Goslings - free ebook by J. D. (John Davys) Beresford

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Goslings

J. D. (John Davys) Beresford

91 chapters

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New 6s. Novels

THE AMBASSADRESS. By William Wriothesley. THE WEAKER VESSEL. By E. F. Benson , author of “Account Rendered,” etc. “WHERE ARE YOU GOING TO...?” By Elizabeth Robins , author of “The Magnetic North,” etc. A RUNAWAY RING. By Mrs Henry Dudeney , author of “The Orchard Thief,” etc. LU OF THE RANGES. By Eleanor Mordaunt , author of “The Cost of It,” etc. THE STORY OF STEPHEN COMPTON. By J. E. Patterson , author of “Tillers of the Soil,” etc. THE FRONTIERS OF THE HEART. By Victor Margueritte. JOHN CHRIS

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“Them sales is a fraud,” remarked Gosling, but he did not stop to argue the point. He went upstairs and changed his respectable “morning” coat for a short alpaca jacket, slipped his cuffs over his hands, put one inside the other and placed them in their customary position on the chest of drawers, changed his boots for carpet slippers, wetted his hair brush and carefully plastered down a long wisp of grey hair over the top of his bald head, and then went into the bathroom to wash his hands. There

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“Dessay you didn’t,” replied Millie, “I dessay most fellows couldn’t tell you what a girl was wearing, but it makes just all the difference for all that.” “Of course it does,” said Blanche. “A girl’s got no chance these days unless she can look smart. No fellow’s going to marry a dowdy.” “It does make a big difference, there’s no denyin’,” put in Mrs Gosling, as though she was being convinced against her will. “And now the sales are just beginning——” Poor Gosling knew the game was up. They had m

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“I know that ’and, too,” remarked Gosling, and he, also, would have spent some time in the attempt to guess the puzzle without looking up the answer within the envelope, but the three spectators, who were not sharing his interest, manifested impatience. “Well, ain’t you going to open it, father?” asked Millie, and Mrs Gosling looked at her husband over her spectacles and remarked, “It must be a business letter, if it comes from foreign parts.” “Don’t get business letters to this address,” return

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“But you won’t do it,” said Thrale. Gurney sighed and began to analyse the instinct within himself, to find precisely why he wanted to do it. “Well, I must go,” said Thrale, getting to his feet, “I’ve got to find some sort of lodging.” “I thought you were going to stay with those Gosling people of yours,” said Gurney. “No! That’s off. I went to see them last night and they won’t have me. The old man’s making his £300 a year now, and the family’s too respectable to take boarders.” Thrale picked u

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Fragments of the long conversations between Thrale and Gurney, the exchange of a few germane ideas among the irrelevant mass, had a bearing upon their immediate future. There was, for instance, a criticism of the Goslings, introduced on one occasion, which had a certain significance in relation to subsequent developments. Some question of Gurney’s prompted Thrale to the opinion that the Goslings were in the main precisely like half a million other families of the same class. “But that’s just wha

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“Because the majority are too much ashamed of their desires to dare the attempt in the first place, and in the second because they don’t wish to open the way for other men. They aren’t united in this; they are as jealous as women. If they once opened the way to free love, their own belongings wouldn’t be safe.” “What’s your remedy, then?” “Oh! a few thousand more years of moral development,” said Thrale, carelessly, “an evolution towards self-consciousness, a fuller understanding of the meaning

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“Yes, old chap; but your average middle-class English girl hasn’t got the physical attractions to start with,” put in Gurney. “Look at it in another way, then,” replied Thrale. “Doesn’t every woman know perfectly well—haven’t you heard them say—that a nurse’s dress is very becoming—a plain, more or less tightly-fitting print dress, with linen collars and cuffs? Don’t you know yourself that that attire is more attractive to you than any befrilled and bedecorated arrangement of lace, ribbons and g

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“What have you got hold of now?” asked Gurney. “The thoughtful man,” went on Thrale, still staring up at the ceiling, “would have asked me to define my expression ‘the higher forces.’” “Well, old man, I knew that was beyond even your capacity,” returned Gurney, “so I thought we might ‘cut the cackle and come to the ’osses.’” Thrale suddenly released his knee and sat upright; then he moved his chair so that he directly confronted his companion. “Look here, Gurney,” he said, and the pupils of his

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“If it had been at any other time,” said Maxwell, and pushed his chair back. Thrale understood that the interview was at an end. He rose from his chair and picked up his hat. “We shall be glad to print any articles you care to send us,” said Maxwell, with his kind smile, “but I can’t undertake a campaign, you understand, at the present moment.” It was nearly four o’clock, but Thrale just managed to catch Groves of the Evening Chronicle . Groves had his hat on, and was just off to tea at his club

