The Old Maids' Club

by Israel Zangwill

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  THE BEAUTIFUL GHOUL.

  Wee Winnie called at the Club, while the President was still under thecloud of depression, and Lillie had to force herself to look cheerful,lest Miss Nimrod should mistake the melancholy, engendered by so manyrevelations of the seamy side of life, for loss of faith in the Club orits prospects.

  Avid of experience as was the introspective little girl, she felt almostfated for the present.

  Miss Nimrod was astonished to hear of the number of rejections, and tolearn that she had whipped up the Writers, and the Junior Widows, andher private friends to such little purpose. But in the end she agreedwith Lillie that, as no doubt somewhere or other in the wide universeideal Old Maids were blooming and breathing, it would be folly to clogthemselves up in advance with inferior specimens.

  The millionaire, who was pottering about in blue spectacles, strolledinto the club while Wee Winnie was uttering magnificent rhapsodies aboutthe pages the Club would occupy in the histories of England, but thistime Lillie was determined the dignity of the by-laws should bemaintained, and had her father shown out by Turple the magnificent. MissNimrod went, too, and so Lord Silverdale had the pleasure of findingLillie alone.

  "You ought to present me with a pair of white gloves," he said,gleefully.

  "Why?" asked Lillie.

  "I haven't had a single candidate to try for days."

  "No," said Lillie with a suspicion of weariness in her voice. "They allbroke down in the elementary stage."

  Even as she spoke Turple the magnificent ushered in Miss MargaretLinbridge. Lord Silverdale, doubly vexed at having been a little tooprevious in the counting of his chickens, took up his hat to go, butLillie murmured: "Please amuse yourself in the library for a quarter ofan hour, as I may want you to do the trying at once."

  "How do you expect me to amuse myself in the library?" he grumbled. "Youdon't keep one of my books."

  Miss Margaret Linbridge's story was simple, almost commonplace.

  "I had spent Christmas with a married sister in Plymouth," she said,"and was returning to London by the express on the first of January. Myprospects for the New Year were bright--or seemed so to my thenunsophisticated eyes. I was engaged to be married to RichardWestbourne--a good and good-looking young man, not devoid of pecuniaryattractions. My brother, with whom I lived and on whom I was dependent,was a struggling young firework-manufacturer, and would, I knew, be gladto see me married, even if it cost him a portion of his stock to expresshis joy. The little seaside holiday had made me look my prettiest, andwhen my brother-in-law saw me into a first-class carriage and left mewith a fraternally-legal kiss, I rather pitied him for having to go backto my sister. There was only one other person in the carriage besidemyself--a stern old gentleman, who sat crumpled up in the oppositecorner and read a paper steadily.

  "The train flew along the white frosty landscape at express rates, butthe old gentleman never looked up from his paper. The temperature waschill and I coughed. The old gentleman evinced no symptom of sympathy. Irolled up my veil the better to see the curmudgeon, and smiled to thinkwhat a fool he was, but he betrayed no sign of sharing my amusement.

  "At last, as he was turning his page, I said in my most dulcet tones:'Oh, pray excuse my appropriating the entire foot-warmer. I don't knowwhy there is only one, but I will share it with you with pleasure.'

  "'Thank you,' he said gruffly, 'I'm not cold.'

  "'Oh, aren't you!' I murmured inwardly, adding aloud with a severewintry tone, 'Gentlemen of your age usually are.'

  "'Yes, but I'm not a gentleman of my age,' he growled, mistaking theimbecile statement for repartee.

  "'I beg your pardon,' said I. 'I was judging by appearances. Is that the_Saturday Slasher_ you have there?'

  "He shook himself impatiently. 'No, it is not.'

  "'I beg your pardon,' said I. 'I was again judging by appearances. May Iask what it is?'

  "'_Threepenny Bits!_' he jerked back.

  "'What's that?' I asked. 'I know _Broken Bits_.'

  "'This is a superior edition of _Broken Bits_ at the price indicated bythe title. It contains the same matter, but is issued at a price adaptedto the means of the moneyed and intellectual classes. No self-respectingperson can be seen reading penny weeklies--it throws doubt not only onhis income, but on his mental calibre. The idea of this first-classedition (so to speak) should make the fortune of the proprietor, anddeservedly so. Of course, the thousand pound railway assurance scheme islikewise trebled, though this part of the paper does not attract mepersonally, for my next-of-kin is a hypocritical young rogue. Butimagine the horror of being found dead with a penny weekly in one'spocket! You can't even explain it away.'

