all roads lead to calvary-第8节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



〃Not　much　to　look　at；　if　that's　what　you　mean；〃　answered　Madge。　〃Began　life　as　a　miner；　I　believe。　　Looks　like　ending　as　Prime　Minister。〃

〃I　heard　him　at　the　Albert　Hall　last　week；〃　said　Flossie。　　〃He's　quite　wonderful。〃

〃In　what　way？〃　questioned　Joan。

〃Oh；　you　know；〃　explained　Flossie。　　〃Like　a　volcano　compressed　into　a　steam　engine。〃

They　discussed　Joan's　plans。　　It　looked　as　if　things　were　going　to　be　easy　for　her。



CHAPTER　IV



Yet　in　the　end　it　was　Carleton　who　opened　the　door　for　her。

Mrs。　Denton　was　helpful；　and　would　have　been　more　so；　if　Joan　had　only　understood。　　Mrs。　Denton　lived　alone　in　an　old　house　in　Gower　Street；　with　a　high　stone　hall　that　was　always　echoing　to　sounds　that　no　one　but　itself　could　ever　hear。　　Her　son　had　settled；　it　was　supposed；　in　one　of　the　Colonies。　　No　one　knew　what　had　become　of　him；　and　Mrs。　Denton　herself　never　spoke　of　him；　while　her　daughter；　on　whom　she　had　centred　all　her　remaining　hopes；　had　died　years　ago。　　To　those　who　remembered　the　girl；　with　her　weak　eyes　and　wispy　ginger　coloured　hair；　it　would　have　seemed　comical；　the　idea　that　Joan　resembled　her。　　But　Mrs。　Denton's　memory　had　lost　itself　in　dreams；　and　to　her　the　likeness　had　appeared　quite　wonderful。　　The　gods　had　given　her　child　back　to　her；　grown　strong　and　brave　and　clever。　　Life　would　have　a　new　meaning　for　her。　　Her　work　would　not　die　with　her。

She　thought　she　could　harness　Joan's　enthusiasm　to　her　own　wisdom。　She　would　warn　her　of　the　errors　and　pitfalls　into　which　she　herself　had　fallen：　　for　she；　too；　had　started　as　a　rebel。　　Youth　should　begin　where　age　left　off。　　Had　the　old　lady　remembered　a　faded　dogs…eared　volume　labelled　〃Oddments〃　that　for　many　years　had　rested　undisturbed　upon　its　shelf　in　her　great　library；　and　opening　it　had　turned　to　the　letter　E；　she　would　have　read　recorded　there；　in　her　own　precise　thin　penmanship；　this　very　wise　reflection：

〃Experience　is　a　book　that　all　men　write；　but　no　man　reads。〃

To　which　she　would　have　found　added；　by　way　of　complement；　〃Experience　is　untranslatable。　　We　write　it　in　the　cipher　of　our　sufferings；　and　the　key　is　hidden　in　our　memories。〃

And　turning　to　the　letter　Y；　she　might　have　read：

〃Youth　comes　to　teach。　　Age　remains　to　listen；〃　and　underneath　the　following：

〃The　ability　to　learn　is　the　last　lesson　we　acquire。〃

Mrs。　Denton　had　long　ago　given　up　the　practice　of　jotting　down　her　thoughts；　experience　having　taught　her　that　so　often；　when　one　comes　to　use　them；　one　finds　that　one　has　changed　them。　　But　in　the　case　of　Joan　the　recollection　of　these　twin　〃oddments〃　might　have　saved　her　disappointment。　　Joan　knew　of　a　new　road　that　avoided　Mrs。　Denton's　pitfalls。　　She　grew　impatient　of　being　perpetually　pulled　back。