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Indeed, it was not till after “tea”—in Groves’ case an euphemism for whisky and soda—that he would approach the subject of Thrale’s visit. “The fact is, my dear fellow,” he said, “that our campaign hasn’t caught on. I’m going to let it down gently and drop it after to-day’s edition. You see, we’ve got to get the Government out this session, and I’m going to start a new campaign. Can’t give you any particulars yet, but you’ll see the beginning of it next Monday.” Like Maxwell, Groves differentiat

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Jasper Thrale, in the partial exposition of his philosophy (if that description is not too large for such vague imaginings), had included very definite reference to certain “higher forces” to which he had attributed peculiar powers of interference in humanity’s management of its own concerns. Doubtless these powers had control of various instruments, and were able to exercise their influence in any direction and by any means. In the present case it would seem that they were working in devious an

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Mr Prince laughed again, and Mr Barker seemed about to turn his attention to other matters, when the higher forces sent Gosling the one great inspiration of his life. It came to him with startling suddenness, but he gave utterance to it as simply and with as little verve as he spoke his “good morning” to the office-boy. “I been thinkin’, sir,” he said (he had never once thought of it until this moment), “as it might be well to keep a neye on this plague, so to speak.” “Ah! Zo?” said Mr Barker; a

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“Anyways,” continued Gosling, “I put it quite straight to the ’ouse this mornin’, as we might do worse under the circumstances than buy ’eavily....” “You did ?” asked Flack, and he cocked up his spectacles and looked at Gosling underneath them. “I did,” replied Gosling. “What did Mr Barker say to that?” asked Flack. “He took my advice.” “Lord’s sakes, you don’t tell me so?” said Flack, his spectacles on his forehead. “I’m now about to dictate various letters to our ’ouse in Dundee,” replied Gosl

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There was a lull for forty-eight hours after that announcement of the case of the new plague in Berlin, and Maxwell was beginning to regret his headlines when the news began to come in, this time in volume. The Russian censorship had broken down, and the news agencies were suddenly flooded with reports. There were several thousand cases of the plague in Eastern Russia; the north and south were affected, many men were dying in such towns as Kharkov and Rostov; there were a dozen cases in St Peter

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The next morning all London was reading a heavily-leaded article by Jasper Thrale. It appeared first in the Daily Post , with the announcement that it was not copyright, and all the evening papers took it up, and some of them reprinted it in its entirety. The article began by pointing out that in the recent history of civilization Europe had been subject to a long succession of pestilences. From the fourteenth to the seventeenth centuries, wrote Thrale, the Black Death, now commonly supposed to

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If the people had not been seriously scared by the sudden irruption of news on the day preceding that on which this article was published, they would have ignored Thrale’s hyperboles—or laughed. But, caught in a moment of agitation and fear, a certain section of the crowd took up Thrale’s suggestion, talked about the “closed door,” held meetings, and started propaganda. The Press, with its genius for appreciating and following public opinion, also took up the suggestion, and was automatically di

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Flack’s natural incredulity had inclined him in the same direction, but his colleague’s certainty swung him round at once. “I ain’t so sure o’ that,” he said. “Looks to me as things is going pretty bad.” “Bad enough, I grant you,” returned Gosling. “But there isn’t no need for us to lose our ’eads over it. Take it all round, you know, it’s pretty certain as things isn’t as bad as is made out, whereas, on the other ’and, the ‘closed door’ policy’d mean ruin and starvation for ’undreds of thousand

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Russia was smitten. Once more communication was cut off from Moscow, this time by a different agent . The work of the city was paralysed. Men were falling dead in the street, and there were only women to bury them. A wholesale emigration had begun. The roads were choked with people on foot and in carriages, for the trains had ceased to run. The news filtered in by degrees: it was confirmed, contradicted and definitely confirmed again every few hours. Then came final confirmation, with the news t

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No time was to be lost, for the Bill was to be rushed, it was an emergency measure, and it was proposed that it should become law within four days. Preparations were already in hand to carry out the provisions enacted. An urgent rally of the Opposition was made, and when the Bill came up for the second reading the Premier addressed a well-filled House. The House was not crowded because a large number of people, including many members of Parliament, were on their way to America. All the big liner

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“First thing I noticed about you,” said one. The other, who had hardly spoken before, took the cigarette out of his mouth and remarked: “You can never get that colour with peroxide.” The barmaid looked a little suspicious. “Oh, he means it all right, kid,” put in the younger man quickly. “Dicky’s one of the serious sort. Besides, he’s in that line; travels for a firm of wholesale chemists.” Dicky nodded gravely. “I could see at once it was natural,” he remarked with the air of an expert. “Ah! yo

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“Tchah!” said Flack, still staring at the telegram. “‘ Feared plague.’ Lost their ’eads, that’s what they’ve done. Pull yourself together, man. I don’t believe a word of it.” Gosling swallowed elaborately, discovered his bandanna on the desk and hastily pocketed it. “Might ’a been ’eart-disease, d’you think?” he said eagerly. “We-el,” remarked Flack, “I never ’eard as ’is ’eart was affected, did you?” Gosling held out his hand for the telegram, and made a further elaborate study of it, without,

