IV

Next day, about eleven o'clock, Kate walked up Market Street with Mrs.

Barnes's dress, meditating on the letter she had received. A very serious

matter this angry letter was to Kate, and she thought of what she could say

to satisfy her customer. Her anxiety of mind caused her to walk faster than

she was aware of, up the hill towards the square of sky where the

passers-by seemed like figures on the top of a monument. At the top of the

hill she would turn to the left and descend towards the little quasi-villa

residences which form the suburbs of Northwood. Ten minutes later Kate

approached Mrs. Barnes's door hot and out of breath, her plans matured,

determined, if the worst came to the worst, to let the dress go at a

reduction. Her present difficulty was so great that she forgot other

troubles, and it was not until she had received her money that she

remembered Mr. Lennox. He was going. Her rooms would be empty again. She

was sorry he was going, and at the top of Market Street she stood at gaze,

surprised by the view, though she had never seen any other. A long black

valley lay between her and the dim hills far away, miles and miles in

length, with tanks of water glittering like blades of steel, and gigantic

smoke clouds rolling over the stems of a thousand factory chimneys. She had

not come up this hillside at the top of Market Street for a long while; for

many years she had not stood there and gazed at the view, not since she was

a little girl, and the memories that she cherished in her workroom between

Hanley and the Wever Hills were quite different from the scene she was now

looking upon. She saw the valley with different eyes: she saw it now with a

woman's eyes; before she had seen it with a child's eyes. She remembered

the ruined collieries and the black cinder-heaps protruding through the

hillside on which she was now standing. In childhood, these ruins were

convenient places to play hide-and-seek in. But now they seemed to convey a

meaning to her mind, a meaning that was not very clear, that perplexed her,

that she tried to put aside and yet could not. At her left, some fifty feet

below, running in the shape of a fan, round a belt of green, were the roofs

of Northwood--black brick unrelieved except by the yellow chimney-pots,

specks of colour upon a line of soft cotton-like clouds melting into grey,

the grey passing into blue, and the blue spaces widening. 'It will be a hot

day,' she said to herself, and fell to thinking that a hot day was hotter

on this hillside than elsewhere. At every moment the light grew more and

more intense, till a distant church spire faded almost out of sight, and

she was glad she had come up here to admire the view from the top of Market

Street. Southwark, on the right, as black as Northwood, toppled into the

valley in irregular lines, the jaded houses seeming in Kate's fancy like

cart-loads of gigantic pill-boxes cast in a hurry from the counter along

the floor. It amused her to stand gazing, contrasting the reality with her

memories. It seemed to her that Southwark had never before been so plain to

the eye. She could follow the lines of the pavement and almost distinguish

the men from the women passing. A hansom appeared and disappeared, the

white horse seen now against the green blinds of a semi-detached villa and

shown a moment after against the yellow rotundities of a group of pottery

ovens.

The sun was now rapidly approaching the meridian, and in the vibrating

light the wheels of the most distant collieries could almost be counted,

and the stems of the far-off factory chimneys appeared like tiny fingers.

Kate saw with the eyes and heard with the ears of her youth, and the past

became as clear as the landscape before her. She remembered the days when

she came to read on this hillside. The titles of the books rose up in her

mind, and she could recall the sorrow she felt for the heroes and heroines.

It seemed to her strange that that time was so long past and she wondered

why she had forgotten it. Now it all seemed so near to her that she felt

like one only just awakened from a dream. And these memories made her

happy. She took pleasure in recalling every little event--an excursion she

made when she was quite a little girl to the ruined colliery, and later on,

a conversation with a chance acquaintance, a young man who had stopped to

speak to her.

At the bottom of the valley, right before her eyes, the white gables of

Bucknell Rectory, hidden amid masses of trees, glittered now and then in an

entangled beam that flickered between chimneys, across brick-banked squares

of water darkened by brick walls.

Behind Bucknell were more desolate plains full of pits, brick, and smoke;

and beyond Bucknell an endless tide of hills rolled upwards and onwards.

The American tariff had not yet come into operation, and every wheel was

turning, every oven baking; and through a drifting veil of smoke the

sloping sides of the hills with all their fields could be seen sleeping

under great shadows, or basking in the light. A deluge of rays fell upon

them, defining every angle of Watley Rocks and floating over the grasslands

of Standon, all shape becoming lost in a huge embrasure filled with the

almost imperceptible outlines of the Wever Hills.

And these vast slopes which formed the background of every street were the

theatre of all Kate's travels before life's struggles began. It amused her

to remember that when she played about the black cinders of the hillsides

she used to stop to watch the sunlight flash along the far-away green

spaces, and in her thoughts connected them with the marvels she read of in

her books of fairy-tales. Beyond these wonderful hills were the palaces of

the kings and queens who would wave their wands and vanish! A few years

later it was among or beyond those slopes that the lovers with whom she

sympathized in the pages of her novels lived. But it was a long time since

she had read a story, and she asked herself how this was. Dreams had gone

out of her life, everything was a hard reality; her life was like a

colliery, every wheel was turning, no respite day or night; her life would

be always the same, a burden and a misery. There never could be any change

now. She remembered her marriage, and how Mrs. Ede had persuaded her into

it, and for the first time she blamed the old woman for her interference.

