead at all." 
 
 Had a thunderbolt dropped at her feet, Mrs. 
 Vanderdecken could not have been more startled. 
 For a moment she was silent, then she took to the 
 usual refuge of fear — incredulous anger. 
 
 "Don't tell me such ridiculous nonsense. I don't 
 believe a word of it. And you, Gertrude, you ought 
 to be ashamed of yourself Did I not forbid you ever 
 to speak to this — this fellow again?" 
 
 "No, mamma," replied Gertrude, boldly, "you 
 forbade me to bring him into the Park, but you 
 never said I was not to speak to him. I met him 
 quite by chance, and he walked on beside me. How 
 could I lielj) it? the common was as free to him as 
 to me. Besides," added the little creature, roused to 
 rebellion by what she considered injustice, "I would 
 not have helped it if I could. Nothing should ever 
 make me behave unkindly to a ])oor sick " 
 
 "Folly! I tell you, child, he is nothing but alow 
 im])Ostor." 
 
 "I beg your pardon, madam? What were you 
 pleased to call me?" 
 
 Stone liad followed, walking feebly with the help
 
 THE woula-n's kingdom. 209 
 
 of his stick, and now stood before the lady, taking 
 off his hat to her with an air of mock deference. 
 
 Voices cliange, like faces, in course of years; or 
 perhaps he intentionally altered his; or, still more 
 probable, was the truth of the old adage, "None so 
 deaf as those who will not hear." But even now 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken showed no sign of having re- 
 cognised who he really was. Her reply was given 
 in unmitigated anger. 
 
 "I do not know who or what you may be, but 
 I know you have no business with my daughter. I 
 said, and I say again, that you are a low impostor. 
 If you persist in following us about so impertinently, 
 I will tell my husband, and he shall give you in 
 charge to the police." 
 
 The man stood a minute, face to face with her, 
 apparently feeling neither insiilted nor afraid. Then 
 he said, in a very low voice — 
 
 "Mrs. Vanderdecken, you will neither tell your 
 husband, nor will you give me in charge to the 
 police; I am quite sure of that. Look here!" and 
 he took from his waistcoat pocket a letter, an old, 
 foreign-looking letter, on whicli was still visible in a 
 woman's hand the address, "Julius Stedman, Esqtiire, 
 Calcutta." "I have half-a-dozen more of these. They 
 came into my possession — never mind how. They 
 are not very interesting reading, but they might be 
 useful. I was just going to show them to your little 
 giii here." 
 
 "Oh, no, for pity's sake, no!" gasped the mother, 
 in an agony of terror, and placing herself so that 
 Gei'trude could not see the letter, she hastily bade 
 
 The Woman's Kingdom. 11. 14
 
 210 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 her run away and call tlie carriage, remaining in it 
 till slie herself came. 
 
 Then, half blind with dread, she turned back and 
 forced herself to look at this man, to find out who 
 he really was, whether only John Stone, a poor 
 wandering wretch, who had somehow got hold of 
 her story, and still worse, of her letters — or some 
 one more formidable still, who^ she dared scarcely 
 imagine. 
 
 There he stood, with the sun slanting on his bare, 
 bald head and grey beard, leaning on his stick, his 
 threadbare coat wrapped round him, the mere wreck 
 of a man — as much a wreck as that poor broken 
 ship which they had used to watch the waves beating 
 on, off the Isle of Wight coast, and yet, like it, pre- 
 serving a certain amount of dignity, even of grace, 
 amidst all his downfall. A man deeply to be pitied 
 — perhaps severely blamed — since every one has 
 his lot in his own hands, more or less, to redeem or 
 ruin himself — but a man who in his lowest plight 
 could not be altogether despised. 
 
 "I sec, madam, you do not remember me, though 
 I have the fortune — or misfortune — accurately to 
 remember you." 
 
 "How? Who are you? But no, it is quite im- 
 possible," cried the frightened woman , shrinking 
 back, yet knowing all the while how useless it was 
 to shrink from a trutli Avhich every second forced 
 itself more strongly u])on her. 
 
 At that critical moment there came out of the 
 school-house two of her friends — the rector's wife 
 and sister, who having heard that slie was expected,
 
 THE "woman's kingdom. 211 
 
 waited to consult with her about a school-feast — 
 for the Vanderdecken purse and the Vanderdecken 
 grounds were always their prime stronghold in all 
 parish festivities. 
 
 They met her with much empressement — these 
 kindly women, whom she liked, and who liked her 
 
 — for Letty Kenderdine's old pleasant Avays had not 
 faded out in Letitia Vanderdecken. She Avould have 
 gone forth eagerly to meet them, but there — just 
 between her and them — watching her like her evil 
 genius, hainiting her like an impending fate — stood 
 this shabby, disreputable man. The man who had 
 been the betrothed of her youth — whose arms had 
 clasped her — whose lips had kissed her; to whom 
 she had written those silly letters that a fiancee was 
 likely to write, and unto whom she had been fsilse 
 with the utmost falseness by which a woman can 
 disgrace herself and destroy her lover — an infidelity 
 than which there is none greater or crueller, short 
 of the infidelity of a married wife. There he stood 
 
 — she was certain of it now; — not John Stone, but 
 Julius Stedman. 
 
 How it came aboixt that he was still alive, or 
 what had brought him hither, she never paused to 
 think. She only recognised that it was, without a 
 doubt, her old lover, risen up as from the very grave 
 to punish her: to bring \ipon her her husband's jealous 
 anger, her daugliter's contempt, her neighbours' gossip. 
 No wonder that the poor, weak, cowardly woman was 
 overpowered with an almost morbid terror — a terror 
 so great that she did not even perceive the faint 
 fragment of right that she still had on licr side; — 
 
 li*
 
 212 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 namely, that for any man, let liim be ever so ill- 
 treated by a woman, to take upon lier tins mean 
 revenge, was a cruelty wbicb condemned bimself 
 quite as mucli as it did her. 
 
 But, there he was, undoubtedly Julius Stedman; 
 and Mrs. Vanderdecken felt that if the earth would 
 open and hide her from him she should be only too 
 thankful. 
 
 Alas! the earth does not open and hide either 
 sufferers or sinners, when they desire it. They cannot 
 escape. They must stay and meet the consequences 
 of the sin : learn to endure the suffering. 
 
 Mi*s. Vanderdecken slipped a step or two aside, 
 and received her rectory friends with a nervous, 
 apologetic smile. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, but I was just speaking to 
 this poor man, a very lionest and respectable person, 
 in whom I have complete reliance, and for whom I 
 am most anxious to do all I can. I wanted to liear 
 his story, but I will hear it another time, if — if he 
 will kindly excuse me now " 
 
 "Certainly," said the man, with a formal and 
 stately bow. "Certainly. I have no wish to intrude 
 upon you, madam. I am quite at your disposal <any 
 day. Good afternoon." 
 
 He took off his hat once more, first to her and 
 then to the other ladies, and walked away slowly, in 
 an op])ositc direction. 
 
 "I know that man by sight," said the rector's 
 wife, looking after him in some surjirise. "He comes 
 to cluirch pretty regularly, I think." 
 
 "Yes."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 213 
 
 "Poor fellow, lie seems as if lie had seen better 
 days. My husband must call upon him. What is 
 his namcV" 
 
 "John Stone," replied Letty, faintly. 
 
 "And you have been kind to him, as you are to 
 everybody. You are a real blessing to our parish, 
 my dear Mrs. Vanderdecken." 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken's intense fear — a fear which 
 it Avas now impossible either to fly from or to set 
 aside — made her cleverer than ordinary. She carried 
 on the conversation with her friends till she had 
 furtively watched this man — once her lover, now 
 her bitterest enemy — safe out of sight. Then she 
 stepped into her carriage, much agitated indeed, but 
 still able by a violent effort to control herself before 
 her daughter, and account for her nervousness by 
 saying how very much worn out she had been by 
 her journey to London. 
 
 "But why did you go, mamma? Oh, I remember^ 
 it was about a bonnet. Still, I Avould not have you 
 so tired and looking so ill for all the new bonnets 
 in the world." 
 
 " Don't talk to me till we get into the house and 
 have had our tea. Then I shall be rested, and you 
 can tell me all your story." 
 
 "Very well, mamma," replied Gertrude, with her 
 customary accpicscence, and then sat looking out of 
 the carriage window, amusing herself with her own
 
 214 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 thoughts, which were generally quite as interesting 
 as her mother's conversation. 
 
 Upon her new discovery the little girl's fancy 
 dwelt Avith a tenderness indescribable. Stone had 
 told her that for many months Julius Stedman had 
 been "out of his mind" — though carefully tended 
 by some Parsees who took pity on him, but never 
 even knew his name. That he came to his right 
 senses in some up-country station — all but penniless; 
 and had enlisted for a soldier — seen much service 
 
 — and was finally sent home to England invalided 
 
 — at which critical point in the story Mrs. Vander- 
 decken's carriage appeared. 
 
 But Gertrude had heard enough. Her imagination 
 was vividly excited. That most divine doctrine of 
 Cliristianity, whicli comes as a natural instinct to the 
 young, tlie gospel of rc]>entancc and the forgiveness 
 of sins, tlic joy in lieaven over one sinner that rc- 
 pentcth, was deep in the inmost heart of this child. 
 Her eyes filled with tears as she thought of poor 
 Julius Stedman, looking not unlike the prodigal son 
 in her ])ictonal Bible, coming home to his brotlier 
 and sister-, taken into the bright little house at Brook 
 (Street, and there made liappy to the end of his days. 
 ►She forgot one thing, which over-tender ])Cople also 
 sometimes forget, though it is not forgotten in the 
 parable — that the prodigal first said, "I have sinned." 
 But in no way had Stone ever liinted that Julius 
 Sledman — wlicrever or whatever he might be — was 
 in the least sorry for anything. 
 
 However this was an ethical question, al)out 
 which tlie child did not trouble herself. She only
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 215 
 
 waited witli painfully restrained impatience till she 
 had leave to tell her tale. 
 
 This Avas not for an hour or more. Mrs. Vander- 
 decken kept putting off, on any excuse, what she so 
 much dreaded to hear. At last, getting one of the 
 not unfrequent telegrams that her husband would 
 dine in the City and not be home till next day, she 
 took a little more corn-age, and stretching herself on 
 the sofjx in her morning-room, pre2)ared to hear the 
 worst, and to take things, hard as they were, at least 
 as easy as she could. 
 
 "Now, Gertrude, while I have ten minutes to 
 spare, tell me what was that silly story about Dr. 
 Stedman's brother being still alive, which Mr. Stone 
 told to you." 
 
 For she had satisfactorily discovered that as 
 Stone only did the child know him; he had, for 
 some reason or other, been careful to 2)reserve his 
 incognito; nor, to Gertriide at any rate, had he 
 identified himself with Julius Stedman — if indeed 
 he was Julius. Sometimes a wild hope that he was 
 not, that her own fears and some chance resemblance 
 had deluded her, came to comfort Mrs. Vandcrdcckcn. 
 So, as carelessly as she could, she repeated the name 
 John Stone, and foxmd that her daughter received it 
 with equal indifference. So far she was safe. 
 
 But when she began to hear the story, so minute 
 in all its details, she felt that though a child might 
 be deceived, no grown person could be, into be- 
 lieving it a tale told second-liand. Gertrude's accu- 
 rate memory and vivid imagination reproduced, al- 
 most as graphically as it had been given to her, the
 
 216 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 history of the young man's passionate despair — how, 
 having lost his bride, he determined to lose himself 
 — at once, and as completely as if he had been 
 dead. 
 
 "He wished his friends to think him dead, 
 mamma. Ho thought they would be happier if they 
 did: if he could drop out of the world and be utterly 
 forgotten. Was that right?" 
 
 "I can't tell. And where is he? How did Stone 
 know him?" cried the mother, with eager deceit — 
 or perhaps wishful even to deceive herself 
 
 "You forget, mamma; but then you know you 
 are not very good at remembering things," said Ger- 
 trude, patronisiugly. "Have I not told you ever so 
 often that Mr. Stone declares he never saw Uncle 
 Julius?" 
 
 Obvious as the quibble was, Mrs. Vanderdecken 
 took it in for the moment and breathed freer. 
 
 "Oh, yes, yes; go on, child." 
 
 "After he turned soldier he was knocked about 
 the world in all directions. I'm afraid," Gertrude 
 added gravely, "that he was sometimes very naughty. 
 Mr. Stone says so: but he wouldn't toll me wliat he 
 had done. I told him I thought tlie naughtiest thing 
 of all was his not writing to liis brollicr, wlio loved 
 him so dearly, and Avould have been so happy to get 
 him back again." 
 
 "Did he ever como back?" 
 
 "Yes. That is the deliglit of it. Mr. Stone says 
 he is certain ho is in England — in fact, 1 almost 
 think he knows where lie is, though he did not say 
 so. I fancy ho — Uncle Julius that is (oh, please,
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 217 
 
 mamma, let mo call him Uncle Julius, for I feel so 
 fond of him) — must be very poor, or very miser- 
 able, or something; for when I asked why he had 
 not gone at once to his brother, Mr. Stone said, 
 'No, ho would never do that, for his misery would 
 only disgrace him.' But, mamma, that can't be true, 
 can it?" said the child, appealingly. "I am sure if 
 I had a brother, and ho were ever so miserable, — 
 nay, even if he had done wrong, and were to come 
 to me and say he was sorry, and would never be 
 bad again, I would take him in and be glad to see 
 him, and feel it no disgrace, even if he were in rags 
 and tatters, like poor Mr. Stone. "Would not you?" 
 
 "Yes," said the mother, and knew she was tell- 
 ing a lie, and that one day God would surely con- 
 denui her out of her own lips before the face of her 
 own child. She turned paler and paler, and scarce- 
 ly could utter the next question ■ — apparently 
 needless, and yet which she felt she must fully as- 
 sure herself of before she ventured a step further. 
 "But the lady, she who went out to India: did not 
 Mr. Stone tell you the name of the lady?" 
 
 Gertrude's lip curled Avith the supreme contempt 
 of indignant youth. 
 
 "No, he told me nothing about her, and I did 
 not care to ask. The false, mean, mercenary woman ! 
 Don't speak of her, mamma, she isn't worth it." 
 
 No, the mother did not attempt to speak. She 
 only turned her face to the wall, with a half-audible 
 groan, wishing she could lie silent for ever — silent 
 in the grave, where, at least, her child could not 
 have the heart to say such cruel words, or she her-
 
 218 TiiE woman's kingdom. 
 
 self, hidden in tlie dust of deatli, would not be able 
 to hear them. And yet she knew they were true 
 words — true as the warm light in Gertriide's eyes, 
 when feeling that she had somehow vexed her mo- 
 ther, though she could not in the least guess how, 
 she crept closer to her and began caressing her and 
 amusing her with careless words, every one of which 
 stung like wasjis, or pierced like arroAvs. 
 
 "You see, mamma, she must have been such a 
 very heartless woman, as well as a faithless, and 
 such a coward too. She never sent one line to 
 Uncle Julius, to tell him she had changed her mind 
 — left him to be told by somebody else — anybody 
 who cared to tell him. It was the ship's captain 
 who did it, when he came on board, and he fell 
 down on the deck as if he had been shot; Mr. Stone 
 says it felt like being shot — that he laughed — 
 and it did not seem to hurt him at all for a minute, 
 and he got U]) and staggered back to the boat and 
 landed again. After that, his mind went all astray. 
 Poor man! Poor Uncle Julius!" 
 
 "There, that will do," said Mrs. Vanderdecken, 
 faintly. "You have talked so much, you have (piite 
 mad(; my head ache. I think you had better go to 
 bed now." 
 
 "()]i, no-, it is liardly eight o'clock; and, besides, 
 you will want me to wait upon you, and get you 
 your paper-case and things. You know you liave a 
 letter to write, mother dear," said Ccrtrudc, coax- 
 ingly. 
 
