ndspitefulnessandsociety.IactuallyhatedsocietyforadayortwoatMonteriano.Ididn’tseethatallthesethingsareinvincible,andthatifwegoagainstthemtheywillbreakustopieces.Thankyouforlisteningtosomuchnonsense.”
“Oh,Iquitesympathizewithwhatyousay,”saidPhilipencouragingly“itisn’tnonsense,andayearortwoagoIshouldhavebeensayingittoo.ButIfeeldifferentlynow,andIhopethatyoualsowillchange.Societyisinvincible—toacertaindegree.Butyourreallifeisyourown,andnothingcantouchit.Thereisnopoweronearththatcanpreventyourcriticizinganddespisingmediocrity—nothingthatcanstopyouretreatingintosplendourandbeauty—intothethoughtsandbeliefsthatmakethereallife—therealyou.”
“Ihaveneverhadthatexperienceyet.SurelyIandmylifemustbewhereIlive.”
Evidentlyshehadtheusualfeminineincapacityforgraspingphilosophy.Butshehaddevelopedquiteapersonality,andhemustseemoreofher.“Thereisanothergreatconsolationagainstinvinciblemediocrity,”hesaid—“themeetingafellow-victim.Ihopethatthisisonlythefirstofmanydiscussionsthatweshallhavetogether.”
Shemadeasuitablereply.ThetrainreachedCharingCross,andtheyparted,—hetogotoamatinee,shetobuypetticoatsforthecorpulentpoor.Herthoughtswanderedassheboughtthem:thegulfbetweenherselfandMr.Herriton,whichshehadalwaysknowntobegreat,nowseemedtoherimmeasurable.
TheseeventsandconversationstookplaceatChristmas-time.TheNewLifeinitiatedbythemlastedsomesevenmonths.Thenalittleincident—amerelittlevexatiousincident—broughtittoitsclose.
Irmacollectedpicturepost-cards,andMrs.HerritonorHarrietalwaysglancedfirstatallthatcame,lestthechildshouldgetholdofsomethingvulgar.Onthisoccasionthesubjectseemedperfectlyinoffensive—alotofruinedfactorychimneys—andHarrietwasabouttohandittoherniecewhenhereyewascaughtbythewordsonthemargin.Shegaveashriekandflungthecardintothegrate.OfcoursenofirewasalightinJuly,andIrmaonlyhadtorunandpickitoutagain.
“Howdareyou!”screamedheraunt.“Youwickedgirl!Giveithere!”
UnfortunatelyMrs.Herritonwasoutoftheroom.Irma,whowasnotinaweofHarriet,dancedroundthetable,readingasshedidso,“ViewofthesuperbcityofMonteriano—fromyourlitalbrother.”
StupidHarrietcaughther,boxedherears,andtorethepost-cardintofragments.Irmahowledwithpain,andbeganshoutingindignantly,“Whoismylittlebrother?WhyhaveIneverheardofhimbefore?Grandmamma!Grandmamma!Whoismylittlebrother?Whoismy—”
Mrs.Herritonsweptintotheroom,saying,“Comewithme,dear,andIwilltellyou.Nowitistimeforyoutoknow.”
Irmareturnedfromtheinterviewsobbing,though,asamatteroffact,shehadlearntverylittle.Butthatlittletookholdofherimagination.Shehadpromisedsecrecy—sheknewnotwhy.Butwhatharmintalkingofthelittlebrothertothosewhohadheardofhimalready?
“AuntHarriet!”shewouldsay.“UnclePhil!Grandmamma!Whatdoyousupposemylittlebrotherisdoingnow?Hashebeguntoplay?DoItalianbabiestalksoonerthanus,orwouldhebeanEnglishbabybornabroad?Oh,Idolongtoseehim,andbethefirsttoteachhimtheTenCommandmentsandtheCatechism.”
ThelastremarkalwaysmadeHarrietlookgrave.
“Really,”exclaimedMrs.Herriton,“Irmaisgettingtootiresome.SheforgotpoorLiliasoonenough.”
“Alivingbrotherismoretoherthanadeadmother,”saidPhilipdreamily.“Shecanknithimsocks.”
“Istoppedthat.Sheisbringingh