It was the wrong thing to say--a thoroughly stupid and heartless remark,
and she knew it. She would have given much for a little of the tact
which she felt instinctively to be her only weapon, but for the life of
her she could not subdue the smouldering anger that took hold of her at
the moment. She never for an instant doubted that Elizabeth was in some
way connected with this mad idea; it pleased her to think this, even
while it tormented her. The mother and daughter confronted each other;
their eyes were cold and hard.
"What's that?" said Colonel Ogden, leaning a little forward.
Joan turned to him. "I was telling Mother that I've decided on a career.
I'm going in for medicine."
"For _what_?"
"For medicine. Other girls have done it."
Her father rose unsteadily to his feet; he helped himself up by the arms
of his chair. Very slowly he pointed a fat, shaking finger at his wife.
"Mary, what did I tell you, what did I tell you, Mary? This is what
comes of Henrietta's iniquitous will. My God! Did I ever think to hear a
girl child of fifteen calmly stating what she intends to do? Does she
ask my permission? No, she states that she intends to be a doctor. A
doctor, my daughter! Good God! What next?" He turned on Joan: "You must
be mad," he told her. "It's positively indecent--an unsexing, indecent
profession for any woman, and any woman who takes it up is indecent and
unsexed. I say it without hesitation--indecent, positively immodest!"
"Indecent, Father?"
"Yes, and immodest; it's an outrageous suggestion!"
Mrs. Ogden took up her knitting again; the needles clicked irritatingly.
Once or twice she closed her eyes, but her hands moved incessantly.
"Joan!" She swallowed and spoke as if under a great restraint.
"Yes, Mother?"
"If you were a boy I would say this to you, and since you seem to have
chosen to assume an altogether ridiculous masculine role, listen to me.
There are things that a gentleman can do and things he cannot; no
gentleman can enter the medical profession, no Routledge has ever been
known to do such a thing. Our men have served their country; they have
served it gloriously, but a Routledge does not enter a middle-class
profession. I wish to keep quite calm, Joan. I can understand your
having acquired these strange ideas, for you have naturally been thrown
very much with Elizabeth, and Elizabeth is--well, not quite one of us;
but you will please remember who you are, and that I for one will never
tolerate your behaving other than as a member of my family. I----"
The colonel interrupted her. "Listen to me," he thundered. In his anger
he seemed to have regained some of his old vitality. "You listen to me,
young woman; I'll have none of this nonsense under my roof. You think, I
suppose, that your aunt has made you independent, but let me tell you
that for the next six years you're nothing of the kind. Not one penny
will I spend on any education that is likely to unsex a daughter of
mine. I'll have none of these new-fangled woman's rights ideas in my
house; you will stay at home like any other girl until such time as you
get married. You will marry; do you hear me? _That's_ a woman's
profession! A sawbones indeed! Do you think you're a boy? Have you gone
stark, staring mad?"
"No, I'm not mad," Joan said quietly, "but I don't think I shall marry,
Father."
"Not marry, and why not, pray?"
She did not attempt to explain, for she herself did not know what had
prompted her.
"I can wait," she told him. "It wouldn't be too late to begin when I'm
twenty-one."
He opened his mouth to roar at her, but the words did not come; instead
he fell back limply in his chair. Mrs. Ogden rushed to him. Joan stood
very still; she had no impulse to help him; she felt cold and numb with
anger.
"I think you've killed your father," said Mrs. Ogden unsteadily.
Joan roused herself. She looked into her mother's working face; they
stared at each other across the prostrate man.
"No," she said gravely, "it's you, both of you, who are trying to kill
me."
She went and fetched brandy, and together they forced some between the
pallid lips. After a little he stirred.
"You see, he's not dead," said Joan mechanically. "I'll go for the
doctor."
When the doctor came he shook his head.
"How did this happen?" he inquired.
"He got angry," Mrs. Ogden told him.
"But I warned you that he mustn't be excited, that you ought not to
excite him under any circumstances. Really, Mrs. Ogden, if you do, I
won't answer for the consequences."
"It was not _I_ who excited him," she said, and she looked at Joan.
Joan said: "Will he die, Doctor Thomas?" She could hear herself that her
voice was unnaturally indifferent.
The doctor looked at her in surprise. "Not this time, perhaps; in fact,
I'm pretty sure he'll pull round this time, but it mustn't happen
again."
"No," said Joan, "I understand; it mustn't happen again."
"Quite so," said the doctor dryly.
_BOOK III_