  "He had hardly finished the sentence before a terrible shock, as of aton of dynamite exploding under the foot-warmer, lifted me into the air;the carriage collapsed like matchwood, and I had the feeling of beingthrown into the next world. For a moment I recovered a gleam ofconsciousness, just enough to show me I was lying dying amid the_debris_, and that my companion lay, already dead, in a fragment of thecompartment, _Threepenny Bits_ clenched in his lifeless hand.

  "With a last fond touch I smoothed my hair, which had got rather ruffledin the catastrophe, and extracting with infinite agony a puff from mypocket I dabbed it spasmodically over my face. I dared not consult myhand-mirror, I was afraid it would reveal a distorted countenance andunnecessarily sadden my last moments. Whatever my appearance, I had donemy best for it, and I wanted to die with the consciousness of dutyfulfilled. Murmuring a prayer that those who found my body would notimitate me in judging by appearances, if they should prove discreditableafter all, I closed my eyes upon the world in which I had been so youngand happy. My whole life passed in review before me, all my dearly lovedbonnets, my entire wardrobe from infancy upwards. Now I was an innocentchild with a white sash and pink ribbons, straying amid the sunnymeadows and plucking the daisies to adorn my hats; anon a merry maidensporting amid the jocund schoolboys and receiving tribute in toffy; thenagain a sedate virgin in original gowns and tailor-made jackets.Suddenly a strange idea jostled through the throng of bitter-sweetmemories. _Threepenny Bits!_

  "The old gentleman's next-of-kin would come in for three thousandpounds! I should die and leave nothing to my relatives but regrets; mygenerous brother would be forever inconsolable now, and my funeral mightbe mean and unworthy. And yet if the old misogynist had only beencourteous enough to lend me the paper, seeing I had nothing to read, itmight have been found on my body. _De mortuis nil nisi bonum._ Whyreveal his breach of etiquette to the world? Why should I not enable himto achieve posthumous politeness! Besides, his heir was a hypocriticalrogue, and it were a crime against society to place so large a sum athis disposal. Overwhelmed as I was by the agonies of death, I steeledmyself to this last duty. I wriggled painfully towards the corpse, andstretching out my neatly-gloved fingers, with a last mighty effort Ipulled the paper cautiously from the dead hand which lay heavy upon it.Then I clasped it passionately to my heart and died."

  _I pulled the paper from the dead hand._]

  "Died?" echoed Lillie excitedly.

  "Well--lost consciousness. You are particular to a shade. Myself I seeno difference between a fainting fit and death except that one attack ofthe latter is fatal."

  "As to that," answered Lillie. "I consider we die every night and dreamwe are alive. To fall asleep is to die painlessly. It is, perhaps, apity we are resurrected to tea and toast and toilette. However, I amglad you did not really die. I feared I was in for a tale ofre-incarnation or spooks or hypnotism or telepathy or astral bodies. Onehears so many marvellous stories, now that we have left off believing inmiracles. Really, man's credulity is the perpetual miracle."

  "I have not left off believing in miracles," replied Miss Linbridgeseriously. "How could I? Was I not saved by one? A very gallant miracle,too, for it took no trouble to save my crusty old fellow-traveller,while it left me without
a scratch. I am afraid I should not have beengrateful for salvation without good looks. To face life without a prettyface were worse than death. You agree with me?"

  "Not entirely. There are higher things in life than beautiful faces,"said Lillie gravely.

  "Certainly. Beautiful bonnets," said the candidate with laughing levity."And lower things--beautiful boots. But you would not seriously arguethat there is anything else so indispensable to a woman as beauty, orthat to live plain is worth the trouble of living?"

  "Why not? Plain living and high thinking!" murmured Lillie.

