A Little Rebel | Page 9

finger),
"should be the first to applaud my caution."
"You take an extreme view," begins the professor, a little feebly,
perhaps. That eye and that pointed finger have cowed him.
"One's views have to be extreme in these days if one would continue in
the paths of virtue," said Miss Majendie. "Your views," with a piercing
and condemnatory glance, "are evidently not extreme. One word for all,
Mr. Curzon, and this argument is at an end. I shall not permit my niece,
with my permission, to walk with you or any other man whilst under
my protection."
"I daresay you are right--no doubt--no doubt," mumbles the professor,
incoherently, now thoroughly frightened and demoralized. Good
heavens! What an awful old woman! And to think that this poor child is
under her care. He happens at this moment to look at the poor child,
and the scorn for him that gleams in her large eyes perfects his rout. To
say that she was right!
"If Perpetua wishes to go for a walk," says Miss Majendie, breaking
through a mist of angry feeling that is only half on the surface, "I am
here to accompany her."
"I don't want to go for a walk--with you," says Perpetua, rudely it must
be confessed, though her tone is low and studiously reserved. "I don't
want to go for a walk at all." She pauses, and her voice chokes a little,
and then suddenly she breaks into a small passion of vehemence. "I
want to go somewhere, to see something," she cries, gazing imploringly
at Curzon.
"To see something!" says her aunt, "why it was only last Sunday I took
you to Westminster Abbey, where you saw the grandest edifice in all
the world."
"Most interesting place," says the professor, sotto voce, with a wild but

mad hope of smoothing matters down for Perpetua's sake.
If it was for Perpetua's sake, she proves herself singularly ungrateful.
She turns upon him a small vivid face, alight with indignation.
"You support her," cries she. "You! Well, I shall tell you!
I"--defiantly--"I don't want to go to churches at all. I want to go to
theatres! There!"
There is an awful silence. Miss Majendie's face is a picture! If the girl
had said she wanted to go to the devil instead of to the theatre, she
could hardly have looked more horrified. She takes a step forward,
closer to Perpetua.
"Go to your room! And pray--pray for a purer mind!" says she. "This is
hereditary, all this! Only prayer can cast it out. And remember, this is
the last word upon this subject. As long as you are under my roof you
shall never go to a sinful place of amusement. I forbid you ever to
speak of theatres again."
"I shall not be forbidden!" says Perpetua. She confronts her aunt with
flaming eyes and crimson cheeks. "I do want to go to the theatre, and to
balls, and dances, and everything. I"--passionately, and with a most
cruel, despairing longing in her young voice, "want to dance, to laugh,
to sing, to amuse myself--to be the gayest thing in all the world!"
She stops as if exhausted, surprised perhaps at her own daring, and
there is silence for a moment, a little moment, and then Miss Majendie
looks at her.
"'The gayest thing in all the world:' and your father only four months
dead!" says she, slowly, remorselessly.
All in a moment, as it were, the little crimson angry face grows
white--white as death itself. The professor, shocked beyond words,
stands staring, and marking the sad changes in it. Perpetua is trembling
from head to foot. A frightened look has come into her beautiful
eyes--her breath comes quickly. She is as a thing at bay--hopeless,

horrified. Her lips part as if she would say something. But no words
come. She casts one anguished glance at the professor, and rushes from
the room.
It was but a momentary glimpse into a heart, but it was terrible. The
professor turns upon Miss Majendie in great wrath.
"That was cruel--uncalled for!" says he, a strange feeling in his heart
that he has not time to stop and analyze then. "How could you hurt her
so? Poor child! Poor girl! She loved him!"
"Then let her show respect to his memory," says Miss Majendie
vindictively. She is unmoved--undaunted.
"She was not wanting in respect." His tone is hurried. This woman with
the remorseless eye is too much for the gentle professor. "All she does
want is change, amusement. She is young. Youth must enjoy."
"In moderation--and in proper ways," says Miss Majendie stonily. "In
moderation," she repeats mechanically, almost unconsciously. And then
suddenly her wrath gets the better of her, and she breaks out into a
violent range. That one should dare to question her