For　the　Nursing　Times　she　wrote　a　series　of　condensed　biographies；　entitled　〃Ladies　of　the　Lamp；〃　commencing　with　Elizabeth　Fry。　　They　formed　a　record　of　good　women　who　had　battled　for　the　weak　and　suffering；　winning　justice　for　even　the　uninteresting。　　Miss　Lavery　was　delighted　with　them。　　But　when　Joan　proposed　exposing　the　neglect　and　even　cruelty　too　often　inflicted　upon　the　helpless　patients　of　private　Nursing　Homes；　Miss　Lavery　shook　her　head。

〃I　know；〃　she　said。　　〃One　does　hear　complaints　about　them。　Unfortunately　it　is　one　of　the　few　businesses　managed　entirely　by　women；　and　just　now；　in　particular；　if　we　were　to　say　anything；　it　would　be　made　use　of　by　our　enemies　to　injure　the　Cause。〃

There　was　a　summer　years　agoit　came　back　to　Joan's　mindwhen　she　had　shared　lodgings　with　a　girl　chum　at　a　crowded　sea…side　watering…place。　　The　rooms　were　shockingly　dirty；　and　tired　of　dropping　hints　she　determined　one　morning　to　clean　them　herself。　She　climbed　a　chair　and　started　on　a　row　of　shelves　where　lay　the　dust　of　ages。　　It　was　a　jerry…built　house；　and　the　result　was　that　she　brought　the　whole　lot　down　about　her　head；　together　with　a　quarter　of　a　hundred…weight　of　plaster。

〃Yes；　I　thought　you'd　do　some　mischief；〃　had　commented　the　landlady；　wearily。

It　seemed　typical。　　A　jerry…built　world；　apparently。　　With　the　best　intentions　it　seemed　impossible　to　move　in　it　without　doing　more　harm　than　good　to　it；　bringing　things　down　about　one　that　one　had　not　intended。

She　wanted　to　abolish　steel　rabbit…traps。　　She　had　heard　the　little　beggars　cry。　　It　had　struck　her　as　such　a　harmless　reform。　　But　they　told　her　there　were　worthy　people　in　the　neighbourhood　of　Wolverhamptonquite　a　number　of　themwho　made　their　living　by　the　manufacture　of　steel　rabbit…traps。　　If；　thinking　only　of　the　rabbits；　you　prohibited　steel　rabbit…traps；　then　you　condemned　all　these　worthy　people　to　slow　starvation。　　The　local　Mayor　himself　wrote　in　answer　to　her　article。　　He　drew　a　moving　picture　of　the　sad　results　that　might　follow　such　an　ill…considered　agitation：　hundreds　of　grey…haired　men；　too　old　to　learn　new　jobs；　begging　from　door　to　door；　shoals　of　little　children；　white…faced　and　pinched；　sobbing　women。　　Her　editor　was　sorry　for　the　rabbits。　　Had　often　spent　a　pleasant　day　with　them　himself。　　But；　after　all；　the　Human　Race　claimed　our　first　sympathies。

She　wanted　to　abolish　sweating。　　She　had　climbed　the　rotting　stairways；　seen　the　famished　creatures　in　their　holes。　　But　it　seemed　that　if　you　interfered　with　the　complicated　system　based　on　sweating　then　you　dislocated　the　entire　structure　of　the　British　export　clothing　trade。　　Not　only　would　these　poor　creatures　lose　their　admittedly　wretched　livingbut　still　a　livingbut　thousands　of　other　innocent　victims　would　also　be　involved　in　the　common　ruin。　　All　very　sad；　but　half　a　loafor　even　let　us　frankly　say　a　thin　sliceis　better　than　no　bread　at　all。

She　wanted　board　school　children's　heads　examined。　　She　had　examined　one　or　two　herself。　　It　seemed　to　her　wrong　that　healthy　children　should　be　compelled　to　sit　for　hours　within　jumping　distance　of　the　diseased。　　She　thought　it　better　that　the　dirty　should　be　made　fit　company　for　the　clean　than　the　clean　should　be　brought　down　to　the　level　of　the　dirty。　　It　seemed　that　in　doing　this　you　were　destroying　the　independence　of　the　poor。　　Opposition　reformers；　in　letters　scintillating　with　paradox；　bristling　with　classical　allusion；　denounced　her　attempt　to　impose　middle…class　ideals　upon　a　too　long　suffering　proletariat。　　Better　far　a　few　lively　little　heads　than　a　broken…spirited　people　robbed　of　their　parental　rights。

