all roads lead to calvary-第25节
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continued Joan； 〃but afterwards you will be glad that you have done it。 It is a duty you owe to your position as the wife of a great leader of the people。〃
The firelight showed to Joan a comically frightened face； with round； staring eyes and an open mouth。
〃What is it you want me to do？〃 she faltered
〃I want you to be just yourself；〃 said Joan； 〃a kind； good woman of the people； who will win their respect； and set them an example。〃 She moved across and seating herself on the arm of Mrs。 Phillips's chair； touched lightly with her hand the flaxen hair and the rouged cheek。 〃I want you to get rid of all this；〃 she whispered。 〃It isn't worthy of you。 Leave it to the silly dolls and the bad women。〃
There was a long silence。 Joan felt the tears trickling between her fingers。
〃You haven't seen me；〃 came at last in a thin； broken voice。
Joan bent down and kissed her。 〃Let's try it；〃 she whispered。
A little choking sound was the only answer。 But the woman rose and； Joan following； they stole upstairs into the bedroom and Mrs。 Phillips turned the key。
It took a long time； and Joan； seated on the bed； remembered a night when she had taken a trapped mouse （if only he had been a quiet mouse！） into the bathroom and had waited while it drowned。 It was finished at last； and Mrs Phillips stood revealed with her hair down； showing streaks of dingy brown。
Joan tried to enthuse； but the words came haltingly。 She suggested to Joan a candle that some wind had suddenly blown out。 The paint and powder had been obvious； but at least it had given her the mask of youth。 She looked old and withered。 The life seemed to have gone out of her。
〃You see； dear； I began when I was young；〃 she explained； 〃and he has always seen me the same。 I don't think I could live like this。〃
The painted doll that the child fancied！ the paint washed off and the golden hair all turned to drab？ Could one be sure of 〃getting used to it；〃 of 〃liking it better？〃 And the poor bewildered doll itself！ How could one expect to make of it a statue： 〃The Woman of the People。〃 One could only bruise it。
It ended in Joan's promising to introduce her to discreet theatrical friends who would tell her of cosmetics less injurious to the skin； and advise her generally in the ancient and proper art of 〃making up。〃
It was not the end she had looked for。 Joan sighed as she closed her door behind her。 What was the meaning of it？ On the one hand that unimpeachable law； the greatest happiness of the greatest number； the sacred cause of Democracy； the moral Uplift of the people； Sanity； Wisdom； Truth； the higher Justice； all the forces on which she was relying for the regeneration of the worldall arrayed in stern demand that the flabby； useless Mrs。 Phillips should be sacrificed for the general good。 Only one voice had pleaded for foolish； helpless Mrs。 Phillipsand had conquered。 The still； small voice of Pity。
CHAPTER X
Arthur sprang himself upon her a little before Christmas。 He was full of a great project。 It was that she and her father should spend Christmas with his people at Birmingham。 Her father thought he would like to see his brother； they had not often met of late； and Birmingham would be nearer for her than Liverpool。
Joan had no intention of being lured into the Birmingham parlour。 She thought she could see in it a scheme for her gradual entanglement。 Besides； she was highly displeased。 She had intended asking her father to come to Brighton with her。 As a matter of fact； she had forgotten all about Christmas； and the idea only came into her head while explaining to Arthur how his impulsiveness had interfered with it。 Arthur； crestfallen； suggested telegrams。 It would be quite easy to alter everything； and of course her father would rather be with her； wherever it was。 But it seemed it was too late。 She ought to have been consulted。 A sudden sense of proprietorship in her father came to her assistance and added pathos to her indignation。 Of course； now； she would have to spend Christmas alone。 She was far too busy to think of Birmingham。 She could have managed Brighton。 Argument founded on the length of journey to Birmingham as compared with the journey to Brighton she refused to be drawn into。 Her feelings had been too deeply wounded to permit of descent into detail。
