The Daughters of Danaus Part 3

"If one is to believe what one hears and reads," said Algitha, "life must be full of sorrow indeed."

"But putting aside the big sorrows," said her sister, "the ordinary every day existence that would be called prosperous, seems to me to be dull and stupid to a tragic extent."

"The Gordons of Drumgarran once more! I confess I can't see anything particularly tragic there," observed Fred, whose memory recalled troops of stalwart young persons in flannels, engaged for hours, in sending a ball from one side of a net to the other.

"It is more than tragic; it is disgusting!" cried Hadria with a shiver.

Algitha drew herself together. She turned to her eldest brother.

"Look here, Ernest; you said just now that girls were shielded from the realities of life. Yet Mrs. Gordon was handed over by her protectors, when she was little more than a school-girl, without knowledge, without any sort of resource or power of facing destiny, to--well, to the hateful realities of the life that she has led now for over twenty years. There is nothing to win general sympathy in this case, for Mr.

Gordon is good and kind; but oh, think of the existence that a 'protected,' carefully brought-up girl may be launched into, before she knows what she is pledged to, or what her ideas of life may be! If _that_ is what you call protection, for heaven's sake let us remain defenceless."

Fred and Ernest accused their elder sister of having been converted by Hadria. Algitha, honest and courageous in big things and in small, at once acknowledged the source of her ideas. Not so long ago, Algitha had differed from the daughters of the neighbouring houses, rather in force of character than in sentiment.

She had followed the usual aims with unusual success, giving unalloyed satisfaction to her proud mother. Algitha had taken it as a matter of course that she would some day marry, and have a house of her own to reign in. A home, not a husband, was the important matter, and Algitha had trusted to her attractions to make a good marriage; that is, to obtain extensive regions for her activities. She craved a roomy stage for her drama, and obviously there was only one method of obtaining it, and even that method was but dubious. But Hadria had undermined this matter of fact, take-things-as-you-find-them view, and set her sister's pride on the track. That master-pa.s.sion once aroused in the new direction, Algitha was ready to defend her dignity as a woman, and as a human being, to the death. Hadria felt as a magician might feel, who has conjured up spirits henceforth beyond his control; for obviously, her sister's whole life would be altered by this change of sentiment, and, alas, her mother's hopes must be disappointed. The laird of Clarenoc--a fine property, of which Algitha might have been mistress--had received polite discouragement, much to his surprise and that of the neighbourhood. Even Ernest, who was by no means worldly, questioned the wisdom of his sister's decision; for the laird of Clarenoc was a good fellow, and after all, let them talk as they liked, what was to become of a girl unless she married? This morning's conversation therefore touched closely on burning topics.

"Mrs. Gordon's people meant it for the best, I suppose," Ernest observed, "when they married her to a good man with a fine property."

"That is just the ghastly part of it!" cried Hadria; "from ferocious enemies a girl might defend herself, but what is she to do against the united efforts of devoted friends?"

"I don't suppose Mrs. Gordon is aware that she is so ill-used!"

"Another gruesome circ.u.mstance!" cried Hadria, with a half laugh; "for that only proves that her life has dulled her self-respect, and destroyed her pride."

"But, my dear, every woman is in the same predicament, if predicament it be!"

"What a consolation!" Hadria exclaimed, "_all_ the foxes have lost their tails!"

"It may be illogical, but people generally are immensely comforted by that circ.u.mstance."

The conversation waxed warmer and more personal. Fred took a conservative view of the question. He thought that there were instincts implanted by Nature, which inspired Mrs. Gordon with a yearning for exactly the sort of existence that fate had a.s.signed to her. Algitha, who had been the recipient of that lady's tragic confidences, broke into a shout of laughter.

"Well, Harold Wilkins says----"

This name was also greeted with a yell of derision.

"I don't see why you girls always scoff so at Harold Wilkins," said Fred, slightly aggrieved, "he is generally thought a lot of by girls.

All Mrs. Gordon's sisters adore him."

"He needs no further worshippers," said Hadria.

Fred was asked to repeat the words of Harold Wilkins, but to soften them down if too severe.

"He laughs at your pet ideas," said Fred ruthlessly.

"Break it gently, Fred, gently."

"He thinks that a true woman esteems it her highest privilege to--well, to be like Mrs. Gordon."

"Wise and learned youth!" cried Hadria, resting her chin on her hand, and peering up into the blue sky, above the temple.

"_Fool!_" exclaimed Algitha.

"He says," continued Fred, determined not to spare those who were so overbearing in their scorn, "he says that girls who have ideas like yours will never get any fellow to marry them."

Laughter loud and long greeted this announcement.

"Laughter," observed Fred, when he could make himself heard, "is among the simplest forms of argument. Does this merry outburst imply that you don't care a b.u.t.ton whether you are able to get some one to marry you or not?"

"It does," said Algitha.

"Well, so I said to Wilkins, as a matter of fact, with my nose in the air, on your behalf, and Wilkins replied, 'Oh, it's all very well while girls are young and good-looking to be so high and mighty, but some day, when they are left out in the cold, and all their friends married, they may sing a different tune.' Feeling there was something in this remark,"

Fred continued, "I raised my nose two inches higher, and adopted the argument that _I_ also resort to _in extremis_. I laughed.

'Well, my dear fellow,' Wilkins observed calmly, 'I mean no offence, but what on earth is a girl to do with herself if she _doesn't_ marry?'"

"What did you reply?" asked Ernest with curiosity.

"Oh, I said that was an unimportant detail, and changed the subject."

Algitha was still scornful, but Hadria looked meditative.

"Harold Wilkins has a practical mind," she observed. "After all, he is right, when you come to consider it."

"_Hadria!_" remonstrated her sister, in dismay.

"We may as well be candid," said Hadria. "There _is_ uncommonly little that a girl can do (or rather that people will let her do) unless she marries, and that is why she so often does marry as a mere matter of business. But I wish Harold Wilkins would remember that fact, instead of insisting that it is our inherent and particular nature that urges us, one and all, to the career of Mrs. Gordon."

Algitha was obviously growing more and more ruffled. Fred tried in vain to soothe her feelings. He joked, but she refused to see the point. She would not admit that Harold Wilkins had facts on his side.

"If one simply made up one's mind to walk through all the hampering circ.u.mstances, who or what could stop one?" she asked.

"Algitha has evidently got some desperate plan in her head for making mincemeat of circ.u.mstances," cried Fred, little guessing that he had stated the exact truth.

"Do you remember that Mrs. Gordon herself waged a losing battle in early days, incredible as it may appear?" asked Hadria.

Algitha nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on the ground.

"She did not originally set out with the idea of being a sort of amiable cow. She once aspired to be quite human; she really did, poor thing!"

"Then why didn't she do it?" asked Algitha contemptuously.

"Instead of _doing_ a thing, she had to be perpetually struggling for the chance to do it, which she never achieved, and so she was submerged.

That seems to be the fatality in a woman's life."

"Well, there is one thing I am very sure of," announced Algitha, leaning majestically against a column of the temple, and looking like a beautiful Greek maiden, in her simple gown, "I do not intend to be a cow. I do not mean to fight a losing battle. I will not wait at home meekly, till some fool holds out his sceptre to me."

All eyes turned to her, in astonishment.

"But what are you going to do?" asked a chorus of voices. Hadria's was not among them, for she knew what was coming. The debate of last night, and this morning's discussion, had evidently brought to a climax a project that Algitha had long had in her mind, but had hesitated to carry out, on account of the distress that it would cause to her mother.