The Price of Love | Page 5

was glad that she, a
mature and profoundly experienced woman, in full possession of all her
faculties, was there to watch over the development of the lovable,
affectionate, and impulsive child.

IV

"Oh! Here's the paper, Mrs. Maldon," said Rachel, as, turning away to
leave the room, she caught sight of the extra special edition of the
Signal, which lay a pale green on the dark green of the Chesterfield.
Mrs. Maldon answered placidly--
"When did you bring it in? I never heard the boy come. But my
hearing's not quite what it used to be, that's true. Open it for me, my
dear. I can't stretch my arms as I used to."
She was one of the few women in the Five Towns who deigned to read
a newspaper regularly, and one of the still fewer who would lead the
miscellaneous conversation of drawing-rooms away from domestic
chatter and discussions of individualities, to political and municipal
topics and even toward general ideas. She seldom did more than
mention a topic and then express a hope for the best, or explain that this
phenomenon was "such a pity," or that phenomenon "such a good
thing," or that about another phenomenon "one really didn't know what
to think." But these remarks sufficed to class her apart among her sex
as "a very up-to-date old lady, with a broad outlook upon the world,"
and to inspire sundry other ladies with a fearful respect for her
masculine intellect and judgment. She was aware of her superiority,
and had a certain kind disdain for the increasing number of women who
took in a daily picture-paper, and who, having dawdled over its
illustrations after breakfast, spoke of what they had seen in the
"newspaper." She would not allow that a picture-paper was a
newspaper.
Rachel stood in the empty space under the gas. Her arms were stretched
out and slightly upward as she held the Signal wide open and glanced
at the newspaper, frowning. The light fell full on her coppery hair. Her
balanced body, though masked in front by the perpendicular fall of the
apron as she bent somewhat forward, was nevertheless the image of
potential vivacity and energy; it seemed almost to vibrate with its own
consciousness of physical pride.
Left alone, Rachel would never have opened a newspaper, at any rate
for the news. Until she knew Mrs. Maldon she had never seen a woman

read a newspaper for aught except the advertisements relating to
situations, houses, and pleasures. But, much more than she imagined,
she was greatly under the influence of Mrs. Maldon. Mrs. Maldon
made a nightly solemnity of the newspaper, and Rachel naturally soon
persuaded herself that it was a fine and a superior thing to read the
newspaper--a proof of unusual intelligence. Moreover, just as she felt
bound to show Mrs. Maldon that her notion of cleanliness was as
advanced as anybody's, so she felt bound to indicate, by an appearance
of casualness, that for her to read the paper was the most customary
thing in the world. Of course she read the paper! And that she should
calmly look at it herself before handing it to her mistress proved that
she had already established a very secure position in the house.
She said, her eyes following the lines, and her feet moving in the
direction of Mrs. Maldon--"Those burglaries are still going on ...
Hillport now!"
"Oh, dear, dear!" murmured Mrs. Maldon, as Rachel spread the
newspaper lightly over the tea-tray and its contents. "Oh, dear, dear! I
do hope the police will catch some one soon. I'm sure they're doing
their best, but really--!"
Rachel bent with confident intimacy over the old lady's shoulder, and
they read the burglary column together, Rachel interrupting herself for
an instant to pick up Mrs. Maldon's ball of black wool which had
slipped to the floor. The Signal reporter had omitted none of the classic
_clichés_ proper to the subject, and such words and phrases as
"jemmy," "effected an entrance," "the servant, now thoroughly
alarmed," "stealthy footsteps," "escaped with their booty," seriously
disquieted both of the women--caused a sudden sensation of sinking in
the region of the heart. Yet neither would put the secret fear into speech,
for each by instinct felt that a fear once uttered is strengthened and
made more real. Living solitary and unprotected by male sinews, in a
house which, though it did not stand alone, was somewhat withdrawn
from the town, they knew themselves the ideal prey of conventional
burglars with masks, dark lanterns, revolvers, and jemmies. They were
grouped together like some symbolic sculpture, and with all their

fortitude and common sense they still in unconscious attitude expressed
the helpless and resigned fatalism of their sex before certain menaces of
bodily danger, the thrilled, expectant submission