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The new plague had reached England. It was then that the panic began. Gurney, when he left his office on that Saturday, was influenced by the general depression. He went to lunch at the “White Vine,” in the Haymarket, quite determined to keep himself in hand, to argue himself out of his low spirits. He made a beginning at once. “Every one seems to have a fit of the blues. Ernst,” he remarked to the waiter with a factitious cheerfulness. Ernst, less polite than usual, shrugged his shoulders. “The

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There were few other people in the restaurant, and they were all silent and engrossed. That dreadful cloud hung over England, the spirit of pestilence threatened to take substance, the air was full of horror that might at any moment become a visible shape of destruction. Gurney did not finish his lunch, he lighted a cigarette, left four shillings on the table, and hurried out into the air. He did not look up at the sky as he turned eastwards towards Fleet Street; no one looked up at the sky that

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“You seem to know a lot about it,” said the driver of the cab. “Do you mean to tell me there’s nowhere we can go to?” persisted Gurney. Thrale smiled. “Nowhere in this world,” he said. “This plague has come to destroy mankind.” He spoke with a quiet assurance that carried conviction. The driver of the cab scowled. “May as well ’ave a run for my money first, then,” he said, and thus gave utterance to the thought that was fermenting in many other minds. There was no hope of escape for the mass, on

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“What was that?” asked Gurney excitedly, jumping to his feet. “Did you hear firing?” He went to the window again, and leaned out. From Piccadilly came the sound of an army of trampling feet, of confused cries and shouting. “By God, there’s a riot,” exclaimed Gurney. He spoke over his shoulder. Thrale joined him at the window. “Panic,” he said. “Senseless, hysterical panic. It won’t last.” “I think I shall go out of London,” said Gurney. “I’d sooner ... I’d sooner die in the country, I think.” He

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Gurney’s alternative to flying from the plague was to run away from himself. He shirked the issue in his conversations with Thrale, shuffled, sophisticated, and in a futile endeavour to convince his companion, convinced himself that his reasoning was sound and his motive unprejudiced. It was not until the following Thursday, however, that he took train to Cornwall. He had succeeded in realizing between two and three hundred pounds in gold, and this he took with him. He intended to lay in stores

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From Padstow to Looe is not an ideal journey by rail at the best of times, involving as it does, a change of train at Wadebridge, Bodmin Road and Liskeard; but Gurney was in no hurry, and the conversations he overheard in his compartment were not destructive of his new-found complacency. There was, indeed, some mention of the plague, but only in relation to the scarcity of food supply and its effect on trade. One passenger, very obviously a farmer, was congratulating himself that he was getting

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On his return journey he had to wait at Liskeard to pick up the main line train for London, which would take him to Bodmin Road. It was a glorious May evening. The day had been hot, but now there was a cool breeze from the sea, and the long shadow from the high bank of the cutting enwrapped the whole station in a pleasant twilight. Gurney, deliberately pacing the length of the platform, was conscious of physical vigour and a great enjoyment of life. He had an imaginative temperament, and in his

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“Looks like it,” said the stranger. “They say it’s the plague. It’s dreadfully bad in London, they tell me.” “D’you mean it’s possible the train won’t come in at all?” asked Gurney. “Oh! I should hardly think that,” replied the other. “Oh, no, I should hardly think that, but goodness knows when it will come. Very awkward for me. I want to get to St Ives. It’s a long way from here. Have you far to go?” “Well, Padstow,” said Gurney. “Padstow!” echoed the stranger. “That’s a good step.” “Further th

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The progress of the plague through London and the world in general was marked, in the earlier stages, by much the same developments as are reported of the plague of 1665. The closed houses, the burial pits, the deserted streets, the outbreaks of every kind of excess, the various symptoms of fear, cowardice, fortitude and courage, evidenced little change in the average of humanity between the seventeenth and the twentieth centuries. The most notable difference during these earlier stages was in t

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Boost died of the plague forty-eight hours after the great adventure, but as he had a wife and four daughters his plunder was not wasted. For nearly a fortnight after the raid the Goslings lay snug in their little house in Wisteria Grove, for they, in company with the majority of English people at this time, had not yet fully appreciated the fact that women were almost immune from infection. In all, not more than eight per cent of the whole female population was attacked, and of this proportion

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Blanche, duster in hand, appeared at the doorway. “Why doesn’t he go himself?” she asked. “Because,” replied her father, getting very red, and speaking with elaborate care, “men’s subject to the infection and women is not.” “That’s all my eye,” returned Millie. “Lots of women have got it.” “It’s well known,” said Gosling, still keeping himself in hand, “a matter of common knowledge, that women is comparatively immune.” “Oh, that’s a man’s yarn, that is,” said Blanche, “just to save themselves. W

