The TurnstileMason, A. E. W. (Alfred Edward Woodley)
General
The Turnstile
Mason, A. E. W. (Alfred Edward Woodley)
Fiction
He entered late, as it were, upon his youth; the arts swept into his
view, a glittering procession, and enchanted him. All was new to him
as to a child. The natural charm of the man found an outlet; he had
good-humor now, and a pleasant friendliness. Gradually the doors of
great houses had been opened to him--and he had looked in. It was to
his credit that he had only looked in. He had come away unspoilt,
uncaptured. But though he recognized that for him the world had become
wonderfully a place of amenities, he had not forgotten that as a boy
he had been forced to walk in the road; and the dust of it was still
bitter in his mouth. "For those who come after me," he had said to
himself, "it shall not be so," and he was in a hurry to set about the
change. To create peasant proprietors? There was a world of obstacles
in the way. To create tenants of the State? A single budget would
suffice. Fanshawe's scheme should be the chief item in the government
programme of next year, and Captain Rames must look to himself if he
stood firm to oppose it.
Captain Rames, on his side, had no intention to give way. He drove
away from the House that night with Cynthia, and in the carriage he
said:
"I shall put up as big a fight as I can, Cynthia, on this question."
"Against Mr. Devenish?"
"Yes."
Cynthia was silent, and Harry Rames turned to her swiftly with a
question upon his lips. "You think it rash?" he was going to ask, but
he never did. He saw her eyes shining at him out of the darkness, and
in a low tone she said:
"You feel very strongly about it, strongly enough to risk your future.
Oh, I am so glad!"
There was a throb of joy in her voice. She was still a girl. Though
she professed to laugh at the enchanted garden of her dreams, there
was still some yearning for it at her heart. The men with ideas had
peopled it. It seemed that after all her husband, since at all costs
he meant to stand up against Mr. Devenish for an idea, must be one of
them. But a slight, almost an uneasy gesture, which Harry made,
stopped her on the threshold of a great happiness. She lay back,
chilled with disappointment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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