CHAPTER XVI
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.