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Once inside, the spirit of plunder took hold of her, and she began to take down boxes of cigars and cigarettes and packets of tobacco, piling them up in a heap on the counter. But she had no basket in which to carry the accumulation she was making, and she was feeling under the counter for some box into which to put her haul, when the shadows round her deepened again into almost absolute darkness. Cautiously she peered up over the counter and saw the silhouette of a woman standing in the doorway

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Gosling, still sucking his cigar, stood entranced, peering into the darkness; he had ventured so far as to throw up the sash. “It’s the stillness of death!” he muttered. Then he cocked his head on one side, for he caught the sound of distant shouting. Somewhere in the Kilburn Road another raid was in progress. “No light,” murmured Gosling, “and no fire!” An immediate association suggested itself. “By gosh! and no water !” he added. For some seconds he contemplated with fearful awe the failure of

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Gosling spent most of the day in the roof, but not until the afternoon did he realize that the cistern was slowly being emptied. His first thought was that one of the pipes leaked, his second that it was time to make a demonstration of force. He found a walking-stick in the hall.... But even when that precious half-cistern of water was only called upon to supply the needs of thirst, and the Goslings, sinking further into the degradation of savagedom, slunk furtive and filthy about the gloomy hou

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His new acquaintance looked him up and down, and then smiled in return, “You’re right,” she said. “You’re the first man I’ve seen since father died, a month back.” “’Oo’s livin’ with you?” asked Gosling, pointing to the house. “Mother and sister, that’s all.” “’Ard work for you to get a livin’, I suppose?” “So, so. We’re used to farm-work. The trouble’s to keep the other women off.” “Ah!” replied Gosling reflectively, and the two looked at one another again. “You ’ungry?” asked the girl. “Not to

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In West Hampstead a Jewess, who had once been fat, looked out of the windows of her gaudy house. She was partly dressed in a garish silk negligé. Her face was exceedingly dirty, but the limp, pallid flesh was revealed in those places where she had wiped away her abundant tears. Her body was bruised and stiff, for in a recent raid on a house suspected of containing provisions she had been hardly used by her sister women. She had made the mistake of going out too well dressed; she had imagined tha

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In every quarter of London, in every great town and city throughout Europe, women were setting their faces towards the country. By the autumn London was empty. The fallen leaves in park squares and suburban streets were swept into corners by the wind, and when the rain came the leaves clung together and rotted, and so continued the long routine of decay and birth. When spring came again, Nature returned with delicate, strong hands to claim her own. For hundreds of years she had been defied in th

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The spirit of London had gone out of her, and her body was crumbling and rotting. There was no life in all that vast sprawl of bricks and mortar; the very dogs and cats, deserted by humanity, left her to seek their only food, to seek those other living things which were their natural quarry. In her prime, London had been the chief city of the world. Men and women spoke of her as an entity, wrote of her as of a personality, loved her as a friend. This aggregate of streets and parks, this strange

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July came in with temperate heat and occasional showers, ideal weather for the crops; for all the precious growths which must ripen before the famine could be stayed. The sudden stoppage of all imports, and the flight of the great urban population into the country, had demonstrated beyond all question the poverty of England’s resources of food supply, and the demonstration was to prove of value although there was no economist left to theorize. England was once again an independent unit, and no l

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“I’m on,” she said briskly. “Me and Millie had better go, mother, we can walk farther. You can lock up after us and you needn’t open the door to anyone. Are you on, Mill?” “We must make ourselves look a bit more decent first,” said Millie, glancing at the mirror over the mantelpiece. “Well, of course,” returned Blanche, “we brought one box of clothes with us.” They spent some minutes in discussing the resources of their wardrobe. “Come to the worst we could fetch some more things from Wisteria.

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Near Hammersmith Broadway they saw a tram standing on the rails. Its thin tentacle still clung to the overhead wire that had once given it life, as if it waited there patiently hoping for a renewal of the exhilarating current. Almost unconsciously Blanche and Millie quickened their pace. Perhaps this was the outermost dying ripple of life, the furthest outpost of the new activity that was springing up in central London. But the tram was guarded by something that in the hot, still air seemed to s

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They began with the touch of appraising fingers, wandering from room to room. But most of the rooms on the ground floor were darkened by the drawn shutters, and no glow of light came in response to the clicking of the electric switches that they experimented with with persistent futility. So they adventured into the clearly lit rooms upstairs and experienced a fallacious sense of security in the knowledge that they were on the floor above the street. Fingering gave place to still closer inspecti

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Blanche pinched her lips together. “What are you putting your hat straight for?” she asked. “There’s no one to see you.” “Well, you needn’t make it any worse,” retorted Millie on the verge of a fresh outburst of tears. “Oh! come on!” said Blanche, getting to her feet. “I don’t believe I can walk home,” complained Millie; “my feet ache so.” “You’ll have to wait a long time if you’re going to find a bus,” returned Blanche. Three empty taxicabs stood in the rank a few feet away from them, but it ne

