Chapter 3

While the sisters tluis summarily dismissed the question of their new neighbours, their neighbours scarcely thought of them at all. Dr. Stedman sat by his brother's bed-side, trying by every means he coixld think of to make tlie weary evening slip by, without forestalling the burden of the still heavier night. He talked — he read a little, out of an old Times — first the solid leaders, and then a criticism on the pictures forthcoming in the Royal Academy Exhibition, till, seeing the latter excited his patient too much, he ingeniously shortened it, and went back to tlie heavy debates and other masculine por- tions of the newspaper. But in all he did, and earnestly as he tried to do it, tlierc was something a little clumsy, like a man: and one who is alto- gether a man — nor accustomed to women's society and influence. Tliere was nothing rough or untender about liim: nay, there was exceeding gentleness in his eyes and voice; he tried to do his very best; but he did it with a certain awkwardness that no invalid

THE woman's kingdom. 35

could help feeling in some degree, especially such a nervous invalid as this.

The two brothers were very unlike — as unlike as the two sisters who sat below stairs. And yet there was a curious "family" expression: the kindred blood peeping out, pleadingly, amidst all dissimi- larities of character and temperament. The younger was dark; the elder fair. The features were not unlike, but in one face delicate and regular; in the other, large and rugged. The younger had appa- rently lived altogether the student's life; while the elder had been knocked about the world, receiving many a hard hit, and learning, in self-preservation, to give a hard hit back again if necessary. Besides, an occasional contraction of the brow, and a slight projection of the under lip, showed that the doctor had what is called "a temper of his own:" while his brother's expression was altogether sweet, gentle, and sensitive to the last degree.

As he lay back on his pillow — for he had been put to bed immediately — you might have taken him for a boy of seventeen, until, looking closer into the thin face, you read there the deeper lines which rarely come under the quarter-century which marks the first epoch in a man's life. No; though boyish, he was not a boy; and though delicate-looking, not effeminate. His was the temperament which we so ardently admire in youth, so deeply pity in maturer years: the poetic temperament — half masculine, half feminine — capable of both a man's passion and a woman's suffering. Such men are, as circum-

3*

36 THE WOMAN'S KINGDOM.

stances make them, tlie angels, the demons, or the martyrs of this world.

He lay — restless, but trying hard to be patient — .till the light failed and his brother ceased the reading, which was not specially interesting, being done in a slightly formal and monotonous voice, like that of a person unaccustomed to, and not particu- larly enjoying, the occupation.

"That will do. Will. It's really very good of you to stay in-doors with me all this evening; but I don't like it. I wish you would go out. Off with you to the beach! Is there a good beach here?"

"A very fine one. You shall see it by-and-bye."

"Nay, my Bath chair could never get down these steep cliffs?"

"Do you think I mean you to spend all your days in a Bath chair, Julius, lad?"

"Ah, Will, shall I ever do without it? Tell me, do you really, candidly, in your honest heart — you're almost too honest for a doctor, old boy — believe that I shall ever walk again?"

The doctor turned, and gave him a pat on the shoulder — his young brother, five or six years younger than himself, Avhicli fact made such a vital difference once, and the fatherly habits of it remained still. There was a curious twitching of his mouth, which, though large and iirm, had much lurking softness of expression. He paused a minute before speaking, and then said earnestly, —

"Yes, I do, Julius. Not that I knoAV it for cer- tain; but I believe it. You may never be quite as strong as you have been: rheumatic fever always

THE woman's kingdom. 37

leaves behind great delicacy in many ways; but I have known cases worse than yours Avhich ended in complete recovery."

"I wish mine may be, if only for your sake. What a trouble I must have been to you! to say nothing of expense. And you just starting for your- self, too."

"Well, lad, it didn't matter — it was only for myself. If I'd had a wife, now, or half-a-dozen brats. — - But I had nobody — not a single 'respon- sibility' — except you."

"And what a heavy responsibility I have been! Ever since you were fifteen I must have given you trouble without end."

"Pleasure too, and a deal of fun — the fun of laughing at you and your vagaries, though I couldn't laugh you out of them. Come, don't be taking a melancholy view of things. Let's be jolly."

But the mirth came ponderously out of the big fellow, whose natural expression was evidently grave

— an enemy might have called it saturnine. And Dr. William Stedman looked like a man who was not likely to go through the world without making some enemies, if only from the very honesty which his brother spoke of, and a slight want of pliability

— not of sympathy, but of the power of showing it

— which made him a strong contrast to his brother, besides occasionally jarring with him, as brothers do jar against brothers, sistei-s against sisters, friends against friends — not meaning it, but yet inevitably doing it.