Through　Miss　Lavery　she　obtained　an　introduction　to　the　great　Sir　William。　　He　owned　a　group　of　popular　provincial　newspapers；　and　was　most　encouraging。　　Sir　William　had　often　said　to　himself：

〃What　can　I　do　for　God　who　has　done　so　much　for　me？〃　　It　seemed　only　fair。

He　asked　her　down　to　his　〃little　place　in　Hampshire；〃　to　talk　plans　over。　　The　〃little　place；〃　it　turned　out；　ran　to　forty　bedrooms；　and　was　surrounded　by　three　hundred　acres　of　park。　　God　had　evidently　done　his　bit　quite　handsomely。

It　was　in　a　secluded　corner　of　the　park　that　Sir　William　had　gone　down　upon　one　knee　and　gallantly　kissed　her　hand。　　His　idea　was　that　if　she　could　regard　herself　as　his　〃Dear　Lady；〃　and　allow　him　the　honour　and　privilege　of　being　her　〃True　Knight；〃　that；　between　them；　they　might　accomplish　something　really　useful。　　There　had　been　some　difficulty　about　his　getting　up　again；　Sir　William　being　an　elderly　gentleman　subject　to　rheumatism；　and　Joan　had　had　to　expend　no　small　amount　of　muscular　effort　in　assisting　him；　so　that　the　episode　which　should　have　been　symbolical　ended　by　leaving　them　both　red　and　breathless。

He　referred　to　the　matter　again　the　same　evening　in　the　library　while　Lady　William　slept　peacefully　in　the　blue　drawing…room；　but　as　it　appeared　necessary　that　the　compact　should　be　sealed　by　a　knightly　kiss　Joan　had　failed　to　ratify　it。

She　blamed　herself　on　her　way　home。　　The　poor　old　gentleman　could　easily　have　been　kept　in　his　place。　　The　suffering　of　an　occasional　harmless　caress　would　have　purchased　for　her　power　and　opportunity。　Had　it　not　been　somewhat　selfish　of　her？　　Should　she　write　to　him　see　him　again？

She　knew　that　she　never　would。　　It　was　something　apart　from　her　reason。　　It　would　not　even　listen　to　her。　　It　bade　or　forbade　as　if　one　were　a　child　without　any　right　to　a　will　of　one's　own。　　It　was　decidedly　exasperating。

There　were　others。　　There　were　the　editors　who　frankly　told　her　that　the　business　of　a　newspaper　was　to　write　what　its　customers　wanted　to　read；　and　that　the　public；　so　far　as　they　could　judge；　was　just　about　fed　up　with　plans　for　New　Jerusalems　at　their　expense。　　And　the　editors　who　were　prepared　to　take　up　any　number　of　reforms；　insisting　only　that　they　should　be　new　and　original　and　promise　popularity。

And　then　she　met　Greyson。

It　was　at　a　lunch　given　by　Mrs。　Denton。　　Greyson　was　a　bachelor　and　lived　with　an　unmarried　sister；　a　few　years　older　than　himself。　　He　was　editor　and　part　proprietor　of　an　evening　paper。　　It　had　ideals　and　was；　in　consequence；　regarded　by　the　general　public　with　suspicion；　but　by　reason　of　sincerity　and　braininess　was　rapidly　becoming　a　power。　　He　was　a　shy；　reserved　man　with　an　aristocratic　head　set　upon　stooping　shoulders。　　The　face　was　that　of　a　dreamer；　but　about　the　mouth　there　was　suggestion　of　the　fighter。　　Joan　felt　at　her　eas