The Odd Women. George Gissing

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СКАЧАТЬ hours and a half every weekday, and on Saturday for an average of sixteen, may be supposed to need a Sabbath of open air. Messrs. Scotcher and Co. acted like conscientious men in driving them forth immediately after breakfast, and enjoining upon them not to return until bedtime. By way of well-meaning constraint, it was directed that only the very scantiest meals (plain bread and cheese, in fact) should be supplied to those who did not take advantage of the holiday.

      Messrs. Scotcher and Co. were large-minded men. Not only did they insist that the Sunday ought to be used for bodily recreation, but they had no objection whatever to their young friends taking a stroll after closing-time each evening. Nay, so generous and confiding were they, that to each young person they allowed a latchkey. The air of Walworth Road is pure and invigorating about midnight; why should the reposeful ramble be hurried by consideration for weary domestics?

      Monica always felt too tired to walk after ten o'clock; moreover, the usual conversation in the dormitory which she shared with five other young women was so little to her taste that she wished to be asleep when the talkers came up to bed. But on Sunday she gladly followed the counsel of her employers. If the weather were bad, the little room at Lavender Hill offered her a retreat; when the sun shone, she liked to spend a part of the day in free wandering about London, which even yet had not quite disillusioned her.

      And to-day it shone brightly. This was her birthday, the completion of her one-and-twentieth year. Alice and Virginia of course expected her early in the morning, and of course they were all to dine together—at the table measuring three feet by one and a half; but the afternoon and evening she must have to herself. The afternoon, because a few hours of her sisters' talk invariably depressed her; and the evening, because she had an appointment to keep. As she left the big ugly 'establishment' her heart beat cheerfully, and a smile fluttered about her lips. She did not feel very well, but that was a matter of course; the ride in an omnibus would perhaps make her head clearer.

      Monica's face was of a recognized type of prettiness; a pure oval; from the smooth forehead to the dimpled little chin all its lines were soft and graceful. Her lack of colour, by heightening the effect of black eyebrows and darkly lustrous eyes, gave her at present a more spiritual cast than her character justified; but a thoughtful firmness was native to her lips, and no possibility of smirk or simper lurked in the attractive features. The slim figure was well fitted in a costume of pale blue, cheap but becoming; a modest little hat rested on her black hair; her gloves and her sunshade completed the dainty picture.

      An omnibus would be met in Kennington Park Road. On her way thither, in a quiet cross-street, she was overtaken by a young man who had left the house of business a moment after her, and had followed at a short distance timidly. A young man of unhealthy countenance, with a red pimple on the side of his nose, but not otherwise ill-looking. He was clad with propriety—stove-pipe hat, diagonal frockcoat, grey trousers, and he walked with a springy gait.

      'Miss Madden—'

      He had ventured, with perturbation in his face, to overtake Monica. She stopped.

      'What is it, Mr. Bullivant?'

      Her tone was far from encouraging, but the young man smiled upon her with timorous tenderness.

      'What a beautiful morning! Are you going far?'

      He had the Cockney accent, but not in an offensive degree; his manners were not flagrantly of the shop.

      'Yes; some distance.' Monica walked slowly on.

      'Will you allow me to walk a little way with you?' he pleaded, bending towards her.

      'I shall take the omnibus at the end of this street.'

      They went forward together. Monica no longer smiled, but neither did she look angry. Her expression was one of trouble.

      'Where shall you spend the day, Mr. Bullivant?' she asked at length, with an effort to seem unconcerned.

      'I really don't know.'

      'I should think it would be very nice up the river.' And she added diffidently, 'Miss Eade is going to Richmond.'

      'Is she?' he replied vaguely.

      'At least she wished to go—if she could find a companion.'

      'I hope she will enjoy herself,' said Mr. Bullivant, with careful civility.

      'But of course she won't enjoy it very much if she has to go alone. As you have no particular engagement, Mr. Bullivant, wouldn't it be kind to—?'

      The suggestion was incomplete, but intelligible.

      'I couldn't ask Miss Eade to let me accompany her,' said the young man gravely.

      'Oh, I think you could. She would like it.'

      Monica looked rather frightened at her boldness, and quickly added—

      'Now I must say good-bye. There comes the bus.'

      Bullivant turned desperately in that direction. He saw there was as yet no inside passenger.

      'Do allow me to go a short way with you?' burst from his lips. 'I positively don't know how I shall spend the morning.'

      Monica had signalled to the driver, and was hurrying forward. Bullivant followed, reckless of consequences. In a minute both were seated within.

      'You will forgive me?' pleaded the young fellow, remarking a look of serious irritation on his companion's face. 'I must be with you a few minutes longer.'

      'I think when I have begged you not to—'

      'I know how bad my behaviour must seem. But, Miss Madden, may I not be on terms of friendship with you?'

      'Of course you may—but you are not content with that.'

      'Yes—indeed—I will be content—'

      'It's foolish to say so. Haven't you broken the understanding three or four times?'

      The bus stopped for a passenger, a man, who mounted to the top.

      'I am so sorry,' murmured Bullivant, as the starting horses jolted them together. 'I try not to worry you. Think of my position. You have told me that there is no one else who—whose rights I ought to respect. Feeling as I do, it isn't in human nature to give up hope!'

      'Then will you let me ask you a rude question?'

      'Ask me any question, Miss Madden.'

      'How would it be possible for you to support a wife?'

      She flushed and smiled. Bullivant, dreadfully discomposed, did not move his eyes from her.

      'It wouldn't be possible for some time,' he answered in a thick voice. 'I have nothing but my wretched salary. But every one hopes.'

      'What reasonable hope have you?' Monica urged, forcing herself to be cruel, because it seemed the only way of putting an end to this situation.

      'Oh, there are so many opportunities in our business. I could point to half a dozen successful men who were at the counter a few years ago. I may become a walker, and get at least three pounds a week. If I were lucky enough СКАЧАТЬ