Regiment of Women

s tasting

r had done. He had imagined himself in love with his first wife, had married her, piqued by her elusive ways, charmed by her pale, wood-sorrel beauty; and she, shy and unawakened, had taken his six feet of bone and muscle for outward and visible sign of the matured spiritual strength her nature needed. The disappointment was mutual as swift; it had taken n

that he might be forgiven if his affection for his eldest child were tepid; for, apart from her likeness to his first wife, she was, in existing, a constant reminder of the one mistake of a prosperous career. He was kind to her, however, in

ied in bearing and rearing her own family, whose numbers were augmented with Victorian regularity, to consider more than the physical well-bein

rs, all the persons of her small world, were indefinite figures among whom she moved, confused and blundering. She knew of their existence, but to focus them seemed as impossibl

h she moved, absorbed and satisfied. Indeed, her outward surroundings became at last so dangerously shadowy that her manner began to

ful in taking the little boys for walks. But she taught Louise to rea

en tumbled in piles on an attic floor by busy maids preparing for the advent of the second Mrs. Denny, were discover

growing mind. She was almost startled at times to realise how completely this vague mother of hers would have understood her. Each new volume, fanciful or quizzical or gracious, seemed a direct gift from an invisible yet human personality, that concerned itself with her as no other had ever d

ough its veil a melting, shifting shadow of a hand that helped to turn her pages. The warm floor was a soft lap; the battered trunk a shoulder that supported; the faint breeze a kiss

e substitute for the human companionships that were lacking in the life of Louise. Half consciously

ling enough, if she could have contributed her share, the small change of joke and quarrel and confidence, towards intimacy. But Louise was too inured to the solitude of crowds to be troubled by her continued

han distressed by an occasional battle of wills. She thought her shyness foolish, doubted the insincerity of her humility, and looked upon her shrinking from publicity, noise and rough caresses, her love of books and solitude, as a morbid pose.

ing had trained, her awkwardness and childish appearance obscured, a personality in some respects dangerously matured. But her dreaminess and total ignorance of the rout

d was changed for Louise; she had

ympathy, she must have seemed the embodiment of all dreams, the fulfilment of every longing, the ideal made flesh. A wanderer in an alien land, homesick, hungry, for whom, after weary days, a queen des

occupying her mind and exhausting her energies, the amount of work made necessary by the position to which Clare and her own ambition had assigned her, was more of a burden than either realised. Only Alwynne, sympathetic coach (for Louise had two years' back work to condense and assimilate), guessed how great were the efforts the child was making. Clare, who always

till, on the day of the Browning lesson, as she listened to the beloved voice making music of her halting

he merest blur of white clouds and blue hills was visible.... She had worn a gown of duller blue that lay in stiff folds: the bowl of Christmas roses, that mirrored themselves on the dark, polished table, had hidden the papers and the smeared ink-pot. Suddenly Louise remembered some austere Dutch Madonnas over whom delightful, but erratic Miss Durand had lingered, on their last visit to a picture gallery. She called them beautiful. Louise, with fascinated eyes sidling past a wallful of riotous Rubens, to fix on the soap and gentian of a Sasseferato, had wondered if Miss Durand were trying to be funny. She remembered, too, how some of the younger girls, comparing favourites, had called Miss Hartill ugly. S

r; even Agatha and Marion, and all of them, were a little frightened, though they adored.... Louise was never frightened.... How could one be frightened of one so kind and wonderful? She

bled fists, launched out up

ad come back? All things are possible to him that believeth: and Mr. Chesterton had said there was no real reason why tulips should not grow on

played with it, wistfully, letting her imagination run riot. She wove

thirteen and

, she would not and could not rouse herself from the trance of pleasure that was upon her. Her mind was contemplating Clare as a mystic contemplates his divinity; rapt in an ecstasy of adoration, oblivious alike of place and time. She did not hear the luncheon gong, or the gong for afternoon school, or a door, opening and shutting behind her. Yet it did not startle he

ions. She was merely touched and

ouise? V

ed vaguely a

I don't believe I've touche

nd clamouring for you just now." Clare looked mischievous.

was s

ry sorry. I'd forg

existed for her. The intent, fearless adoration in her eyes was very pleasant

oks, stacked them neatly and fitted them into the satchel. Louise wa

l get a scolding." She stooped to her, bright-eyed, laughing.

aid Loui

hin cheeks. She took the small face be

d!" said Mi