 "What letter?"
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 219 
 
 "To aunt Edna, of course, telling her that Dr. 
 Stedman must conic here at once." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Can't you guess, mamma? To see Mr. Stone, 
 and get out of him everything he knows about Uncle 
 Julius. He would not tell me, but he must tell Dr. 
 Stedman, who is Uncle Julius's very own brother. 
 No time ought to be lost. You'll write, of course, 
 mamma?" 
 
 "Of course," echoed the mother, actually shiver- 
 ing with fear as this new difficulty in her position 
 opened itself out before her. Vainly she turned it 
 over in her troubled brain, wondering how she was 
 to escape it. Escape, indeed, Avas what she most 
 thought of; whether she could not, by continuing 
 utterly to ignore him, and keeping still in dead 
 silence the secret which lie had so far kept, get rid, 
 tcm])orarily or permanently, of this man, who might 
 be Julius Stedman, and yet might not. But in either 
 case it could not signify much, nor for very long. 
 He was ap[)arently in bad health — he might not 
 live. If he were Julius, lie probably had his own 
 good reasons for not wishing to be recognised l)y his 
 brother; since, diu'ing all the Aveeks he had remained 
 in England, he had made no effort to see him. And 
 let the silly, romantic Gertrude have what notions 
 she might — theirs could not be a pleasant meeting. 
 Indeed, as a physician in good practice, it might 
 seriously injure Dr. Stedman to have thrust upon 
 him a brother so low in the world. Was it not ad- 
 visable, perhaps, to keep them aj)art? 
 
 So reasoned this woman, long used to view all
 
 220 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 things by the light of custom and convenience, and 
 half persuaded herself to take the easiest course, of 
 letting things alone, when she was startled by the 
 voice of her daughter — the quick, decided little 
 voice, which often half coaxed, half governed her to 
 do many things against her will. 
 
 "Mamma, shall I bring you your letter-case now? 
 The post-bag will go in half-an-hour-, and here is 
 your favourite paj)er with the crest upon it. I'll get 
 you an envelope immediately." 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken knew not what to do. This, 
 which seemed to her child the most natural and 
 simple course imaginable, was to her nearly an im- 
 possibility — a dread indescribable at the time, and 
 the opening up of endless future troubles. For of 
 the great enmity that tlie man Stone — or Julius 
 Stedman — whichever he was — bore her, there 
 could be no doubt. He would do her harm if he 
 could. Instead of aiding, she would thankfully have 
 annihilated him. Not out of cruelty — • poor Letty 
 M'as not naturally cruel — but out of mere fear. 
 Yet, are not lialf the Avickednesscs and barbarities of 
 this world done out of sim])le fear? She did not 
 mean to be wicked — she would have been horrified 
 had any one suggested such a thing — ■ yet more 
 than once the dim thought crossed her mind — oh, 
 if only tliat poor sickly man, whoever he was, had 
 slijiped away from the world, instead of coming here 
 to be the torment and terror of her life! 
 
 Not daring to refuse her daughter — for what 
 possible excuse could she give for so doing? — she 
 sat with the pen in her hand — her irresolute.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 221 
 
 trembling, jewelled hand — until the stroke of nine, 
 and then laid it down. 
 
 "I am so tired, Gertrude, — so very tired, and 
 I hate writing letters. It is too late now, for I 
 ought to word it carefully so as not to startle them. 
 I'll write it the first thing to-morrow." 
 
 "Very Avell, mamma," said Gertrude, passively; 
 she had had only too much experience of her mo- 
 ther's dilatory ways, her weak habit of j)utting off 
 everything till "to-morrow." Still, she would not 
 complain, this good child whom Heaven was teach- 
 ing, as it has to teach the luckless children of some 
 parents, by negatives. Though bitterly disappointed, 
 she held her tongue, and indeed begun, as she often 
 did, quietly to lay her own plans for doing what her 
 mother would most likely leave undone, or do too 
 late. But before she could settle anything to her 
 satisfaction, nurse came to carry her off to bed; 
 where Gertrude laid her busy little head down, and 
 slept off, in multitudinous dreams, in which Uncle 
 Julius, Aunt Edna, and all the rest, figured by turns, 
 the intense excitement of the day. 
 
 Not so her mother. ]\Irs. Vandordeckcn had to 
 pay the j^enalty of an idle, luxurious life; her sleep 
 often fled from her. In the wakeful, silent hours 
 every small grievance became a mountainous wrong. 
 No wonder, then, that the same thing befell her now, 
 and, after a miserable night, she arose sick, uure- 
 freshed, driven by sheer desperation into what yester- 
 day would have been the veiy last thing she had 
 dared to do — a resolve to go and see for herself 
 whether her fears were true or false; whether she
 
 222 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 really bad at lier very door Julius Stedman, returned 
 alive; wlio, thougli he could have no actual scandal 
 to bring against her — Letty Kenderdine, Avith all 
 her folly, had ever kept her fair fame clear — was 
 not only himself a former lover, but was acquainted 
 with the mimerous love affairs of her youth — in her 
 vanity she had often teazed him with them, and 
 laughed at his ridiculous jealousy. Now, even if 
 he did no worse, he might repeat them, and make 
 her the by-word and the laughing-stock of her neigh- 
 bours. The idea of this low fellow, who, whatever 
 or whoever he had been, had now sunk to be a 
 lodger in a village ale-house, giving out to all the 
 drunken hangers-on there that he "was for years the 
 affianced husband of Mrs. Vanderdeckeu of liolyAvell 
 Hall! It nearly drove her wild. 
 
 To prevent it, by almost any sacrifice, she was 
 driven to the daring expedient of attempting an 
 interview — a private interview — with the m<an who 
 called himself John Stone. 
 
 At first she thought of sending for him to her 
 own house — but Gertrude might Avondcr, the servants 
 might gossip — besides, the man might refuse to 
 come. In any sight she had had of him he had 
 seemed more and more resolved to make her feel 
 she had cause to be afraid of him, not he of her. 
 Better seize him of a sudden, before he had time to 
 settle what advantage he should take of lier — 
 whether he wanted revenge or only money. For 
 still she clung feebly to her old delusion, that 
 money could do anything, atftne for anything. 
 
 Yet as she pondered over these things — con-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 223 
 
 sidering liow she niiglit best j)rotect herself from 
 him — there came more than once to Letty a vision 
 of her young lover, who would have given his 
 existence to protect her^ who Avorshipped the very 
 ground she trod upon, who, though poor in worldly 
 wealth , had been rich in everything else — most 
 rich in the only treasure which makes life really 
 hajipy — honest, hearty love. And though she had 
 got all she wanted — nay, was in a far higher and 
 more prosperous position than she had ever dreamed 
 of as a girl, still she felt that something was missing 
 out of her life — something that never would come 
 into it again. She could understand dimly what 
 that text meant — "to gain the whole world aoid lose 
 one's own soul.'' 
 
 This feeling did not last, of course. Letty 's 
 nature was too shallow for any emotion to last long; 
 and she shortly turned away from it to consider hoAV 
 she could accom^jlish, with least observation, her 
 meeting with Stone. 
 
 It happened to be her day of district-visiting — 
 Avhen the village was accustomed to see her carriage 
 waiting about, while she went from cottage ta cottage, 
 splendid and condescending, thoiigh sometimes a 
 little alarming to the inmates. But Mrs. Fox's house 
 was not included in her list , partly becaitse the gcjod 
 woman was not quite poor enough to warrant her 
 dwelling being taken by storm by a rich neighbour, 
 who had no other excuse than the superiority of 
 wealth to give for so doing, and jiartly because Mrs. 
 Vanderdecken did not consider a public-house exactly 
 "respectable."
 
 224 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 Great, therefore, was the landlady's surprise when 
 the Holywell equipage stopped at her door, and its 
 mistress, leaning out smiling, requested to know if 
 there was not a person named Stone lodging there? 
 
 "Yes, sure, ma'am; has been here since before 
 Christmas; a very decent man, or I wouldn't have 
 had him in my house, I can assure you. A soldier, 
 ma'am, just come from India?" 
 
 "So I understand. I have had friends in India, 
 I should like to see him, — and — it would be a 
 pleasure to me to do anything I could for him. Will 
 you tell him so?" 
 
 "That I Avill, Mrs. Vanderdeckeu , and I'm real 
 glad too," added the old woman, confidentially, "for, 
 to tell you the truth , he's sometimes a great weight 
 upon my mind — poor Mr. Stone: not for fear he 
 won't pay me — he does that reg'lar — but I can see 
 he's poor enough, and very sickly, and has such 
 queer ways. I was thinking of telling our rector 
 about him, in case anything did happen." 
 
 "Don't, don't!" said Mrs. Vanderdeckeu, eagerly. 
 "The rector has only too much upon his hands. If 
 you want things for your lodger — food or wine — 
 just send to the Hall." 
 
 "You are only too good, ma'am; and I've said 
 to Mr. Stone often and often what a kind lady you 
 be. But here lie comes to speak for himself. My 
 dear soul," darting up to him and whispering in his 
 car, "do look alive for once. Here is somebody 
 come to see you — a kind lady as says she has 
 friends in India, and Avislics you well." 
 
 Stone, who had been creeping lazily across the
 
 THE WOMAN S KINGDOM. 
 
 20.') 
 
 common in the sunsliinc (^f tlie lovely spring morning-, 
 looked about liim in liis wild, weary, confused 
 fashion — he seemed sometimes half asleep , as if it 
 was a long time before he C(juld take any new idea 
 into his bewildered brain. 
 
 "Don't bother me, Mrs. Fox, pray! Ask the 
 lady who she is, and Avhat she comes about?'" and 
 then, deaf, and blind, and stupid as he seemed, he 
 perceived the face leaning out of the carriage window. 
 The mutual recognition was instantaneous. 
 
 "What do you want with me?" asked he, 
 hoarsely. 
 
 "I want to speak to you — just half-a-dozen 
 words. Will you come into my carriage, or shall I 
 get out?" 
 
 "You had better get out." 
 
 Driven desperate by her extreme fear, Letty 
 obeyed. As she did so the mere force of habit made 
 Stone come forward to assist her — as any gentle- 
 man would assist a lady — but by this time Mrs. 
 Vanderdecken had recovered her prudence. Pre- 
 tending not to see him, she rested as usual on her 
 footman's arm, and descended leisurely from her 
 carriage. 
 
 "Mrs. Fox," said she, carefully addressing her- 
 self to the landlady, "can I have a Avord or two 
 Avith your lodger in your little parlour? And, coach- 
 man, walk the horses up and down the common, it 
 is rather chilly this morning. Don't you lind it so, 
 after India, Mr. Stone?" 
 
 Truly Letty had rather gained than lost in the 
 art of keeping up appearances. 
 
 The \\',mnn's Kiiigd'.m. II. lo
 
 226 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Ml". Stone, my dear," wliispered tlie landlady, 
 pulling liiin by the sleeve as lie stood motionless. 
 "You're forgetting your manners, quite. Do go in 
 and sjieak to the lady — Mrs. Vanderdecken — she 
 is such a kind lady, and might turn out a good 
 friend to you." 
 
 And considering him woefully blind to his own 
 interests , which were somehow or other in her charge, 
 the old woman fairly pushed him into the parlour 
 and shut the door. 
 
 So the tAvo — once lovers — stood face to face 
 together and alone; even as when they had parted 
 fifteen years ago, expecting to meet again almost as 
 husband and wife. They stood, looking blankly at 
 one another across the sea of dead years which had 
 rolled between and for ever divided them. 
 
 Hardly knoAving what she did, Letty slightly 
 extended her hand, but it was not taken, and then 
 she said in a frightened voice, — 
 
 "I know Avho you are; but hoAv did you come 
 here? I thought — everybody thought — that you 
 were dead long ago." 
 
 "You thought I was dead? Well, so I have 
 been these many years. Shall I tell you who killed 
 me?" 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken shrunk back, and then be- 
 thought herself that, whether he was mad or not, it 
 was advisable to pacify him. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, I only meant that as we 
 are both middle-aged people now, we had better let 
 bygones be bygones. Won't you shake hands, Mr. 
 Stedman?"
 
 THE \voMA:^H's kixgdom. 227 
 
 At sound of tliat old name — the boyisli name, 
 his and "VViirs — the artist's name which he had 
 hoped to make famous, and give, covered with honour, 
 to the woman he loved — the man started, and began 
 to tremble violently. 
 
 "Don't call me thus. I have long since dropped 
 the name; I have forgotten I ever bore it. I told 
 you I was dead — dead I" 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken looked sorry, but she was 
 too much afraid for herself to give way much. 
 
 "Pray don't talk in that sad fashion; I am sure 
 there is no need. You are, of course, a good deal 
 changed, and I am grieved to see it. You must 
 have had a hard life in India, or wherever you were. 
 I should like to be of service to you, if I could; 
 if you would promise never to refer to youthful 
 follies." 
 
 "Follies!" 
 
 "You know they were such," said Letty, gather- 
 ing courage, "Ours 'was just a boy-and-girl affair. 
 We were not suited for each other, and should never 
 have been happy. It was really quite as much for 
 your sake as my own that I did as I did." 
 
 "Stop!" cried Julius, fiercely, and rose up in 
 his rags — his old coat was actually ragged now — 
 to confront the lady — so much a lady to look at, 
 so graceful and so elegantly clad. "Stop. You and 
 I may never meet in this Avorld again; so at least 
 let us tell one another no lies. There were lies 
 enough told by one of us, fifteen years ago." 
 
 His manner was so wild, that at first Letty 
 glanced towards the door; then rapidly calculating 
 
 15*
 
 228 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 consequences — ■ a new thing for her — she decided 
 to propitiate him, if possible. 
 
 "This is not kind, nor even gentleman-like of 
 you — and you were always such a gentleman," said 
 she, in a soothing tone. "I dare say you were much 
 annoyed with me at the time, for which I am very 
 sorry, though I did all for the best. But you must 
 have got over it now. And please don't speak so 
 loud; people will hear you outside." 
 
 "Oh, that is all you care for still, I see; how 
 things look outside." 
 
 His laugh was so strange, so dreadful, tliat Letty 
 again doubted whether, at all risks, it would not be 
 safer to get away from him. She looked towards 
 the door. 
 
 "Excuse me, but since you have desired it, we 
 will have out our 'few words.' You need not be 
 afraid, I shall not harm you. I am not insane, 
 though the ((uantity of opium I eat makes me a little 
 queer sometimes; nor a drunkard; nor a thief, as 
 you supposed me to be. But everything else bad 
 that a man can be — that a woman might have saved 
 him from — I am, and it is your doing." 
 
 "My doin 
 
 It was fortunate for Letty that at this moment 
 her carriage passed the window, reminding her that 
 she was Mrs. Vanflerdccken after all. Slie rose in 
 her stately height from the horse-hair sofa. 
 
 "If you talk in this way I must really go." 
 "Not yet, I could not allow it. But pray be 
 seated. Though I am aware it is but poor accom- 
 modation I have to offer you."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 229 
 
 "I cannot stay indeed. My jxisition as — as a 
 married lady " 
 
 "A married lady!" repeated lie, in the sneering 
 tone of young Julius Stedman, deepened tenfold. 
 "Fifteen years ago you were in heart and vow mar- 
 ried to me. When you gave yourself to another 
 man you did — what the other women do who sell 
 tliemselves body and soul to any man that desires 
 them — what your Bible calls by the ugly word " 
 
 "I can't listen. I won't listen," cried Letty, 
 flushing up. "Only a brute would speak in this 
 way to me — me, a wife and a mother. Oh, my 
 poor little girl!" 
 
 There was truth in what she said, and, maddened 
 as he was, Julius felt it. 
 
 "I have done no injury to your little girl," said 
 he, more quietly. "She in no way resembles you. 
 She is a sweet little creature , and I am rather fond 
 of her. 
 
 "You fond of her!" cried the mother, roused into 
 courage by the one pxire, unseliish instinct she had. 
 "And what right have you to be fond of her? What 
 is she to you that you should have gone and made 
 friends with her, and turned her heart against me 
 by telling her my whole miserable story?" 
 
 "I have not done so — not yet. I have never 
 mentioned your name." 
 
