The Crack of Doom | Page 8

not entertain us in person. He was busy. The plea was
evidently sincere, notwithstanding that the business of a country
gentleman--which he now seemed to be--is something less exacting
than busy people's leisure.
After a short rest, and an admirably-served lunch, we were dismissed to
the woods for our better amusement.
Thereafter followed for me a strangely peaceful, idyllic day--all save its
ending. Looking back on it, I know that the sun which set that evening
went down on the last of my happiness. But it all seems trivial now.
My companions were accomplished botanists, and here, for the first
time, I found myself on common ground with both. We discussed every
familiar wild flower as eagerly as if we had been professed field
naturalists. In walking or climbing my assistance was neither
requisitioned nor required. I did not offer, therefore, what must have
been unwelcome when it was superfluous.
We rested at last under the shade of a big beech, for the afternoon sun
was rather oppressive. It was a pleasant spot to while away an hour. A
purling brook went babbling by, singing to itself as it journeyed to the
sea. Insects droned about in busy flight. There was a perfume of
honeysuckle wafted to us on the summer wind, which stirred the
beech-tree and rustled its young leaves lazily, so that the sunlight
peeped through the green lattice-work and shone on the faces of these
two handsome girls, stretched in graceful postures on the cool sward
below--their white teeth sparkling in its brilliance, while their soft
laughter made music for me. In the fulness of my heart, I said aloud:
"It is a good thing to be alive."

CHAPTER IV.
GEORGE DELANY--DECEASED.
"IT is a good thing to be alive," Natalie Brande repeated slowly, gazing,
as it were, far off' through her half-closed eyelids. Then turning to me
and looking at me full, wide-eyed, she asked: "A good thing for how
many?"
"For all; for everything that is alive."
"Faugh! For few things that are alive. For hardly anything. You say it is
a good thing to be alive. How often have you said that in your life?"
"All my life through," I answered stoutly. My constitution was a good
one, and I had lived healthily, if hardily. I voiced the superfluous
vitality of a well nourished body.
"Then you do not know what it is to feel for others."
There was a scream in the underwood near us. It ended in a short,
choking squeak. The girl paled, but she went on with outward calm. *
That hawk or cat feels as you do. I wonder what that young rabbit
thinks of life's problem "
"But we are neither hawks nor cats, nor even young rabbits," I
answered warmly. "We can not bear the burthens of the whole animal
world. Our own are sufficient for us."
"You are right. They are more than sufficient."
I had made a false move, and so tried to recover my lost ground. She
would not permit me. The conversation which had run in pleasant
channels for two happy hours was ended Thenceforth, in spite of my
obstructive efforts, subjects' were introduced which could not be
conversed on but must be discussed. On every one Miss Brande took
the part of the weak against the strong, oblivious of every consideration
of policy and even ethics, careful only that she championed the weak

because of their weakness. Miss Metford abetted her in this, and went
further in their joint revolt against common sense. Miss Brande was
argumentative, pleading. Miss Metford was defiant. Between the two I
fared ill.
Of course the Woman question was soon in- ^ traduced, and in this I
made the best defence of time-honoured customs of which I was
capable.
But my outworks fell down as promptly before the voices of these
young women as did the walls of Jericho before the blast of a ram's
horn.
Nothing that I had cherished was left to me.
Woman no longer wanted man's protection.
"Enslavement" they called it.) Why should she, when in the evolution
of society there was-not now, or presently would not be, anything from
which to protect her? (" Competing slaveowners" was what they said.)
When you wish to behold protectors you must postulate dangers. The
first are valueless save as a preventive of the second. Both evils will be
conveniently dispensed with. All this was new to me, most of my
thinking life having been passed in distant lands, where the science of
ethics is codified into a simple statute--the will of the strongest.
When my dialectical humiliation was within one point of completion,
Miss Metford came to my rescue. For some time she bad looked on at
my discomfiture with a good-natured neutrality, and when I was