CHAPTER I.

"_Virginibus puerisque_," said Miss CONSTANTIA DEMNING; "and it's by a

_man_!"

"By a _man_!" echoed the awe-struck ATHANASIA.

"And to think that in spite of all our pioneering and efforts to confine

her studies to the New Woman Series our niece may even now have tasted

of the tree and be bursting out into throbbing nerve-centres and

palpable possibilities. Compare we two with her! Have you noted her

restless craving after Philistine delights such as man-worship and a

literary style? Thank Heaven, she never got that from _us_ or _our_

books."

The speakers were a pair of old Purgatorial Twins, not without

alleviations, designed by Nature to multiply. But aloofness, coupled in

harness with anæmia, had nipped the wilding shoots in the bud and won

hands down at the distance. True, in the scraggy past, there had been a

male creature, less curate than Cupid, that each of them had saved her

soul alive in the memory of. But the cares of celibacy, cruel-heavy as

a portmanteau-metaphor, now weighed on their shoulders; they could not

crush them with a burial-spade like complete natures; they stamped their

faces (the cares did the twins' faces) with their ponderous crow's feet.

Still, at times, like spring-cleanings, came spring-hankerings. A whiff

of yellow tulip on the breeze, and they would drink in the sunlight and

the flowers and the beasts and the fishes and the dew and the early

worm.

Even now as they peered into this book of forbidden sentiment at

the words--"The presence of the two lovers is so enchanting to each

other that it seems it must be the best thing possible for everybody

else"--from some faded, twilit cellar of the past came the bleating

lyre-bird of carnal reverie; but the astuter of the two scented tangibly

the cloven hoof, and coming to her better self with a strangled

"Oh!" she cast the book into the stove of the Queen Anne parlour, so

suggestive of their own aloofness, void as it was of dog or waste-paper

basket, or English grammar, or any such humanizing influence.

At that moment a pair of swift, Pagan feet sounded in the passage.

Punch, Or the London Charivari Volume 107, November 24, 1894 · 第 3 / 4 章