  "All nonsense! We needn't pretend--we aren't with men. You would talkdifferently if you were born ugly! Goodness gracious, don't we know thata girl may have a whole cemetery of virtues and no man will look at herif she is devoid of charms of face or purse. It's all nonsense whatRuskin says about a well-bred modest girl being necessarily beautiful.It is only a pleasing fiction that morality is invaluable to thecomplexion. Of course if Ruskin's girl chose to dress with care, shecould express her goodness less plainly; but as a rule goodness anddowdiness are synonymous. I think the function of a woman is to lookwell, and our severest reprobation should be extended to thoseconscienceless creatures who allow themselves to be seen in the companyof gentlemen in frumpish attire. It is a breach of etiquette towards theother sex. A woman must do credit to the man who stakes his reputationfor good taste by being seen in her society. She must achieve beauty forhis sake, and should no more leave her boudoir without it than if shewere an actress leaving her dressing-room."

  "That the man expects the woman to make his friends envy him is true,"answered Lillie, "and I have myself expressed this in yonder epigram,_It is man who is vain of woman's dress_. But were we created merely togratify man's vanity?"

  "Is not that a place in nature to be vain of? We are certainly not proudof him. Think of the average husband over whom the woman has to shed thehalo of her beauty. It is like poetry and prose bound together. It isbecause I intend to be permanently beautiful that I have come to cast inmy lot with the Old Maids' Club. Your rules ordain it so--and rightly."

  "The Club must be beautiful, certainly, but merely to escape beingtwitted with ugliness by the shallow; for the rest, it should disdainbeauty. However, pray continue your story. It left off at a mostinteresting point. You lost consciousness!"

  "Yes, but as my chivalrous miracle had saved me from damage, I was foundunconsciously beautiful (which I have always heard is the most gracefulway of wearing your beauty). I soon came to myself with the aid of adark-eyed doctor, and I then learnt that the old gentleman had been tooweak to sustain the shock and that his poor old pulse had ceased tobeat. My rescuers had not disturbed _Threepenny Bits_ from its position'twixt my hand and heart in case I should die and need it; so when theline was cleared and I was sent on to London after a pleasant lunch withthe dark-eyed doctor, I had the journal to read after all, despite thediscourtesy of the deceased. When I arrived at Paddington I foundRichard Westbourne walking the platform like Hamlet's ghost, white andtrembling. He was scanning the carriages feverishly, as the train glidedin with its habitual nonchalance.

  "'My darling!' he cried when he caught sight of my dainty hat with itssweet trimmings. 'Thank Heaven!' He twisted the door violently open andkissed me before the crowd. Fortunately I had my lovely spotted veil alldown, so he only pressed the tulle to my lips.

  "'What is the matter?' I said ingenuously.

  "'The accident!' he gasped. Weren't you in the accident?'

  "'Of course I was. But I was not very much crumpled. If I had sat in theother corner I should have been killed!"

  "'My heroine!' he cried. 'How brave of you!' He made as if he wouldrumple my hair but I drew back.

  "'Were you waiting for me?' I asked.

  "'Of course. Hours and hours. O the agony of it! See, here is theevening paper! It gives you as dead.'

  "'Where?' I cried, nervously. His trembling forefinger pointed to theplace. 'A beautiful young lady was also extricated in an unconsciouscondition from this carriage.'

  "'Isn't it wonderful the news should be in London before me?' Imurmured. 'But I suppose they will have names and fuller particulars ina later edition.'

  "'Of course. But fancy my having to be in London, unable to get to youfor love or money!'

  "'Yes, it was very hard for me to be there all alone,' I murmured. 'Butplease run and see after my luggage, there are three portmanteaus and alittle black one, and three bonnet boxes, and two parasols, and call ahansom, oh--and a brown paper parcel, and a long narrow cardboardbox--and get me the latest editions of the evening papers--and pleasesee that the driver isn't drunk, and don't take a knock-kneed horse orone that paws the ground, you know those hansom doors fly open and shootyou out like rubbish--I do so hate them--and oh! Richard, don't forgetthose novels from Mudie's,--they're done up with a strap. Three bonnetboxes, remember, and _all_ the evening papers, mind.'

  "When we were bowling homewards he kept expressing his joy by word anddeed, so that I was unable to read my papers. At last, annoyed, I said:'You wouldn't be so glad if you knew that my resurrection cost threethousand pounds.'

  "'How do you mean?'