But the sinner； confessing his fault； is entitled to forgiveness； and； having put him back into his proper place； she let him kiss her hand。 She even went further and let him ask her out to dinner。 As the result of her failure to reform Mrs。 Phillips she was feeling dissatisfied with herself。 It was an unpleasant sensation and somewhat new to her experience。 An evening spent in Arthur's company might do her good。 The experiment proved successful。 He really was quite a dear boy。 Eyeing him thoughtfully through the smoke of her cigarette； it occurred to her how like he was to Guido's painting of St。 Sebastian； those soft； dreamy eyes and that beautiful； almost feminine； face！ There always had been a suspicion of the saint about him even as a boy： nothing one could lay hold of： just that odd suggestion of a shadow intervening between him and the world。
It seemed a favourable opportunity to inform him of that fixed determination of hers： neverin all probabilityto marry： but to devote her life to her work。 She was feeling very kindly towards him； and was able to soften her decision with touches of gentle regret。 He did not appear in the least upset。 But 'thought' that her duty might demand； later on； that she should change her mind： that was if fate should offer her some noble marriage； giving her wider opportunity。
She was a little piqued at his unexpected attitude of aloofness。 What did he mean by a 〃noble marriage〃to a Duke； or something of that sort？
He did not think the candidature need be confined to Dukes； though he had no objection to a worthy Duke。 He meant any really great man who would help her and whom she could help。
She promised； somewhat shortly； to consider the matter； whenever the Duke； or other class of nobleman； should propose to her。 At present no sign of him had appeared above the horizon。 Her own idea was that； if she lived long enough； she would become a spinster。 Unless someone took pity on her when she was old and decrepit and past her work。
There was a little humorous smile about his mouth。 But his eyes were serious and pleading。
〃When shall I know that you are old and decrepit？〃 he asked。
She was not quite sure。 She thought it would be when her hair was greyor rather white。 She had been informed by experts that her peculiar shade of hair went white； not grey。
〃I shall ask you to marry me when your hair is white；〃 he said。 〃May I？〃
It did not suggest any overwhelming impatience。 〃Yes；〃 she answered。 〃In case you haven't married yourself； and forgotten all about me。〃
〃I shall keep you to your promise；〃 he said quite gravely。
She felt the time had come to speak seriously。 〃I want you to marry；〃 she said； 〃and be happy。 I shall be troubled if you don't。〃
He was looking at her with those shy； worshipping eyes of his that always made her marvel at her own wonderfulness。
〃It need not do that；〃 he answered。 〃It would be beautiful to be with you always so that I might serve you。 But I am quite happy； loving you。 Let me see you now and then： touch you and hear your voice。〃
Behind her drawn…down lids； she offered up a little prayer that she might always be worthy of his homage。 She didn't know it would make no difference to him。
She walked with him to Euston and saw him into the train。 He had given up his lodgings and was living with her father at The Pines。 They were busy on a plan for securing the co…operation of the workmen； and she promised to run down and hear all about it。 She would not change her mind about Birmingham； but sent everyone her love。
She wished she had gone when it came to Christmas Day。 This feeling of loneliness was growing upon her。 The Phillips had gone up north； and the Greysons to some relations of theirs： swell country people in Hampshire。 Flossie was on a sea voyage with Sam and his mother； and even Madge had been struck homesick。 It happened to be a Sunday； too； of all days in the week； and London in a drizzling rain was just about the limit。 She worked till late in the afternoon； but； sitting down to her solitary cup of tea； she felt she wanted to howl。 From the basement came faint sounds of laughter。 Her landlord and lady were entertaining guests。 If they had not been； she would have found some excuse for running down and talking to them； if only for a few minutes。
Suddenly the vision of old Chelsea Church rose up before her with its little motherly old pew…opener。 She had so often been meaning to go and see her again； but something had always interfered。 She hunted through her drawers and found a comparatively sober…coloured shawl； and tucked it under her cloak。 The service was just commencing when she reached the church。 Mary Stopperton showed her into a seat and evidently remembered her。 〃I want to see you afterwards；〃 she whispered； and Mary Stopperton had smiled and nodded。 The service； with its need