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“Well, of course, silly,” replied Blanche. “All the clocks have stopped. Who’s to wind ’em?” For some time Mrs Gosling was quite unable to grasp the significance of her daughters’ report on the condition of London. During the past two months she had persuaded herself that the traffic of the town was being resumed and that only Putney was still desolate. She had always disapproved of Putney; it was damp and she had never known anyone who had lived there. It is true that the late lamented George G

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“Awful,” agreed Millie. “Well, I can’t understand it,” said Mrs Gosling, not yet fully convinced. She considered earnestly for a few moments and then asked: “Did you go into Charing Cross Post Office? They’d sure to be open.” “Yes!” lied Blanche, “and we could have taken all the money in the place if we’d wanted, and no one any the wiser.” Mrs Gosling looked shocked. “I ’ope my gels’ll never come to that,” she said. Her girls, with a wonderful understanding of their mother’s opinions, had omitte

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The successful animal is that which is adapted to its circumstances. Herbert Spencer would appear foolish and incapable in the society of the young wits who frequent the private bar; he might be described by them as an old Johnny who knew nothing about life. Mrs Gosling in her own home had been a ruler; she had had authority over her daughters, and, despite the usual evidences of girlish precocity, she had always been mistress of the situation. In the affairs of household management she was faci

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Millie might have been tempted to take her mother at her word, but Blanche never for a moment entertained the idea of leaving her mother behind. “Very well, mother,” she said, desperately, “if you won’t come we must all stop here and starve, I suppose. We’ve got enough food to last a fortnight or so.” As she spoke she looked out of the window of that little suburban house, and for the first time in her life a thought came to her of the strangeness of preferring such an inconvenient little box to

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They came upon a little row of cottages, standing back a few yards from the road. All three women had been engaged in pushing their trolly up an ascent, and with heads down, and all their physical energies concentrated upon their task, they did not notice the startling difference between these cottages and other houses they had passed, until they stopped to take breath at the summit of the hill. Mrs Gosling had immediately seated herself upon the sloping pole of the trolly handle. She was breath

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Before they reached it, a woman came to the doorway, stared at them for a moment and then came down to the little wooden gate. She was a thick-set woman of fifty or so, with iron grey hair cut close to her head. She wore a tweed skirt which did not reach the tops of her heavily soled, high boots. She looked capable, energetic and muscular. And in her hand she carried about three feet of stout broomstick. She did not speak until the little procession halted before her gate, and then she pointed m

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In the wood they found refuge from those attendant flies which had hung over them so persistently. Mrs Gosling gave a final flick with her handkerchief and declared her relief. “It’s quite pleasant in ’ere,” she said, “after the ’eat.” The two girls also seemed to find new vigour in the shade of the trees. “We have got a cheek!” said Millie, with a giggle. “Well! needs must when the devil drives,” returned Mrs Gosling, “and our circumstances is quite out of the ordinary. Besides which, there can

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“You don’t mean Alice?” interrupted the young woman. “Oh! you couldn’t go charging poor dear Alice with a great cart like that! Three of you, too!” “Is its name Alice?” asked Blanche stupidly. She did not feel equal to this curious occasion. “ Its name!” replied the young woman, with scorn. “ Her name’s Alice, if that’s what you mean.” She shook back the hair from her eyes and moved down to the gate. The cow acknowledged her presence by an indolent toss of the head. “Oh! but my sweet Alice!” pro

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“I’ll take me bonnet off, ma’am, if you’ll excuse me,” remarked Mrs Gosling. She felt at home once more within the delightful shelter of a house, although slightly overawed by the aspect of the room and its occupant. About both there was an air of that class dignity to which Mrs Gosling knew she could never attain. “I don’t know when I’ve felt the ’eat as I ’ave to-day,” she remarked politely. “Has it been hot?” asked Mrs Pollard. “To me the days all seem so much alike. I want you to tell me, we

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As the three Goslings washed at the scullery sink they chattered freely. They felt pleasure at release from some cold, draining influence; they felt as if they had come out of church after some long, dull service, into the air and sunlight. “I’m sure she’s a very ’oly lady,” was Mrs Gosling’s final summary. Blanche shivered again. “Oh! freezing!” was her enigmatic reply. Millie said it gave her “the creeps.” They were a party of seven at supper—the meal was referred to as “supper,” although to M

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XIV—AUNT MAY

XIV—AUNT MAY

She produced a cigarette case and matches from a side pocket of her jacket, lit a cigarette, inhaled the smoke with a long gasp of intensest enjoyment, and then said: “Men weren’t fools, my dear; they had pockets in their coats.” “Yes?” said Blanche. She felt puzzled and a little awkward. She knew that this woman was a friend, but the girl’s town-bred, objective mind was critical and embarrassed. “Do you smoke?” asked Aunt May. “I can spare you a cigarette, though I know the time must come when

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“Oh, bother!” said Millie. Blanche succeeded at last in obtaining possession of the blankets. “You’ll wake mother!” was Millie’s last, desperate shaft. “I’m going to try,” replied Blanche. Millie sat up in the bed and wondered vaguely where she was. These scenes had often been enacted at Wisteria Grove, and her mind had gone back to those delightful days of peace and security. When full consciousness returned to her, she was half inclined to cry, and more than half inclined to go to sleep again.