 "But she will find it out, when she learns who 
 you are, as she must when you go home to your 
 brother." 
 
 "I shall never go home to my brother. It is 
 the last kindness il can show to him and his — to
 
 230 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 keep away from them. I have seen them all, and 
 that is enough. To make myself known to them 
 would only disgrace them. They will never see 
 me, nor hear of me, any more." 
 
 The voice was so hollow, so sad, and yet so re- 
 solute, that for a miuutQ it touched Letty. Then in 
 her infinite relief that things were thus, she thought 
 it wiser to leave them so. 
 
 "You may change your mind," she said, 
 "especially if you should be ill." 
 
 "No. I am accustomed to be ill alone; it will 
 not be much harder — j^^rhaps less hard — to die 
 alone." 
 
 "Ah, we'll hope not. You are too young still to 
 talk of dying. But jDerhaps your plan is the best, 
 after all." 
 
 Julius regarded her, as she spoke so coldly, so 
 indifferently — the woman who had been his idol, 
 into whose hands had been given, as into many an- 
 other woman's, almost unlimited power over a man, 
 to save or to destroy him; who, loving him not 
 blindly but faithfully, might have conquered his 
 faults, developed his virtues, and led him, like his 
 good angel through the world, up to the very gate 
 of heaven. But now 
 
 As he gazed the last trace of softness went out 
 of the man's heart, lie was no longer her lover, 
 but her bitterest enemy. 
 
 "You are right," he said. "My plan is best. 
 And now we need not mention my brother again. 
 "What else have you to say to me?"
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 231 
 
 "It was about my little girl. I waut you to 
 promise never to meet my Gertrude any more." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Oh, can you not see? Only just consider." 
 
 "I have considered, ever since I saw you at the 
 railway-station — the rich, prosperous woman whom 
 God would not punish. But I am juster than He — 
 I will." 
 
 "Punish me? What do you mean?" 
 
 "I will tell you, for I like to do things fairly 
 and ojienly, it was you who did them underhand. 
 That Sunday night, by the kitchen-tire in your little 
 house at Kensington — do you remember it? I told 
 you that you might make me either good or bad. 
 If you refused me at once — point blank — I might 
 bear it — I was young, I should "get over it," as 
 you women say. But if you trifled with me, or de- 
 ceived me, I should never get over it, — I should 
 turn out a vagabond and a reprobate to tlie end of 
 my days. This came true. See Avhat I am! and I 
 repeat, it is all your doing." 
 
 "Oh, Julius!" 
 
 She said it involuntarily, perhaps — or else to 
 soften him — for she was growing more and more 
 frightened, but it only seemed to harden Inm the 
 more. 
 
 "Never utter that name again. I told you I 
 
 had renounced it , and shall never resume it while 
 
 I live, which will not be long, tliank God! That is, 
 
 if there be a God to thank for anything." 
 
 "Hush! You are talking blasphemy." 
 
 "Who made me a blasphemer? Who taught me
 
 232 THE avoman's kingdom. 
 
 to disbelieve in everything good, and holy, and sweet? 
 Who turned me into a heathen, and then, as you 
 say, into a brute? But it does not matter now, I 
 shall be at rest soon. Only, before I die, I Avill 
 make certain of your punishment." 
 
 "Oh, this is horrible," moaned Letty. "And 
 what do you mean to do to me?" 
 
 "Nothing that shows outside, if you are afraid 
 of that. Nothing to make your neighbours laugh at 
 you, and your husband ill-treat you, which, under- 
 stand, he sometimes does already." 
 
 "It is not true," cried she, faintly. 
 
 "True or not, it is no concern of mine. I mean 
 to be very just, very judicious. I shall not disgrace 
 you in the world's eyes. Nobody shall discover who 
 I am — nobody but you. But I shall stay here, 
 close in your sight, a perpetual reminder of your 
 falsehood towards me, as long as I live." 
 
 "You M'ill do no worse than that? Oh, promise 
 me." 
 
 "Promises are not necessarily kept, you know. 
 But I always had a trick of keeping mine-, so I 
 would rather not promise." 
 
 "Only — only — " and the mother's voice grew 
 sharp with misery, "you will not disgrace me before 
 my child — my poor little Gertrude that loves me?" 
 
 "I cannot say. It is possible I might take a fit 
 of atonement; might make up for my various ill 
 deeds by one good one, and prevent your daughter 
 from growing \\\) such a woman as yourself by 
 giving her the wholesome warning of her motlier's 
 history. It would point a moral, would it not?"
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 233 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken groaned. "But you cannot 
 prove it. You have no evidence but your own 
 word." 
 
 "You forget. I sliowed you a letter. I have 
 kept every one you ever wrote to me — not many 
 — nor very brilliant — but sufficient. Suppose I 
 were some day to enclose them in an envelope, ad- 
 dressed, not 'Mrs.,' but 'Miss Vanderdecken, Holy- 
 well Hall?'" 
 
 In real life, people do not drop on their knees 
 and beg for mercy, nor stand glaring at one another 
 in fiendish malice and gratified revenge; we are too 
 civilised for this sort of thing now-a-days. So, 
 critical as the "situation" Avas, the poor soldier and 
 the fashionable lady maintained their positions; and 
 nobody listening outside could have heard a sound 
 beyond the ordinary murmur of conversation. 
 
 Half frantic, ]\[rs. Vanderdecken fell back upon 
 the last expedient that any wise woman would have 
 tried. She put her hand in her pocket. 
 
 "You must be very poor. I am poor too. I get 
 biit a ve^y sm.all allowance. Still, I would give you 
 this — every week, if you like." 
 
 Julius took the purse, and fingered its sove- 
 reigns — truly not too many — with a half-disdain- 
 ful curiosity. 
 
 "And so you are poor, after all; though you did 
 not marry me? And you want me to accept your 
 money? Once, you know you might have taken all 
 mine, — by dint of working, saving, almost starving, 
 I had gathered a good heap of it to lay at your 
 feet, — but now Excuse me, I have no further
 
 234 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 interest in examining tins elegant purse." He closed 
 and returned it. 
 
 "Will nothing persuade you then? Have you 
 no pity for me — a mother with an only child?" 
 
 "None," said Julius. "Am not I going down 
 to my grave, a childless man, with my name blotted 
 out upon earth? No; I have no pity for you — 
 none!" 
 
 "Yet you cared for me once. Oh, Julius, is all 
 your love for me quite gone?" 
 
 "You must have a strange kind of love for Mr. 
 Vanderdecken when you can condescend to ask 
 another man that question." 
 
 The insult — and evidently meant as such — 
 roused every womanly bit of poor Letty's nature. 
 She started up, burning with indignation. 
 
 "Mr. Vanderdecken is a better husband to me 
 than ever you would have been, since you can so 
 turn against me now. And for my little girl — my 
 poor little girl — the only creature I have left to 
 love me — if you wean her heart from me, God will 
 punish you — - I know He will. It is a cruel and a 
 wicked thing to do; and if you do it, you will he a 
 wickeder wretch than 1 took you for." 
 
 And Letty burst into tears. 
 
 She had been given to weeping always — it was 
 her strongest engine of power over Julius; but it 
 had no effect upon him now — at least not apparently. 
 He rose and walked to the window. 
 
 "Your carriage is still waiting, I see. Had you 
 not better go? It is a pity to agitate vourself need- 
 lessly."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 235 
 
 "I will go. And you may do what you choose. 
 I never mean to speak to you any more. Good- 
 bye." 
 
 "Good-bye, Mrs. Vanderdecken. Allow me;" 
 and on the latch of the door their hands met. Letty 
 drew hers away with a gesture of repugnance, and 
 passed out, never looking at him again. 
 
 When she was gone — quite gone, and even the 
 feint perfume which her di-ess had left behind — 
 Letty still liked perfumes — had melted out of the 
 room, Julius sat down, exhausted, gazing wistfully 
 on the place where she had stood. 
 
 "Was I right or wrong?" said he to himself. 
 "But no matter. Nothing matters now." 
 
 And yet for hours after he wandered about the 
 common, stricken with a vague remorse; also, in 
 spite of himself, with a touch of something approach- 
 ing respect for — not Letty, but Gertrude's mother 
 — the woman whom, even while adoring, he had 
 once half-despised. 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 Little Miss Vanderdecken sat in rather a melan- 
 choly frame of mind under her ye^v-tree, by the 
 pond. It was a very pleasant seat now, with the 
 leaves all budding, and the birds singing on every 
 side; but the little maid did not enjoy them so much 
 as usual. There had been over-night one of tliose 
 "convulsions of nature," as, with a pathetic drollery, 
 the clever child had a habit of calling them, which
 
 23G THE woman's kingdom, 
 
 shook the whole, honsehokl more or less — the 
 disputes between her father and mother, which are 
 so sad for a child to see, and weaken so terribly all 
 filial respect for both. The conjugal war had been 
 violent, and lasted long; it had reached, and con- 
 siderably entertained, the servants' hall-, also the 
 nursery, where Gertrude had overheard not a few 
 remarks upon "Missis's" changeableness and selfish- 
 ness, in insisting on the removal of the whole 
 establishment at once to Brighton, and shutting up 
 Holywell Hall entirely, for at least three months. 
 Quite preposterous, the servants thought-, giving so 
 much trouble for nothing-, and none of them wondered 
 that master objected to it. He, being "close-fisted," 
 was with them the least popular of the two; but 
 here they decidedly sympathised with him, as did 
 his little daughter. 
 
 Gertrude could not imagine what had come over 
 her mother, to be so persistent in her fancies, since, 
 finding all persuasion vain, Mrs. Vanderdecken had 
 actually started that morning for Brighton, to take 
 lodgings there on her oAvn account, for herself and 
 her daughter. Gertrude, hating Brighton, and loving 
 every nook in the pretty park at Holywell, was in 
 exceedingly low spirits at the ])rospect before her, 
 of which she could not at all see the end; for her 
 father was obstinate, too, in his way, and it was 
 hard for him, an old man, to be driven from liis 
 comfortable home, and forced to travel daily a 
 hundred miles by rail, as he would have to do. At 
 seventy he still worked at his favourite pastime of 
 money-making as hard as if he had been twenty-five.
 
 THE woman's KINGDOir. 237 
 
 "I Avonder how they will settle it between tliein, 
 poor papa and mamma!" thought the child, dwelling 
 on them with a sort of pity. "I wish they wouldn't 
 quarrel so; but mamma says, all married people do 
 quarrel-, if so, I'm sure I hope I may never be 
 married," added she, kicking away a large fir-cone 
 as contemptuously as if it had been a young lover 
 at her feet; then stooping to pick it up again, and 
 add it to a large heap which she had built round 
 the root of the tree one day when she was listening 
 to Mr. Stone's stories. 
 
 This changed the current of her thoughts, and 
 she began to reckon how soon there might come a 
 letter, in answer to the one which, if her mamma 
 had kept her promise, the Stedmans would get late 
 last night, telling them that Uncle Julius was not 
 dead. 
 
 "Mamma must surely liave Avritten, even though 
 she did come in tired from her district-visiting. 1 
 wonder what it was that worried her so all day. 
 Poor mamma!" 
 
 But, in spite of poor mamma, who was so often 
 worried, Gertrude's thoughts wandered longingly to 
 the cheerful house in Brook Street, and the good 
 news that was coming tliere — nay, had come al- 
 ready; and it seemed to her quite a coincidence, an 
 opportunity not to be missed, Avhen she saw passing 
 down the footpath that crossed the park, an old wo- 
 man, whom she felt sure was Mrs. Fox. She ran 
 forward at once. "Please tell me — -I am Miss Van- 
 derdecken, you know — hoAV is Mr. Stone to-day? — 
 and — has anybody been to see him?"
 
 Jog the woman s kingdom. 
 
 Mrs. Fox looked surprised, but dropped a re- 
 spectful curtesy. "I didn't know as you know'd 
 him, miss; and I only wish somebody would come 
 and see him, poor man. I was just going up to the 
 Hall to ask your mamma if she wo^lld do so, being 
 such a kind lady." 
 
 "I am sure mamma would — but she is gone to 
 Brighton to-day." 
 
 "0 dear, what a pity! What shall I do?" 
 
 "Can I do anything — take any message?" 
 
 Mrs. Fox turned, and shrewd old body as she 
 was, "took stock," so to speak, of the child. 
 
 "Well, my dear, I think you're a little lady to 
 be trusted, and the servants might forget — servants 
 in a big house often do. Would you please tell 
 your mamma, when she comes back, that Mr. Stone 
 is took ill, very bad, indeed; and if she'd see after 
 him a little — she was a-talking to him in my parlour 
 for nigli an hour yesterday morning." 
 
 "Was she?" exclaimed Gertrude, excessively 
 astonished, and then touched to think how kind her 
 mother had been, and how she had misjudged her. 
 
 "And I dare say slie had promised to be a good 
 friend to him, as I told him she would, for I found 
 tliat in liis coat pocket" — handing to Gertrude a 
 small packet — which felt lilce a bundle of papers — 
 addressed, "Mrs. Vandc/decken." "It's likely certi- 
 ficates of character, miss; I thought I'd best bring it 
 at once, and ask advice as to what's to be done 
 -with I he poor man, for he's very bad indeed — quite 
 olf liis head, and knoAvs nobody." 
 
 "How did it happen?" asked Gertrude, greatly
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 239 
 
 shocked, and yet feeling upon her a strange re- 
 sponsibility. For if tins poor man lost liis reason, 
 or died, M'hat means would there be of finding out 
 anything about Uncle Julius? "Please tell me, Mrs. 
 Fox; I am nearly twelve years old, though I look 
 so small, and mamma always tells me everything." 
 
 "I dare say she does," said the old. woman ap- 
 provingly, and went on to explain how that after 
 the kind lady left him, Mr. Stone had gone out and 
 wandered about all day, as he often did, returning 
 for supper as usual; "though afterwards he asked 
 me for pen, ink, and paper, which was the only 
 queer thing he did. But this morning I finds him 
 lying straight on his bed, like a corpse, only not 
 dead and not insensible, for his eyes kept rolling 
 about, and he seemed to know what was said to 
 him, though he never spoke one word. I think it's 
 brain fever, myself, but I'd like to take advice as to 
 what's to be done, for I know nothing of him except 
 his name. Poor fellow! and yet I'd do anything for 
 him; he lies like a lamb, and follows me up and 
 down with his eyes;" and the old woman Aviped 
 hers with her apron before she could say another 
 word. 
 
 "And has nobody been to see him?" inquired 
 Gertrude, cautious through all her anxiety, for she 
 felt that the story of Uncle Julius was a family 
 secret not to be gossiped about in the village. 
 
 "Who was there to come, miss? he hasn't a 
 single relative or friend, as I knows of But I 
 thought your mamma might have heard — he might 
 have told her something yesterday — she being rv
 
 240 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 lady, and someliow I've often fancied Mr. Stone was 
 a Lorn gentleman. And, anylioAV, she might have 
 got him a good doctor." 
 
 "I know a doctor," cried Gertrude, eagerly; 
 "I'll send for him at once. He will be sure to 
 come, he is my" — uncle, she was going to say, but 
 witli the jjainful reticence which experience had 
 taught her, stopped. "If I write the letter, can 
 you find anybody to take it at once to him — to Lon- 
 don?" 
 
 "Tommy will; but would the doctor home, 
 miss?" 
 
 "Oh, yes — I am Lj^uite sure he will come at 
 once — if I say something to him which I shall 
 say." 
 
 And not without a spice of enjoyment at tlie 
 romantic mystery wliich hirked under her compas- 
 sionate errand, Gertrude lied into the house, and 
 scribbled, as fast as pen could go, her impulsive 
 letter. 
 
 "Dear Uncle Htedman, 
 
 "I write to you, because mamma is not 
 at liomc to write herself, as I know she would. 
 Please will you come down here innncdiately, to 
 the 'Goat and Compasses,' Holt viUage, wliere lies 
 the poor man of whom mamma wrote to you, yester- 
 day: John Stone, the soldier from India, who knows 
 all abf)ut your brother Julius, whom everybody thought 
 to be dead. He is very ill — Mr. Stone I mean —
 
 THE woman's kingdom. f?41 
 
 and if be dies you might never find out your brother. 
 Please come at once. 
 
