by George Moore
‘Sometimes he takes me out for a drink,’ Hender replied, anxious to avoid a discussion on the subject, but at the same time tempted to make a little boast of her independence. ‘But you must come to see Madame Angot; I hear it is going to be beautifully put on, and Mr. Lennox is sure to give you a ticket.’
‘I dare say I should like it very much; I don’t have much amusement.’
‘Indeed you don’t, and what do you get for it? I don’t see that Mr. Ede is so kind to you for all the minding and nursing you do; and old Mrs. Ede may repeat all day long that she’s a Christian woman, and what else she likes, but it doesn’t make her anything less disagreeable. I wouldn’t live in a house with a mother-in-law — and such a mother-in-law!’
‘You and Mrs. Ede never hit it off, but I don’t know what I should do without her; she’s the only friend I’ve got.’
‘Half your time you’re shut up in a sick-room, and even when he is well he’s always blowing and wheezing; not the man that would suit me.’
‘Ralph can’t help being cross sometimes,’ said Kate, and she fell to thinking of the fatigue of last night’s watching. She felt it still in her bones, and her eyes ached. As she considered the hardships of her life, her manner grew more abandoned.
‘If you’ll let me have the skirt, ma’am, I’ll stitch it up.’
Kate handed her the silk wearily, and was about to speak when Mrs. Ede entered.
‘Mr. Lennox is downstairs,’ she said stiffly. ‘I don’t know what you’ll think of him. I’m a Christian woman and I don’t want to misjudge anyone, but he looks to me like a person of very loose ways.’
Kate flushed a little with surprise, and after a moment she said:
‘I suppose I’d better go down and see him. But perhaps he won’t like the rooms after all. What shall I say to him?’
‘Indeed, I can’t tell you; I’ve the dinner to attend to.’
‘But,’ said Kate, getting frightened, ‘you promised me not to say any more on this matter.’
‘Oh, I say nothing. I’m not mistress here. I told you that I would not interfere with Mr. Lennox; no more will I. Why should I? What right have I? But I may warn you, and I have warned you. I’ve said my say, and I’ll abide by it.’
These hard words only tended to confuse Kate; all her old doubts returned to her, and she remained irresolute. Hender, with an expression of contempt on her coarse face, watched a moment and then returned to her sewing. As she did so Kate moved towards the door. She waited on the threshold, but seeing that her mother-in-law had turned her back, her courage returned to her and she went downstairs. When she caught sight of Mr. Lennox she shrank back frightened, for he was a man of about thirty years of age, with bronzed face, and a shock of frizzly hair, and had it not been for his clear blue eyes he might have passed for an Italian.
Leaning his large back against the counter, he examined a tray of ornaments in black jet. Kate thought he was handsome. He wore a large soft hat, which was politely lifted from his head when she entered. The attention embarrassed her, and somewhat awkwardly she interrupted him to ask if he would like to see the rooms. The suddenness of the question seemed to surprise him, and he began talking of their common acquaintance, the agent in advance, and of the difficulty in getting lodgings in the town. As he spoke he stared at her, and he appeared interested in the shop.
It was a very tiny corner, and, like a Samson, Mr. Lennox looked as if he would only have to extend his arms to pull the whole place down upon his shoulders. From the front window round to the kitchen door ran a mahogany counter; behind it, there were lines of cardboard boxes built up to the ceiling; the lower rows were broken and dusty, and spread upon wires were coarse shirts and a couple of pairs of stays in pink and blue. The windows were filled with babies’ frocks, hoods, and many pairs of little woollen shoes.
After a few remarks from Mr. Lennox the conversation came to a pause, and Kate asked him again if he would like to see the rooms. He said he would be delighted, and she lifted the flap and let him pass into the house. On the right of the kitchen door there was a small passage, and at the end of it the staircase began; the first few steps turned spirally, but after that it ascended like a huge canister or burrow to the first landing.
They passed Mrs. Ede gazing scornfully from behind the door of the workroom, but Mr. Lennox did not seem to notice her, and continued to talk affably of the difficulty of finding lodgings in the town.