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But as they approached Pinner the signs of devastation and desertion began to give way. Here and there women could be seen working in the fields; one or two children scuttled away before the approach of the Goslings and hid in the hedges, children who had evidently grown furtive and suspicious, intimidated by the experiences of the past two months; and when the outlying houses were reached—detached suburban villas, once occupied by relatively wealthy middle-class employers—it was evident that ef

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“Shouldn’t wonder,” muttered Millie. “Who wouldn’t be?” In the morning Blanche was very careful with their food. For breakfast they ate only part of a tin of condensed beef between them—Mrs Gosling indeed ate hardly anything. The eggs which they had brought from Sudbury they reserved, chiefly because they had neither water nor fire. They drank from a stream, later, and at midday Blanche and Millie each ate one of the eggs raw. Mrs Gosling refused all food on this occasion. She had been very quie

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“You can have the milk if you’ve anything to put it in,” said the woman at last, and Blanche went to fetch the tongue and the two bottles that they had had from Aunt May. The bottles had to be scalded, a precaution that had not occurred to Blanche, and one of the other women was sent to carry out the operation. “Well, your tale don’t tell us much,” said the woman of the farm, “but we always pass the news here, now. Where are you going to sleep to-night?” Blanche shrugged her shoulders. “You can

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“Have no fear,” replied the stranger. “I am all that is most discreet, yes.” Blanche hardened her heart. This woman took too much for granted. “I don’t see it’s any use your coming with us,” she said. “Ach! we others, we should cling together,” said the stranger, with a large gesture. “We’re nobody,” replied Blanche, curtly. “It iss well to say that. I know. There iss good reason. I, too, must tell the common people that I am a nobody, I call myself, even, Mrs Isaacson. But between us there iss

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“No?” said Mrs Isaacson, and looked thoughtful. Millie was running her fingers through the masses of her red-brown hair, loosening it and lifting it from her head. “It is a relief,” she remarked. “My head gets so hot.” “Ah!” said Mrs Isaacson, “and what beautiful hair! It does not seem right to hide it. I haf a comb in my bag. It is almost all I haf left. Let me now comb your beautiful hair for you.” “Oh! don’t you bother,” said Millie sheepishly, but she allowed herself to be persuaded. “Don’t

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“You needn’t be afraid of me—I ain’t goin’ to ’urt yer——” began the butcher, but his lady interrupted him. Her fine eyes grew bright with anger. “If you stop here, I shall get out,” she said, and her inflexion was not that of the people. The butcher visibly hesitated. It may be that this chain had held him too long and was beginning to gall him, but he looked at her and wavered. “No ’arm in stoppin’,” he muttered. “Pass the news an’ that.” “Are you going on?” demanded the beauty fiercely. “All r

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“We’ll be home in an hour or two, now,” Blanche said, reassuringly. She did not know what a struggle awaited them before they should top the hill at Handy Cross. Mrs Isaacson had forsaken her place at the pole. “I shall be able to push more strongly behind,” she had said, but despite the theoretical gain in mechanical advantage obtained by the new arrangement, the hill seemed never-ending. They had to rest continually, and always they looked with increasing irritation at the quiet figure in the

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It is now impossible to say why such different types of male humanity as Jasper Thrale, George Gosling or the Bacchus of Wycombe Abbey escaped the plague. The bacillus (surely a strangely individual type, it must have been) was never isolated, nor the pathology of the disease investigated. The germ was some new unprecedented growth which ran through a fierce cycle of development within a few months, changed its nature as it swarmed into every corner of the earth, and finally expired more quickly

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He did not stay there, however. He was beginning to see the outline of his plan, and at the same time the limitation of his own powers. He saw that enough food could not be raised near London to support the multitude, that the death of the many was demanded by the needs of the few if any were to survive, and that communities must be formed with the common purpose of tilling the land and excluding those who could not earn their right to support. In such a catastrophe as this, charity became a cri

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She dropped her voice and looked about her. “Marlow,” she said. “It—it’s an eddy. Off the main roads and by the river. There are less than a thousand women there at present, and we are keeping the others out; at least until after harvest. There is plenty of land about, and we’re keeping ourselves at present. Only we do want a man for the machines. Will you come and help us?” “I’ll come and see what I can do,” said Thrale “I won’t promise to stay.” “Aren’t there any other men, there?” he added af

