Part 18 (1/2)

Mrs. Thompson was pacing to and fro rapidly and excitedly; her bosom heaved, and the words were beginning to pour out with explosive force.

”He is everything then--the sun, moon, and stars to you; and I am a cipher. The mother who bore you counts for less than any Tom, d.i.c.k, or Harry who puts his arms round your waist and pulls your silly face towards him.”

”Mother!”

”Yes, mother! That's my name still--and you use it from habit. Only the fact--the plain meaning of the word is gone.”

”Mother, they'll hear you in the other room.”

”But I'm not a woman to be ignored and slighted--and pushed aside.

There's nothing of the patient Griselda in my nature. I am what I _am_--all alive still--not done for, and on the shelf. I have subordinated my life to yours--let you rule it how you chose. But you must rule it by kindness--not by cold looks and cutting words. I don't submit to that--I _won't_ submit to it.”

”Mother dear, I have told you how grateful I am.”

”And grat.i.tude--as you understand it--is no use to me. I've a _right_--yes, a right to your affection--the natural affection that I've striven to retain, that I've done nothing to forfeit.”

”No, no. Mother dear, you have my affection.”

”Then what's it worth? Not much--no, not very much, if the first time I appeal to your sense of duty too, it isn't to be found. I tell you not to be a fool--and you swear I am wrecking your life. I'm the villain of your trumpery little drama--plotting and scheming to frustrate your love and spoil your life. That's too rich--that's too good, altogether too good.”

The expression of Enid's face had changed from obstinacy to alarm. She watched her mother apprehensively, and stammered some calming phrases.

”Mother dear, I'm sorry. Don't, don't get excited--or I'm sure they'll hear us in the other room.”

”Your life, yes. And what about _my_ life?” The words were pouring out in an unchecked torrent. ”Look back at my life and see what it has been.

You're twenty-two, aren't you? And I was that age more than twenty-two years ago--and all the twenty-two years I've given you. Something for something--not something for nothing. We traders like fair exchange--but you've put yourself above all that.... No, leave me alone. Don't touch me, since you have ceased to care for me.”

Enid had come from the piano, and was endeavouring to subdue the emotional explosion by a soothing caress.

”Leave me to myself--leave me alone. I'm nothing to you--and you know it.”

Enid's caress was roughly repulsed; and Mrs. Thompson sat upon the sofa, hid her flushed face upon her arms, and burst into a fit of almost hysterical sobbing.

”Mother, mother--don't, please don't;” and Enid sat beside her, patted her shoulder, and begged her quickly to compose herself lest the gentlemen should come and see her in her distress.

”It's so cruel,” sobbed Mrs. Thompson. ”And now--now of all times, I can't bear it.... But I mustn't let myself go like this. I daren't give way like this.”

Then very soon her broad back ceased to shake; the convulsing gasping sobs were suppressed, and she sat up and dried her eyes.

”Enid, have I made a horrible fright of myself?” And she rose from the sofa, and went to look in the gla.s.s over the fireplace. The tears had left little trace; the reflection in the gla.s.s rea.s.sured her.

She was comparatively calm when she returned to the sofa and sat down again.

”Enid, my dear, I'm ashamed to have been betrayed into such weakness,”

and she smiled piteously. ”But you have tested me too severely of late--since this unlucky affair began. I have thought myself strong enough; but the strongest things have their snapping point--even iron and steel;--and I am only flesh and blood.... You don't understand, but I warn you that I _need_ the sympathy and the kindness which you withhold from me.... Be nice to me--be kind to me.”

But Enid was crying now. Tears trickled down her narrow face. The strange sight of her mother's violent and explosive distress had quite overcome her.

”I do try to do what's right,” she whimpered.