But this was not all. Kate was willing to admit that there was no one she

loved like Mr. Ede, but still it was hard to live with a mother-in-law who

had a finger in everything and used the house like her own. It would be all

very well if she were not so obstinate, so certain that she was always

right. Religion was very well, but that perpetual 'I'm a Christian woman,'

was wearisome. No wonder Mr. Lennox was leaving. Poor man, why shouldn't he

have a few friends up in the evening? The lodgings were his own while he

paid for them. No wonder he cut up rough; no wonder he was leaving them. If

so, she would never see him again. The thought caught her like a pain in

the throat, and with a sudden instinct she turned to hurry home. As she did

so her eyes fell on Mr. Lennox walking towards her. At such an unexpected

realization of her thoughts she uttered a little cry of surprise; but,

smiling affably, and in no way disconcerted, he raised his big hat from his

head. On account of the softness of the felt this could only be

accomplished by passing the arm over the head and seizing the crown as a

conjurer would a pocket-handkerchief. The movement was large and unctuous,

and it impressed Kate considerably.

'I took the liberty to stop, for you seemed so interested that I felt

curious to know what could be worth looking at in those chimneys and

cinder-mounds.'

'I wasn't looking at the factories, but at the hills. The view from here is

considered very fine. Don't you think so, sir?' she asked, feeling afraid

that she had made some mistake.

'Ah, well, now you mention it, perhaps it is. How far away, and yet how

distinct! They look like the gallery of a theatre. We're on the stage, the

footlights run round here, and the valley is the pit; and there are plenty

of pits in it,' he added, laughing. 'But I mustn't speak to you of the

theatre.'

'Oh, I'm sure I don't mind! I'm very fond of the theatre,' said Kate

hastily.

This indirect allusion to last night brought the conversation to a close,

and for some moments they stood looking vacantly at the landscape. Overhead

the sky was a blue dome, and so still was the air that the smoke-clouds

trailed like the wings of gigantic birds slowly balancing themselves. And

waves of white light rolled up the valley as if jealous of the red,

flashing furnaces. An odour of iron and cinders poisoned the air, and after

some moments of contemplation which seemed to draw them closer together,

Mr. Lennox said:

'There is no doubt that the view is very grand, but it is tantalizing to

have those hills before your eyes when you are shut up in a red brick oven.

How fresh and cool they look! What wouldn't you give to be straying about

in those fresh woods far away?'

Kate looked at Mr. Lennox with ravished eyes; his words had flooded her

mind with a thousand forgotten dreams. She felt she liked him better for

what he had said, and she murmured as if half ashamed:

'I've never been out of Hanley. I've never seen the sea, and when I was a

child I used to fancy that the fairies lived beyond those hills; even now I

can't help imagining that the world is quite different over there. Here it

is all brick, but in novels they never speak of anything but gardens and

fields.'

'Never seen the sea! Well, there isn't much to _see_ in it,' Mr.

Lennox said, laughing at the pun. 'When you were a little girl you used to

come here to play, I suppose?'

'Yes, sir; I was born over in one of those cottages.'

Mr. Lennox, without knowing whether to look sorry or sentimental, listened

patiently to Kate, who, proud of being able to show him anything, drew his

attention to the different points of view. The white gables that could just

be distinguished in the large dark masses of trees was Bucknell Rectory.

The fragment of the cliff on the top of the highest ridge half-way up the

sky was Watley Rocks; then came Western Coyney, the plains of Standon, and

far away in a blue mist the outlines of the Wever Hills. But Mr. Lennox did

not seem very much interested; the sun was too hot for him, and in the

first pause of the conversation he asked Kate which way she was going. He

had to get on to the theatre, and he asked her if she would show him the

way there.

'You can't do better than to go down Market Street; but if you like I will

direct you.'

'I shall be so glad if you will; but Market Street--I think you said Market

Street? That is just the way I've come.'

Market Street was where people connected with the theatre generally lived,

and Kate knew at once he had been looking for lodgings; but she was ashamed

to ask him, and they walked on for some time without speaking. But every

moment the silence became more irritating, and at last, determined to know

the worst, she said, 'I suppose you were looking for lodgings; all the

theatre people put up in that street.'

Mr. Lennox flinched before this direct question.

'Why, no, not exactly; I was calling on some friends; but as you say, some

of the profession live in the street, and now you mention it, I suppose I

shall have to find some new diggings.'

'I'm sorry, sir, very sorry,' said Kate, looking up into the big blue eyes.

'I ought not to have come down; you are, of course, master in your own

rooms.'

'Oh, it wasn't your fault; I could live with you for ever. You mustn't

think I want to change. If you could only guarantee that your mother-in-law

will keep out of my way.'

Kate felt at that moment that she would guarantee anything that would

prevent Mr. Lennox from leaving her house.

'Oh, I don't think there will be any difficulty about that,' she said

eagerly. 'I'll bring your breakfast and dinner up, and you are out nearly

all day.'

'Very well, then, and I'll promise not to bring home any friends,' he added

gallantly.

'But I'm afraid you'll be very lonely, sir.'

'I'll have you to talk to sometimes.'

Kate made no answer, but they both felt that the words implied more than

they actually meant, and they remained silent, like people who had come to

some important conclusion. Then after a long pause, and without any

transition, Mr. Lennox spoke of the heat of the weather and of the harm it

was likely to do their business at the theatre. She asked him what he

thought of Hanley. Mr. Lennox smiled through his faint moustache and said

the red brick hurt his eyes.

Kate did not feel quite satisfied with this last observation, and spoke of

the pretty places there were about the town. Pointing down a red

perspective backed by the usual hills, she told him that Trentham, the Duke

of Sutherland's place, was over there.

'What, over those hills? That must be miles away.'

'Oh, not so far as that. Hanley doesn't reach to there. The country is

beautiful, once you get past Stoke. I went once to see the Duke's place,

and we had tea in the inn. That was the only time I was ever really in the

country, and even then we were never quite out of sight of the factories.

Still, it was very nice.'

'And who were you with?'

'Oh, with my husband.'

'He's an invalid, isn't he?'

'Well, I'm afraid he suffers very much at times, but he's often well

enough.'

