Beyond the City

Chapter 2

The cottage from the window of which the Misses

Williams had looked out stands, and has stood for many a

year, in that pleasant suburban district which lies

between Norwood, Anerley, and Forest Hill. Long

before there had been a thought of a township there, when

the Metropolis was still quite a distant thing, old Mr.

Williams had inhabited "The Brambles," as the little

house was called, and had owned all the fields about it.

Six or eight such cottages scattered over a rolling

country-side were all the houses to be found there in the

days when the century was young. From afar, when the

breeze came from the north, the dull, low roar of the

great city might be heard, like the breaking of the tide

of life, while along the horizon might be seen the dim

curtain of smoke, the grim spray which that tide threw

up. Gradually, however, as the years passed, the City

had thrown out a long brick-feeler here and there,

curving, extending, and coalescing, until at last the

little cottages had been gripped round by these red

tentacles, and had been absorbed to make room for the

modern villa. Field by field the estate of old Mr.

Williams had been sold to the speculative builder, and

had borne rich crops of snug suburban dwellings, arranged

in curving crescents and tree-lined avenues. The father

had passed away before his cottage was entirely bricked

round, but his two daughters, to whom the property had

descended, lived to see the last vestige of country taken

from them. For years they had clung to the one field

which faced their windows, and it was only after much

argument and many heartburnings, that they had at last

consented that it should share the fate of the others.

A broad road was driven through their quiet domain, the

quarter was re-named "The Wilderness," and three square,

staring, uncompromising villas began to sprout up on the

other side. With sore hearts, the two shy little old

maids watched their steady progress, and speculated as to

what fashion of neighbors chance would bring into the

little nook which had always been their own.

And at last they were all three finished. Wooden

balconies and overhanging eaves had been added to them,

so that, in the language of the advertisement, there were

vacant three eligible Swiss-built villas, with sixteen

rooms, no basement, electric bells, hot and cold water,

and every modern convenience, including a common tennis

lawn, to be let at L100 a year, or L1,500 purchase. So

tempting an offer did not long remain open. Within a few

weeks the card had vanished from number one, and it was

known that Admiral Hay Denver, V. C., C. B., with Mrs.

Hay Denver and their only son, were about to move into

it. The news brought peace to the hearts of the Williams

sisters. They had lived with a settled conviction that

some wild impossible colony, some shouting, singing

family of madcaps, would break in upon their peace.

This establishment at least was irreproachable. A

reference to "Men of the Time" showed them that Admiral

Hay Denver was a most distinguished officer, who had

begun his active career at Bomarsund, and had ended it at

Alexandria, having managed between these two episodes to

see as much service as any man of his years. From the

Taku Forts and the _Shannon_ brigade, to dhow-harrying

off Zanzibar, there was no variety of naval work which

did not appear in his record; while the Victoria Cross,

and the Albert Medal for saving life, vouched for it that

in peace as in war his courage was still of the same true

temper. Clearly a very eligible neighbor this, the more

so as they had been confidentially assured by the estate

agent that Mr. Harold Denver, the son, was a most quiet

young gentleman, and that he was busy from morning to

night on the Stock Exchange.

The Hay Denvers had hardly moved in before number two

also struck its placard, and again the ladies found that

they had no reason to be discontented with their

neighbors. Doctor Balthazar Walker was a very well-known

name in the medical world. Did not his qualifications,

his membership, and the record of his writings fill a

long half-column in the "Medical Directory," from his

first little paper on the "Gouty Diathesis" in 1859 to

his exhaustive treatise upon "Affections of the

Vaso-Motor System" in 1884? A successful medical career

which promised to end in a presidentship of a college and

a baronetcy, had been cut short by his sudden inheritance

of a considerable sum from a grateful patient, which had

rendered him independent for life, and had enabled him to

turn his attention to the more scientific part of his

profession, which had always had a greater charm for him

than its more practical and commercial aspect. To this

end he had given up his house in Weymouth Street, and had

taken this opportunity of moving himself, his scientific

instruments, and his two charming daughters (he had been

a widower for some years) into the more peaceful

atmosphere of Norwood.

There was thus but one villa unoccupied, and it was

no wonder that the two maiden ladies watched with a keen

interest, which deepened into a dire apprehension, the

curious incidents which heralded the coming of the new

tenants. They had already learned from the agent that

the family consisted of two only, Mrs. Westmacott, a

widow, and her nephew, Charles Westmacott. How simple

and how select it had sounded! Who could have foreseen

from it these fearful portents which seemed to threaten

violence and discord among the dwellers in The

Wilderness? Again the two old maids cried in

heartfelt chorus that they wished they had not sold their

field.

