The Village by the River | Page 6

their wealth to put places such as this within
the reach of everybody. I confess there are difficulties----"
"What?" inquired Sally, with childish impatience.
"Our beastly climate, to begin with," Paul answered with a little laugh.
"Want of space, and want of trees when you get the space. Then look at

our population in our big cities. Brussels is just a pocket-town, if you
come to compare it with London. Of course the recreation of the
masses is only one of the many vexed questions concerning them that
Government eventually must take in hand. If you want people to be
moral, you must give them a chance of enjoying themselves in an
innocent fashion."
"Of course, you could do a lot if you once got into Parliament!" cried
Sally, with the enthusiasm of her twenty years. "When shall you get in?
and where shall you stand for? and may I help in the election?"
Paul laughed louder than before. "There's a deal to be done before I can
even think of standing for any place. First, I must accumulate enough
capital to bring me in a small independent income. You know we have
not much now."
"You can have anything and everything that belongs to me; I mean to
earn my living somehow," declared Sally, sturdily.
"Thank you. I don't mean to start that way; and money comes in slowly
to a barrister, although I am getting on fairly well. Then I will stand for
any place that will return me, after learning my honestly expressed
political opinions. Each man has his pet hobby, and I feel that mine is
the bettering of the condition of the masses."
"That will make you popular," said Sally.
"And I don't care a fig for popularity. I want to help to leave the
average condition of the people better than it is at present. The contrast
between the very rich and the very poor of our land is something too
awful to contemplate."
His talk, which he had begun half in play, had ended in deadly earnest;
and Sally laid her hand mischievously over his eyes.
"Then don't contemplate it--at any rate just now, when I am so merry
and happy. You've not answered my last question. May I help in your
election? It would be such fun."

"I think not, Sally," Paul said smiling again.
"Oh, what a mass of inconsistency!--when you were saying only to-day
that you saw no just cause or impediment why women should not do
anything for which they have a special fitness. Now I feel politics will
be my speciality, and I would not canvass for any one unless I quite
understood their views."
"Well, my Parliamentary career is in the far future," Paul interposed;
"and certainly I should not give my sanction to your undertaking any
work of that kind at present. You are much too young, and much
too----"
"Pretty, were you going to add?" broke in Sally, with a ripple of
laughter. "I'm afraid not: enthusiastic would be the more likely
adjective for you to use concerning me. Besides I don't think I am
pretty. 'My dear,' said that candid old Miss Sykes to me the other day,
'you might have been very good-looking if all your features were as
good as your eyes.' Why do ladies of a certain age take it for granted
that they can say what they choose to the budding young woman? It
annoys me frightfully. Oh, Paul!" with a sudden lowering of her voice,
"talking of pretty, there's a perfectly lovely girl who is seated with her
mother at the third table from ours. Don't turn your head too quickly or
she will think we are talking of her; and then you can keep your head
turned in the direction of the band. Her profile comes in between it and
you."
Paul did as he was bid. Sally was right, the girl to whom she directed
his attention was lovely beyond compare; and yet there was something
in her face that failed to satisfy him. The very perfection, too, of
everything about her, gave him a feeling of unconscious irritation.
"Well?" asked Sally, when he turned back to her.
"She's beautiful, certainly; but I don't like her."
"It's just because you did not discover her first."

Paul did not trouble to answer; there was a general stir amongst the
company. The concert was drawing to a close, and the burghers of
Brussels began to think of home and bed. The wives slipped their
knitting into their pocket; the husbands bestowed a passing nod and
guttural good night to each other as they moved away; and the
twinkling lights began to be extinguished one by one. In the crowd at
the entrance Paul and Sally found themselves close to the girl whom