 "Your affectionate niece, 
 
 "Gertrude Vanderdecken." 
 
 It was not till the letter was written, and Mrs. 
 Fox away, in total ignorance of its contents, except 
 that it would be sure to bring Dr. Stedman at once, 
 — that Gertrude paused to consider what she bad 
 done. 
 
 No harm certainly — a common act of charity 
 towards a sick man — the man who had been so 
 kind to her. And yet she was by no means sure 
 that her mamma would like it — her poor mamma, 
 who had shown such an unfounded jealousy of this 
 Mr. Stone — vrhy and wherefore, G ertrude could not 
 conceive. But, alas! the child had already, by sharp 
 experience , learned to distinguish between what 
 mamma liked done, and what in her keen instinctive 
 conscientiousness, she herself thought right to be 
 done. And why? Because the mother had herself 
 laid the fatal foundation for all disobedience, in teach- 
 ing one thing, and practising another. 
 
 "Yet I have done nothing that mamma told me 
 not to do," argued Gertrude with herself, after the 
 letter, not the spirit; yet only as she had been brought 
 up, poor child! "I have neither written to Aunt 
 Edna, nor gone to see Mr. Stone. And when mamma 
 comes home to-night, of course I shall tell her every- 
 thing. And, let me see, what shall I do with this 
 packet? I'll put it on a high shelf, and not touch 
 it again." 
 
 The Woman's Kingdom. II. 16
 
 242 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 And tlioiigli slie was tlying with curiosity to know 
 what was inside it — no doulit something relating 
 to Uncle Julius — she restrained herself, and looked 
 at it no more. Nay, she did what was harder still, 
 though her little heart was bursting with sympathy 
 and anxiety — during that whole long day, she 
 neither went herself, nor sent any of the servants to 
 inquire how things fared with poor Mr. Stone. 
 
 Edna and her husband were taking an after- 
 noon's stroll in the Broad Walk of Kensington Gar- 
 dens; the place which they had haunted so much in 
 their old poverty days — days when even the sweet- 
 ness of being together hardly kept tlieir tired feet 
 from aching, or their anxious hearts from feeling 
 that it needed all the love that was in them to main- 
 tain cheerfulness. 
 
 Now things, outwardly, were quite clianged. No 
 weary walking-, Dr. Stedman had driven his wife 
 to the Palace gate, and the carriage was to meet 
 them at the Bayswater end. >S]ie walked beside liim, 
 clad "in silk attire," and "sillev had to spare;" and 
 he had earned it all. Earned, too, as he I'ose in 
 the world, those bits of delicious idleness which a 
 man may lawfully enjoy, who, having done his best 
 for his wife and family, yet feels that life is not all 
 money-nmking, and that it is sometimes wise to sacri- 
 fice a little outside luxury for inward leisure — and 
 love. 
 
 So, Avith a clear conscience, and a boy-like hap- 
 piness, pleasant to see in one whose hair was al-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 243 
 
 ready grey, he daundered ou, with his wife hanging 
 <in his arm, listening to every bird, and noting every 
 budding tree, stopping continually to look in Edna's 
 face and see if she were enjoying herself as much 
 as he. 
 
 She did, though in a more subdued way. Women 
 like her have natures at once lighter and deeper 
 than men's; and no mother of five children is ever 
 long without some anxious care or other. Still, for 
 the time, Mrs. Stedman put hers aside: her sons 
 were, after all, less dear to her than Avas their father. 
 And as she walked along these familiar places, 
 where she now came seldom enough not to disturb 
 their old associations — she thought of him, not as 
 he was noAv, but as William Stedman, her lover, 
 with his love untried, his character untested, and 
 both their lives looming before them in a dim rosy 
 haze , under which might lurk — what? — They 
 knew not — no lovers can know. Unmarried , a 
 man or woman can stand or fall alone — but married, 
 they stand or fall together. Perhaps, if, before she 
 was wed, Edna had felt this truth as strongly as she 
 did now, she might have been more afraid. And 
 yet not so, for she loved him, and love and suffering 
 would have been better to her than loneliness and 
 peace. But God had not sent her suffering — at 
 least, not more than was needed to temper her joys; 
 or it seemed so, looking back. She, like all pure 
 hearts, had a far keener memory for happiness than 
 for pain. 
 
 And now her life was all clear, nay, it was al- 
 most half done. She and William had attained — one 
 
 IG*
 
 244 THE WOMAI^'S KINGDOM. 
 
 nearly, the other quite, their half-century, and they 
 had been married twenty years. As she walked on 
 — thoughtful, for this spring season, which had 
 been the time of her courtshijj and marriage, her 
 eldest son's birth and her baby's death, always seemed 
 to make her grave — Edna clung with a tenderer 
 clasp than ordinary to the arm which had sheltered 
 and supported her so long. 
 
 "What are you thinking about, my wife? You 
 have been silent these fifteen minutes." 
 
 "Only five, or I am sure I should have heard 
 of it before," said Edna, smiling. "You and the 
 boys think something dreadful must be the matter if 
 ever I chance to hold my tongue." 
 
 "Well, but what were you cogitating on? I like 
 to hear. If you had put all your pretty thoughts into 
 a book, you would have turned out a celebrated 
 authoress by this time." 
 
 "Oh, no, thank goodness! for then how could I 
 look after you and the five boys? But, seriously, I 
 was thinking of something which I daresay some of 
 the clever people who come to our house might find 
 a grand subject for writing on." 
 
 "Wliat was it?" 
 
 "Did you notice, as we drove through Kensing- 
 ton, a pawnbroker's shop — with a notice in the 
 window, — 'To be sold, unredeemed pledges.' It 
 struck me Iioav, in our human lives, so many early 
 pledges are for ever unredeemed." 
 
 "That is true," said William, sadly. 
 
 Edna hastened to change the conversation. "How-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 245 
 
 ever, we did not come here to moralise. Tell me 
 about the cottage at Sevenoaks." 
 
 This was a project, dreamed of hopelessly for 
 many years, and this year in a fair way of being 
 accomplished. All her life Edna had hated London, 
 and yet been obliged to live in it: and all his life, 
 for the last twenty years. Dr. Stedman had deter- 
 mined that the hrst use he would make of any 
 wealth that came to him, should be to buy a cottage, 
 where his wife, country-born and country-bred, could 
 take refuge whenever she liked among her beloved 
 fields and flowers. 
 
 "Yes, I'll tell you all about the cottage by-and- 
 bye. It, at least, will not be one of the pledges un- 
 redeemed. AVe have not had many of these." 
 
 "Oh, no! Thank God, William — no." 
 
 "Sometimes, when I look back these twenty 
 years upon my life, and think what you have made 
 it " 
 
 "What God has made it." 
 
 "Yes, through you." He stopped, and loosing 
 her arm, "eyed her over," as she called it, from 
 head to foot. "Such a little woman she is!" said 
 he, fondly, "but what a spirit! When we were 
 poor — how the tiny feet kept trotting about all 
 day long — and the small head wore itself out iu in- 
 genious contrivances! And what a cheerful heart 
 she kept — how she met all the world and its care 
 without one fear!" 
 
 "There was no need for fear — I had not a 
 single-handed battle to light. There were always 
 two of us. And we were always agreed."
 
 246 THE WOMAN'S KINGDOM. 
 
 "Not quite, perliaps," said Dr. Stedman. "Espe- 
 cially wlien we began to rise in tlie world — and I 
 might have been foolish sometimes, only this grave 
 little face kept me in my balance. Who forbade 
 the brougham , and made me be content with 
 cabs, till I had a carriage I could honestly ride in? 
 Who refused, year after year, to take her autumn 
 pleasuring as many Avives do, because her husband 
 would only have to work the harder for it?" 
 
 "William!" Avith a laugh and a stamp of her 
 tiny foot, though the tears stood in her eyes "do 
 hold your tongue, or I shall begin to quote against 
 you, — 
 
 ' Who ran to kiss me when I fell , 
 And would a pretty story tell , 
 And kiss the place to make it well? 
 My Mother.' 
 
 But," added she, gravely, "though we may have 
 made many mistakes, and done many a MTong thing, 
 perhaps even to one another — the pledge my hus- 
 band gave me on his marriage-day has not been one 
 of these mclanclioly 'pledges unredeemed.' I could 
 begin and tell my tale, too — of all your patience, 
 and tenderness, and self-denial — so much harder for 
 a man than a woman. But I'll tell nothing — unless 
 I should happen to go up first and tell it to the 
 angels." 
 
 "Don't talk nonsense," said William, hastily, 
 and reverted at once to the subject of the cottage 
 at Scvenoaks. 
 
 The plan had so delighted him, that he entered 
 into its minutest details with the eagerness of a
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 247 
 
 boy, and Edna was a long time before she bad the 
 heart to sugg'est the only objection she saw to it, 
 namely, that it was on the same line of railway as 
 — indeed, only a few miles distant from — Holy- 
 well Hall. 
 
 "And, if her husband has the objection that 
 she says he has to the intercourse of our families, 
 this might place my sister in rather a painful posi- 
 tion — poor Letty!" Somehow, after her last visit, 
 Edna had always called her "poor Letty." 
 
 "I cannot see that we need modify our plans 
 on account of either Mr. or Mrs. Vauderdecken. 
 They have never shown us any consideration, and 
 we owe them none." 
 
 William spoke in that formal tone, almost akin 
 to severity, which any reference to his wife's sister 
 always produced i,n him; and Edna answered, 
 gently, — 
 
 "You are quite right, and it M'ould be foolish 
 in us to be affected by these difficulties. Still, 
 they do exist, and I know yoii will feel them far 
 more than I shall." 
 
 "Possibly, because you only feel them for your- 
 self, while I feel them for you. It makes a good 
 deal of difference. But we will not discuss these 
 matters, my dear. Whenever your sister likes to 
 come to my house, she can, for it is your house, 
 too: but never expect me to enter hers. And I 
 shall take this pleasant little cottage, and live in it, 
 even were it under the very shadow of Holywell 
 Hall." 
 
 Edna dissented no more — for she knew it was
 
 248 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 useless — her husband had a will of his own — and 
 most often it was a right and just will. In this 
 matter she found herself incapable of judging, 
 especially as she was dimly conscious that, had she 
 been in his place , she would have felt as he did — 
 that no consideration on earth should have induced 
 her to cross the magnificent threshold of a brother 
 who had in any way slighted her husband. But he 
 had no brother — oh! poor, poor Julius! So she 
 set her mind to bear for the living lost that j^ain 
 which her husband had long endured for the dead 
 
 — nor wondered that William, strong in his hatreds 
 as in his loves — shrunk with a double repugnance 
 from every mention of her sister Letty. 
 
 She walked on silently, hoping that the thrushes 
 would sing peace into his heart as well as her own, 
 which felt a little sad and sore, in spite of the 
 brightness around her. It is so easy, so blessed to 
 see God's hand moving behind some human hand, 
 for good; but when the same occurs for evil, or 
 what appears to us as evil, the trial of faith is 
 somewliat hard. It has cost her a good deal to 
 "forgive God Almiglity," as a forlorn mourner once 
 expressed what many a mourner has thought since, 
 for the lot of poor Julius. 
 
 And thinking of him, in these pleasant places 
 
 — where they had so often been together — of him 
 far away from the world and all its riot and care, 
 gone into peace, though how and where no one 
 know — Edna cpite started when her husband said 
 suddenly, — 
 
 "Look, there comes Julius."
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 249 
 
 Julius their son, of course; walking quickly to- 
 wards them with a letter in his hand. 
 
 "This came just after you were gone, father. 
 A boy brought it and said it was very important 
 — about some one who was dying — so I hvinted 
 you up as fast as I could. I think," he added, in 
 a whisper to his mother, "that it has something to 
 do with the Vanderdeckens." 
 
 "Oh, William, what is it? Nothing very bad?" 
 
 "Look here," and he made her read the letter 
 over Avith him — little Gertrude's letter. "What 
 does she mean? What did your sister write to 
 you?" 
 
 "Not one single line." 
 
 Dr. Stedman, violently agitated as he was, again 
 perused the letter carefully. "See what it says — 
 ' Your hmther^ tvhom everijhody thought to he deady 
 
 "It is possible, William — only barely possible. 
 But we must find out. Read on." 
 
 "This man — • who knows all about him — this 
 John Stone, who I suppose sends for me — did I 
 ever have any John Stone among my patients?" 
 
 "No," said Edna, decidedly, being one of the 
 few doctors' wives Avho are trusted with all their 
 husbands' concerns. 
 
 "A soldier, too, from India. If he had any 
 tidings to bring, why did he not find me out him- 
 self? It was easy enough to do so." 
 
 "Mother," interposed Julius, greatly excited, 
 "once, lately, a foreign-looking soldier kept hanging 
 about our house for a whole morning. Will and I 
 both spoke to him. So did you."
 
 250 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Yes, I remember, a tlnn, sickly, rather elderly- 
 man, with a long grey beard. Perhaps he was 
 John Stone. But we must not detain papa here. 
 William, you will start at once?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "Julius, run and look out for the carriage," 
 said Edna, as she took her husband's arm, trying 
 to shield his emotion even from his own son — fond 
 and tender as the boy was, how could he under- 
 stand it?" 
 
 Without another word the two passed rapidly 
 down the Broad Walk to the Bayswater gate, whence, 
 almost as silently, they drove direct to the railway 
 station. 
 
 Edna kept close to her husband until the train 
 should start. 
 
 "You cannot say what time you will be back, 
 of course, but let it be as soon as possible." 
 
 "Most certainly. Julius, you'll take special care 
 of your mother to-night?" 
 
 "That I will," said the boy, tucking her under 
 his arm in his loving, protecting way. "Cheer up, 
 mamma. Suppose papa should bring home some 
 news — real news — about Uncle Julius. Or if he 
 were to come back again alive after all. Wliat a 
 Jolly thing that Avould be!" 
 
 "Hush!" whispered his mother, and then left 
 her son's arm to lean forward and whisper to his 
 father. "I wish I were going with you. Take 
 care of yourself, William, my darling." 
 
 After Dr. Stedman reached the station he was 
 bound for, he found he had a three-mile walk be-
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 251 
 
 fore lilm, and it did him good. His mind was 
 all confused and bewildered, and the sentence in 
 Gertrude's letter, "whom everybody believed to 
 be dead," kept running in and out of his head, 
 awakening strange hopes, which sank the next 
 minute into the old dull quietness which had suc- 
 ceeded the long suspense of jifiin. Julius might be 
 alive — it was just within the bounds of probability, 
 but how and where had he liA'ed, in what manner 
 had he contrived so long to hide himself from them, 
 and what steps could be taken to discover him? 
 Why had Mrs. Vanderdecken not written? — so like 
 her though — and what if this delay of hers were to 
 make everything too late, and John Stone should 
 die with his secret untold? 
 
 As Dr. Stedman thought of this chance, he 
 ground his teeth together — it seemed to be the 
 last wrong Letty had done him. He walked on, 
 fierce and fast. If he could have hated anything 
 so frail as a woman, it would have been this woman, 
 who, from her accursed weakness, had been the 
 bane of his brother's life. 
 
 His brother, — his own, only brother. Though 
 William Stedman was no longer a young man by 
 any means, and had been knocked about the world 
 enough to make his life appear long, even to him- 
 self, still, as he walked to-day between the bursting 
 hedge-rows, and under the budding road-side trees, 
 his boyish days came back to him, vivid as yester- 
 day. He seemed to see the two little lads who 
 used to go birds'-nesting^on Saturday afternoons — 
 the two youths in their teens — always together,
 
 252 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 like his own two elder boys, delighted to seize the 
 opportunity of any stray half-holiday to ramble away 
 for miles across country, returning, tired indeed, 
 but, oh! so merry, with a mirth that never flagged, 
 for Julius' light nature always stirred up his own 
 graver and more phlegmatic one, so that they suited 
 better than if they had been more alike. And after 
 all the years that had rolled between, busy and 
 prosperous, anxious and sad, Will's heart leapt back 
 with a passionate I'ebound to those years that were 
 gone for ever; and he felt as if he would give 
 nearly all he had in the world, — except his wife 
 and children, — to have Julius back again, or only 
 to see some one Avho could tell him how and where 
 he died. 
 