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She laughed. “I’m the eldest daughter of the late Duke of Hertford,” she said, “the ci-devant Lady Eileen Ferrar, citizen.” “Oh, was that it?” replied Thrale carelessly. “Where’s this shop of yours?” The loot was heavier than Eileen had anticipated. The shop had been ransacked, but they found an untouched store, containing such valuables as beans, potatoes and a few small sacks of turnip seed at the bottom of a yard. When these had been placed in the cart, they decided that the load was sufficie

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London was still the storehouse of certain valuable commodities. His passage through the surrounding country was hailed with cries of amazement and jubilant acclamation. The first railway surely excited less astonishment than did Thrale on his solitary engine. Doubtless the unfortunate women who saw him pass believed that the gods of machinery had returned once more to bring relief from all the burden of misery and unfamiliar work. And once the points were set and the way open to London by rail

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“By rights ’e should ’ave written to me in the first place,” she muttered. “Mother’s got a touch of the sun,” explained Blanche hurriedly. Thrale had not yet spoken. He was considering the problem of whether he owed any duty to these wanderers, which could override his duty to Marlow. “Where have you come from?” he asked. Blanche and Millie explained volubly, by turns and together. “You see, we don’t let anyone stay here,” said Thrale. Blanche’s eyebrows went up and she waved her too exuberant s

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The two girls, stirred to a new outlook on life by the extraordinary experiences of the past months, were on the threshold of diverse adventures. After the toil and anxiety of their tramp through inhospitable country, and the hazard of the open air, this reception into a community and settlement into a permanent shelter afforded a relief which was too unexpected to be qualified as yet by criticism, or any comparison with past glories. They were young and plastic, and to each of them the future s

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The two Goslings, working only six or seven hours a day in the mill during the latter part of September, found plenty of time for chatter and speculation. They, and more especially Blanche, had shown themselves capable workers in the harvest field, but when hands had been required in his mill Thrale had chosen the Goslings and those whom he considered less adapted to field work; and among them Mrs Isaacson and a member of the committee, Miss Jenkyn, the schoolmistress. (The education problem was

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“Something gone wrong,” she said blushing, “I’ve stopped the rollers, but I don’t know——” “All right, I’m coming,” he returned, and presently joined her. “By the way,” he remarked as he began to examine the machine, “we don’t say ‘Mister,’ now. I thought you’d learnt that.” Millie simpered. “It sounds so familiar not to,” she said. “Rubbish,” grunted Thrale. “You can call me ‘engineer,’ I suppose? ” “Now, look here,” he continued, “do you see this hopper in here?” She came close to him and peere

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Usually she joined one or two other young women in these excursions. It was understood between them that they went “for fun,” and they would laugh and scream when they reached the dip past the farm, pretend to push each other down the slope, and cry out suddenly: “He’s coming! Run!” But one afternoon, some ten days after Jasper Thrale had threatened her with the turnip field, Millie went alone. She had left work early. The rain had not come yet, and Thrale was becoming anxious with regard to the

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Eileen, almost motionless, was floating down with the drift of the sluggish stream. She was afraid to intrude upon the natural sounds of the night, the stealthy trickle of the river, and the furtive rustle of secret movement whose origin she could not guess. And again she thought that she heard the trembling reed of a distant flute. She touched bottom near her landing-place, and waded out of the river, crouching, afraid even in the black shadow of the trees to exhibit the white column of her sli

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So Millie, returning one wet October afternoon, found that no excuses were required of her. Blanche welcomed her and asked no questions, and Jasper Thrale and Eileen came to the little cottage in St Peter’s Street at sunset and treated the prodigal Millie with a new and altogether delightful friendliness. It was understood that she would return at once to her work in the Mill. But in the school-house opposite another reception was being prepared for her. The more advanced of the Jenkynites were

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Among the last was Mrs Isaacson, who was the ultimate cause of the Jenkynite defeat. Ever since she had passed her examination in farm supervision, Mrs Isaacson had exhibited an increasing tendency to rest on her laurels. She had grown very stout again during her stay in Marlow, and complained of severe heart trouble. The least exertion brought on violent palpitation accompanied by the most alarming symptoms. The poor lady would gasp for breath, press her hands convulsively to a spot just below

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The sound of their voices must have alarmed Mrs Isaacson, for the girls presently heard her stumbling upstairs. They stopped their discussion then, and Blanche’s toothache being mysteriously cured by her excitement, they were soon asleep again. Neither of the girls spoke of their discovery to anyone the next day, but Blanche returned to the cottage at half-past four, when Mrs Isaacson was at a meeting over the way, and explored her bedroom . She found a small store of tea, sugar and candles unde

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The Jenkynites were characteristically unable to comprehend this argument. They had their own definitions of heinous and venial sins, definitions based on ancient precedent, and they counted the fault of Millie Gosling in the former and that of Rebecca Isaacson in the latter category. They were not susceptible to argument. As they saw the problem, no argument was admissible. They had the old law and the old prophets on their side, and maintained that what was true once was true for all time. In

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“No! I must take some one to work the engine and the locks,” returned Thrale. “I’ll come!” announced Eileen, with glee. Thrale shook his head. “You’ll have to run this place,” he said. Since that night in September no reference had been made by either of them to his strange revelation of fear. They had worked together as two men might have worked. Neither of them had exhibited the least consciousness of sex. Thrale believed that he had put the fear away from him, and Eileen was content to wait.

