Our second committee-meeting left us spent and weary. In making our
programme we began to question the wisdom of presenting to working-women
the scepticism and doubt and denial of modern English literature. We
wandered off into a wilderness of abstract questions, and, as usual,
lost our way.
Suddenly the door opened, and the Lad strode in.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, retreating.
We urged him to enter, saying that our work was done.
He brought with him the freshness of the open air. A wave of
cheerfulness swept over us, and we remembered that the sun was shining
out of doors.
“It is a glorious day,” observed the Lad. “I have just come in.”
“I must go out for a walk,” said the Doctor, rising.
The Altruist followed, and Janet would have gone, but the Lad looked at
her entreatingly.
“Oh, don’t go!” he begged, with no perception of the fact that his
remark was embarrassing. “I have so many things to say to you.”
To my great surprise the girl smiled and lingered. When Janet chose to
be gracious, she was very gracious indeed.
I kindly took up my notes to make out the minutes of the meeting, and my
young friends seated themselves by the window.
“You all looked rather blue when I came in,” remarked the Lad.
“We were,” said Janet. “We had been talking of the future of the human
soul as argued by Tennyson, and assumed by Browning, and ignored by
Swinburne. You see, we can’t decide whether to teach the lower classes
doubt or conviction.”
The Lad was too much in earnest to notice the irony.
“I don’t see why you are all so troubled about a life beyond this,” he
said. “Immortality isn’t the question, is it, while we have this world
on our hands?”
“It is at least very human,” the girl answered, “as we cannot conduct
this life properly, to ask for another and a larger one to spoil.”
“But this one is so satisfactory!” cried the Lad. “The mere delight in
breathing is enough, if we cannot have anything else. I don’t feel the
need of metaphysical certainties so long as I can feel the pulses beat,
as they do beat in my wrists.”
“What if your physical joy in living should change into physical pain?”
asked Janet, gravely.
“Suppose we talk of something else,” suggested the Lad. “We never get
anywhere in discussing questions like this.”
“Except into corners in the argument,” retorted Janet, smiling
maliciously. “You are in one now.”
“Well, I’m very happy there,” laughed the Lad.
That was only too evident.
They stayed, talking eagerly of Heaven knows what, until the sun went
down. It made a golden background for the profiles outlined against the
window-pane. Stray locks of Janet’s hair were touched into sombre
brightness, and the colour in her cheeks grew warm and red.
The Lad was gazing at her with softly shining eyes.