Even the shabby gentility of the room, which his presence made her realize more vividly than ever, did not appear to strike him. He examined with interest the patchwork cloth that covered the round table, looked complacently at the little green sofa with the two chairs to match, and said that he thought he would be comfortable. But when Kate noticed how dusty was the pale yellow wall-paper, with its watery roses, she could not help feeling ashamed, and she wondered how so fine a gentleman as he could be so easily satisfied. Then, plucking up courage, she showed him the little mahogany chiffonier which stood next the door, and told him that it was there she would keep whatever he might order in the way of drinks. Mr. Lennox walked nearer to the small looking-glass engarlanded with green paper cut into fringes, twirled a slight moustache many shades lighter than his hair, and admired his white teeth.
The inspection of the drawing-room being over, they went up the second portion of the canister-like staircase, and after a turn and a stoop arrived at the bedroom.
‘I’m sorry you should see the room like this,’ Kate said. ‘I thought that my mother-in-law had got the room ready for you. I was obliged to sleep here last night; my husband—’
‘I assure you I take no objection to the fact of your having slept here,’ he replied gallantly.
Kate blushed, and an awkward silence followed.
As Mr. Lennox looked round an expression of dissatisfaction passed over his face. It was a much poorer place than the drawing-room. Religion and poverty went there hand-in-hand. A rickety iron bedstead covered with another patchwork quilt occupied the centre of the room, and there was a small chest of drawers in white wood placed near the fireplace — the smallest and narrowest in the world. Upon the black painted chimney-piece a large red apple made a spot of colour. The carpet was in rags, and the lace blinds were torn, and hung like fishnets. Mr. Lennox apparently was not satisfied, but when his eyes fell upon Kate it was clear that he thought that so pretty a woman might prove a compensation. But the pious exhortations hanging on the walls seemed to cause him a certain uneasiness. Above the washstand there were two cards bearing the inscriptions, ‘Thou art my hope,’ ‘Thou art my will’; and these declarations of faith were written within a painted garland of lilies and roses.
‘I see that you’re religious.’
‘I’m afraid not so much as I should be, sir.’
‘Well, I don’t know so much about that; the place is covered with Bible texts.’
‘Those were put there by my mother-in-law. She is very good.’
‘Oh ah,’ said Mr. Lennox, apparently much relieved by the explanation. ‘Old people are very pious, generally, aren’t they? But this patchwork quilt is yours, I suppose?’
‘Yes, sir; I made it myself,’ said Kate, blushing.
He made several attempts at conversation, but she did not respond, her whole mind being held up by the thought: ‘Is he going to take the rooms, I wonder?’ At last he said:
‘I like these apartments very well; and you say that I can have breakfast here?’
‘Oh, you can have anything you order, sir. I, or my mother, will—’
‘Very well, then; we may consider the matter settled. I’ll tell them to send down my things from the theatre.’
This seemed to conclude the affair, and they went downstairs. But Mr. Lennox stopped on the next landing, and without any apparent object re-examined the drawing-room. Speaking like a man who wanted to start a conversation, he manifested interest in everything, and asked questions concerning the rattle of the sewing-machine, which could be hea
rd distinctly; and before she could stop him he opened the door of the workroom. He wondered at all the brown-paper patterns that were hung on the walls, and Miss Hender, too eager to inform him, took advantage of the occasion to glide in a word to the effect that she was going to see him that evening at the theatre. Kate was amused, but felt it was her duty to take the first opportunity of interrupting the conversation. For some unexplained reason Mr. Lennox seemed loath to go, and it was with difficulty he was got downstairs. Even then he could not pass the kitchen door without stopping to speak to the apprentices. He asked them where they had found their brown hair and eyes, and attempted to exchange a remark with Mrs. Ede. Kate thought the encounter unfortunate, but it passed off better than she expected. Mrs. Ede replied that the little girls were getting on very well, and, apparently satisfied with this answer, Mr. Lennox turned to go. His manner indicated his Bohemian habits, for after all this waste of time he suddenly remembered that he had an appointment, and would probably miss it by about a quarter of an hour.