 Dr. Stedman reached Holt Common just at twi- 
 light. A lovely spot, a heavenly evening; just the 
 hour and place that would be sweet to die in, for 
 one unto wliom death was better than life. But the 
 doctor, accustomed to fight death hand to hand, also 
 fully recognised the blessing of life, and the duty 
 of preserving it. Wasting not a moment in useless 
 delay, he hurried as fast as he could to the door of 
 the Goat and Compasses. 
 
 "You have a lodger here," said he, stooping his 
 tall head to enter the bar, "a soldier, John Stone 
 by name, ill, as I understand. Can I see him? I 
 am a physician. My name is Stedman." 
 
 For he had detcrinincd not in the smallest degree 
 to allude to the Vanderdeckens, or to his connexion 
 with them. 
 
 Mrs. Fox rushed forward, infinitely relieved.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 253 
 
 "Dr. Stedman, sure? The gentleman the little Miss 
 sent for? Oh, sir, I'm so glad you've come. Will 
 you walk up-stairs?" 
 
 "Stop a minute. Are you his sister, or mother, 
 or what?" 
 
 "Only his landlady — Mrs. Fox, at your service. 
 But I can't help feeling for him, poor fellow; and 
 I'm sure I'd look after him as if I was his mother, 
 for he doesn't seem to have a friend in the world." 
 
 "A young man, or old?" 
 
 "Neither, sir. Maybe a bit older than you are." 
 
 "Older than I am?" said Dr. Stedman, and a 
 wild possibility that had lurked in some corner of 
 his brain dropped out of it completely. To him, 
 his brother Julius was still a young man. "Poor 
 fellow! I'll go to him directly; but if, as my son 
 found out from your messenger, his brain is affected, 
 I cannot talk to you much in his room; so tell me 
 here all you know about him." 
 
 Mrs. Fox did so, but her statement was too in- 
 volved and confused for Dr. Stedman to gain much 
 more information from it; so, afraid of losing time, 
 he bade her take him up at once to his patient's 
 chamber. 
 
 The good old woman had been very mindful over 
 her charge. His sick-room was quiet and in order; 
 he had everything comfortable about him — clean 
 linen, smoothly arranged pillows and sheets, and a 
 neat patchwork counterpane, upon which the two 
 thin hands lay stretched, like the dead passive hands 
 which tender friends straighten out in peace, never 
 to work any more.
 
 254 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 Indeed, in the darkened room, tlie figaxre on the 
 bed looked altogether not unlike a corpse, being 
 quite still, with wet cloths on the head, and the eyes 
 closed. But at sound of the door-latch they opened, 
 and met the two incomers with that strange, glassy, 
 unseeing stare peculiar to brain disease. 
 
 "This is a doctor, my dear," whisjiered Mrs. Fox, 
 soothingly. "A kind gentleman from London, who 
 has come to see you and make you well." 
 
 "Indeed I hope so, my poor fellow," said the 
 doctor, kindly, as he sat do^vii by the bedside. 
 
 At sound of his voice the sick man turned his 
 head feebly round, and looked at him with a kind 
 of half-consciousness; a long sliiver ran all through 
 his frame: then he closed his eyes, and clasped his 
 hands together as if bent upon concealing some 
 secret, which, with the last remnant of life or sense 
 that remained to him, he was determined to keep. 
 
 "Let me feel your pulse — I'll not hurt you," 
 said Dr. Stedman, as with his quiet, determined, 
 professional manner he unlocked the rigid fingers, 
 and drew the hand toAvards him. The face he had 
 not recognised in the least, it was so covered with 
 beard, so totally changed; but the hand with its 
 long fingers niul delicate filbert nails — the true artist's 
 hand -- startled him at once. 
 
 "Doctor, what's the m;itter?" cried Mrs. Tox. 
 
 "Nothing," said he, controlling liimself at once. 
 "Qnly give me more light. I want to look at my 
 patient." 
 
 "No, no!" A scjund, hollow as if out of the 
 grave itself, came from the sick man's parched lips.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 255 
 
 "No light — no! Send the doctor away: I want 
 none. I want to die." 
 
 Witliout answering, Dr. Stedinan rose and drew 
 up the blind. But by this time the gleam of sense 
 had faded entirely out of the jDoor face; it was sharp 
 set, and vacant Avitli the terrible vacuity of a human 
 face from which — temporarily or permanently — the 
 conscious mind is quite gone. 
 
 Will stood looking at him — this utter wreck of 
 all he had once been so proud of, so tender over, 
 almost with the tenderness of a man over a woman. 
 Then, stooping over Julius, "with one great smothered 
 sob, he kissed him on the forehead; softly, as he 
 would have kissed the dead. 
 
 "Thank God! it may not be too late. Mi's. Fox, 
 I must send a messenger to my wife at once. This 
 is my brother." 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Mrs. Stedman was sitting with all her children 
 round her, trying to make the eA^ening pass as usual, 
 in reading, lesson learning, draAving, broken by fits 
 of play and merry chat. None of the boys, except 
 the eldest, knew of what had occurred, or saw any- 
 thing remarkable in their father's absence; and she 
 had charged Julius to be silent for the present. He, 
 wise and grave beyond his years, and his parents' 
 confidant in many things, was the only one who had 
 been told more about Uncle Julius than that his 
 father had had such a brother, who died abroad.
 
 256 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 And even tie knew comparatively little; but it was 
 enougli greatly to interest and excite liim. Besides, 
 his mother — the one grand idol of his life, whom he 
 worshipped with that adoring filial tenderness which 
 is Heaven's best instrument for making noble men — 
 his mother had been put into his charge, and he 
 watched her with especial care — distracted the atten- 
 tion of the rest from her — and hovered about her 
 with endless little caresses, listening all the while to 
 every sound of the hall-bell, which made her start 
 whenever it rang. 
 
 For Edna, more imaginative than her husband, 
 and quicker to put things together, could not get 
 out of her mind a strange impression, which came 
 very near the truth. And when her son brought 
 her a letter, having first carefully allured her away 
 from the rest, that she might read it unobserved, her 
 hands shook so that she could scarcely break the 
 seal. 
 
 The next minute she had burst out with a great 
 cry of "Julius!" 
 
 Her boy ran to her alarmed, and took her in his 
 arms — his dear little mother. 
 
 "Not you, my son. I did not mean you but 
 your uncle Julius. Papa has found Uncle Julius." 
 
 There is a belief — a feeling — Julius had had 
 it strongly not many weeks before, when he stood 
 in the dark outside his brother's shut door, — that if 
 the dead were to come back to us again, they would 
 find their place filled up, tlicir loss mourned no 
 longer, and the smooth surface of daily life grown 
 greenly over them, like the grass over tlicir graves.
 
 THE woman's Kingdom. 257 
 
 This is true, iu deg-ree, and Infinite Mercy makes it 
 so; else human nature could not 2)ossibly endure its 
 anguish to the end. But there are exceptions, and 
 the present was one of them. Julius — poor prodigal 
 as he might he ■ — had fed on his own swine's husks 
 silently far away; he had never either disgraced or 
 wronged any one, least of all his brother. Heavy 
 grief though he had caused, there was mixed with it 
 none of that aching bitterness which Edna felt in her 
 own heart, and the mute contempt Avhich she read 
 in her husband's face, whenever she chanced to 
 mention her sister. Therefore, her rejoicing over the 
 lost and found was as unclouded as her love — and 
 she had always loved Julius. 
 
 The wonderful news could not be long hid; es- 
 pecially in this loving family, where the jjarcnts kept 
 none but necessary secrets from their children. The 
 mother was soon the centre of an eager group, asking 
 all manner of questions, and evidently regarding the 
 Avhole matter as a sort of real-life fairy tale. 
 
 "Don't bother mamma, children," said Julius, 
 with tender authoritativeness. "Come aAvay with me, 
 and I'll tell you as much as I knoAV, wliile she reads 
 papa's letter." 
 
 Dr. Stedman had written, not telegrajjlied, that 
 he might startle her less and give her the latest in- 
 telligence, and had sent his letter by the faithful 
 Tommy Fox, who was to remain that night at Brook 
 Street, and bring Mrs. Stedman back with him the 
 first thing next morning. 
 
 "I do not want you luitil the morning," wrote 
 William to his wife. "You must get a good night's 
 
 The Wcman's Kingdom. II. 1 *
 
 258 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 rest, for I fear you may have some days, or perhaps 
 weeks, of heavy nursing here. However, if he 
 survives the next twenty-four hours, he will live, I 
 doubt not. I might have sent for you to-night, but 
 I thought it best not." 
 
 Edna felt also that it was best not — that not 
 even liis wife should share in this solemn watch 
 ■which William kept so faithfully — uncertain whether 
 after all his brother might not slip away, unrecognising 
 and unrecognised, into the next world. But even if 
 Julius died, it would be a lighter burden to bear 
 than that which Dr. Stedraan had borne so patiently, 
 so silently, all these years; not suffering it to darken 
 his home-life, which would indeed have been both 
 foolish and wrong. Still it was there — and his wife 
 knew it. Almost every human heart has some such 
 dark chamber in it; slie had had hers too. 
 
 Now, was the grief to be lifted off or not? Edna 
 could not tell; nor William. He had only said, in 
 reference to the future, one thing — "If Julius re- 
 covers, will my wife take him home?" At which 
 the wife smiled to herself There was no need to 
 answer that question. 
 
 So, it Avas necessary to pre^iare for possibilities; 
 and first, by telling the children as much of their 
 uncle's history as she thought advisable. They were 
 not inquisitive or Avorrying children. Still they had 
 their natural curiosity, increased by the very few 
 facts she was able to give them; indeed, little more 
 than tliat Uncle Julius, Avhom they had supposed to 
 be dead, had reappeared, and at last come home. 
 
 "But why did he not come home before, mamma?"
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 259 
 
 "Being a soldier he could not do that, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 "Still, he might have written," said Julius a 
 little severely. "It was unkind of him to let you 
 and papa imagine he was dead, and grieve after hira 
 for so many years." 
 
 "People sometimes do unkind things without 
 meaning it, or, at least, without definitely intending 
 it," said the mother, gently. "When you are as old 
 
 as I am, my son, you will have learned that ." 
 
 Here she stopped, hindered by the great difficulty 
 with all young people — how to keep them sternly 
 to the right; and yet while preaching strict justice, 
 to remember mercy. "In truth, my children," added 
 she, with that plain candour which had been her 
 safeguard all her life, and taught her sons to he as 
 fearlessly true as herself, "it is ixseless to question 
 me; for I know almost nothing, exce]3t that papa has 
 found his brother again, which will make him so 
 happy. You like papa to be happy, all of you?" 
 
 "Ah, yes!" and they ceased troubling her with 
 their wonderings, but with the brilliant imagination 
 of youth, darted at once to the possibility of Uncle 
 Julius's appearance among them, making endless 
 speculations and arrangements concerning him. The 
 twins, hearing he had been a soldier, brought out 
 their favourite toy-cannon, Avith a man behind it, 
 which man they immediately named "Uncle Julius." 
 Robert, who had set his heart upon wandering half 
 over the world, exulted in the thought of all the in- 
 formation he should get about foreign countries; and 
 
 17*
 
 260 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 Will, after much meditation, leaped at once to a most 
 brilliant conclusion. 
 
 "That folio of drawings you keep, beside the 
 old easel in your bed-room, mamma — were they not 
 done by Uncle Julius? You said he was an artist 
 before he went away to India." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And clever, too, to judge by those sketches, 
 which you have never properly shown me yet, and 
 will not let me have to copy; — very good they are, 
 some of them," continued Will, with the slightly 
 patronising tone of the younger generation. "Of 
 course, he is too old to make an artist now; but he 
 might help to make me one." 
 
 "Perhaps," said the mother, and wondered whether 
 Uncle Julius would recognise, as his brother and she 
 had long since begun to do, the eternal law of pro- 
 gression, wliereby one generation slips aside, or is 
 set aside, and another takes its place — a law righteous 
 and easy of belief to happy parents, but hard to 
 others, who have to drop down solitary and childless, 
 into the great sea of oblivion, leaving not a trace 
 behind. As she looked on her bright, brave boys 
 growing up around her, in whom her memory and 
 their father's woukl live, long after both were in the 
 dust, Edna thought of Julius, and sighed. 
 
 "Now, my little man, you must chatter no more, 
 but be off to bed; for mamma has a great deal to do 
 to-night." 
 
 Ncvertbeless, she was not afraid, though it was 
 a small and already full liouse in which she had to 
 make room for the wanderer; but tlie capacity of
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 261 
 
 people''s hoiases often corresponds witli that of their 
 hearts. And she had good servants — ; a s^ood mistress 
 usually has — and helpful , unselfish children. Her 
 eldest, especially, followed her aboixt the house, as- 
 sisting in her plans and arrangements almost as 
 cleverly as a daughter, and yet was so manly, so 
 wise, so reliable, that for the hundredth time his 
 mother pitied all women who had not a son like 
 Julius. 
 
 Yet when he and she sat together over the fire, 
 the house being silent and all preparations made, 
 both for her temporary absence and for her return 
 with poor Uncle Julius, if he recovered, — with the 
 reaction from her first joyful excitement over, 
 anxious thoughts came into Edna's mind. Was she 
 right in bringing into her household and among her 
 young sons this man, who might be so changed — 
 whose life for fifteen years and more was utterly un- 
 known to her, except that he had sunk deplorably 
 from his former estate? When her eldest son, look- 
 ing at her with his honest, innocent, boyish eyes, 
 said earnestly, "Now, mamma, tell me all about 
 poor Uncle Julius," Edna trembled. 
 
 But only for a moment. She knew well, her 
 anxious life had often taught her, the jdain fact that 
 we cannot live two days at once; that beyond a 
 certain prudent forecasting of consequences, we 
 have but to see the right for the time being, and 
 act upon it. 
 
 "My son," she answered, cautiously, as her 
 judgment prompted, but honestly, as mothers ought, 
 who have their children's soiils in their hands,
 
 262 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Uncle Julius has liad a very hard, sad life. It 
 may have been not even a good life. I do not 
 know. But pajja does-, and he understands what is 
 right far better than we. He says he wishes Uncle 
 Julius to come home — he is so glad and thankful 
 to have him at home. So of course it is all right. 
 We can trust papa, you and I." 
 
 "To be sure we can," said Julius, and looked 
 his father's very image while he spoke: so that 
 Edna had no further fear even for her darling 
 boy. 
 
 It was little more than ten in the forenoon, and 
 Holt Common was bathed in the brightest spring 
 sunshine, when Edna crossed it under Tommy Fox's 
 guidance, to take the shortest cut to the Goat and 
 Compasses. She scarcely looked at the sweet sights 
 around her — the green mosses, the perfumed gorse 
 — so full was her heart, trembling between hope 
 and fear, wondering whether it would please God to 
 give this poor wrecked life into their hands — hers 
 and Will's — to be made whole and sound again, 
 even in this world; or whether in His infinite wis- 
 dom He would take it to Himself, to do with it ac- 
 cording to His omnipotent will, which must be per- 
 fect, or it would not be omnipotent. 
 
 There was a figure standing at the ale-house 
 door — her husband watching for her. Edna looked 
 rather than asked the trembling question — "Is he 
 alive?" which William's smile answered at once. 
 
 He had held up bravely till now, but when he 
 found himself alone Avith his wife he broke down. 
 Edna took his head to her bosom, and let him
 
 THE woman's kixgdom. 263 
 
 weep tliere, almost like one of his own little 
 children. 
 