The conversation again came to a pause, and both thought of how happy they

would be were they taking tea together at the inn at Trentham.

But they were now in the centre of the town, close to the Town Hall, a

stupid, square building with two black cannon on either side of the door.

Opposite was a great shop with 'Commercial House' written across the second

story in gold letters. Bright carpets and coarse goods were piled about the

doorway; and from these two houses Piccadilly and Broad Street, its

continuation, ran down an incline, and Church Street branched off, giving

the town the appearance of a two-pronged fork.

All was red brick blazing under a blue sky without a cloud in it; the red

brick that turns to purple; and all the roofs were scarlet--red brick and

scarlet tiles, and not a tree anywhere.

'You don't seem to have a tree in Hanley,' Mr. Lennox said.

'I don't think there are many,' she answered, and they gazed at the bald

rotundities of the pottery ovens.

He had never seen a town before composed entirely of brick and iron. A town

of work; a town in which the shrill scream of the steam train as it rolled

solemnly up the incline seemed to be man's cry of triumph over vanquished

nature.

After looking about him, Mr. Lennox said, 'What I object to in the town is

that there's nothing to do. And it's so blazing hot; for goodness' sake let

us get under the shadow of a wall.'

Kate smiled, and as they crossed over they both wiped their faces.

'There are the potteries,' she said, referring to Mr. Lennox's complaint

that there was nothing to do in the town. 'Everybody that comes to Hanley

goes to see them; but the best are in Stoke.'

'I'm sure I'm not going to Stoke to see potteries,' he answered decisively,

'but if there are any at Hanley I dare say I shall turn in some afternoon.

I've heard some of our people say they are worth seeing. But,' he added, as

if a sudden thought had struck him, 'I might go now; I've nothing to do for

the next couple of hours. How far are the nearest?'

Kate told him that Powell and Jones's works were close by in the High

Street. She pointed out the way, but, failing to make Mr. Lennox understand

her, she consented to go with him. He had a kind, soft manner of speaking

which drew Kate towards him almost as if he had taken her in his arms, and

it was astonishing how intimate they had grown in the last few minutes.

'It doesn't look very interesting,' he said, as they stopped before an

archway and looked into a yard filled with straw and packing-cases.

'Yes it is, but you must see the different rooms. You must go up to the

office and ask for permission to see the works.'

'I don't think I'd care to go by myself. Won't you come with me?'

Kate hesitated; she had very little to do at home, and could say that Mrs.

Barnes had kept her waiting.

'Do come,' he said after a pause, during which he looked at her eagerly.

'Well, I should like to see the room where my mother used to work, but we

mustn't stop too long. I shall be missed at home.' The matter being so

arranged, they entered the yard, and Kate pointed out a rough staircase

placed against the wall. 'You must go up there; the office is at the top.

Ask for permission to see the works and I'll wait here for you.'

Half a dozen men were packing crockery into crates with spades, and as she

watched them she remembered that she used to come to this yard with her

mother's dinner, and stand wondering how they could pack the delf without

breaking it. She remembered one afternoon particularly well; she had

promised to be very good, and had been allowed to sit by her mother and

watch her painting flowers that wound in and out and all about a big blue

vase. She remembered how she was reproved for peeping over her neighbour's

shoulder, and how proud she felt sitting among all the workwomen. She could

recall the smell of the paint and turpentine, and her grief when she was

told that she was too delicate to learn painting, and was going to be put

out to dressmaking. But that time was long ago; her mother was dead and she

was married. Everything was changed or broken, as was that beautiful vase,

probably. It astonished Kate to find herself thinking of these things. She

had passed the High Street twenty times during the last six months without

it even occurring to her to visit the old places, and when Mr. Lennox came

back he noticed that there were tears in her eyes. He made no remark, but

hastily explained that he had been told that there was a party just that

minute gone on in front of them, and they were to catch them up.

'This way, then,' she said, pointing to a big archway.

'Oh, I can't run; don't be in such a hurry,' said Mr. Lennox, panting.

Kate laughed, and admitted that the heat was great. Out of a sky burnt

almost to white the glare descended into the narrow brick-yards. The

packing straw seemed ready to catch fire; the heaps of wet clay, which two

boys were shovelling, smoked, emitting as it did so an unpleasant wet

odour. On passing the archway they caught sight of three black coats and

three soft hats like the one Mr. Lennox wore.

'Oh!' said Kate, stopping, disappointed, 'we'll have to go round with those

clergymen.'

'What does that matter? It will be amusing to listen to them.'

'But mother knows all of them.'

'They must be strangers in the town or they wouldn't be visiting the

potteries, surely.'

'I hadn't thought of that; I suppose you're right,' and hastening a little,

they overtook the party that was being shown round. The Dissenting

clergymen looked askance at Mr. Lennox, and as he showed them into a small

white cell the guide said, 'You're in plenty of time, sir; these are the

snagger-makers.'

Two men were beating a heap of wet clay in order to insure a something in

the bakery which nobody understood, but which the guide took some trouble

to explain. The clergymen pressed forward to listen. Mr. Lennox wiped his

face, and they were then hurried into a second cell, where unbaked dishes

were piled all around upon shelves. It was said to be the dishmakers'

place, and was followed by another and another room, all of which Mr.

Lennox thought equally hot and uninteresting. He strove to escape from the

guide, who drew him through the line of clergymen and made plain to him the

mysteries of earthenware.

At last these preliminary departments were disposed of, and they were led

to another part of the works. On their way thither they passed the ovens.

These were scattered over the ground like beehives in a garden. Lennox

patted their round sides, approvingly saying that they reminded him of

oyster boys in a pantomime, and might be introduced into the next Christmas

show. Kate looked at him, her eyes full of wonder. She could not understand

how he could think of such things.