  "'Why, if I had died, somebody would have had three thousand pounds.This number of _Threepenny Bits_ would have been found on my body, andwould have entitled my heir to that amount of assurance money. I neednot tell you who my heir is, nor to whom I had left my little all.'

  "I looked into his face and from the tenderness that overflowed it I sawhe fancied himself the favored mortal. There is no end to the conceit ofyoung men. A sensible fellow would have known at once that my brotherwas the only person reasonably entitled to my scanty belongings.However, there is no good done by disturbing a lover's complacency.

  "'I do not want your money,' he answered, again passionately pressing mytulle veil to my lips. 'I infinitely prefer your life.'

  "'What a bloodthirsty highwayman!'

  "'I shall steal another kiss. I would rather have you than all the goldin the world.'

  "'Still, gold is the next best thing,' I said, smiling at hisaffectionateness which my absence had evidently fostered. 'So being onthe point of death, as I thought, I resolved to make death worth dying,and leave a heap of gold to the man I loved. This number of _ThreepennyBits_ was not mine originally. When the crash occurred it was being readby the old gentleman in the opposite corner but his next of kin is ahypocritical young scapegrace (so he told me) and I thought it would befar nicer for _my_ heir to come in for the money. So I took it from hisbody the very instant before I fainted dead away!'

  "'My heroine!' he cried again. 'So you thought of your Richard even atthe point of death. What a sweet assurance of your love!'

  "'Yes, an assurance of three thousand pounds,' I answered, laughingmerrily. 'And now, perhaps, you will let me read the details of thecatastrophe. The reporters seem to know ever so much more about it thanI do. It's getting dusk and I can hardly see--I wonder what was the nameof old grizzly-growler--ah! here it is--"The pocket-book containedletters addressed to Josiah Twaddon, Esquire, and----"'

  "'Twaddon, did you say?' gasped Richard, clutching the paperfrantically.

  "'Yes--don't! You've torn it. Twaddon, I can see it plainly.'

  "'Does it give his address?' Richard panted.

  "'Yes,' I said, surprised. I was just going on to read that, '4,Bucklesbury Buildings----'

  "'Great heavens!' he cried.

  "'What is it? Why are you so pale and agitated? Was he anything to you.Ah, I guess it--by my prophetic soul, your uncle!'

  "'Yes,' he answered bitterly. 'My uncle! My mother's brother! Wretchedwoman, what have you done?'

  "My heart was beating painfully and I felt hot all over, but outwardly Ifroze.

  "'You know what I have done,' I replied icily.

  "'Yes, robbed me of three thousand pounds!' he cried.

  "'How dare you say that?' I answered indignantly. 'Why, it was for you Imeant them.'

  "The statement was not,
perhaps, strictly accurate, but my indignationwas sufficiently righteous to cover a whole pack of lies.

  "'Your intentions may have been strictly honorable,' he retorted, 'butyour behavior was abominable. Great heavens! Do you know that you couldbe prosecuted?'

  "'Nonsense!' I said stoutly, though my heart misgave me. 'What for?'

  "'What for? You, a plunderer of the dead, a harpy, a ghoul, ask whatfor?'

  "'But the thing was of no value!' I urged.

  "'Of no intrinsic value, perhaps, but of immense value under thepeculiar circumstances. Why, if anyone chose to initiate a prosecution,you would be sent to jail as a common thief."

  "'Pardon me,' I said haughtily. 'You forget you are speaking to a lady.As such, I can never be more than a kleptomaniac. You might make mesuffer from hysteria yesterday, but the worst that could befall me nowwould be a most interesting advertisement. Prosecute me and you willcreate for me an army of friends all over the world. If it is thus thatlovers behave, it is better to have friends. I shall be glad of theexchange.'

  _I can never be more than a kleptomaniac._]

  "'You know I could not prosecute you,' he answered more gently.

  "'After your language to me you are capable of anything. Your unclecalled you a rogue with his dying breath, and statements made with thatare generally veracious. Prosecute me if you will--I have done you outof three thousand pounds and I am glad of it. Only one favor I will askof you--for the sake of our old relations, give me fair warning!'

  "'That you may flee the country?'

  "'No, that I may get a new collection of photographs.'

  "'You will submit to being taken by the police?'

  "'Yes--after I have been taken by the photographer.'

  "'But look at the position you will be in?'

