Crying for the Light Volume I Part 13

She thought such a place would have never been tolerated by the police, and impossible in a Christian land. Men jeered at her, as she stood with the hot blood crimsoning her cheek, while the made-up women around seemed, to her, grinning over her impending fall. Was she to become one of them-to renounce all modesty and virtue, to drink of the wine-cup offered her on every side, in the delirium of the hour to enlist in the devil's service, to put on his livery and to take his pay? Well, she was poor, but not so poor as all that-as long as she had the use of her senses. Better poverty itself than a life of shame. For awhile she stood dazed and frightened, forgetting where she was, and that all eyes were upon her. Presently she was recalled to herself by a gentleman coming up and asking her to dance. She refused.

'Then what the d--- are you here for?' was his rough reply.

She turned away speechless-horror-struck-especially as she saw the amus.e.m.e.nt of the half-tipsy bystanders.

'A deuced fine girl, upon my word!'

'Fresh as Hebe,' said another.

'Artfulness itself,' was the remark of another.

'Yes; that virtuous air is all put on,' said one of the women present.

'You may depend upon it she is no better than she should be, although she looks so shy.'

'Yes; a very promising filly,' said the last speaker's male friend.

'I've half a mind to make up to her myself.'

'You had better stay where you are, old man,' replied his female friend, as she gave him a fond caress.

Poor Rose knew by their looks that they were talking at her, and she trembled from head to foot. Oh that she could hide herself, that she could get out of the room! but, no, that was impossible.

CHAPTER X UNDER THE STARS.

What could Rose do in that den of wild men and wilder women, the like of which was to be seen in no other country under heaven, licensed by Act of Parliament, past which bishops drove down on their way to make speeches at Exeter Hall on behalf of the Bible Society, or of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts?

Again and again she wished she were veil out of that _inferno_, where she was stared at on every side.

'Surely you will dance, miss,' said the master of the ceremonies, approaching her respectfully. 'Allow me to introduce you to Lord ---'

Again Rose declined, much to the annoyance of a debauched, sickly youth, who was 'my lord,' and reverenced as such accordingly. My lord revived his spirits with an S. and B., and was soon whirling round the room with another in his arms.

Under the influence of drink a man approached the corner where Rose was sitting, caught hold of her arm, and with an oath attempted to drag her off her seat. Her scream brought a crowd around, but not before her a.s.sailant had been knocked down by a gentleman, who was one of the wall-flowers watching the dancers, pretending to enjoy themselves.

The affrighted proprietor of the place rushed up. If there was a row he might lose his license. The police were outside. He brought with him his chuckers-out, and order was restored.

In the confusion attending its restoration Rose managed to find her way to the door, her defender walking by her side.

'Outside,' she exclaimed joyfully, 'thank G.o.d!'

'Ah,' said her companion, 'how came you there? That was not the place for you.'

'No, no,' she said pa.s.sionately; 'I was wretched and I went in; but,' she added, 'you-how came you there?'

'What! do you know me?'

'Of course I do. You came to Sloville, and you made a speech at the Chartist meeting. You were a minister then, I think.'

'You are right,' said Wentworth, for it was he; 'I was hoping to be a minister then. You may well ask how I came to be in yon place. Know, then, that I am a minister no longer-that illusion is past-that I am now a writer for the press and a man about town.'

'Oh, I am so sorry,' said the girl. 'I thought you made such a good speech at the Chartist meeting, and hoped that you would do a great deal of good in the town. Are you happier now than you were then?'

'Happier, no!'

'Wiser?'

'Yes, much, and gayer a great deal.'

'Ah then, your experience is something like my own. We are all alike.

As soon as Adam and Eve had eaten of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil they ceased to be happy. I don't believe there is such a thing as happiness in the world. I was so wretched that I crept in yon den for warmth and shelter, and out of curiosity to see if that sort of thing was happiness.'

'And what did you think?'

'Why, that a costermonger's wife has a happier lot.'

'"Foolish soul,"' continued Wentworth, '"what Act of Legislature was there that thou shouldst be happy? A little while ago thou hadst no right to be at all. What if thou wert born and predestined not to be happy, but to be unhappy?"'

'What are you talking about?' said Rose. 'You did not speak to the people in that way at Sloville.'

'Ah, no! I had not read my Carlyle then. I am quoting you out of "Sartor Resartus." Behold in me a philosopher.'

'Well,' said Rose, with a smile, 'I can't say the sight is particularly brilliant or overpowering.'

Just at that moment up comes the policeman-the London policeman, whose chief occupation seems to be to watch men and women when they stop in the streets for a talk, and to keep out of the way when he is wanted to prop up the inebriate, or to lay hold of a pickpocket, or a burglar, or a rough.

'We must be off,' said Wentworth, 'or we shall be run in. Which way are you walking? May I see you home?'

Gradually he was being interested in his companion. Gradually he began to recall to himself the long-lost vision of her lovely face. He had never forgotten it, and here, where he could have least expected, it had come to him once more. Fate had once more thrown her in his way. Was he to miss his chance? he asked himself. 'Certainly not,' was the reply of the inward monitor; 'you would be a fool if you did.' As he watched her the light seemed to fade out of her countenance, and over it came a cloud.

'I am afraid you are tired,' said he; 'let me offer you some refreshment.'

'No, no; I can't eat anything.'

'Well, then, let me see you home?'

The question recalled Rose to herself. She had no home. She had rushed away in sorrow, and anger, and despair. In all that wilderness of bricks and mortar she had no home. She stood there homeless, friendless, and alone. She hardly felt safe. As they stood talking, men from the clubs, the theatre and dinner-party pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed, staring at her impudently all the while. As soon as Wentworth left her she felt they would seek her, as the lion does his prey.

At length she said in a saddened tone: 'I have no home-no friends. I know not where to go.'

Wentworth was shocked.

And then she told him her story. She felt that she was safe, that London life had not corrupted him, that there was a true manhood in him, after all.

There was a quiet hotel just by; he took the poor girl there, but the landlady objected. They did not take in single young ladies there who had no luggage, that guarantee of respectability, and who had no recommendation. Had she been known to any of the families who had been in the habit of using her hotel, the case would have been different. As it was they had not an apartment to spare.

They tried other establishments equally in vain. Rose began to realize at last all the dangers and horrors of her situation. There are disadvantages connected with our refined and highly-developed system of civilization. Out on the prairie she might have found shelter for the night in the rude Indian hut, but in Christian London what can a poor girl do? Is it not a fact that a pretty girl cannot walk down Regent Street in broad daylight alone without being insulted by some h.o.a.ry old debauchee or other?