In the printing-room they listened to the guide, who apparently considered

it important that clergymen, actor, and dressmaker should understand the

different processes the earthenware had to pass through before it was

placed on toilet or breakfast table. Smoking flannels hung on lines all

around, and like laundresses at their tubs, four or five women washed the

printed paper from the plates. A man in a paper cap bent over a stove, and

as if dissatisfied with the guide's explanation of his work, broke out into

a wearisome flow of technical details. At the other end of this vast

workroom there was a line of young girls who cut the printed matter out of

sheets of paper, the scissors running in and out of flowers, tendrils, and

little birds without ever injuring one. The clergymen watched the process,

delighted, while Lennox stepped behind Kate and whispered that he had just

caught the tall Dissenter winking at the dark girl on the right, which was

not true, and was invented for the sake of the opportunity it gave him of

breathing on Kate's neck--a lead up to the love-scene which he had now

decided was to come off as soon as he should find himself alone with her.

They passed through a brick alley with a staircase leading to a platform

built like a ship's deck, and went on through a series of rooms till they

came to a place almost as hot as a Turkish bath, filled with unbaked plates

and dishes. The smell of wet clay drying in steam diffused from underneath

was very unpleasant, and caused one of the ministers to cough violently,

whereupon the guide explained that the platemakers' departments were

considered the most unhealthy of any in the works; the people who worked

there, he said, usually suffered from what is known as the potter's asthma.

This interested Kate, and she delayed the guide with questions as to how

the potter's asthma differed from the ordinary form of the disease, and

when their little procession was again put in motion she told Mr. Lennox

how her husband was affected, and the nights she had spent watching at his

side. But although Lennox listened attentively, she could not help thinking

that he seemed rather glad than otherwise that her husband was an invalid.

The unkind way in which he spoke of sick people shocked her, and she

opposed the opinion that a person in bad health was a disgusting object,

while Lennox took advantage of the occasion to whisper into her ears that

she was far too pretty a woman for an asthmatic husband; and, encouraged by

her blushes, he even hazarded a few coarse jokes anent the poor husband's

deficiencies. How could a man kiss if he couldn't breathe, for if there was

a time when breath was essential, according to him, it was when four lips

meet.

No one had ever spoken to her in this way before, and had she known how to

do so she would have resented his familiarities. Once their hands met. The

contact caused her a thrill; she put aside the unbaked plate they were

examining and said: 'We'd better make haste or we shall lose them.'

The next two rooms were considered the most interesting they had been

through; even the three clergymen lost something of their stolid manner and

asked Lennox his opinion regarding the religious character of Hanley, and

if he were of their persuasion.

'What is that?' asked Lennox, affecting a comic innocence which he hoped

would tickle Kate's fancy.

'We're Wesleyans,' said the minister.

'And I'm an actor; but, I beg your pardon, stage-managing's more my

business,' news that seemed to cast a gloom over the faces of the

ministers; and leaving them to make what they could of his reply, he drew

Kate forward confidentially and pointed to an old man sitting

straddle-legged on a high narrow table just on a line with the window. He

was covered with clay; his forehead and beard were plastered with it, and

before him was an iron plate, kept continually whirling by steam, which he

could stop by a pressure of his foot. He squeezed a lump of clay into a

long shape not unlike a tall ice, then, forcing it down into the shape of a

batter-pudding, he hollowed it. Round and round went the clay, the hands

forming it all the while, cleaning and smoothing until it came out a true

and perfect jampot, even to the little furrow round the top, which was

given by a movement of the thumbs. He had been at work since seven in the

morning, and the shelves round him were encumbered with the result of his

labours. Everyone marvelled at his dexterity, until he was forgotten in the

superior attractions of the succeeding room. This was the turning-house,

and Lennox could not help laughing outright, so amusing did the scene

appear to him. Women went dancing up and down on one leg, and at such

regular intervals that they seemed absolutely like machines. They were at

once the motive power and the feeders of the different lathes. It was they

who handed the men lumps of dry clay, which they turned into shapes. The

strangeness of the spectacle gave rise to much comment. The clergymen were

anxious to know if the constant jigging was injurious to health. Lennox

inquired how much coin they made by their one-leg dancing. He spoke of

their good looks, and this led him easily into the question of morals, a

subject in which he was much interested. He wanted to know if this crowding

together of the sexes could be effected without danger. Surely cases of

seduction must occur occasionally. In answering him the guide betrayed a

certain reticence of manner which encouraged Lennox to ask him if he really

meant to say that nothing ever befell these young women who were working

all day side by side with people of the other sex. Did their thoughts never

wander from their work? The guide assured Mr. Lennox that there was no time

to think of such nonsense in the factory, and, anxious to vindicate the

honour of the establishment, he declared that any who took the smallest

liberty with any female would be instantly dismissed from the works. The

ministers listened approvingly, although they seemed to think the subject

might have been avoided. Kate felt a little embarrassed, and Mr. Lennox

watched a big, blonde-haired woman who smiled prettily and seemed quite

conscious of her sex, notwithstanding the ludicrous bobbing up and down

position she was in. With a courage that surprised herself Kate proposed

that they should go on. She was beginning to feel uneasy at the time she

had been away from home and certain that Mrs. Ede would be on the doorstep

looking up and down the street; and she could well imagine how cross Ralph

would be if he heard she had been to the potteries with Mr. Lennox. She

felt very sorry for the one and a little resentful towards the other, but

the sentimental desire to see the painting-room where her mother used to

work prevailed, and with her heart full of recollections she followed the

party to the ovens.

