Part 51 (1/2)
”Can anyone help?”
”No. The poor thing's safe--with good people who understand.”
He asked no more about her errand. He knew very well that day after day, and week after week, her tired feet carried her on the same endless quest--seeking ”that which was lost.” But the stress of thought in his own mind found expression in a question which surprised her.
”Would the vote help you? Is that why you want it?”
She smiled.
”Oh, no! Oh, dear no!” she said, with emphasis; after a moment, adding in a lower tone, scarcely addressed to her companion--”'_It cost more--to redeem their souls_!'” And again--”Dear Mr. Mark, men are what their mothers make them!--that is the bottom truth. And when women are what G.o.d intended them to be, they will have killed the ape and the tiger in men. But law can't do it. Only the Spirit.” Her face shone a little. Then, in her ordinary voice--”Oh, no--I want the vote for quite other reasons. It is our right--and it is monstrous we shouldn't have it!” Her cheeks flushed.
He turned his friendly smile upon her, without attempting to argue.
They walked back over the bridge together.
The following day rose in wind and shower. But the February rain cleared away towards noon, and the high scudding clouds, with bright s.p.a.ces between, suddenly began to prophesy Spring. From Hyde Park, down the Mall, and along Whitehall, the troops gathered and the usual crowd sprang up in their rear, pressing towards Parliament Square, or lining the route. Winnington had sent a note early to Delia by messenger; but he expected no reply, and got none. All he could do was to hide a motor in Dean's Yard, to hold a conference or two with the friendly bobby in Parliament Square, and then to wander about the streets looking restlessly at the show. It duly pa.s.sed him by, the Cinderella-coach, with the King and Queen of fairy-tale, the splendid Emba.s.sy carriages, the Generals on their gleaming horses, the Guards, in their red cloaks--and all the rest. The Royalties disappeared up the carpeted stairs into the House of Lords, and after half an hour, while the bells of St. Margaret's filled all the air with tumult, came out, again; and again the ermined Queen, and the glistening King pa.s.sed bowing along the crowd. Winnington caught hold of a Hamps.h.i.+re member in the crowd.
”When does the House meet?”
”Everything adjourned till four. They'll move the Address about five.
But everyone expects a row.”
Nothing for it but to wait and stroll, to spend half an hour in the Abbey, and take a turn along the Embankment.... And gradually, steadily the Square filled up, no one knew how. The soldiers disappeared, but policemen quietly took their places. All the entrances to the House of Commons were carefully guarded, groups as they gathered were dispersed, and the approaches to the House, in Old and New Palace Yards, were rigorously kept free. But still the crowd in Parliament Square grew and thickened. Girls, with smiling excited faces, still moved to and fro in it, selling the _Tocsin_. Everybody waited expectant.
Then the chimes of the Abbey struck four. And as they died away, from a Westminster street, from Whitehall, and from Milbank, there arose a simultaneous stir and shouting. And presently, from each quarter appeared processions of women, carrying black and orange banners making their way slowly through the throng. The crowd cheered and booed them as they pa.s.sed, swaying to this side and that. And as each procession neared the outer line of police, it was firmly but courteously stopped, and the leaders of it must needs parley with the mounted constables who sat ready to meet them.
Winnington, jumping on the motor which he had placed opposite St.
Margaret's, drew out some field-gla.s.ses, and scanned the advancing lines of women. The detachment coming from Whitehall seemed to be headed by the chiefs of the whole organisation, to judge from the glistening banner which floated above its foremost group. Winnington examined it closely. Gertrude Marvell was not there, nor Delia. Then he turned westwards. Ah, now he saw her! That surely was she!--in the front ranks of the lines coming from Milbank. For a moment, he saw the whole scene in orderly and picturesque array, the cordons of police, the mounted constables, the banners of the processions, the swaying crowds, Westminster Hall, the clock tower, with its light:--the next, everything was tossed in wild confusion. Some savage impelling movement in the crowd behind had broken the lines of police. The women were through! He could see the scurrying forms running across the open s.p.a.ces, pursued, grappled with.
He threw himself into the crowd, which had rapidly hemmed him in, buffeting it from side to side like a swimmer into troubled waters. His height, his strength, served him well, and by the time he had reached the southern corner of St. Margaret's, a friendly hand gripped him.
”Do you see her, Sir?”
”Near the front!--coming from Milbank.”
”All right! Follow me, Sir. This way!”
And with Hewson, and apparently two other police, Winnington battled his way towards the tumult in front of St. Stephen's entrance. The mounted police were pressing the crowd back with their horses, and as Winnington emerged into clear ground, he saw a melee of women and police,--some women on the ground, some held between police on either side, and one group still intact. In it he recognised Gertrude Marvell.
He saw her deliberately strike a constable in the face. Then he lost sight of her. All he saw were the steps of St. Stephen's entrance behind, crowded with Members of Parliament. Suddenly another woman fell, a grey-haired woman, and almost immediately a girl who was struggling with two policemen, disengaged herself and ran to help. She bent over the woman, and lifted her up. The police at once made way for them, but another wild rush from behind seemed to part them--sweep them from view--
”Now, Sir!” said Hewson, on tiptoe--”Hold on! They've got the old lady safe. I think the young one's hurt.”
They pressed their way through. Winnington caught sight of Delia again, deadly white, supported by a policeman on one side, and a gentleman on the other. Andrews!--by George! Winnington cursed his own ill-luck in not having been the first to reach her; but the gallant Captain was an ally worth having, all the same.
Mark was at her side. She lifted a face, all pain and bitter indignation. ”Cowards--Cowards!--to treat an old woman so!--Let me go--let me go back! I must find her!”
”She's all safe, Miss--she's all safe--you go home,” said a friendly policeman. ”These gentlemen will look after you! Stand back there!” And he tried to open a pa.s.sage for them.
Winnington touched her arm. But an involuntary moan startled him.