"Well, at least, Monica," remarked Bertha, as they

sat over their teacups that afternoon, "however strange

these people may be, it is our duty to be as polite to

them as to the others."

"Most certainly," acquiesced her sister.

"Since we have called upon Mrs. Hay Denver and upon

the Misses Walker, we must call upon this Mrs. Westmacott

also."

"Certainly, dear. As long as they are living upon

our land I feel as if they were in a sense our guests,

and that it is our duty to welcome them."

"Then we shall call to-morrow," said Bertha, with

decision.

"Yes, dear, we shall. But, oh, I wish it was over!"

At four o'clock on the next day, the two maiden

ladies set off upon their hospitable errand. In their

stiff, crackling dresses of black silk, with

jet-bespangled jackets, and little rows of cylindrical

grey curls drooping down on either side of their black

bonnets, they looked like two old fashion plates which

had wandered off into the wrong decade. Half curious and

half fearful, they knocked at the door of number three,

which was instantly opened by a red-headed page-boy.

Yes, Mrs. Westmacott was at home. He ushered them

into the front room, furnished as a drawing-room, where

in spite of the fine spring weather a large fire was

burning in the grate. The boy took their cards, and

then, as they sat down together upon a settee, he set

their nerves in a thrill by darting behind a curtain with

a shrill cry, and prodding at something with his foot.

The bull pup which they had seen upon the day before

bolted from its hiding-place, and scuttled snarling from

the room.

"It wants to get at Eliza," said the youth, in a

confidential whisper. "Master says she would give him

more'n he brought." He smiled affably at the two little

stiff black figures, and departed in search of his

mistress.

"What--what did he say?" gasped Bertha.

"Something about a---- Oh, goodness gracious! Oh,

help, help, help, help, help!" The two sisters had

bounded on to the settee, and stood there with staring

eyes and skirts gathered in, while they filled the whole

house with their yells. Out of a high wicker-work basket

which stood by the fire there had risen a flat

diamond-shaped head with wicked green eyes which came

flickering upwards, waving gently from side to side,

until a foot or more of glossy scaly neck was visible.

Slowly the vicious head came floating up, while at every

oscillation a fresh burst of shrieks came from

the settee.

"What in the name of mischief!" cried a voice, and

there was the mistress of the house standing in the

doorway. Her gaze at first had merely taken in the fact

that two strangers were standing screaming upon her red

plush sofa. A glance at the fireplace, however, showed

her the cause of the terror, and she burst into a hearty

fit of laughter.

"Charley," she shouted, "here's Eliza misbehaving

again."

"I'll settle her," answered a masculine voice, and

the young man dashed into the room. He had a brown

horse-cloth in his hand, which he threw over the basket,

making it fast with a piece of twine so as to effectually

imprison its inmate, while his aunt ran across to

reassure her visitors.

"It is only a rock snake, " she explained.

"Oh, Bertha!" "Oh, Monica!" gasped the poor

exhausted gentlewomen.

"She's hatching out some eggs. That is why we have

the fire. Eliza always does better when she is warm.

She is a sweet, gentle creature, but no doubt she thought

that you had designs upon her eggs. I suppose that you

did not touch any of them?"

"Oh, let us get away, Bertha!' cried Monica, with her

thin, black-gloved hands thrown forwards in abhorrence.

"Not away, but into the next room," said Mrs.

Westmacott, with the air of one whose word was law.

"This way, if you please! It is less warm here." She

led the way into a very handsomely appointed library,

with three great cases of books, and upon the fourth side

a long yellow table littered over with papers and

scientific instruments. "Sit here, and you, there," she

continued. "That is right. Now let me see, which of you

is Miss Williams, and which Miss Bertha Williams?"

"I am Miss Williams," said Monica, still palpitating,

and glancing furtively about in dread of some new horror.

"And you live, as I understand, over at the pretty

little cottage. It is very nice of you to call so early.

I don't suppose that we shall get on, but still the

intention is equally good." She crossed her legs and

leaned her back against the marble mantelpiece.

"We thought that perhaps we might be of some

assistance," said Bertha, timidly. "If there is anything

which we could do to make you feel more at home----"

"Oh, thank you, I am too old a traveler to feel

anything but at home wherever I go. I've just come back

from a few months in the Marquesas Islands, where I had

a very pleasant visit. That was where I got Eliza. In

many respects the Marquesas Islands now lead the world."

