Part 45 (2/2)

Lady Engleton smiled.

”I should like to hear the question discussed by really competent persons. (Well, if luncheon is dead cold it will be his own fault.)”

”Oh, really competent persons will tell us all about the possibilities of woman: her feelings, desires, capabilities, and limitations, now and for all time to come. And the wildly funny thing is that women are ready, with open mouths, to reverently swallow this male verdict on their inherent nature, as if it were gospel divinely inspired. I may appear a little inconsistent,” Hadria added with a laugh, ”but I do think women are fools!”

They had strolled on along the path till they came to the schoolmistress's grave, which was green and daisy-covered, as if many years had pa.s.sed since her burial. Hadria stood, for a moment, looking down at it.

”Fools, fools, unutterable, irredeemable fools!” she burst out.

”My dear, my dear, we are in a churchyard,” remonstrated Lady Engleton, half laughing.

”We are at this grave,” said Hadria.

”The poor woman would have been among the first to approve of the whole scheme, though it places her here beneath the daisies.”

”Exactly. Am I not justified then in crying 'fool'? Don't imagine that I exclude myself,” she added.

”I think you might be less liable to error if you _were_ rather more of a fool, if I may say so,” observed Lady Engleton.

”Oh error! I daresay. One can guard against that, after a fas.h.i.+on, by never making a stretch after truth. And the reward comes, of its kind.

How green the grave is. The gra.s.s grows so fast on graves.”

Lady Engleton could not bear a churchyard. It made one think too seriously.

”Oh, you needn't unless you like!” said Hadria with a laugh. ”Indeed a churchyard might rather teach us what nonsense it is to take things seriously--our little affairs. This poor woman, a short while ago, was dying of grief and shame and agony, and the village was stirred with excitement, as if the solar system had come to grief. It all seemed so stupendous and important, yet now--look at that tall gra.s.s waving in the wind!”

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Professor Theobald had been engaged, for the last ten minutes, in instructing Joseph Fleming and a few stragglers, among whom was Dodge, in the characteristics of ancient architecture. He was pointing out the fine Norman window of the south transept, Joseph nodding wearily, Dodge leaning judicially on his broom and listening with attention. Joseph, as Lady Engleton remarked, was evidently bearing the Normans a bitter grudge for making interesting arches. The Professor seemed to have no notion of tempering the wind of his instruction to the shorn lambs of his audience.

”I _can't_ understand why he does not join us,” said Lady Engleton. ”It must be nearly luncheon time. However, it doesn't much matter, as everyone seems to be up here. I wonder,” she went on after a pause, ”what the bride would think if she had heard our conversation this morning!”

”Probably she would recognize many a half-thought of her own,” said Hadria.

Lady Engleton shook her head.

”They alarm me, all these ideas. For myself, I feel bound to accept the decision of wise and good men, who have studied social questions deeply.”

Personal feeling had finally overcome her desire to fight off the influence of tradition.

”I do not feel competent to judge in a matter so complex, and must be content to abide by the opinions of those who have knowledge and experience.”

Lady Engleton thus retreated hastily behind cover. That was a strategic movement always available in difficulties, and it left one's companion in speculation alone in the open, arrogantly sustaining an eagle-gaze in the sun's face. The advantages of feminine humility were obvious. One could come out for a skirmish and then run for shelter, in awkward moments. No woman ought to venture out on the bare plain without a provision of the kind.

Hadria had a curious sensation of being so exposed, when Lady Engleton retreated behind her ”good and wise men,” and she had the usual feminine sense of discomfort in the feeling of presumption that it produced.

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