  "'I shall be in six different positions--one for each of the chiefillustrated papers.'

  "'Your flippancy is ill-timed, Margaret,' said Richard sternly.

  "'Flippant, good heavens! Do you know me so little as to consider mecapable of flippancy? Richard, this is the last straw. You have calledme a thief, you have threatened to place me in the felon's dock, and Ihave answered you with soft words, but no man shall call me flippant andcontinue to be engaged to me!'

  "'But, Maggie, darling!' His tone was changing. He saw he hadgone too far. 'Consider! It is not only I that am the loser byyour--indiscretion, your generous indiscretion----'

  "'My indiscreet generosity,' I corrected.

  "He accepted my 'indiscreet generosity' and went on. 'Cannot you seethat, as my future wife, you will also suffer?'

  "'But surely you will come in for something under your uncle's will allthe same,' I reminded him.

  "'Not a stiver. He never made a will, he never saved any money. He wasthe most selfish brute that ever breathed. All the money he couldn'tspend on himself he gave away in charity so as to get the kudos duringhis lifetime, pretending that there was no merit in post-mortemphilanthropy. And now all the good he might have done by his death youhave cancelled.'

  "I sat mute, my complexion altered for the worse by pangs ofcompunction.

  "'But I can make amends,' I murmured at last.

  "'How?' he asked eagerly.

  "'I can tell the truth--at least partially. I can make an affidavit that_Threepenny Bits_ belonged to my fellow-passenger, that he lent it mejust before the accident, or that, seeing he was dead, I took it to handover to his relatives.'

  "For a moment his face brightened up, then it grew dark as suddenly asif it had been lit by electricity. 'They will not believe you,' he said.'Even if you were a stranger, the paper would contest my claim. Butconsidering your relation to me, considering that the money would fallto you as much as to me, no common-sense jury would credit yourevidence.'

  "'Well, then, we must break off our engagement.'

  "'What would be the good of that? They would ferret out our pastrelations, would suspect their resumption immediately after theverdict.'

  "'Well, then, we must break off our engagement,' I repeated decisively.'I could never marry a prosecutor in posse--a man in whose heart wassmouldering a petty sense of pecuniary injury.'

  "'If you married me, I should cease to be a prosecutor in posse,' hesaid soothingly. 'As the law stands, a husband cannot give evidenceagainst his wife in criminal cases.'

  "'Oh, well, then you'd become a persecutor in esse,' I retorted. 'You'dalways have something to throw in my teeth, and for my part I couldnever forgive you the wrong I have done you. We could not possibly livetogether.'

  "My demeanor was so chilling, my tone so resolute that Richard waspanic-stricken. He vowed, protested, stormed, entreated, but nothingcould move me.

  "'A kindly accident has shown me your soul,' I answered, 'and the sightis not encouraging. Fortunately I have seen it in time. You rememberwhen you took me to see _The Doll's House_, you said that Norah wasquite right in all she did. I daresay it was because the actress was socharming--but let that pass. And yet what are you but another Helmer?Just see how exact is the parallel between our story and Ibsen's. Norahin all innocence forged her husband's name in order to get the money torestore him to health. I, in all innocence, steal a threepenny paper, inorder to leave you three thousand pounds by my death. When things turnout wrong, you turn round on me just as Helmer turned round onNorah--forgetting for whose sake the deed was done. If Norah wasjustified in leaving her husband, how much more justified must I be inleaving my betrothed!'"

  "The cases are not quite on all fours," interrupted the President whohad pricked up her ears at the mention of the "Woman's Poet." "You mustnot forget that you did not really sin for his sake but for yourbrother's."

  "That is an irrelevant detail," replied the beautiful ghoul. "He thoughtI did--which comes to the same thing. Besides, my telling him I did onlyincreases the resemblance between me and Norah. She was an awful fibber,if you remember. Richard, of course, disclaimed the likeness to Helmer,though in doing so he was more like him than ever. But I would give himno word of hope. 'We could never be happy together,' I said. 'Our unionwould never be real. There would always be the three thousand poundsbetween us.'

  "'Well, that would be fifteen hundred each,' he answered with ghastlyjocularity.

  "'This ill-timed flippancy ends all,' I said solemnly. 'Henceforth, Mr.Westbourne, we must be strangers.'