 But there was no time to waste in mere emotion: 
 the patient must not be left fgr ten minutes. Nothing 
 but constant watching could save the life which 
 flickered like a dying taper, half in and half out of 
 the body. Julius might slip away at any moment, 
 giving no sign, as all the night through he had given 
 none. It was impossible to say whether he even 
 recognised his brother, though the pressure on the 
 brain produced stupor rather than delirium. 
 
 "He lies, looking as quiet as a baby," said WiU, 
 with a great sob. "I have cut his hair and beard: 
 he is quite bald. You would hardly know him. I 
 wonder if he will know you, Edna?" 
 
 "Let us come and see," answered Mrs. Sted- 
 man, as she laid aside her bonnet, and made 
 silently all her little arrangements for the long 
 long sisterly watch, of which God only knew the 
 end. 
 
 Her husband followed her with eyes full of love. 
 "There is nobody to do this but you, my wife. You 
 would do it, I knew." She smiled. "And I have 
 made things as light for you as I can. Mrs. Fox 
 will take the night-nursing. She is evidently very 
 fond of him — but everybody was always fond of 
 Julius. My poor dear lad!" 
 
 The strong fraternal love — rare between men, 
 but, when it does happen, the heavenliest, noblest 
 bond, a help through life, and faithful even unto 
 death — shone in William's eyes; and his wife 
 honoured and loved him for it.
 
 264 THB woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Come," she whispered, "perhaps, please God, 
 we may save him yet. Come and take me to 
 Julius's room." 
 
 For another day and nigiit the poor brain — 
 worn out by misery, and disordered by the con- 
 tinual use of opium — lay in a torpid condition, 
 of which it was impossible to foretell the next 
 change. Then sharp physical pain supervened, and 
 forced into a kind of semi-consciousness the be- 
 wildered mind. 
 
 The day he had spent out on the common — 
 Tommy Fox afterwards confessed to having seen 
 Mr. Stone lying for hours under a damp furze-bush 
 — brought back his old rheumatic torments. He 
 had over again the same illness, rheumatic fever, 
 through which his brother had nursed him twenty 
 years ago. Strangely enough, tliis agony of body 
 was the most merciful thing that could have hap- 
 pened to the mind. It seemed to annihilate the pre- 
 sent entirely, and thrust him back to the days of his 
 youth. He took quite naturally the presence of Will 
 and Edna, and very soon began to call them by 
 their right names, and comjireheud, in a confused 
 way, that he was under tlieir charge. And in his 
 total licl})lessness the great difficulty which William 
 had foreseen, the stojiping of the supplies of opium, 
 became easier than they had anticipated. After he 
 had been brought back, as it were, from the very 
 gates of the grave, to some slight recognition of 
 where he was, and what had hap])cned to him, he 
 seemed to wake up, as people often do after severe 
 illnesses, with the freshness of a child — asking no
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 265 
 
 questions, but helplessly and obediently clinging to 
 those about him, till sometimes none of his nurses 
 could look at him without tears. 
 
 Gradually, he j^assed out of sickness into con- 
 valescence, began visibly to amend in body, though 
 how far his mind was alive to the things around 
 him it was difficult to say. He noticed nothing 
 much — neither the changes which Edna had 
 gradually instituted in his ragged wardrobe, nor the 
 comforts which she gathered around him in his 
 homely room. He spoke little, and his whole in- 
 telligence seemed to be absorbed in trying to bear, 
 as patiently as he could, his physical sufferings, 
 which, for a long time, were very great. When at 
 last Edna, to whose ministering care he had grown 
 quite accustomed, proposed taking him "home," he 
 assented, but witliout asking the slightest question 
 as to what and where "home" was. 
 
 Letty, either as Letty or as Mrs. Vanderdecken, 
 he never once named. 
 
 Indeed, in the complete absorption of the time, 
 neither Edna nor her husband thought much about 
 her themselves. The near neighbourhood of Holy- 
 well Park troubled them not; the place was half 
 shut up, the mistress being away at Brighton. 
 Thence she never sent, never wrote; at which they 
 were neither surprised nor sorry. 
 
 But the night before they had settled to quit 
 Mrs. Fox's kindly roof, the good woman brought to 
 Mrs. Stedman, for whom she had conceived a great 
 admiration, a note from the Hall. 
 
 "I don't know if you knows Mrs. Vanderdecken,
 
 26G THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 ma'am, but jierhaps you do, as it was through her 
 little girl I heard of Dr. Stedman. And she's a kind 
 lady — a very kind lady indeed: lie saw her the day 
 before he was ill. Didn't you, sir?" 
 
 Edna interposed, and stopped the conversation, 
 but her caution seemed needless. The sick man 
 took no notice, and she hoped he had seen and heard 
 nothing. However, just before she left him for the 
 night, Julius called her back. 
 
 "What was that note you had? From your 
 sister?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Have you seen her?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 This was all he asked, or was told, though, in 
 much anxiety, Edna sat down beside him for another 
 half-hour. By-and-bye, Julius felt feebly for her 
 hand. 
 
 "Are you there still, sister Edna? I like to 
 have you beside me. I know you now, and Will, 
 too, though at first I did not. I thought I was 
 dreaming. I have had so many queer dreams. • They 
 all came out of that box wliich you never will let 
 me have." 
 
 "No, never again." 
 
 "Does Will say so?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Tlien I suppose he must be obeyed. When we 
 were lads, kind as he was to me, Will always made 
 me obey him." Julius smiled faintly, yet more like 
 his own smile than Edna had ever seen yet. "Wlierc 
 is Will to-night?"
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 267 
 
 "Gone home, to get ready the house for us 
 to-morrow, you know. Besides, he has his work 
 to do." 
 
 "Ah, yes! and mine is all done. I shirked it 
 once; and now, when I want to do it, I cannot. 
 Why do you and Will take me home? I would 
 never have come of myself. I shall only be a burden 
 upon you. Do you know, Edna, that I have not a 
 halfpenny in the world!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Except, of course, my pension as a soldier — 
 a common soldier, which I have been — I ceased to 
 be a gentleman, years ago." 
 
 Edna smiled. 
 
 "Do not mock me, it is true. You had better 
 not take me back. I shall only be a trouble to you. 
 Nay, even a disgrace. Will is an honest, honour- 
 able, prosperous man, while I — What will all your 
 friends say?" 
 
 "We shall never ask them. But," added Will's 
 wife, in reasoning not her own, for her own failed 
 her, "it is just the story of the piece of silver — 
 "And when she had found it, she called her friends 
 and neighbours together, saying, "Kejoice with me, 
 for I have found my piece that was lost." 
 
 Julius turned away bitterly. "Don't talk to me 
 out of the Bible. I do not believe in the Bible. 
 Only" — as if he feared he had hurt her — "I be- 
 lieve in you." 
 
 "Thank you, dear." She often called him "dear" 
 now, in the tone she used to her own cliildren; for, 
 in many ways, Julius had grown so very like a
 
 268 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 child. "And I believe in the Bible. Therefore, I 
 came here to nurse you, and keep you alive if we 
 could. Therefore, as soon as you are stronger, I 
 mean to take you home, to begin a new life, and 
 never to speak of the old life any more." 
 
 Tender as her words were, there was a certain 
 authority in them • — the quiet decision which Edna 
 always showed — and nobody attempted to gainsay. 
 
 Julius did not, but lay quiet, with his eyelids 
 closed, till at length he suddenly opened them. 
 
 "There was a packet — letters — which I think 
 I made up just before I was ill. Where is it?" 
 
 "Mrs. Fox found it, and delivered it to the 
 person to whom it was addressed." 
 
 "And that was — " 
 
 "Mrs. Vanderdecken." 
 
 "Are you sure of that?" 
 
 "Quite sure. Now, go to sleep." 
 
 "One minute," — and Julius lifted himself up, 
 and caught Edna's hand. "Tell her — your sister 
 — that for the child's sake I have forgiven her all. 
 I will never harm her. Her daughter knows no- 
 thing — never will know. Say, I forgive her, and 
 bid her good-bye from me." 
 
 "I will," said Edna; and then, still holding her 
 hand, Julius dropped into the quietest slumber which 
 he had yet known. 
 
 When alone for the night, Mrs. Stcdman read 
 over again the dirty-looking note, which liad lain 
 a whole day in the pocket of a small child, one of 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken's Sunday class, by whom it had 
 been sent. Letty's cowardice had followed her to
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 269 
 
 the last. There was In the missive neithei' beginning 
 nor ending. Nothing that could identify it or its 
 writer, or betray any fact that it was safer to 
 conceal. 
 
 "I know all, and was glad your husband had 
 been sent for to the poor man, you and he being 
 the proper persons to manage the business. Give 
 him my best wishes, and I hope he will soon get 
 well. If I could do anything — but it is better not 
 — you will understand that. Only if you like to 
 come and talk it over with me, I shall be very glad 
 to see you, for I am quite alone here, though I shall 
 return to Brighton in two days." 
 
 Edna closed the letter with a heavy sigh; and 
 sat long pondering over it, and how she should 
 answer it-, whether it would not be advisable under the 
 circumstances, and especially with regard to a future 
 that was very difficult at best, to go and see Letty, 
 as she asked, in her own house, and, calmly but 
 not unkindly, "talk it over," as she proposed, thus 
 closing for ever the grave of a past that could return 
 no more. 
 
 In her husband's absence, Edna was obliged to 
 trust to her own judgment, and Avhat she knew his 
 would be. He had said more than once, that no- 
 thing should induce him to enter his sister-in-law's 
 door, nor did his wife dissent from this. There is a 
 limit beyond which self-respect cannot pass-, and 
 charity itself changes its character Avlien it becomes 
 the subserviency of weak right to rampant A\Tong.
 
 270 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 But Mrs. Stedman, who had not an atom of weak- 
 ness about her, or pride either, felt no hesitation 
 whatever in crossing, just once and no more, her 
 sisters grand threshokl; neither humbly nor scorn- 
 fully, but with a kindly, sisterly heart. If she could 
 do Letty any good, why, well! If not, still it was 
 well, too. They would both see clearly, once for 
 all, what their future relations to one another were 
 to be. 
 
 So next morning, before Julius was well awake, 
 without saying anything to him or anybody, she 
 started off across the common to Holywell Hall. 
 
 It was a very fine house, the finest Mrs. Sted- 
 man had ever entered; for her busy domestic life 
 and narrow means had, until lately, kept her very 
 much out of society. She admired it extremely, for 
 she had such pleasure in anything orderly, fit, and 
 beautiful. Yet, when her little feet trod on the 
 polished black and white marble of the hall, and 
 followed two tall liveried footmen up a magnificent 
 staircase, stately, silent, and chill, her heart sank a 
 little, and she was glad fate had not burdened her 
 with her sister's splendid lot. It did not occur to 
 her, in her utter lack of self-consciousness, that had 
 such been the case, the probabilities were that Holy- 
 well Hall would have been as bright as Brook 
 Street. 
 
 The footman went before, and she was following 
 him at once into Mrs. Vanderdccken's morning- 
 room, when slie heard her sister's voice within, and 
 hesitated. 
 
 "Stedman is the name, Wood? — I don't know
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 271 
 
 — yes, I do know the lady. Sliow lier into the 
 yellow drawing-room. Oh, she is here." 
 
 Rather awkwardly, Mrs. Vanderdecken came 
 forward, merely to shake hands, till, the servant 
 having closed the door behind him, she stooped and 
 kissed her sister, though not with much demonstration 
 of affection. 
 
 "I am very .glad to see you. It is extremely 
 kind of you to come. You see I couldn't come to 
 you — it was quite an impossibility." 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 Then Letty burst out, — 
 
 "Oh! Edna, do give me a little comfort. I have 
 been so frightened — so thoroughly miserable. This 
 is indeed a wretched business." 
 
 "I do not see that, since it has ended so well in 
 Julius's recovery. He might have died. It was 
 such a merciful chance that your little girl wrote to 
 my husband." 
 
 "Yes; and I assure you I did not scold her at 
 all for doing so. I was only too thankful to get her 
 safe away, where she would hear no more of that 
 dreadful story, or of him, poor fellow: he made her 
 so fond of him. She cried her eyes out till I told 
 her Dr. Stedman was with him, and that he was 
 getting well. That is true, is it not?" 
 
 "Yes, thank God!" 
 
 "And nobody here knows who he is; but, like 
 Gertrude, people think him Mr. Stone?" 
 
 "No, — Mr. Stedman," said Edna, coldly. "My 
 husband was not likely to be ashamed of his brother, 
 or to conceal his relationship to him. But you need
 
 272 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 not be alarmed; Ave haA^e carefully hidden our cq 
 nexion Avitli you. No one here Jias the least WeeC 
 that you are my sister." 
 
 "Thank you, thank you!" And then, some dim 
 notion striking Letty that it was an odd thing to ex- 
 press gratitude for, she added, half-apologetically, 
 "You see, we are obliged to be careful. In our po- 
 sition, people do talk of us so. And he Avas so 
 violent, so cruel, to me — Julius, I mean. And 
 there Avas something so disreputable - — so dreadful 
 — about his story. You know it, of course." 
 
 "No, he has told us almost nothing-, and we are 
 determined to inquire nothing. My husband believes 
 less in the confession of sins than in the forsaking 
 of them. Unless Julius speaks himself, Ave shall 
 never ask him a single question about his past life." 
 
 "Well, perhaps that is your best course; any 
 other would be so very inconvenient. I declare, 
 
 Avhen I listen to Gertrude's story but I'll just 
 
 repeat it to you, for it Avill relieve my mind." 
 
 And she told, accurately enough for her, Julius's 
 whole sad tale, Avhich he had told to the child, and 
 her oAvn interview witli him, A\^hich had followed it. 
 
 The facts Avere all new to Edna, but she said 
 nothing; how could she? From the sick bed beside 
 whicli slie had watched so long, she seemed to gaze 
 on licr elegant sister, gifted Avith evcrytliing that 
 the world could give; and she understood something 
 about the joy in heaven, not over the rich and the 
 prosperous, but over one sinner that rcpentcth. The 
 one question. Did he repent? was all she ever asked 
 herself, and that time alone could answer.
 
 THE "VV0MA^''S KIXGDOM. 273 
 
 "Was it not di-eadful of him?" Letty continued, 
 "aftei" all these years, and when I would have met 
 him so friendly, to try to injure me thus? Ah, Edna, 
 you don't know the agony of a poor mother who 
 fears losing her childV heart." 
 
 "No," said Edna; "but you need have no fear 
 now:" and then she delivered, word for Avord, the 
 message Julius had sent. 
 
 Letty was a good deal touched. "Poor fellow, 
 poor fellow!'' she repeated several times, and wiped 
 her eyes with her lace pocket-handkerchief. "But 
 why does he bid me good-bye? Will he die, do you 
 think?" 
 
 "God only knows. The first danger is past, but 
 there is a Aveary convalescence before him. He will 
 never be really strong, William says; and if any ill 
 
 turn comes But we will not forbode evils. I 
 
 Jiope for the best." 
 
 "Ah, you always did. You were always the 
 cheerfullest, bravest girl. I wish I had been more 
 like you." 
 
 But these sudden compunctions, which ended in 
 nothing, only made Edna sigh. She rose. 
 
 "I must go now, Letty. He will be waiting for 
 me. I take him home to-day." 
 
 "He? Oh, I had forgotten! You mean poor 
 Julius. I do hope he will recover; tell him I said 
 so. ^Iiere are you taking him — to Brook Street? 
 — of course; you have no other house. Poor dear 
 fellow, I am sure I wish him well. But are you 
 sure he will not attempt to injure me?" 
 
 Edna smiled. It would have been a sarcastic 
 
 The WoDum's Kiugdom. II. lo
 
 274 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 smile once, when slie was scornful and young; now 
 it was only sad. She did not attempt to grow grapes 
 from thorns, or figs from thistles, any more. She 
 only understood, though it had been bitter learning, 
 that all human creatures were of God's handiwork, 
 and, if He had patience with them, so must she 
 have. 
 
 :- "And now, Letty, good-bye; for I really must go." 
 
 Upon which Letty eagerly begged her to stay. 
 
