The Convert Part 57

'Yes; a sort of public-house. She was plainly dying. She was told she shouldn't be out in the rain. "I mustn't go in yet," she said. "_This_ is what he gave me," and she began to cry. In her hand were two pennies silvered over to look like half-crowns.'

'I don't believe that story!' Mrs. Heriot announced. 'It's just the sort of thing some sensation-monger trumps up. Now, who tells you these----?'

'Several credible people. I didn't believe them till----'

'Till?' Jean came nearer.

'Till I saw for myself.'

'_Saw?_' exclaimed Mrs. Heriot. 'Where----?'

'In a low lodging-house not a hundred yards from the church you want a new organ for.'

'How did _you_ happen to be there?'

'I was on a pilgrimage.'

'A pilgrimage?' echoed Jean.

Miss Levering nodded. 'Into the Underworld.'

'_You_ went!' Even Lady John was aghast.

'How could you?' Jean whispered.

'I put on an old gown and a tawdry hat----' She turned suddenly to her hostess. 'You'll never know how many things are hidden from a woman in good clothes. The bold free look of a man at a woman he believes to be dest.i.tute--you must _feel_ that look on you before you can understand--a good half of history.'

Mrs. Heriot rose as her niece sat down on the footstool just below the writing-table.

'Where did you go--dressed like that?' the girl asked.

'Down among the homeless women, on a wet night, looking for shelter.'

'Jean!' called Mrs. Heriot.

'No wonder you've been ill,' Lady John interposed hastily.

'And it's like _that_?' Jean spoke under her breath.

'No,' came the answer, in the same hushed tone.

'No?'

'It's so much worse I dare not tell about it, even if you weren't here I couldn't.'

But Mrs. Heriot's anger was unappeased. 'You needn't suppose, darling, that those wretched creatures feel it as we would.'

Miss Levering raised grave eyes. 'The girls who need shelter and work aren't _all_ serving-maids.'

'We know,' said Mrs. Heriot, with an involuntary flash, 'that all the women who make mistakes aren't.'

'That is why _every_ woman ought to take an interest in this,' said Miss Levering, steadily; 'every girl, too.'

'Yes. Oh, yes!' Jean agreed.

'No.' Lady John was very decisive. 'This is a matter for us older----'

'Or for a person who has some special knowledge,' Mrs. Heriot amended, with an air of sly challenge. '_We_ can't pretend to have access to such sources of information as Miss Levering.'

'Yes, you can'--she met Mrs. Heriot's eye--'for I can give you access.

As you suggest, I have some personal knowledge about homeless girls.'

'Well, my dear'--with a manufactured cheerfulness Lady John turned it aside--'it will all come in convenient.' She tapped the plan.

Miss Levering took no notice. 'It once happened to me to take offence at an ugly thing that was going on under my father's roof. Oh, _years_ ago!

I was an impulsive girl. I turned my back on my father's house.'

'That was ill-advised.' Lady John glanced at her niece.

'So all my relations said'--Miss Levering, too, looked at Jean--'and I couldn't explain.'

'Not to your mother?' the girl asked.

'My mother was dead. I went to London to a small hotel, and tried to find employment. I wandered about all day and every day from agency to agency. I was supposed to be educated. I'd been brought up partly in Paris, I could play several instruments and sing little songs in four different tongues.'

In the pause Jean asked, 'Did n.o.body want you to teach French or sing the little songs?'

'The heads of schools thought me too young. There were people ready to listen to my singing. But the terms, they were too hard. Soon my money was gone. I began to p.a.w.n my trinkets. _They_ went.'

'And still no work?'

'No; but by that time I had some real education--an unpaid hotel bill, and not a s.h.i.+lling in the world. Some girls think it hards.h.i.+p to have to earn their living. The horror is not to be allowed to.'

Jean bent forward. 'What happened?'

Lady John stood up. 'My dear,' she asked her visitor, 'have your things been sent down?'

'Yes. I am quite ready, all but my hat.'

'Well?' insisted Jean.

'Well, by chance I met a friend of my family.'

'That was lucky.'

'I thought so. He was nearly ten years older than I. He said he wanted to help me.' Again she paused.

'And didn't he?' Jean asked.