  "He sat like one turned to stone. Not till the cab arrived at mybrother's house did he speak again.

  _The Old Maid arrives._]

  "Then he said in low tones: 'Maggie, can I never become anything to youbut a stranger?'

  "'The greatest miracle of all would have to happen then, Richard,' Iquoted coldly. Then, rejecting his proffered assistance, I alighted fromthe vehicle, passed majestically across the threshold and mounted thestairs with stately step, not a sign, not the slightest tremor of amuscle betraying what I felt. Only when I was safe in my own littleroom, with its lavender-scented sheets and its thousand childishassociations did my pent-up emotions overpower me. I threw myself uponmy little white bed in a paroxysm of laughter. I had come out of adisagreeable situation agreeably, leaving Dick in the wrong, and I feltsure I could whistle him back as easily as the hansom."

  "And what became of Richard?" asked Lillie.

  "I left him to settle with the cabman. I have never seen him since."

  Lillie gave a little shudder. "You speak as if the cabman had settledwith him. But are you sure you are willing to renounce all mankindbecause you find one man unsatisfactory?"

  "All. I was very young when I got engaged. I did not want to be a burdenon my brother. But now his firework factory is a brilliant success. Helives in a golden rain. Having only myself to please now, I don't seewhy I should have to please a husband. The more I think of marriage theless I think of it. I have not kept my eyes open for nothing. I am sureit wouldn't suit me. Husbands are anything but the creatures a younggirl's romantic fancy pictures. They have a way of disarranging the mostcareful toilettes. They ruffle
your hair and your temper. They disorderthe furniture--and put their feet on the mantelpiece. They scratch thefenders, read books and stretch themselves on the most valuable sofas.If they help in the household they only make more work. The trail oftobacco is over all you prize. All day long the smoke gets into youreyes. Filthy pipes clog your cabinets, your window-curtains reek ofstale cigars. You have bartered your liberty for a mess of cigar-ash.There is an odor of bar saloons about the house and boon companions cometo welter in whiskey and water. Their talk is of science and art andpolitics and it makes them guffaw noisily and dig one another in theribs. There is not a man in the world to whom I would trust my sensitivefragility--they are all coarse, clumsy creatures with a code of moralsthat they don't profess and a creed of chivalry that they neverpractise. Falsehood abides permanently in their mouth like artificialteeth and corruption lurks beneath the whited sepulchres of theirshirt-fronts. They adore us in secret and deride us when they aretogether. They feign a contempt for us which we feel for them." Thesesentiments re-instated Miss Linbridge in the good opinion of thePresident, conscious heretofore of a jarring chord. She ordered in somerefreshments to get an opportunity of whispering to Turple themagnificent that the Honorary Trier might return.

  "Oh, by the way," said Miss Linbridge, "I hunted out that copy of_Threepenny Bits_ before coming out. I've kept it in a drawer as acuriosity. Here it is!"

  Lillie took the paper and examined it anxiously.

  "What's that? _You_ reading _Threepenny Bits_?" said Silverdale comingin.

  "It is only an old number," said Lillie, "whereby hangs a tale. MissLinbridge was in a railway accident with it."

  "Miss Linbridge, Lord Silverdale."

  The Honorary Trier bowed.

  "Oh what a pity it was an old number," he said. "Miss Linbridge mighthave had a claim for damages."

  "How very ungallant," said Lillie. "Miss Linbridge could have had noclaim unless she had been killed."

  "Besides," added Miss Linbridge laughing at Lillie's bull, "it wasn't anold number then. The accident happened on New Year's Day."

  "Even then it would have been too old," answered Silverdale, "for it isdated December 2d and the assurance policy is only valid during the weekof issue."

  "What is that?" gasped Miss Linbridge. Her face was passing through avariety of shades.

  "Yes," said Lillie. "Here is the condition in print. You don't seem tohave noticed it was a back number. But of course I don't wonder atthat--there's no topical interest whatever, one week's very much likeanother. And see! Here is even 'Specimen Copy' marked on the outsidesheet. Richard's uncle must have had it given to him in the street."

  "The miracle!" exclaimed Miss Linbridge in exultant tones, andrepossessing herself of the paper she darted from the Club.