‘Will you require any dinner?’ asked Kate, following him to the door.
At the mention of the word ‘dinner’ he again appeared to forget all about his appointment. His face changed its expression, and his manner again grew confidential. He asked all kinds of questions as to what she could get him to eat, but without ever quite deciding whether he would be able to find time to eat it. Kate thought she had never seen such a man. At last in a fit of desperation, he said:
‘I’ll have a bit of cold steak. I haven’t the time to dine, but if you’ll put that out for me … I like a bit of supper after the theatre—’
Kate wished to ask him what he would like to drink with it, but it was impossible to get an answer. He couldn’t stop another minute, and, dodging the passers-by, he rushed rapidly down the street. She watched until the big shoulders were lost in the crowd, and asked herself if she liked the man who had just left her; but the answer slipped from her when she tried to define it, and with a sigh she turned into the shop and mechanically set straight those shirts that hung aslant on the traversing wires. At that moment Mrs. Ede came from the kitchen carrying a basin of soup for her sick son. She wanted to know why Kate had stayed so long talking to that man.
‘Talking to him!’ Kate repeated, surprised at the words and suspicious of an implication of vanity. ‘If we’re going to take his money it’s only right that we should try to make him comfortable.’
‘I doubt if his ten shillings a week will bring us much good,’ Mrs. Ede answered sourly; and she went upstairs, backbone and principles equally rigid, leaving Kate to fume at what she termed her mother-in-law’s unreasonableness.
But Kate had no time to indulge in many angry thoughts, for the tall gaunt woman returned with tears in her eyes to beg pardon.
‘I’m so sorry, dear. Did I speak crossly? I’ll say no more about the actor, I’ll promise.’
‘I don’t see why I should be bullied in my own house,’ Kate answered, feeling that she must assert herself. ‘Why shouldn’t I let my rooms to Mr. Lennox if I like?’
‘You’re right,’ Mrs. Ede replied— ‘I’ve said too much; but don’t turn against me, Kate.’
‘No, no, mother; I don’t turn against you. You’re the only person I have to love.’
At these words a look of pleasure passed over the hard, blunt features of the peasant woman, and she said with tears in her voice:
‘You know I’m a bit hard with my tongue, but that’s all; I don’t mean it.’
‘Well, say no more, mother,’ and Kate went upstairs to her workroom. Miss Hender, already returned from dinner, was trembling with excitement, and she waited impatiently for the door to be shut that she might talk. She had been round to see her friend the stage carpenter, and he had told her all about the actor. Mr. Lennox was the boss; Mr. Hayes, the acting manager, was a nobody, generally pretty well boozed; and Mr. Cox, the London gent, didn’t travel.
Kate listened, only half understanding what was said.
‘And what part does he play in Madame Angot?’ she asked as she bent her head to examine the bead trimmings she was stitching on to the sleeves.
‘The low comedy part,’ said Miss Hender; but seeing that Kate did not understand, she hastened to explain that the low comedy parts meant the funny parts.
‘He’s the man who’s lost his wig — La — La Ravodée, I think they call it — and a very nice man he is. When I was talking to Bill I could see Mr. Lennox between the wings; he had his arm round Miss Leslie’s shoulder. I’m sure he’s sweet on her.’
Kate looked up from her work and stared at Miss Hender slowly. The announcement that Mr. Lennox was the funny man was disappointing, but to hear that he was a woman’s lover turned her against him.
‘All those actors are alike. I see now that my mother-in-law was right. I shouldn’t have let him my rooms.’
‘One’s always afraid of saying anything to you, ma’am; you twist one’s words so. I’m sure I didn’t mean to say there was any harm between him and Miss Leslie. There, perhaps you’ll go and tell him that I spoke about him.’
‘I’m sure I shall do nothing of the sort. Mr. Lennox has taken my rooms for a week, and there’s an end of it. I’m not going to interfere in his private affairs.’