"Dear me!" ejaculated Miss Williams. "In what

respect?"

"In the relation of the sexes. They have worked out

the great problem upon their own lines, and their

isolated geographical position has helped them to come to

a conclusion of their own. The woman there is, as she

should be, in every way the absolute equal of the male.

Come in, Charles, and sit down. Is Eliza all right?"

"All right, aunt."

"These are our neighbors, the Misses Williams.

Perhaps they will have some stout. You might bring in a

couple of bottles, Charles."

"No, no, thank you! None for us!" cried her two

visitors, earnestly.

"No? I am sorry that I have no tea to offer you. I

look upon the subserviency of woman as largely due to her

abandoning nutritious drinks and invigorating exercises

to the male. I do neither." She picked up a pair of

fifteen-pound dumb-bells from beside the fireplace and

swung them lightly about her head. "You see what may be

done on stout," said she.

"But don't you think," the elder Miss Williams

suggested timidly, "don't you think, Mrs. Westmascott,

that woman has a mission of her own?"

The lady of the house dropped her dumb-bells with a

crash upon the floor.

"The old cant!" she cried. "The old shibboleth!

What is this mission which is reserved for woman? All

that is humble, that is mean, that is soul-killing, that

is so contemptible and so ill-paid that none other will

touch it. All that is woman's mission. And who imposed

these limitations upon her? Who cooped her up within

this narrow sphere? Was it Providence? Was it nature?

No, it was the arch enemy. It was man."

"Oh, I say, auntie!" drawled her nephew.

"It was man, Charles. It was you and your fellows I

say that woman is a colossal monument to the selfishness

of man. What is all this boasted chivalry--these fine

words and vague phrases? Where is it when we wish to put

it to the test? Man in the abstract will do anything to

help a woman. Of course. How does it work when his

pocket is touched? Where is his chivalry then? Will the

doctors help her to qualify? will the lawyers help her to

be called to the bar? will the clergy tolerate her in the

Church? Oh, it is close your ranks then and refer poor

woman to her mission! Her mission! To be thankful for

coppers and not to interfere with the men while they

grabble for gold, like swine round a trough, that is

man's reading of the mission of women. You may sit there

and sneer, Charles, while you look upon your victim, but

you know that it is truth, every word of it.

Terrified as they were by this sudden torrent of

words, the two gentlewomen could not but smile at the

sight of the fiery, domineering victim and the big

apologetic representative of mankind who sat meekly

bearing all the sins of his s*x. The lady struck a

match, whipped a cigarette from a case upon the

mantelpiece, and began to draw the smoke into her lungs.

"I find it very soothing when my nerves are at all

ruffled," she explained. "You don't smoke? Ah, you miss

one of the purest of pleasures--one of the few pleasures

which are without a reaction."

Miss Williams smoothed out her silken lap.

"It is a pleasure," she said, with some approach to

self-assertion, "which Bertha and I are rather too

old-fashioned to enjoy."

"No doubt, It would probably make you very ill if you

attempted it. By the way, I hope that you will come to

some of our Guild meetings. I shall see that tickets are

sent you."

"Your Guild?"

"It is not yet formed, but I shall lose no time in

forming a committee. It is my habit to establish a

branch of the Emancipation Guild wherever I go. There is

a Mrs. Sanderson in Anerley who is already one of the

emancipated, so that I have a nucleus. It is only by

organized resistance, Miss Williams, that we can hope to

hold our own against the selfish s*x. Must you go,

then?"

"Yes, we have one or two other visits to pay," said

the elder sister. "You will, I am sure, excuse us. I

hope that you will find Norwood a pleasant residence."

"All places are to me simply a battle-field," she

answered, gripping first one and then the other with a

grip which crumpled up their little thin fingers. "The

days for work and healthful exercise, the evenings to

Browning and high discourse, eh, Charles? Good-bye!"

She came to the door with them, and as they glanced back

they saw her still standing there with the yellow bull

pup cuddled up under one forearm, and the thin blue reek

of her cigarette ascending from her lips.

"Oh, what a dreadful, dreadful woman!" whispered

sister Bertha, as they hurried down the street. "Thank

goodness that it is over."

"But she'll return the visit," answered the other.

"I think that we had better tell Mary that we are not at

home.