Their way thither led them around the building, and they passed through

many workrooms. These were generally clean, airy spaces, with big rafters

and whitewashed walls. Sometimes a bunch of violets, a book, or a newspaper

lying on the table, suggested an absent owner, and a refined countenance

was sought for in the different groups of women. There was also a

difference in the hats and shawls, and it was easy to tell which belonged

to the young girls, which to the mothers of families. Everyone looked

healthy and contented. All were nice-looking, as Lennox continued to

assert, and all worked industriously at their numberless employments, one

of the most curious of which consisted in knocking the roughness off the

finished earthenware.

A dozen women sat in a circle; above them and around them were piles of

dinner-services of all kinds. Each held with one hand a piece of crockery

on her knees, whilst with a chisel she chopped away at it as if it could

not by any possibility be broken. As may easily be imagined, the noise in

this warehouse was bewildering.

Through this room and others, up and down many narrow staircases, the

visiting party went, the guide leading, the three black clergymen

following, Kate lingering behind with Mr. Lennox until they came to the

ovens. The entrance was from an immense corridor, prolonged by shadow and

divided down the middle by presses full of drying earthenware, the smell of

which was not, however, as strong as in the platemakers' place, and the

difference was noticed by the clergyman with the cough. He said he was not

affected to nearly the same extent.

From time to time the visitors had to give way to men who marched in single

file carrying what seemed to be huge cheeses, but the guide explained that

within these were cups, saucers, bowls, and basins, and men mounted on

ladders piled these yellow tubs up the walls of the ovens. When the

visitors had peeped into the huge interior, they were conducted to the

furnaces; and these were set in the oven's inner shell, which made a narrow

circular passage slanting inwards as it ascended like the neck of a

champagne bottle. The fires glared so furiously that they suggested many

impious thoughts to Lennox, and he proposed to ask the ministers if there

were any warmer corners in hell, and was with difficulty dissuaded by Kate,

about whose waist he had passed his arm. His constant whispering in her

ear, which had at first amused her, now irritated and annoyed her; other

emotions filled her mind with a vague tumult, and she longed to be left to

think in peace. She begged of him to keep quiet, and as they crossed one of

the yards she asked the guide if he could not go straight to the

painting-room. He replied that there was a regular order to be observed,

and insisted on marching them through two more rooms, and explaining fully

three or four more processes. Then, after begging them to be careful and to

hold the rail, he led them up a high staircase. The warning caused Kate a

thrill, for she remembered that every step of this staircase had been a

terror to her mother.

The room itself proved a little disappointing. The tables were not arranged

in quite the same way, and these alterations deprived her of the emotions

she had expected. Still it gave her a great deal of pleasure to point out

to Mr. Lennox where her mother used to work.

But to find the exact spot was not by any means easy. There were upwards of

a hundred young women sitting on benches, leaning over huge tables covered

with unfinished pottery. Each held in her hand a plate, bowl, or vase, on

which she executed some design. The clergy showed more interest than they

had hitherto done, and as they leaned to and fro examining the work, one of

them discovered the something _Guardian_, a Wesleyan organ, on one of

the tables, and hailing his fellows, they began to interview the

proprietor. But the guide said they had to visit the store-rooms, and

forced them away from their 'lamb.'

Ridges of vases, mounds of basins and jugs, terraces of plates, formed

masses of sickly white, through which rays of light were caught and sent

dancing. Along the wall on the left-hand side presses were overcharged with

dusty tea-services. On the right were square grey windows, under which the

convex sides of salad-bowls sparkled in the sun; and from rafter to rafter,

in garlands and clusters like grapes, hung gilded mugs bearing devices

suitable for children, and down the middle of the floor a terrace was built

of dinner-plates.

Two rooms away, a large mound of chamber-pots formed an astonishing

background, and against all this white and grey effacement the men who

stood on high ladders dusting the crockery came out like strange black

climbing insects.

The clergyman said it was very interesting, and just as he did everything

else the guide explained the system of storing employed by the firm; how

the crockery was packed, and how the men would soon be working only three

days a week on account of the American tariff. But he was not much listened

to. Everyone was now tired, and the clergymen, who, since the discovery of

the newspaper, had been showing signs that they regarded their visit to the

potteries as ended, pulled out their watches and whispered that their time

was up. The guide told them that there were only a few more rooms to visit,

but they said that they must be off, and demanded to be conducted to the

door. This request was an embarrassing one; it was against the rules ever

to leave visitors when going the rounds. The guide had, therefore, either

to conduct the whole party to the door or transgress his orders. After a

slight hesitation, influenced no doubt by a conversation he had had with

Lennox, in which mention was made of tickets for the theatre, he decided to

take the responsibility on himself, and asked that gentleman if he would

mind waiting a few minutes with his lady while the religious gentlemen were

being shown the way out. Lennox assented with readiness, and the three

black figures and the guide disappeared a moment after behind the bedroom

utensils. After an anxious glance round Lennox looked at Kate, who, at that

moment, was gathering to herself all the recollections that the place

evoked. She knew the room she was in well, for she used to pass through it

daily with her mother's dinner, and she remembered how in her childhood she

wondered how big the world must be to hold enough people to use such

thousands of cups and saucers. There used to be a blue tea-service in the

far corner, and she had often lingered to imagine a suitable parlour for it

and for her dream husband. One day she had torn her frock coming up the

stairs, and was terribly scolded; another time Mr. Powell, attracted by her

black curls, had stopped to speak to her, and he had given her as a present

one of the children's mugs--one exactly like those hanging over her head.

She had treasured it a long time, but at last it was broken. It seemed that

all things belonging to her had to be broken; her dreams were made in

crockery.

But as Kate looked into the past she became gradually conscious of a voice

whispering to her,

'How odd it is that you should never have thought of revisiting this place

until you met me.'