"I can't be jolly, Will," said Julius, turning

38 THE woman's kingdom.

away. "You couldn't, if you had my pains. Ahi me! they're beginning again — they alw^ays do at night. I think Dante would have invented a new torment for his 'Inferno' if he had ever had rheu- matic fever. How mad I was to sit painting in the snow!"

"Let bygones be bygones, Julius. Never recall the past, except to mend the future. That's my maxim, and I stick to it, though I am a stupid fel- low — you're the bright one of us two."

"And what good has my brightness done me? Here 1 am, tied by the leg, my profession stopped — so far as it ever was a profession, for you know nobody ever bought my pictures. If it had not been for you, Will, what would have become of me? What will become of me now? Well, I don't care."

"'Don't care' was hanged," said the elder brother, sententiously ; "and you'll be hung, and well hung, I hope, in the Royal Academy next year."

'J'he threadbare joke, so solemnly put forward and laughed at with childish enjoyment, effected its purpose in turning the morbid current of the sick man's thoughts. His mercurial and easily-caught fancy, which even illness could not destroy, took another direction, and he began jDlanning Avhat he should do when he got well — the next picture he should paint, and where he sliould paint it. His hopes were much lower than his ambitions, for his bias had been towards high art, only his finances made it impossible to follow it. And, perhaps, his talent — it scarcely reached genius — was more of the appreciative thaii the creative kind. Yet he

THE woman's kingdom. 39

loved his art as well as he loved anything, and in talking" about it he almost forgot his pains.

"If I could only get well," he said, "or even a little better, I might find in this pretty country some nice usable bits, and make sketches for my next year's work. Perhaps I might do a sea-piece: some small thing, with figures in it — a fisherman or a child. One could study from the life here without ruination to one's pocket, as it used to be in London. And, by-the-bye, I saw to-day a splendid head, real Greek, nearly as fine as the Clytie."

"Where?"

"Here — at the parlour- window."

The elder brother smiled. "You are always dis- covering goddesses at parlour-windows, and finding them very common mortals after all."

"Oh, I have done with that nonsense!" said Julius, with a vexed air; adding, rather sentimentally, "my day is over — I shall never fall in love again."

"Not till the next time. But this head? I con- clude it was alive, and had a woman belonging to it?"

"Probably, though I only saw the head. Ai-e there any other lodgers here besides ourselves?"

"Two ladies — possibly young ladies; but I really did not think of asking. I never was a ladies' man, you know. Shall I make inquiries on your account, young Lothario?"

"Well, you might, for I should like a chance of seeing that head again. It would paint admirably. I only wish I had the luck to do it — when I get well."

"When I get well" — the sad, pathetic sentence

40 THE woman's kingdom.

often uttered, often listened to, tLougli both speaker and listener know by instinctive foreboding that the "when" means "never." Dr. Stedman might have shared this feeling in sjiite of his firm "I believe it" of ten minntes before, for in the twilight his grave face looked graver still. Nevertheless, he carefully maintained the cheerful, even jocular tone of his conversation with his brother.

"You might ask the favovir of taking her like- ness. I am sure the young lady could not refuse. No young ladies ever do Female vanity and your own attractions seem to fill your portfolio wherever you go. But to-morrow I'll try to get a look myself at this new angel of yours."

"No, there is nothing angelic about her face-, not much, even, that is spiritual. It is thorough mortal beauty; not unlike the Clytie, as I said. It would paint well — as an Ariadne or a Dido •, only there is not enough depth of sadness in it."

"Perhaps she is not a sad-minded young woman."

"I really don't know, or care. What nonsense it is our talking about women! We can't afford to fall in love or marry — at least, I can't."

"Nor I neither," said the doctor, gravely. "And I did not mean to talk any nonsense about these two young women — if young they are — for the landlady told me they had just come out of great trouble — being schoolmistresses, with their school broken up, and one sister nearly dying, through scarlet-fever."

"That isn't so bad as rheumatic fever. I re- mcml)cr rather cujoying it, because I was allowed

THE woman's KINGDOJL 41

to read novels all the time. Which sister had it?

— the Clytie one? That rare type of beauty runs in families. Perhaps the otlier has a good head too?"

"I don t think she has." "Why not?"

"Because I suspect I saw her just before I came up-stairs to you — a little, pale, anxious-looking thing

— not at all a beauty — sitting adding up her ac- counts. Very small accounts they were, seemingly; yet she seemed terribly troiibled over them. She must be very poor or very stupid — women always are stupid over arithmetic. And yet she did not look quite a fool either."

