Part 15 (1/2)

”Do I puzzle you now?” she asked.

”Inexpressibly!”

”How amusing! But how?”

”One can generally see at a glance, or pretty soon, the general trend of a character. But not with you. Nothing that I might hear of you in the future, would very much surprise me. I should say to myself, 'Yes, the germ was there.'”

Hadria paled a little. ”Either good or bad you mean?”

”Well----”

”Yes, I understand.” She drew herself together, crossing her arms, and looking over the hills, with eyes that burned with a sort of fear and defiance mingled. It was a singular expression, which the Professor noted with a sense of discomfort.

Hadria slowly withdrew her eyes from the horizon, and bent them on the ground.

”You must have read some of my thoughts,” she said. ”I often wonder how it is, that the world can drill women into goodness at all.” She raised her head, and went on in a low, bitter tone: ”I often wonder why it is, that they don't, one and all, fling up their _roles_ and revenge themselves to the best of their ability--intentionally, I mean--upon the world that makes them live under a permanent insult. I think, at times, that I should thoroughly enjoy spending my life in sheer, unmitigated vengeance, and if I did”--she clenched her hands, and her eyes blazed--”if I did, I would not do my work by halves!”

”I am sure you would not,” said the Professor dryly.

”But I shall not do anything of the kind,” she added in a different tone; ”women don't. They always try to be good, always, _always_--the more fools they! And the more they are good, the worse things get.”

”Ah! I thought there was some heterodox sentiment lurking here at high pressure!” exclaimed the Professor.

Hadria sighed. ”I have just been receiving good advice from Mrs.

Gordon,” she said, flus.h.i.+ng at the remembrance, ”and I think if you knew the sort of counsel it was, that you would understand one's feeling a little fierce and bitter. Oh, not with her, poor woman! She meant it in kindness. But the most cutting thing of all is, that what she said is _true!_”

”That _is_ exactly the worst thing,” said the Professor, who seemed to have divined the nature of Mrs. Gordon's advice.

Hadria coloured. It hurt as well as astonished her, that he should guess what had been said.

”Ah! a woman ought to be born without pride, or not at all! I wish to heaven that our fatal s.e.x could be utterly stamped out!”

The Professor smiled, a little sadly, at her vehemence.

”We are accused of being at the bottom of every evil under heaven,” she added, ”and I think it is true. _That_ is some consolation, at any rate!”

In spite of her immense reverence for the Professor, she seemed to have grown reckless as to his opinion.

The next few days went strangely, and not altogether comprehensibly.

There was a silent warfare between Professor Fortescue and Hubert Temperley.

”I have never in my life before ventured to interfere in such matters,”

the Professor said to Miss Du Prel; ”but if that fellow marries Hadria, one or both will live to rue it.”

”I think it's the best thing that could happen to her,” Miss Du Prel declared.

”But they are not suited to one another,” said the Professor.

”Men and women seldom are!”