The conversation then came to a pause, and all that was heard for a long time was the clicking of the needle and the rustling of silk. Kate wondered how it was that Mr. Lennox was so different off the stage from what he was when on; and it seemed to her strange that such a nice gentleman — for she was obliged to admit that he was that — should choose to play the funny parts. As for his connection with Miss Leslie, that of course was none of her business. What did it matter to her? He was in love with whom he pleased. She’d have thought he was a man who would not easily fall in love; but perhaps Miss Leslie was very pretty, and, for the matter of that, they might be going to be married. Meanwhile Miss Hender regretted having told Kate anything about Mr. Lennox. The best and surest way was to let people find out things for themselves, and having an instinctive repugnance to virtue — at least, to questions of conscience — she could not abide whining about spilt milk. Beyond an occasional reference to their work, the women did not speak again, until at three o’clock Mrs. Ede announced that dinner was ready. There was not much to eat, however, and Kate had little appetite, and she was glad when the meal was finished. She had then to help Mrs. Ede in getting the rooms ready, and when this was done it was time for tea. But not even this meal did they get in comfort, for Mr. Lennox had ordered a beefsteak for supper; somebody would have to go to fetch it. Mrs. Ede said she would, and Kate went into the shop to attend to the few customers who might call in the course of the evening. The last remarkable event in this day of events was the departure of Miss Hender, who came downstairs saying she had only just allowed herself time to hurry to the theatre; she feared she wouldn’t be there before the curtain went up, and she was sorry Kate wasn’t coming, but she would tell her to-morrow all about Mr. Lennox, and how the piece went. As Kate bade her assistant good-night a few customers dropped in, all of whom gave a great deal of trouble. She had to pull down a number of packages to find what was wanted. Then her next-door neighbour, the stationer’s wife, called to ask after Mr. Ede and to buy a reel of cotton; and so, in evening chat, the time passed, until the fruiterer’s boy came to ask if he should put up the shutters.
Kate nodded, and remarked to her friend, who had risen to go, what a nice, kind man Mr. Jones was.
‘Yes, indeed, they are very kind people, but their prices are very high. Do you deal with them?’
Kate replied that she did; and, as the fruiterer’s boy put up the shutters with a series of bangs, she tried to persuade her neighbour to buy a certain gown she had been long talking of.
‘Trimming and everything, it won’t cost you more than thirty shillings; you’ll want something fresh now that summer’s coming on.’
‘So I shall. I’ll speak to my man about it to-night. I
think he’ll let me have it.’
‘He won’t refuse you if you press him.’
‘Well, we shall see,’ and bidding Kate good-night she passed into the street.
The evening was fine, and Kate stood for a long while watching the people surging out of the potteries towards Piccadilly. ‘Coming out,’ she said, ‘for their evening walk,’ and she was glad that the evening was fine. ‘After a long day in the potteries they want some fresh air,’ and then, raising her eyes from the streets, she watched the sunset die out of the west; purple and yellow streaks still outlined the grey expanse of the hills, making the brick town look like a little toy. An ugly little brick town — brick of all colours: the pale reddish-brown of decaying brick-yards, the fierce red brick of the newly built warehouses that turns to purple, and above the walls scarlet tiled roofs pointing sharp angles to a few stars.
Kate stood watching the fading of the hills into night clouds, interested in her thoughts vaguely — her thoughts adrift and faded somewhat as the spectacle before her. She wondered if her lodger would be satisfied with her mother’s cooking; she hoped so. He was a well-spoken man, but she could not hope to change mother. As the image of the lodger floated out of her mind Hender’s came into it, and she hoped the girl would not get into trouble. So many poor girls are in trouble; how many in the crowd passing before her door? The difficulty she was in with Mrs. Barnes’s dress suggested itself, and with a shiver and a sigh she shut the street-door and went upstairs. The day had passed; it was gone like a hundred days before it — wearily, perhaps, yet leaving in the mind an impression of something done, of duties honestly accomplished.
III
‘OH, MA’AM!’ HENDER broke in, ‘you can’t think how amusing it was last night! I never enjoyed myself so much in my life. The place was crammed! Such a house! And Miss Leslie got three encores and a call after each act.’