"How closely you must have watched her!" "I am afraid I did, for at first I thought her only a little girl, she was so small; and I wondered what the creature could be so busy about. But I soon found she was a woman, and an anxious-faced little woman too. Most likely these two school- mistresses are as poor as we are; and, if so, I am sorry for them, being only women."

"Ah, yes," said Julius, absently, but he seemed to weary of the conversation, and soon became ab- sorbed in his own suffering. Over him had evidently groAvn the involuntary selfishness of sickness, which Letty Kenderdine had referred to; probably because she herself understood it only too well. But her sufferings Avere nothing to those of tliis poor young fellow, racked in every joint, and with a physical organisation the very worst to bear pain. Nervous, sensitive, excitable; adding to present torment by

42 THE woman's kingdom.

both the recollection of the past and the dread of the future; exquisitely susceptible to both his own pains and the grief and anxiety they caused to others, yet unable to control himself so as in any way to lessen the burden of them-, — terrified at imaginary sufferings, a little exaggerating the real ones — Avhich were sharp enough — the invalid was a pitiable sight, and most difficult to deal with by any nurse.

But the one he had was very patient, mar- vellously so for a man. For hours, until long after midnight — for Edna told her sister afterwards she had heard his step overhead at about two in the morning — did the stout healthy brother , who evidently possessed in the strongest degree the viens sana in corpore sano, devote himself to the younger one, trying every possible means to alleviate his sufferings; and when all failed, sitting down by his bedside, almost like a woman and a mother, saying nothing, simply enduring; or, at most, holding the poor felloAv's hand with a firm clasp, which, in its mingled strength and tenderness, might have im- parted courage to go through any amount of physical pain — nay, have led even to the entrance of that valley of the shadow of death, which we must all one day pass through, and alone.

Help, as far as mortal lielp could go, William Stedman was tlie one to give; not in words, but in a certain atmosphere of quiet strength, or rather, in that highest expression of strength which we call fortitude. It seems easy to bear with fortitude an- other person's sufferings; but that is, to some natures,

THE woman's kingdom. 43

the very sharpest pang of all. And with something of the same expression on his face as once (Julius reminded him of the anecdote about one in the morning), in their first school, he had gone up to the master and begged to be flogged instead of Julius — did William Stedman sit by his brother's bedside till the paroxysms of pain abated. It was not till nearly daylight that, the sufferer being at length quietly asleep, the doctor threw himself, dressed as he was, on the hearth-rug before the fire, and slept also — suddenly, soundly, and yet lightly ; the sleep of a sailor or a mastiff dog.

Morning broke smilingly over the sea — an April morning, breezy and bright; and Edna, who had not slept well — not nearly so well as Letty — being disturbed first by the noises overhead, and then kept wakeful by her own anxious thoughts, which, com- pulsorily repressed in day-time, always took their revenge at night — Edna Kenderdine welcomed it gladly. Weary of sleeplessness, she rose early, and, looking out of her window, she saw a man's figure pacing up and down the green cliff between her and the sea-line. Not a very stylish figure — still in the old coat and older wide-awake hat; but it was broad, tall, and manly. He walked, his hands folded some- what ungracefully behind him, with a strong and resolute step, looking about him sometimes, but oftener with his head bent, thinking. Undoubtedly it was the doctor.

Edna watched him with some curiosity. He must have been up all night, she knew; and as she had herself lain awake, listening to the accidental

44 THE woman's kingdom.

foot-fall, tlie poking of the fire, and all those sick- room noises, Avhich, in the dead silence, soxmd so ominous and melancholy in a house, even to one who has no personal stake in the matter, she had felt much sympathy for him. She was reminded keenly of her own sad vigils over poor Letty, and wondered how a man contrived to get through the same sort of thing. To a woman and a sister, nursing came natural; but with a man it must be quite different. She speculated vaguely ujion what sort of men the brothers were, and whether they were as much at- tached to one another as she and Letty. And she watched with a vague, involuntary interest the big man who kept striding up and down, refreshing him- self after his weary night-watch; and when at last he came in and disappeared, probably to his solitary breakfast, she thought in her practical feminine soul, what a dreary breakfast it must be: lio one to make the tea, or see that the eggs were boiled properly, or do any of those tender duties which help to make the day begin cheerily, and in which this little woman took an especial pleasure.

As she busied herself in doing them for Letty, who was always the last down-stairs, Edna could not forbear asking Mrs. Williams how the sick lodger was this morning.

"Rather bad, miss. ]>cttcr now; but was very bad all night, his brother says; and he has just started off to Kyde to get him some new physic."

"To Ryde— that is nine miles off?"