 "Why can't you have lunch with me, Edna, my 
 dear? I am so dull, alone here. And besides, I 
 should like to show you the house and the conser- 
 vatory; you were always fond of flowers. Ours are 
 considered very fine, especially our orchids. Mr. 
 Vanderdecken has paid sixty guineas a- piece for 
 some of them." 
 
 Edna shook her head. "I have no time for 
 orchids just at present." And then, seeing real dis- 
 appointment in her sister's looks, she agreed to stay 
 with her another half-hour. 
 
 "Especially as we may not meet again for some 
 time. You must perceive, I cannot ask you to Brook 
 Street, and as for my coming here — it is useless. 
 But we shall remain sisters, feeling very kindly to 
 one another, I trust. And, Letty dear, if ever you 
 are in trouble, and want somebody to help you " 
 
 Here she quite broke down. To the last day of 
 her life Edna would never lose this sore-wounded, 
 ill-re([uited love for her only sister. 
 
 Letty kissed her, not unaffectionately. 
 
 "Thank you. We all have trouble, some time 
 or other, I suppose. But I hope mine is far off still.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 275 
 
 I am very comfortable, and Mr. Vanderdecken is ex- 
 tremely kind. Then, too, I have such a pretty 
 house. Won't you come and look at it? People say 
 many a nobleman's mansion is not near so fine." 
 
 This was true; and Edna's innocent, generous 
 heart admired it so warmly, that her sister's spirits 
 quite rose. 
 
 "Yes, I do think ours is a charming place, and 
 it is a pleasure to show it to you. I am very glad 
 you came to see me, and I only wish we could meet 
 ofteuer, my dear. But I sii])pose, as you say, that 
 is impossible." 
 
 Edna was silent: she also felt that it was im- 
 possible. 
 
 "Gertrude will be disappointed that she has not 
 seen you. She thinks a great deal of her aunt Edna. 
 And, perhaps, by-and-bye, when she has forgotten 
 all about Mr. Stone, who I shall tell her is quite 
 well, and gone away to his o^vn relations ■" 
 
 "Letty, Letty!" broke in the other, earnestly, 
 "whatever you tell her, take care that it is the exact 
 truth. With such a child as Gertrude — with any 
 child — straightforward truth is the only way. For- 
 give me — it will be long before I "preach" to you 
 again — but I have no little girl of my own; and 
 Gertrude is a dear child! Be careful with her." 
 
 Letty looked a little vexed. "It is hardly ne- 
 cessary to say that to me; but, Edna, I will take 
 care of her. She is the light of my eyes — the best 
 little girl that ever was born! Julius said he wished 
 my child to grow up a better woman than her mother. 
 Tell him, I trust she may." 
 
 18*
 
 276 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 Tliey had now passed out of the winter-garden, 
 with its overpowering atmosphere of scent, into the 
 healthy freshness of the spring morning — the deli- 
 cious spring, which always brought back to Edna 
 the days of her childhood, and, though it came late, 
 and long afterwards, the sj^ring-time of her happy 
 love. This was twenty years ago, and yet, at scent 
 of violets and primroses, and singing of nest-making 
 birds, every year it came back again fresh as yester- 
 day. It did now, when she thought of going home 
 to her own blessed home, from which, in all her 
 married life, she had never been absent so long. 
 
 "I must be gone, indeed. I have not another 
 moment to spare." 
 
 "Stay," said Letty, hesitating. "What hour do 
 you go to the station? Let me send my carriage to 
 take you — it would be easier than a fly — and — 
 I should rather like to do it." 
 
 But Edna declined. Kindly as she felt towards 
 her sister, to accept favours from her was impossible. 
 
 "Ah, well, per]ia])s you know best. Julius might 
 not have liked it; and, after all, it miglit have looked 
 a little peculiar. So good-bye, Edna. Kemember me 
 kindly to all at home." 
 
 So the sisters parted, indefinitely, without hinting 
 at any future meeting. They were so different in 
 themselves, and their lives had grown so wide apart, 
 that much personal association would liave been worse 
 than foolish — fatal. It was far best that each should 
 go her own way, until, or unless, the infinite chances 
 and changes of this world sliould bring about a future 
 which now seemed impossible — as impossible as that
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 277 
 
 the dead should come to life again, and the lost be 
 found. Yet this had been. 
 
 As Edna crossed the park, her heart lightened 
 almost into mirth by the gladness of the glad spring 
 morning, and thought of Julius, whom she was this 
 day taking home, with a wondering thankfulness 
 almost equal to that with Avhich the sisters of Bethany 
 took home their brother Lazarus, — it seemed to her 
 as if, unto Infinite Mercy, nothing were impossible. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 When his sister-in-law entered his room, Julius 
 was already up and dressed, in the clothes to which 
 they had gradually accustomed him — Edna having 
 spirited away the old regimentals, with everything 
 that could remind him of his former life. To put it 
 all behind him, and help him to begin anew, so far 
 as there was any new life left in him, was their 
 grand aim; and, so far, they had succeeded. 
 
 "Doesn't he look a sweet, dear fellow, ma'am, 
 and not so very ill, after all?" said Mrs. Fox, who 
 had hovered about him the last day or two with a 
 tenderness indescribable. 
 
 Julius took the old woman's hand — her roxigh 
 working hand — and kissed it with something of his 
 old chivalrous air, which had made him, even under 
 his rags and tatters, still so completely, often so 
 painfully, "the gentleman." 
 
 "It's all owing to you, and my sister there, that 
 the 'dear fellow' is not underground now. Ofi' with
 
 278 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 you, Mrs. Fox, and cook my last dinner for me in 
 your own perfect style. I'm so hungry." 
 
 "Bless you for that, my dear Mr. Stedmau," said 
 the good landlady as she hurried away, and then 
 Julius turned to Edna with a keen inquiry. 
 
 "You were out this morning. Where have you 
 been?" 
 
 She never thought of answering other than the 
 direct truth. 
 
 "I have been across the park, to see my sister. 
 I wanted to bid her good-bye before leaving this 
 place, as she and I are not likely to meet again 
 soon." 
 
 "You do not often meet?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Did you give her my message?" 
 
 "Word for word." 
 
 These were the sole questions he asked-, indeed, 
 it was the only time he mentioned Letty. Nay, when, 
 on their way to the station, they met her carriage, 
 and, to Edna's utter amazement, Mrs. Vanderdecken 
 bent forward to bow and smile — altogether tlie 
 courteous and stately Mrs. Vanderdecken — Julius 
 returned the salute as he would have done to any 
 other lady, and then leaned back, taking no more 
 notice of her than if she had been a stranger. 
 
 But lie did take notice, in a way that to Edna 
 was iiiliriitely ])atlietic, of everything around them 
 in the outside world, which seemed as fresh to him 
 as if he had never seen it before. lie examined, 
 with that keen, artistic eye of his, every bit of land- 
 scape that Edna pointed out to amuse him; saw the
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 279 
 
 primroses peeping tlirougli the roadside coppices, 
 and the merry little birds flitting in and out — nest- 
 building — among the hedges as they passed. And 
 though, when they reached the railway, he seemed 
 to shrink a little from the sight of human beings, 
 and entreated that they might have a carnage aU 
 to themselves, still there was no morbid misery in 
 his aspect, and no bitterness in his words. He seemed 
 weak and weary — that was alb Only sometimes, in 
 words he let fall — for he did not express it directly 
 
 — there was the sad longing for rest, mingled with 
 what seemed an unconscious echo of the Psalmist's 
 cry, "Oh, spare me a little, that I may recover my 
 strength, before I go hence, and be no more seen." 
 
 At the London terminus William met them, and 
 almost without saying a word — he seemed as if he 
 could not speak — half led, half carried his brother 
 to his carriage. 
 
 "This is your own brougham, I see. You are 
 a prosperous man now, Will," said Julius, feebly 
 smiling. 
 
 And then he lay back exhausted, and scarcely 
 conscious of what was passing, till Edna thought 
 that his "going hence" was a possibility by no 
 means far oif. Still, if he died, he would die at 
 home. 
 
 Home! A little, little word — only four letters 
 
 — a thing easy to be had, and yet some never have 
 it — never know what it means, in all tlicir lives. 
 
 Some do not care for it, either-, Edna had once 
 thought that Julius did not — but she changed her 
 opinion now.
 
 280 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "VVlien they brouglit liini, witli considerable diffi- 
 culty, to the large upper chamber, once the twins' 
 nursery, but from which they had delightedly retired, 
 on promotion, in favour of Uncle Julius — he looked 
 round the room with a strange, sad, wondering air. 
 
 "How pretty!" he said; and then, "How com- 
 fortable!" 
 
 It was both — having been arranged, half as a 
 bed-room, half as a sitting-room, with all the skill 
 that his sister could devise, and his brother carry 
 out. But, as the sick man sank into the easy chair 
 by the fire, and drew close to the blaze — shivering, 
 though it was May — Edna and William tui'ned 
 away, almost ready to weep. For he looked so frail, 
 so feeble — as if, let them kill the fatted calf, and 
 bring the purple robe as they would — the festive 
 food might drop untasted from his lips, and the 
 raiment of welcome be used only to wrap the pale 
 limbs of the dead. 
 
 Things seemed dreary enough for some hours. 
 The first excitement of his journey over — the iirst 
 pleasure of finding himself in a real home — his 
 brother's home, with all the old comforts about him, 
 and above all the love that makes comforts quite 
 secondary things — Julius broke down. With a 
 great and bitter cry about his own "unworthiness," 
 he turned his face to the wall, and sank into a 
 paroxysm of despair. 
 
 "It is no use — it is all of no use. I am like 
 that wreck off the Isle of Wight, which wo used to 
 watch — do you remember, Edna? how they tried 
 and tried to save it, but could not. You cannot.
 
 THE woman's kixgdom. 281 
 
 This jioor, ruined, wasted life of miue — you had 
 better let it go down." 
 
 "No," said Will. "No, we'll never let it go 
 down." 
 
 "And that wreck was not a wreck after all, 
 Julius," said Edna, cheerfully. "After months of 
 labour, they got her safe off, and now she goes 
 sailing over the seas as bravely as ever." 
 
 "Does she really?" said Julius, with a strange 
 superstitious feeling that brightened him in spite of 
 himself for a moment. 
 
 "Yes; for I saw her name in the 'shipping in- 
 telligence' only two months ago. She has ceased 
 to be A 1, of course, by this time; but she is a 
 capital ship still, and sails steadily between here and 
 America." 
 
 "You don't say so?" cried Julius, rousing him- 
 self with a childish interest. But the momentary 
 brightness soon faded, and he fell back into his 
 former depression. 
 
 Will signed to his wife to go, and joined her a 
 minute afterwards on the stair-head. 
 
 "Oh, husband, tliis is very hard!" 
 
 "No; I expected it. We must have patience. 
 The evil of years is not conqi;ered in a day." 
 
 "But have you any hope?" 
 
 "Wliile there is life fliere is hope. And, then, 
 we know, another and a safer Hope begins. I should 
 not lose it, I trust, even if after all our care He took 
 Julius out of our hands, and said, 'Give Me thy 
 brother.' " 
 
 William was deeply affected; but still, his wife
 
 282 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 saw, he was determined not to yield to despair. She 
 put her arms round his neck. 
 
 "Yes; we'll hope still, and strive on, to the last. 
 And however it ends, you have still me and the 
 children." 
 
 She went down-stairs and collected round her 
 her eager little flock, whom their eldest brother had 
 cleverly contrived to keep out of the way till now. 
 She tried to sun herself in their merry, loving faces, 
 unseen for so long; to hear all their history since 
 she was away; and answer, so far as she thought it 
 well, their endless questions about her own. But in 
 the midst of them all, half her heart went back to 
 the lonely, childless man upstairs, whose blighted 
 life contrasted so bitterly with her own full harvest 
 of content. And when she looked round on her five 
 boys, and thought ■ — what if it were one day with 
 any of them as with Julius, when there was no fa- 
 ther's house to come to, no mother's bosom to 
 shelter in? — she grew almost sick with fear and sad 
 prevision till William appeared. It was the blessed- 
 ness of Edna's life that strength, comfort, and peace, 
 always came to her with the sight of her husband. 
 
 "How is he?" 
 
 "He is asleep," said Will. "And now let me 
 come and sit in my old place; let all go on as 
 usual." 
 
 Taking up his newspaper, he ]3retended to read, 
 but soon stopped to possess himself of his wife's 
 hand, the small soft hand, lovely still, though, like 
 herself, it Avas fading a little — changing into that 
 sweet decline which is scarcely like growing old.
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 283 
 
 "Oh, how delicious it is to have you at home! 
 How different the house looks, boys, now your mo- 
 ther is come back!" 
 
 "If she had stayed much longer," said Robert, 
 indignantly, "I think we should have gone and 
 fetched her back — from Uncle Julius or anybody. 
 If she ever goes away again " 
 
 "Nay, I shaU never go away again. Never, I 
 hope, till " 
 
 But when the mother saw the bright faces all 
 fixed on hers, and looking to her for their very light 
 of life, her heart failed her; she could not finish the 
 sentence. 
 
 Soon all the evening routine went on as usual, 
 broken only by those bursts of family fun, so small 
 in repetition, so great in enjoyment; foolish family 
 jokes, which brothers and sisters recall afterwards, 
 when scattered far and wide, as having been the 
 best jokes in the world. Gi-adually the troubled 
 elders were won, too, from their cares, and relaxed 
 into the pleasure of their children. The mii-tli was 
 at its loudest — the boys laughing so that Edna 
 could hardly hear herself speak — when the door 
 opened, and tliere stood, in front of his brother's 
 bright hearth and circle of hap])y children. Uncle 
 Julius. 
 
 He was so pale, so haggard, his eyes so sad and 
 wild, that the little twins gave a scream; and even 
 Will, who Avas a boy given to poetic imaginings, 
 shrunk back as if he had seen a ghost. 
 
 Julius saw this — saw them all. In a moment 
 the door would have been shut again, and the ap-
 
 284 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 parition vanished; but Dr. Stedman darted forward, 
 caught him, and brought him in. 
 
 "No, no! Let me go back again. Never mind 
 me, Will. I am used to be alone." 
 
 And even when he was coaxed forward, and 
 seated in his brother's own comfortable easy chair, 
 he shrank and shivered like a person who has so 
 long been out in the dark and cold that the light 
 only dazzles him, and reviving warmth gives actual 
 pain. 
 
 "Indeed I'll not intrude," he said nervously to 
 Edna. "You are all so merry here. I can go up 
 to my room again. I only came down because I 
 was so restless — so restless ! and I thought I should 
 like to see you all." 
 
 "And here we all are; and every one of us is 
 delighted to see Uncle Julius," said the mother, in 
 her cheerfullest and most every-day tone. "Boys, 
 come here, and let mc exhibit you to your uncle." 
 
 Somewhat shyly, for they owned afterwards he 
 was quite different to what they had expected — 
 not at all their hero of romance, the ideal "uncle 
 from India" — the lads came forward, one and one. 
 He shook hands with them, timidly — as afraid of 
 them as they of him; and tried, with a great effort, 
 to distinguish their ages, and learn to call them by 
 their right Christian names. But his mind seemed 
 feeble and confused, and very soon his interest in 
 them flagged, his eyes grew dull and heavy, and he 
 looked })itcously at liis brother, as if for protection 
 against this new, old, dreadful world. 
 
 "It is all so strange. Will; I can't understand it."
 
 THE wojian's KCNGDOM. 285 
 
 "Don't try to understand it, dear old boy. Every- 
 thing will come right presently. Sit still here, and 
 we will go on just as if you were not present. You 
 will get accustomed to us soon." 
 
 "Shall I? But no matter; it's not for long — I 
 hope not for long." And then, as if struck by a 
 sudden apprehension, he called his brother back, and 
 whispered hurriedly, "What do they know about me 
 — all these lads? Are you not afraid to bring me 
 among your sons?" 
 
 Will smiled. 
 