She raised her eyes, and, her look seeming to tell him that this was his

moment, he turned to see if they were watched. At their feet a pile of

plates and teacups slept in a broad flood of sunlight, and three rooms away

the boys on high ladders dusted the mugs.

'What a pretty child you must have been! I can fancy you with your black

hair falling about your shoulders. Had I known you then, I should have

taken you in my arms and kissed you. Do you think you would have liked me

to have kissed you?'

She raised her eyes again, and a vague feeling of how nice, how kind he

was, rushed through her, and perceiving still more clearly that this moment

was his moment, Lennox affected to examine a ring on her finger. The warm

pressure of his hand caused her to start, and she would have put him from

her, but his voice calmed her.

'Ah!' he said, 'had I known you then, I should have been in love with you.'

Kate closed her eyes, and abandoned herself to an ineffable sentiment of

weakness, of ravishment; and then, imagining that she was his, Lennox took

her in his arms and kissed her rudely. But quick, angry thoughts rushed to

her head at the first movement of his arms, and obeying an impulse in

contradiction to her desire, she shook herself free, and looked at him

vexed and humiliated.

'Oh, how very cross we are; and about a kiss, just a tiny, wee kiss!'

She stood staring at him, only half hearing what he said, irritated against

him and herself.

'I'm sure I didn't mean to offend you,' he continued after a pause, for

Kate's manner puzzled him; 'I love you too well.'

'Love me?' she cried, astonished, but with nevertheless a tone of

interrogation in her voice. 'Why, you never saw me till the other day.'

'I loved you the first moment; I assure you I did.'

Kate looked at him imploringly, as if beseeching him not to deceive her.

There was an honest frankness in his big blue eyes, and his face said as

clearly as words, 'I think you a deuced pretty woman, and I'm sure I could

love you very much,' and recognizing this, Kate remained silent.

And thus encouraged, Mr. Lennox attempted to renew his intentions. But

actions have to be prefaced by words, and he commenced by declaring that

when a man would give the whole world for a kiss, it was not to be expected

that he would resist trying for one, and he strove to think of the famous

love scene in _The Lady of Lyons_. But it was years since he had

played the part, and he could only murmur something about reading no books

but lovers' books, singing no songs but lovers' songs. The guide would be

back in a few minutes, and, inspired by Kate's pale face, he came to the

conclusion that it would be absurd to let her go without kissing her

properly.

He was a strong man, but Kate had now really lost her temper, and struggled

vigorously, determined he should not gain his end. Three times his lips had

rested on her cheek, once he managed to kiss her on the chin, but he could

not reach her mouth: she always succeeded in twisting her face away, and

not liking to be beaten he put forth all his strength. She staggered

backwards and placed one hand on his throat, and with the other strove to

catch at his moustache; she had given it a wrench that had brought tears

into his eyes, but now he was pinioning her; she could see his big face

approaching, and summoning up all her strength she strove to get away, but

that moment, happening to tread on her skirt, her feet slipped. He made a

desperate effort to sustain her, but her legs had gone between his.

The crash was tremendous. A pile of plates three feet high was sent

spinning, a row of salad-bowls was over, and then with a heavy stagger Mr.

Lennox went down into a dinner-service, sending the soup-tureen rolling

gravely into the next room.

A feeling at first prevailed that some serious accident had happened, but

when Kate rose, pale and trembling, from the litter of a bedroom set, and

Lennox was lifted out of the dinner-service with nothing apparently worse

than a cut hand, a murmur of voices asking the cause of the disaster was

heard. But before a word could be said the guide came running towards them.

He declared that he would lose his place, and spoke vaguely to those around

him of the necessity of suppressing the fact that he had left visitors

alone in the storerooms.

Lennox, on the other hand, was very silent. He had evidently received some

bad cuts, of which he did not speak. He put his hand to his legs and felt

them doubtfully. There was a large gash in his right hand, from which he

picked a piece of delf, and as he tied the wound up with a

pocket-handkerchief he partly quieted the expostulating guide by assuring

him that everything would be paid for. And taking Kate's arm, he hobbled

out of the place.

The suddenness and excitement of the accident had for the moment quenched

her angry feelings, and, overwhelmed with pity for the poor wounded hand,

she thought of nothing but getting him to a doctor. Indeed, it was not

until she heard him telling Mr. Powell in the office that he was subject to

fits, and that in striving to hold him up the lady had fallen too, that she

remembered how he had behaved, how he had disgraced her. But her mouth was

closed, and she listened in amazement to him as he invented detail after

detail with surprising dexterity. He did not even hesitate to call in the

evidence of the guide, who, in his own interests, was obliged to assent;

and when Mr. Powell inquired after the three clergymen, Lennox said that

they had left them in the yard after visiting the ovens.

Mr. Powell listened with a look of pity on his face, and began to tell of a

poor brother of his who was likewise subject to fits, and, possibly

influenced by the remembrance, refused to receive any remuneration for the

broken crockery, saying that to a firm like theirs a few plates more or

less was of no importance.

And this matter being settled, Lennox hobbled away, leaving a little pool

of blood on the floor of the office. She had to lend him her handkerchief,

his was now saturated--to tie round his hand: he confessed to a bad cut in

the leg, saying he could feel the blood trickling down into his boot, but

did not think he needed a doctor. 'A bit of sticking-plaster, dear; I'll

get some at the apothecary's. Which is the way?'

'Take the first turn to the right, and you're in Church Street; but there

may be bits of the delf in the wound?'

'I shall see to that. But how strong you are; you're like a lion. You

mustn't struggle like that next time.'