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“Bother the community!” replied Eileen. The community and its activities were already in the background of her mind. Marlow had receded into a little distant place with which she was no longer connected. The world of adventure and romance lay open before her. She wanted only to explore this turbulent river, widened now into a miniature Amazon, from which arose the islands of half-submerged houses and trees that composed the strange archipelago of Maidenhead. “Oh, well,” said Thrale again. “We’ll

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“We can come back and fetch her up when the flood goes down,” returned Thrale. “We’ve done pretty well, the three of us.” “Yes, the three of us, ” he echoed. “It has been great fun,” sighed Eileen. Thrale did not reply. He was thinking himself back into the past. He saw a street in Melbourne on a burning December evening, and the figure of a gaily-clad little brunette who spoke purest cockney and asked him why he looked so glum. “We ain’t goin’ to a funeral,” she had said. Yet afterwards he had

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“Only we can’t prove it to anyone but ourselves.” “And we shouldn’t want to, if we hadn’t got to live with them.” For a moment they looked at one another thoughtfully. “No, we mustn’t run away,” Jasper said, with determination, after a pause. “Look, the flood has begun to go down already. That’s our work. There’s other work for us to do yet.” For a time they were silent, looking down on to Marlow and out over the valley. “We didn’t go over that hill,” said Eileen, at last, pointing to the distan

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All field and mill work was stopped, and Thrale and Eileen spent two or three days a week making excursions to London, bringing back coal and other forms of riches. Their fear of being misunderstood had proved to have been an exaggeration. In that exalted mood of theirs, which had risen to such heights, after four days of adventurous solitude, they had come a little too near the stars. In finding themselves they had lost touch with the world. Elsie Durham had smiled at their defensive announceme

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Relief from all these foolish criticisms, gossipings and false emotions came when the frost broke. A warm rain in the first week of March released the soil from its bonds, and as the retarded spring began to move impatiently into life there was a great call for labour. But as the year ripened the temperament of the community exhibited a new and alarming symptom. There was a terrible spirit of depression abroad. All Nature was warm with the movement of reproduction. Nature was growing and propaga

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The mind of the community was becoming distorted. Hysteria, sexual perversions, and various forms of religious mania were rife. Young women broke into futile and unsatisfying orgies of foolish dancing, and middle-aged women became absorbed in the contemplation of a male and human god. Even the committee did not escape the influence of the growing despair. They looked forward to a future when such machines and tools as they possessed would be worn out, and they had no means of replacing them. Thr

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“Let us go on and forget for a few days,” Eileen had said, and so they had at last reached the furthest limit of land. Cornwall had proved to be a land of the dead. Save for a few women in the neighbourhood of St Austell, they had not seen a living human being in the whole county. And so, on this clear April morning, they sat upon this ultimate cliff and talked of the future. The water below them was delicately flecked with white. No long rollers were riding in from the Atlantic, but the fresh A

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“We should have heard from them before this,” he said. “We must have heard before this.” “And is there no hope for us, here in England, in Marlow? There are a few boys—infants born since the plague, you know—and there will be more children in the future—Evans’s children and those others. There were two men in some places, you remember.” “Can they ever grow up? It seems to me that the women are dying. They’ve nothing to live for. It’s only a year since the plague first came, and look at them now.

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The blur was widening into a grey-black smudge, into a vaguely diffused smear with a darker centre. “With the wind blowing towards us——” said Jasper, and broke off. “Yes, yes—what?” asked Eileen, and then as he did not answer, she gripped his arm and repeated importunately. “What? Jasper, what? With the wind blowing towards us?” “By God it is,” he said in a low voice, disregarding her question. “By God it is ,” he repeated, and then a third time, “It is .” “Oh! what, what? Do answer me! I can’t

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EPILOGUE THE GREAT PLAN

EPILOGUE THE GREAT PLAN

The doctor, a bearded, grave-eyed man, looked up and smiled. “Hardly that,” he said. “We shall never know now, I hope, the history of the plague organism. It was never studied under the microscope—we were too busy—and now we trust that the bacillus—if it were a bacillus—has encompassed its own destruction. What interests you, however, is that this sudden, miraculously sudden, development of its deadly power as regards humanity ran through a determinable cycle of evolution. From what you’ve told

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Corrections

Corrections

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