 "I might harm them, you know. At any rate 
 they will be ashamed of me, and so will you. Do 
 you remember" — half his talk now consisted of his 
 pathetic "do you remember" ■ — ■ "that picture I sat 
 for, 'In another man's garden?' you laughed at it 
 then; but it has all come true. The poor vagabond, 
 looking on at his brother's happiness: it's just like 
 me now; isn't it, Edna? Nay, I beg your pardon, 
 my good little sister. I did not see you were cry- 
 ing." He held out his hand and pressed hers ten- 
 derly. 
 
 "Behave better, then, brother Julius, or I'll not 
 be good to you any more. And talking of pictures, 
 I think you will not be the only artist in the family. 
 Will, my son, come over here, and show your draw- 
 ings to your uncle?" 
 
 This was a grand stroke of policy on Edna's 
 part. Julius roused himself, like a dying war-horse 
 at the sound of the trumpet, and examined keenly, 
 first the sketches, and then the face of his young- 
 nephew, so curiously like his own.
 
 286 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 "Sixteen are you, my boy. I was sixteen once, 
 and people called me clever, and said I shoiild make 
 a great painter some day. Butthey were mistaken, 
 you see. Ali me!" 
 
 He leant back witb a groan; and that sharp 
 agony, perhaps the sharpest next to actual guilt that 
 any man can know, the remorse over a wasted life, 
 came over him heavy and sore. 
 
 Edna was sending her son away, but the next 
 moment, in one of his strange, fitful fluctuations, 
 Julius looked up. 
 
 "Don't disappoint the boy, if, as you said, he 
 wants me to look over his drawings. Give me them 
 again." 
 
 They were very good for so young a draughts- 
 man, and well chosen, being chiefly copied from the 
 grand old Elgin marbles. As he turned them over, 
 the eyes of the sick man began to glow. 
 
 "Ah! this is well done, and this — all, except 
 the arm. But that bit of foreshortening is difficult. 
 I remember how it bothered me when I drew it at 
 the Academy. It was my best drawing, though; 
 but I think yours is better still." 
 
 And he regarded, with his observant artist-eye, 
 but also with a sad, half-ten dor interest, the little 
 fellow, who, his face hot witli hapj^y blushes, knelt 
 at liis side; then put his hand on his nephew's 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Anything more to show me, my boy? Anything 
 of your very own?" 
 
 Shyly enough, young Will drew from the very 
 bottom of his portfolio a page of heads, which when
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 287 
 
 Ills mother saw, she wished had been at the bottom 
 of the sea. But it was too hate. 
 
 Uncle Julius started. "What is this?" 
 
 "It is Aunt Letty. I try to draw her over and 
 over again from memory, but I can't succeed. She 
 has the loveliest face in all the world," added the 
 boy, growing quite excited. "Did you ever see 
 her?" 
 
 Edna's heart almost stopped beating. 
 
 "Yes, I have seen her." 
 
 "And do you think that you could draw her? 
 From memory? You might. No one who had once 
 seen Aunt Letty could ever forget her." 
 
 "No." 
 
 With a calmness that almost startled Edna — 
 only she had ceased to be surprised at anything 
 now — Julius took up a crayon, and eyed it tenderly 
 as he did so. 
 
 "I don't know if I can use this. It is years 
 since I have touched a pencil — years!" 
 
 "Please tiy," entreated AVill, creeping up to his 
 uncle, as if he had an especial property in him. 
 Truly, if the younger generations sometimes "push 
 us from our stools," they have likewise a wonderful 
 power of soothing, and can often heal over the past, 
 which they in their innocence annul and ignore. 
 
 The five boys all crowded round, watching, with 
 different degrees of curiosity, the beautiful face 
 growing under Uncle Julius's hand, which, in the 
 eagerness of its long-forsaken labour, gradually be- 
 came firm and bold. It seemed as if the artist's 
 pure delight in work for work's sake were faintly
 
 ^ 
 
 288 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 dawning in him again. When the sketch was done, 
 he held it at arm's length, critically yet tenderly. 
 It was Aunt Letty — feature by feature, as the boys 
 at once exclaimed. Only, not Aunt Letty as she 
 looked now. It was the face, young and fresh and 
 sweet, of lovely Letty Kenderdine. 
 
 "Yes; that will do, I think," said Uncle Julius, 
 holding it at arm's length, and looking at it. "As 
 you say, my boy, it is the most beautiful face in all 
 the world - — but only a face. I have drawn it many 
 times: now, I shall never draw it any more. Put it 
 away." 
 
 Will obeyed, but shortly afterwards came and 
 settled himself beside his uncle, to whom from that 
 hour he attached himself with a devotedness that 
 nothing ever altered, though it was long before it 
 was either noticed or returned. 
 
 Yet, until the children went to bed, Uncle Julius 
 roused himself from time to time out of his drowsy 
 Aveakncss and sad preoccupation, to observe them a 
 little, with a half-inc|uisitive, half-melancholy curiosity, 
 as if trying to fathom the mystery of these young- 
 lives, which had been growing up, as it were, on the 
 ruins of his own, and to trace in the new faces 
 glimpses of the old familiar ones — now fading, fast 
 fading, as we all do fade. 
 
 "Five sons! iivc hostages to fortune, as people 
 say. Will, your name is not likely to cease out of 
 the earth." 
 
 "Our name, Julius," said Will, tenderly. 
 
 "Fine fellows they are, and, I dare ijay, you 
 and their mother are very proud of them; but I
 
 THE ayoman's kingdom. 289 
 
 thought — somebody must have told me , only my 
 memory is so bad now — there was a little girl too. 
 Edna, I should have liked so much a little girl of 
 yours." 
 
 William touched his brother on the arm to enjoin 
 silence, and glanced uneasily at his wife. But Edna 
 had heard. 
 
 "Yes," she said, speaking in a low voice, but 
 quite calmly, — "yes, I had a little girl once, but 
 God took her. I have learned now to be happy 
 in my boys." 
 
 Julius looked intently at his sister-in-law, as she 
 sat there, wife and mother, fulfilling all her duties, 
 and rejoicing in all her joys; and saw something in 
 her face which he had never noticed before, which 
 showed that she, too, had known sorrow, and been 
 taught the hard lesson that we all have to learn 
 soon or late, in one form or other — to be content, 
 not only with what is given, but with what is taken 
 away. And the solitary, broken-down man, who 
 had suflFered so much, but whose suffering was al- 
 ways in and for himself, recognised, probably for 
 the first time in his life, but with a force tlie effect 
 of which was never afterwards obliterated, that there 
 might be griefs of which he knew nothing, and in 
 which he had never attempted to sympathize, yet 
 which were in reality as sharp as, or sharper than, 
 his own. 
 
 The Woman's Kingdom. II. 19
 
 290 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 It might have been best, according to poetical 
 justice, and certainly as to tragical effect, that Ju- 
 lius Stedman should die — die in the odour of sanctity 
 and the arms of his brother and sister, leaving to 
 them a perpetnal regret, and to his faithless Letty a 
 perpetual punishment. But Heaven's justice is not 
 always "poetical," and Heaven's mercy is above all. 
 Sometimes — -most often — it is shown in that blessed 
 death which alone can retrieve all things, give to 
 the Avanderer home and the weary rest; but in this 
 present case it was not so. 
 
 Julius did not die. In spite of his own prog- 
 nostications and his brother's still more serious fears, 
 he began to auiend; very sloAvly at iirst, with many 
 retrogressions, still it was an amendment. The most 
 fatal element of destruction in his career, his opium- 
 eating, had not, happily, been of siifticiently long 
 standing to be incurable, and af(er his illness he 
 conceived a horror of it, and never touched it more. 
 Nevertlieless, his constitution was so shaken that, in 
 all liuman ])robability, iiotliing except his brother's 
 great medical skill, in addition to constant watching, 
 could have saved him; but he was saved. At least 
 he was gradually brought into a state of convales- 
 cence — a sort of moonlight existence, compared to
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 291 
 
 tlie full day of liealtli and streugtli — yet calm and 
 quiet enough, so as to make liis life bearable to 
 himself, and, by-and-bye, no very great burden 
 upon other people ■ — a condition which would have 
 been to him ten times worse than death. 
 
 Whether he will have a long life is doubtful. 
 Probably not-, for, at best, his was a tem^ierament 
 in which the sword early wears out the scabbard. 
 By fifty Julius Stedman will be quite an old 
 man; as, indeed, he often looks now. But the value 
 of life consists not in its length; and his is now as 
 full as it used to be empty. 
 
 He still lives, nominally, in his brother's house, 
 though he is frequently absent from it, for he hates 
 London, and enjoys, with all his heart, the little 
 cottage at Sevenoaks, which, though silently given 
 up for one summer — Julius never learnt why — 
 was taken the next, bought by Dr. Stedman, and 
 presented formally to his wife, to be a perpctuiii 
 delight unto her and all the family. 
 
 There, in the deep peace of country life, Julius 
 spends his days, mostly all the year round, keep- 
 ing house in the absence of his brother and sister; 
 and painting a good deal, though not at his former 
 large subjects. Like many other people, as he grew 
 older, he grew much simpler in his tastes — humbler, 
 too, and doubtful of his own powers; so that he 
 contents himself with sitting at the feet of gentle 
 Mother Nature, and reproducing her in lovely little 
 "bits," which people call pre-Kaffaelite — pictures 
 which, unpretending as they are, have such a reality, 
 and often such a deep pathos about them, that they 
 
 19*
 
 292 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 are always admired, and, moreover, sold — a circum- 
 stance of no slight importance to the artist, since as 
 long as a fragment of health and life remained in 
 him, Julius would have been far too honest and 
 honourable to subsist upon another man's bounty, 
 even though that man were his own brother. 
 
 As it is, he earns quite enough money to maintain 
 himself in the moderate way, which is all he cares 
 for now, for his ambition has long died out, and his 
 extremely precarious health will always prevent his 
 woi'king as hard as those must work who would 
 attain eminence in anything. He himself will never 
 become a great artist — he knows that — but he is 
 bent upon making one of his nephew Will. 
 
 There are few things more touching, and at the 
 same time more ennobling, than the intense devotion 
 of a young man to an elder one; and Will is devoted 
 heart and soul to a passionate extent — which his 
 fiather and mother, though not a bit jealous, are 
 sometimes half frightened at — to his uncle Julius. 
 The two are constantly together, and have been, 
 ever since Dr. Stedman, for both their sakes, and 
 at their earnest entreaty, allowed his son to begin, 
 regularly and decisively, the career of an artist. Ho 
 Uncle Julius and his nepliew are sworn companions, 
 delighting in one another's society, and bound together 
 by a tie as close as that of brothers, and as re- 
 verently tender as that between father and son. In 
 his great love for the boy, and his eager anticijjations 
 of Will's future, Julius Stedman has a life neither 
 forlorn nor unhappy, for he has learned to place his 
 happiness on something out of himself — to help to
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 293 
 
 win for another the fame that can never be his own. 
 When he looks at young Will, and hears him 
 praised on every hand, he feels that his own name will 
 not be quite blotted out, nor his memory forgotten 
 upon earth, even though he should die an old 
 bachelor, wifeless and childless. 
 
 He has never again seen Mrs. Vanderdecken. 
 She lives still at Holywell Hall , in great honour and 
 undiminished wealth, flourishing like a green bay- 
 tree-, except that — poor woman! — she cannot fairly 
 be likened to "the wicked." She is not wicked, only 
 weak. Her little daughter loves her dearly, and 
 has unlimited influence over her; so that Gertrude 
 has no difficulty in obtaining leave to visit Aunt 
 Edna whenever she chooses — at whose house , of 
 course, she meets Uncle Julius, in whom she was 
 quick enough at once to recognise her friend Mr. 
 Stone. But Gertrude has tact and delicacy enough 
 not to take notice of this, except confidentially to 
 her Aunt Edna. Nor does Julius Stedman take 
 much notice of her: but Julius the younger does, 
 showing as fatal a predilection for her sweet little 
 plain face, so loving and sensible, kind and true, as 
 his uncle did for her mother's. This new little 
 romance may, alas! cause mischief some time, for 
 Dr. and Mrs. Stedman dislike the idea of cousins 
 marrying: still, they will never imagine themselves 
 wiser than Providence, but if any serious attachment 
 should occur, will leave their children's choice in 
 their own hands. 
 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken herself never comes to visit 
 her sister. That sad cowardliness, that weak shrinking
 
 294 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 from all things difficult or painful, which had been 
 the bane of her life — nay, of more lives than her 
 own — haunts her still. Yet poor Letty has her 
 good points, growing better as she grows older, 
 through the influence of her child. She is always 
 ready to do a kindness that does not give her very 
 much trouble; and she is not a bad wife to her dis- 
 agreeable old husband, who leads her anything but 
 an easy life. There is many a small skeleton hid 
 in the cupboard at Holywell Hall, but outside her 
 home she enjoys a good deal both of pleasantness 
 and popularity, being a very important person in 
 her neighbourhood, where everybody agrees that 
 Mrs. Vanderdecken is not only the handsomest, but 
 the most charming, of middle-aged women. 
 
 Everybody does not say that of her sister, by 
 any means-, for Mrs. Stedman is one of those women 
 who live so entirely within their own family, that 
 beyond it they are little known, and not half 
 appreciated. But those who really do know her, 
 love her-, and those who know her best, love her 
 most of all. 
 
 She and her husband are still in the prime of 
 life, or at least only beginning to descend the brow 
 of the hill which their children are climbing so fast. 
 All good children — diligent, upright, affectionate, 
 honourable: no "black sheep" has yet been found 
 in that haj)j)y little flock, out of which the only one 
 lost is the little one — not lost, but gone before. Very 
 few fiimilies can say as much; but then very few arc 
 blessed with such jiarcnts as William and Edna. 
 
 They have, to all appearance, half their life's
 
 THE woman's kingdom. 295 
 
 work, and enjoyment too, still before them, — but 
 wlio can tell? However, tliey have learnt not to be 
 afraid of evil tidings; for their hearts stand fast, 
 trusting in one another, and in the Lord. Only 
 sometimes Avhen they feel — this husband and wife 
 — how very close they have grown together, and 
 how impossible it is even to conceive the idea of 
 being apart, a vague dread comes over them, followed 
 by an unspoken prayer. 
 
 Such an one Avas in Edna's eyes, at breakfast 
 one morning, when she looked up at her husband, 
 and silently pointed out an obituary notice in the 
 Times: — 
 
 "Died, Isaac Marchmont, Esq., Merchant, aged 
 84 ; and, two days afterwards, aged 80, Elizabeth 
 Lilias, his wife." 
 
 "What is that?" asked Uncle Julius; and they 
 passed round the newspaper to him without a word. 
 
 "One can hardly be sorry," said Edna at last. 
 "They had such a long life together, and, except 
 for the loss of dear Lily, it was a very happy life. 
 I used sometimes to fancy, almost as happy as our 
 own. And this," she added softly, as her hand 
 sought her husband's, "this — their dying within two 
 days of one another — seems to me tlie happiest lot 
 of all." 
 
 "I think so too," said William Stedman. 
 
 Julius turned , and suddenly regarded his brother 
 and sister with those wonderful dark eyes of his — 
 very quiet eyes now, for the fire of passion had all 
 burnt out of them — a little sad at times, thous'h 
 not painfully so, — but briglit witli a strange, far-
 
 296 THE woman's kingdom. 
 
 away look, sucli as those have to whom life has been 
 such sharp suffering, that even in their most restful 
 seasons the other world seems sweeter and nearer 
 than this one. He seemed to understand what they 
 were talking about — he understood so many things 
 now — griefs which he himself had never known, 
 and joys in which he could never more have any 
 part. 
 
 "Will and Edna," whispered he affectionately, 
 "I think I guess what you mean. You would like 
 to 'go to heaven' as the child said — together, and 
 I go alone. But we shall all meet there. I believe 
 that now. May God give you your heart's desire!" 
 
 He rose, and leaning a moment on Will's 
 shoulder as he passed him, kissed Edna, and went 
 away upstairs to liis OAvn peaceful, solitary room. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHEB.
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Santa Barbara 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW.
 
 
 
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 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACIUTY 
 
 001 433 323 
 
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