At the suggestion that there was going to be a next time Kate's face

clouded, but she was so alarmed for his safety that it was only for a

moment. She had hardly noticed that he called her 'dear'; he used the word

so naturally and simply that it touched her with swift pleasure, and was as

soon lost in a crowd of conflicting emotions.

The man was coarse and largely sensual, but each movement of his fat hands

was protective, every word he uttered was kind, the very intonation of his

voice was comforting. He was, in a word, human, and this attracted all that

was human in her.

V

On leaving Mr. Lennox Kate walked slowly along the streets, recalling every

word he had said, feeling his breath upon her cheek and his blue eyes

looking into hers more distinctly in recollection than when he had held her

in his arms. She walked immersed in recollections, every one clear and

precise, experiencing a sort of supersensual gratification, one she had

never known before. Being a child of the people, his violence had not

impressed her, and she murmured to herself every now and then:

'Poor fellow, what a fall he had! I hope he didn't hurt himself.'

By turns she thought of things totally different--of Hender, of the little

girls, who would regret her absence from the workroom, and it was not

without surprise that she caught herself wishing suddenly they were her own

children. The wish was only momentary, but it was the first time a desire

for motherhood had ever troubled her.

It amused her to think of their smiling faces, and to make sure of their

smiles she entered a shop and bought a small packet of sweetstuff, and with

the paper in her hand continued her walk home. The cheap prints in a

newspaper shop delayed her, and the workmen who were tearing up the road

forced her to consider how a suspension of traffic would interfere with her

business. She was now in Broad Street, and when she raised her eyes she saw

her own house. A new building high and narrow, it stood in the main street

at the corner of a lane, the ground-floor windows filled with light goods,

and underneath them black hats trimmed with wings and tails of birds. There

were also children's dresses, and a few neckties trimmed with white lace.

As she entered the shop Mrs. Ede, who was in the front kitchen, cried,

'Well, is that you, Kate? Where have you been? I waited dinner an hour for

you; and how tired you look!'

In her present state of mind Mrs. Ede was the last person Kate cared to

meet.

'What's the matter, my dear? Aren't you well? Shall I get you a glass of

water?'

'Oh no, mother; I'm all right. Can't you see that I'm only very hot?'

'But where have you been? I waited dinner an hour for you. It's past two

o'clock!'

Kate did not know how to account for her absence from home, but after a

pause she answered, thinking of Mr. Lennox as she spoke, 'Mrs. Barnes kept

me waiting above an hour trying her dress on, and then I was so done up

with night-watching and sewing that I thought I'd go for a walk,' and after

wiping her weary hot face she asked her mother-in-law if many people had

been in the shop that morning.

'Well, yes, half a dozen or more,' Mrs. Ede answered, and began to recount

the different events of the morning. Mrs. White had bought one of the

aprons; she said she hadn't seen the pattern before; a stranger had taken

another; and Miss Sargent had called and wanted to know how much it would

cost to remake her blue dress.

'Oh, I know; she wants me to reline the skirt and put new trimming on the

bodice for seven and sixpence; we can do without her custom. What then?'

'And then--ah! I was forgetting--Mrs. West came in to tell us that her

friend Mrs. Wood, the bookseller's wife, you know, up the street, was going

to be confined, and would want some baby-linen, and she recommended her

here.'

'Did you see nobody else?'

'Well, yes, a young man who bought half a dozen pocket-handkerchiefs; I let

him have the half-dozen for four shillings; and I sold a pink necktie to

one of the factory hands over the way.'

'Why, mother, you've done a deal of business, and I'm glad about the

baby-linen. We've a lot in stock, and it hasn't gone off well. I don't know

Mrs. Wood, but it's very kind of Mrs. West to recommend us; and how has

Hender been getting on with the skirt?'

'Well, I must say she has been working very well; she was here at half-past

eight, and she did not stop away above three-quarters of an hour for

dinner.'

'I'm glad of that, for I was never so backward in my life with my work,

what with Ralph being ill and Mr. ----'

Kate tried here to stop herself. The conversation had so far been an

agreeable one, and she did not wish to spoil it by alluding to a subject on

which there was no likelihood of their agreeing. But her mother-in-law,

guessing that Kate was thinking of the mummer, said, 'Yes, I wanted to talk

to you about that. He hasn't sent anyone to take away his things, and he

didn't even speak when I took him up his breakfast this morning.'

'I don't think Mr. Lennox is leaving us,' she answered, after a pause. 'I

thought it was settled last night that he was to be told that he mustn't

bring friends home after eleven o'clock at night. When I see him I'll speak

to him about it.'

'The house is yours, deary. If you're satisfied, I am.' And Kate walked

into the kitchen, and when she had finished her dinner she went upstairs to

see Ralph, whom Mrs. Ede declared to be much better. On passing the

workroom the door opened suddenly and the bright faces of the little girls

darted out.

'Oh, is that you, Mrs. Ede? How we've missed you all the morning!' Annie

cried.

'And Miss Hender has been so busy that she had to get me to help her with

the skirt, and I did a great long piece myself without a mistake. Didn't I,

Miss Hender?'

'I'm going to see my husband,' said Kate, smiling; 'but I shall be down

presently, and I've bought something for you.'

'Oh, what is it?' cried Annie excitedly.

'You shall see presently.'

Ralph was lying still in bed, propped up in his usual attitude, with his

legs tucked under him.

'Don't you think we might open something?' she said, as she sat down by the

bedside; 'and your sheets want changing.'

'Oh, if you've only come in to turn everything upside-down, you might as

well have stayed away.' He spoke with difficulty, in a thin wheeze.

'I think the pills did me good last night,' he said, after a pause; and

then added, laughing as much as his breath would allow him, 'and what a

rage mother was in! But tell me, what were they doing downstairs? Were

there any ladies there? I was too bad to think of anything.'

