CHAPTER X.
IN THE GALLERY OF OLD IRON.
As one goes into the South Kensington Art Museum from the BromptonRoad, the Gallery of Old Iron is overhead to the right. But the waythither is exceedingly devious and not to be revealed to everybody,since the young people who pursue science and art thereabouts set apeculiar value on its seclusion. The gallery is long and narrow anddark, and set with iron gates, iron-bound chests, locks, bolts andbars, fantastic great keys, lamps, and the like, and over thebalustrade one may lean and talk of one's finer feelings and regardMichael Angelo's horned Moses, or Trajan's Column (in plaster) risinggigantic out of the hall below and far above the level of thegallery. And here, on a Wednesday afternoon, were Lewisham and MissHeydinger, the Wednesday afternoon immediately following that paperupon Socialism, that you saw announced on the notice-board in thehall.
The paper had been an immense success, closely reasoned, deliveredwith a disciplined emotion, the redoubtable Smithers practicallyconverted, the reply after the debate methodical and complete, and itmay be there were symptoms of that febrile affection known to thevulgar as "swelled 'ed." Lewisham regarded Moses and spoke of hisfuture. Miss Heydinger for the most part watched his face.
"And then?" said Miss Heydinger.
"One must bring these views prominently before people. I believe stillin pamphlets. I have thought ..." Lewisham paused, it is to be hopedthrough modesty.
"Yes?" said Miss Heydinger.
"Well--Luther, you know. There is room, I think, in Socialism, for aLuther."
"Yes," said Miss Heydinger, imagining it. "Yes--that would be a grandway."
So it seemed to many people in those days. But eminent reformers havebeen now for more than seven years going about the walls of the SocialJericho, blowing their own trumpets and shouting--with such smallresult beyond incidental displays of ill-temper within, that it ishard to recover the fine hopefulness of those departed days.
"Yes," said Miss Heydinger. "That would be a grand way."
Lewisham appreciated the quality of personal emotion in her voice. Heturned his face towards her, and saw unstinted admiration in hereyes. "It would be a great thing to do," he said, and added, quitemodestly, "if only one could do it."
"_You_ could do it."
"You think I could?" Lewisham blushed vividly--with pleasure.
"I do. Certainly you could set out to do it. Even to fail hopelesslywould be Great. Sometimes ..."
She hesitated. He looked expectation. "I think sometimes it is greatereven to fail than to succeed."
"I don't see that," said the proposed Luther, and his eyes went backto the Moses. She was about to speak, and changed her mind.
Contemplative pause.
"And then, when a great number of people have heard of your views?"she said presently.
"Then I suppose we must form a party and ... bring things about."
Another pause--full, no doubt, of elevated thoughts.
"I say," said Lewisham quite suddenly. "You do put--well--courage intoa chap. I shouldn't have done that Socialism paper if it hadn't beenfor you." He turned round and stood leaning with his back to theMoses, and smiling at her. "You do help a fellow," he said.
That was one of the vivid moments of Miss Heydinger's life. Shechanged colour a little. "Do I?" she said, standing straight andawkward and looking into his face, "I'm ... glad."
"I haven't thanked you for your letters," said Lewisham, "And I'vebeen thinking ..."
"Yes?"
"We're first-rate friends, aren't we? The best of friends."
She held out her hand and drew a breath. "Yes," she said as theygripped. He hesitated whether to hold her hand. He looked into hereyes, and at that moment she would have given three-quarters of theyears she had still to live, to have had eyes and features that couldhave expressed her. Instead, she felt her face hard, the littlemuscles of her mouth twitching insubordinate, and fancied that herself-consciousness made her eyes dishonest.
"What I mean," said Lewisham, "is--that this will go on. We're alwaysgoing to be friends, side by side."
"Always. Just as I am able to help you--I will help you. However I canhelp you, I will."
"We two," said Lewisham, gripping her hand.
Her face lit. Her eyes were for a moment touched with the beauty ofsimple emotion. "We two," she said, and her lips trembled and herthroat seemed to swell. She snatched her hand back suddenly and turnedher face away. Abruptly she walked towards the end of the gallery, andhe saw her fumbling for her handkerchief in the folds of the green andblack dress.
She was going to cry!
It set Lewisham marvelling--this totally inappropriate emotion.
He followed her and stood by her. Why cry? He hoped no one would comeinto the little gallery until her handkerchief was put away.Nevertheless he felt vaguely flattered. She controlled herself, dashedher tears away, and smiled bravely at him with reddened eyes. "I'msorry," she said, gulping.
"I am so glad," she explained.
"But we will fight together. We two. I _can_ help you. I know I canhelp you. And there is such Work to be done in the world!"
"You are very good to help me," said Lewisham, quoting a phrase fromwhat he had intended to say before he found out that he had a holdupon her emotions.
"No!
"Has it ever occurred to you," she said abruptly, "how little a womancan do alone in the world?"
"Or a man," he answered after a momentary meditation.
So it was Lewisham enrolled his first ally in the cause of the redtie--of the red tie and of the Greatness that was presently tocome. His first ally; for hitherto--save for the indiscretion of hismural inscriptions--he had made a secret of his private ambitions. Inthat now half-forgotten love affair at Whortley even, he had, in spiteof the considerable degree of intimacy attained, said absolutelynothing about his Career.