"Yes; but there was no help for it, he said. He inquired the short way across country, and meant to

THE woman's kingdom. 45

walk It, and be back as soon as lie could. I asked him about dinner; but he left that all to me. Oil, miss, how helpless these men-folk be! He only begged me to look after his brother."

"Is the brother keeping his room?"

"No; he dressed him and carried him downstairs, just like a baby, before he went out. Poor gentle- man, it's a heavy handful for him: and him with no wife or mother or sister to help him; for I asked, and he said no, they had none; no relations in the world but their two selves."

"No more have we; but then women are so much more used to sickness than men are, and more help- ful," said Edna. Yet, as she recalled her own sense of helplessness and entire desolation when she and Letty were landed in this very room, wet and weary, one chill, rainy afternoon, and the lire smoked, and Letty cried, and finally went into hysterics, she felt a sensatieu of pity for her neighbours — those "help- less men-folk," as Mrs. Williams called them, who, under similar circumstances, were even worse off than women.

"How is the poor fellow now?" she asked. "Have you been in again to look at him? He should not be left long alone."

"But, miss, where am I to get the time? And besides, he don't like it. Whenever I go in and ask if I can do anything for him, he just shakes his head and turns his face back again into the pillow. And I don't think anything will do him much good; he isn't long for this world. I wish I hadn't taken 'em; and if I can get 'em out at the week's end —

46 THE woman's kingdom.

not meaning to inconvenience — and hoping they will get as good lodgings elsewhere, which no doubt they will—"

"You wouldn't do it, Mrs. Williams," said Edna, smiling, and turning upon her those good, sweet eyes, which. Miss Kenderdine's pupils declared, "fright- ened" all the naughtiness out of them.

The landlady smiled too. "Well, miss, maybe I wouldn't; for I feels sorry for the poor gentleman; and I once had a boy of my own that would have been about as old as him. I'll do what I can, though he is grumpy and won't speak; and that ain't pleasant, is it, miss?"

"No."

This little conversation, like all the small triviali- ties of their life, Edna retailed for Letty's edification, and both sisters talked the matter over thread-bare, as people in sea-side lodgings and out on a holiday have a trick of doing; for holiday-making to busy people is sometimes very hard work. They even, with a mixture of curiosity and real compassion, left their parlour door open, in order to listen for and communicate to Mrs. Williams the slightest move- ment in the parlour opposite, where the sick man lay so helpless, so forlorn, that the kindly hearts of those two young women — certainly of one of them — forgot that he was a man, and a young man, and wished they could do him any good.

But, of course, under the circumstances, it would, as Letty declared, be the height of indecorum; they, unmarried ladies and schoolmistresses, with their credit and dignity at stake, how could they take

THE woman's kingdom. 47

the slightest notice of a young man, be lie ever so ill?

"Yet I wish we could," said Edna. "It seems so heartless to a fellow-creature to let him lie there hour after hour. If we might go in and speak to him, or send him a book to read, I can't believe it could be so very improper."

And when they came back from their morning stroll, she lingered compassionately in front of the closed window and drawn-down blind, behind which the sick man lay, ignorant of, or indifferent to, all the glad sights and sounds abroad — the breezy sea, the pleasant country, rejoicing in this blessed spring morning.

"Do come in," sharply said Letty, who had in some things a keener sense of the oiitward proprieties than Edna. "Don't be nonsensical and sentimental. It would never do for us to encourage, even in the smallest degree, these two young men, who are cer- tainly poor, and, for all we know, may be scarcely respectable. I won't allow it, sister."

And she passed hastily the opposite door, which Edna was shocked to see was not quite closed, and walked into their own, with Letty 's own dignified step and air of queenly grace, which, wherever she went, slew men, young and old, in indiscriminate massacre.

She was certainly a rare woman, Letitia Kender- dine — one that, met anywhere or anyhow, would make one feel that there might have been some truth in the old stories about Helen of Troy, Cleopatra of Egypt, and such like — ancient queens of history

48 THE W0MAX\S KINGDOM.

and fable, wlio rode ramjjant over the necks of men, and whose deadly beauty proved a firebrand v.dier- ever it was thrown.

"Yes," replied Edna, as she took off her sister s hat and shawl, and noticed Avhat a delicate rose-colour was growing on the sea-freshened cheek, and how the old brightness was returning to the lustrous eyes. "You are quite right, Letty, dear. It would never do for us to take any notice of our neighboui-s, un- less, indeed, they were at the very last extremity, Avhich is not likely to happen."

"Certainly not; and even if it did, I must say I think we ought not to trouble ourselves about them. We have quite enough cares of our own without taking upon ourselves the burden of other people's."

This was only too true. Edna was silenced.

THB wo.man's kingdom. 49