'Yes, some of the ladies from the theatre,' Kate answered. 'But I don't

think mother had a right to kick up all the row she did.'

'And it just came in upon her prayers,' Ralph replied, smiling.

Although cross-grained, Mr. Ede was not always an unpleasant man, and often

in sudden flashes of affection the kind heart of his mother was

recognizable in him.

'You mustn't laugh, Ralph,' said Kate, looking aside, for the comic side of

the question had suddenly dawned upon her.

But their hilarity was not of long endurance. Ralph was seized with a fit

of coughing, and when this was over he lay back exhausted. At last he said:

'But where have you been all the day? We've been wondering what had become

of you.'

The question, although not put unkindly, annoyed Kate. 'One would think I'd

come back from a long journey', she said to herself. 'It's just as Hender

says; if I'm out half an hour more than my time everyone is, as they say,

"wondering what has become of me."' Assuming an air of indifference, she

told him that Mrs. Barnes kept her a long time, and that she went for a

walk afterwards.

'I'm glad of that,' he said. 'You wanted a walk after being shut up with me

three nights running. And what a time you must have had of it! But tell me

what you've been doing in the shop.'

She told him that 'mother' had sold all the aprons, and he said: 'I knew

they'd sell. I told you so, didn't I?'

'You did, dear,' said Kate, seeking to satisfy him; 'but you mustn't talk

so much; you'll make yourself bad again.'

'But are you going?'

'I've been out so long that I've a lot to do; but I'll come back and see

you in the evening.'

'Well, then, kiss me before you go.'

As she kissed him, she remembered the struggle in the potteries, and it

appeared strange to her that she should now be giving as a matter of course

what she had refused an hour ago. She had always complied with the

ordinances of the marriage state without passion or revolt, but now it

disgusted her to kiss her husband, and as she stepped into the passage she

almost walked into Mr. Lennox's room unconsciously, without knowing what

she was doing, beguiled by the natural sentiment that a woman feels in the

room of a man she is interested in. Hoping that Mrs. Ede had not yet set

everything straight, she went on to make sure. Slippers and boots lay

about; the portmanteau yawned wide open, with some soiled shirts on the

top; a pair of trousers trailed from a chair on the floor. Annoyed at the

mother's negligence, Kate hung the trousers on the door, placed the

slippers tidily by his bedside, and put away the soiled linen. But in doing

so she could not refrain from glancing at the contents of the portmanteau.

She saw many of the traces which follow those who frequent women's society.

The duchess works a pair of slippers for her lover, and the chorus-girl

does the same. The merchant's wife, as she holds the loved hand under the

ledge of her box at the theatre, clasps the ring she had given; the rich

widow opposite has a jewel-case in her pocket which will presently be sent

round to the stage-door for the tenor, who is now thinking of his high B

flat.

Under the shirts Kate found a pair of slippers, a pin-cushion, and the

inevitable ring. But there were other presents more characteristic of the

man: there was a bracelet, a scent-bottle, and two pots of _pâté de foie

gras_ wrapped up in a lace-trimmed chemise. Kate examined everything,

but without being able to adduce any conclusion beyond a vague surmise that

Lennox lived in a different world from hers. The _foie gras_ suggested

delicacy of living, the chemise immorality, the bottle of scent refinement

of taste; the bracelet she could make nothing of. Prosaic and vulgar as

were all these articles, in the dressmaker's imagination they became both

poetized and purified. An infinite sadness, that she could not explain,

rose up through her mind, and, staring vaguely at the pious exhortations

hung on the wall--'Thou art my will,' 'Thou art my hope'--she thought of

Mr. Lennox's wounded legs, and asked herself if his bed were soft, and if

she could do anything to make him more comfortable. It vexed her to see

that he had chosen to use the basin-stand made out of a triangular board

set in a corner instead of the proper one, where she had hung two clean

towels; and it was not until she remembered the little girls that she was

able to tear herself away.

'What have you got for us?' said four red lips as Kate entered.

'Oh, you must guess,' she replied, taking a chair, and bidding Miss Hender

good-morning.

'An apple?' cried Annie.

'No.'

'An orange?' cried Lizzie.

Kate shook her head, and at the sight of their bright looks she felt her

spirits return to her.

'No, it is sweetstuff.'

'Brandy balls?'

'No.'

'Toffee.'

'Yes; Annie has guessed right,' said Kate, as she divided the toffee

equally between the two.

'And do I get nothing for guessing right?' said Annie doubtfully.

'Oh, for shame, Annie! I didn't think you were greedy!'

'I think I ought to have the most,' replied Lizzie in self-defence. 'Had it

not been for me Miss Hender would never have got through her skirt. I

helped you famously, didn't I, Miss Hender?'

The assistant nodded an impatient assent and gazed at her mistress

curiously. But while the children were present, she could only watch her

employer's face, and strive to read it.

And unconscious of the scrutiny, Kate sat idly talking of the skirt that

was finished. The clicking of the needles sounded as music in her ears, and

she abandoned herself to all sorts of soft and floating reveries. Not for

years had she known what it was to take her fill of rest; and her thoughts

swayed, now on one side and then on the other, as voluptuously as flowers,

and hid themselves in the luxurious current of idleness which lapped

loosely around her.

The afternoon passed delightfully, full of ease and pleasant quiet, Hender

telling them how _Les Cloches_ had gone the night before: of Miss

Leslie's spirited singing, of the cider song, of Joe Mortimer's splendid

miser scene, of Bret's success in the barcarole. So eagerly did she speak

of them that one would have thought she herself had received the applause

she described. Kate listened dreamily, and the little girls sucked toffee,

staring the while with interested eyes.