England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"Indeed, you are mistaken," said her aunt, vehemently. It seemed
particularly hard that her favourite protégée should have deserted her
principles, just as she had been driven to the last limit of endurance
by her own daughter. "Every woman must do her own work, and no one
else can do it for her."
"Then why do you always say the labour market is so overcrowded?"
asked Marion, making a mischievous application of the knowledge she
had so unwillingly absorbed. But she was not heeded.
"It is the mass we have to consider, not the individual," continued
the Honourable Mrs. Keeley, as though she were addressing the room
from a platform. "It is for lesser women than ourselves to look after
the home and the parish; there is a far wider sphere reserved for such
as you and I. It would be a perfect scandal if you were to throw
yourself away on the narrowness of the domestic circle."
Katharine felt a hysterical desire to laugh, which she controlled with
difficulty. She spoke very humbly, instead.
"It must be my own fault, if I have allowed you to think all these
things about me," she said. "There is nothing great reserved for me; I
am just a complete failure, and that is the end of all my ambition and
all my conceit. I wish some one had told me I was conceited, before I
got so bad."
The Honourable Mrs. Keeley was silenced at last. None of her
experience of working gentlewomen helped her to meet the present
situation. A woman with a great future before her had obviously no
right to be humble. But Marion realised gleefully that she had gained
a new and unexpected ally.
"I always said you were much too jolly to belong to mamma's set," she
observed; at which the angered feelings of her mother compelled her to
seek comfort in solitude, and she made some excuse for retiring to her
boudoir, and left the two rebels together. They looked at one another
and broke into mutual merriment. But Marion laughed the loudest,--a
fact that she herself was the first to appreciate.
"Kitty," she said suddenly, growing grave, "I am so sorry, dear!
What's up, and who has been treating you badly?"
She strolled away immediately to pour out tea, and Katharine had time
to recover from surprise at her unusual penetration.
"How did you know?" she asked, slowly.
"I guessed, because--oh, you looked like it, or something! Don't ask
me to give a reason for anything I say, _please_. It isn't my
business, of course, and I don't want to know a thing about it if you
would rather not tell; only, I'm sorry if you're cut up, that's all.
Did you chuck him, or did it never get so far as that? There, I really
don't want you to tell me about it. Of course, he was much older than
you, and much wickeder, and he flirted atrociously with you and you
were taken in by him, you poor little innocent dear! I know all about
it, and the way they get hold of girls like you who are not up to
their wiles. He was married, too, of course? They always are, the
worst ones."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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