The Radical's Wife

Chapter I

' Am I late, John ? I know I have been a long time, but the shops were closed, and I could only get the brandy at the station restaurant. The beef jelly I got at the chemist's, and there is all that is left' She flung down five pennies on the coverless table. The speaker was a young woman, who looked plain in the dim, greasy light of a tallow candle. Her face was fair, but it was yellow, pinched and drawn, and she stooped like one prematurely aged. As if exhausted, she sunk down on the nearest chair. ' How has he been ? Shall I give him some brandy now ? ' ' He is sleeping quietly ; better wait till he stirs.' The man she addressed roused himself and laid down the pencil with which he was busily dotting down some figures. He was a gloomy-looking man this friend of hers, who was engaged with his accounts, with hollow, sunken cheeks and small, black, ragged beard.

But his eyes were deep and earnest, and his brow bespoke some brains. ' Have you seen him lately ? You haven't left him long ? ' Anxiety made tremulous her musical voice. ' Scarcely five minutes ! Kate, you are tired out, take something yourself, or you will fail too, poor girl ! ' Great tears were running silently down the woman's thin, dis coloured cheeks, and the man rose to take the bottle of brandy from its paper on the table. A +9 The Radical's Wife She put her hand out quickly. ' No, no, John, not for me. It is for him ; he will want it all, and more. I shall be better presently, I am only tired.' She dried her face hurriedly and gave a smile more piteous and more sorrowful than any tears. ' It was so wet and muddy out,' she continued, looking down at her split boots, that seemed a mass of dry ing clay, ' and so cold.' They looked at the grate, where there was a small heap of ashes, and just one cinder had a faint red glow. ' I couldn't keep it in, Katherine,' said John, apologetically, ' and — I thought it didn't matter.' ' Of course not,' she answered wearily. ' Are the accounts nearly done ? ' 'Another hour will finish them,' he said, ' but it is a black prospect.

Since the " lock-out " the money has dwindled ; there are no funds. AVe can't fulfil engagements unless the public aid us.' ' And your pay, John ? ' ' I can't expect it ! There is nothing to pay me with.' ' My God ! what shall we do ? ' the woman burst out bitterly. 'You are not one to take money from the people, Katherine ! ' ' Not for myself ! but to save life, I would take it from men or devils.' Her pale, colourless eyes glittered, hard and dry. The man leaned back in his chair uneasily. ' AVe know what labour and suffering is, ay, all of us, God knows ! ' said Katherine, in low, angry accents ; ' but each must guard the lives of those most dear. AVhy do you work for many when you might work for one ? AVhen he ' — she pointed to the adjoining door, but could not frame the words — ' is dying.' ' Katherine,' murmured the other, bitterly, ' you know how gladly I would work for both of you if work would come.' ' AVork never comes ! ' she answered drearily, as she leaned on the deal table. ' No, never,' he echoed passionately. ' Would to God these cursed classes could feel the suffering that they cause !

Grinding and sweating the best of us, who have brains as well as hands! Katherine,' he continued earnestly, 'if there is anything you can think of, if there is anything you believe I can do to aid you and your brother — dear to me for your sake — tell me and I will do it. I would slave and drudge, as you know, but still there is no reward.' He let his head fall on his arms folded across the table. 'There is no reward, John.' Katherine rose and stood in the narrow empty room they inhabited. ' AVe are thrust out of the world as we are thrust into it, and the blessing of life is the endless labour to nourish it. No matter what we do, how we struggle, we are hated by those who exist, as much as we ourselves hate existence. The game itself isn't worth the candle ' — and she pointed to the mean, glaring light — ' but for those we love no effort is too great' ' I know, Katherine, I know,' he answered. ' I would do willingly what you have done, if I could.' 'Yes, I suppose so,' she murmured carelessly. 'Men work for pounds, but only women work for pence.' ' It is their own fault,' answered the man, crossly. ' The "Union" would help them if they would combine and fight for better wages.' ' AVhile the grass grows the horse starves.

How can women fight against men ? ' ' Not against, but with them, Katherine.' He spoke more gently as he watched her, but she sighed and turned away. ' I must go and see how he is,' she said, after a pause. ' He ought to have some nourishment — now that I've got it,' she added bitterly. The door to the inner room was just ajar, and she pushed it open. A murmur came from the bed in the far corner. It was seen by the small oil lamp — a narrow bed, covered with a woollen patchwork quilt, and over that a man's coat was spread, while a pale face rested on the pillow. The words so feebly uttered were, 'Oh! Katherine,' and she glided noiselessly across the room. Only in time. As she sank at the bedside, her two hands clasped over one that lay there motionless yet still warm, she saw the eyes uplifted and the light go out.

Mutely she knelt there, her own heart turned to stone as she watched that look, seen only once upon a human face — the lips just parted, unquivering, almost clay, and the dead, cold stare in the former windows of the soul. That awful vision, the •»9 The Radical's Wife dread possibility bearing no longer doubt, the poor body unknown, no longer needed. Katherine's head sank down on the worn-out collar of the coat, and with the burst of a wish, not spoken, she seemed to moan, — 'Stephen, Stephen, it can not be true ! — that you are gone — I here.' It was late in the night, the fire had gone out, but the room was heavy with murky air. Beside the lamp the tallow candle guttered, and two watched beside the dead. How still the last lay in his longed and sought for, and, for this world, endless sleep.

A look of peace round the still mouth, with almost a smile under the down of the upper lip, while the haggard lines, wrought by sickness, suffering, and sorrow, over the bony cheeks were smoothed out into cold, white marble. It was not flesh, and yet it had once been life. The dark, thin, shabby man sat by the table near, his head resting on his hands, while over the bed, with its occupant, a woman hovered. That pale, slight woman they had both called ' Katherine,' with greenish complexion and large, colourless, staring eyes, stood there. Conspicuous was her fair reddish hair, bristly and rough and doggish-looking. She was a weary spectacle, like a homeless, half-starved cur seeking shelter away from those things called human, and yet with its silent sorrow beseeching pity from a mightier Source.

She leaned on the bed-rail and looked at the man who lived. ' If I had only got the work and the money sooner, John, he — might have lived.' ' God knows ! ' he sighed, ' but not likely. The doctor said it was a work of time.' ' But the time would have been longer ! AA'e might have lived — lived together ; if only for another day,' she burst out fiercely , as, with clenched fists and outstretched arms, she looked up, as it were, for vengeance. 'If the feasting, criminal rich had a day's less frivolity, an hour's less enjoy ment, life here might be struggling still. Still might the poor be wealthy in thoughts and deeds and one another's love, the world be greater for the mighty brains, the women happier for the purer souls.' She paused, and her head sank wearily, then she moved towards John. 'Do you really think there is nothing I could have done to save him?

Nothing? Nothing?' she hissed. ' If I had begged or stolen, do you think he would have lived ? Tell me — tell me, or I shall go mad, could — coidd human means have saved him ? ' He knew the answer as well as she did — that poverty, and the want of what otherwise might be luxuries, had slain. The feeble life, shaken by sickness, could not cope with the wind and world. But he tried to pacify and soothe her. ' Katherine,' he expostulated, ' you know riches will not bring health. It was disease killed him, and not poverty.' But her mouth was hard and compressed, and her eyes glittered as she answered, — ' It was the rich — who suck our blood from us — who killed him. I could curse them ! ' ' Hush ! ' he murmured. She was still for a moment, watching the candle gutter, her white eyelashes standing out from her worn red lids; then a sudden tremor shook her and she started, raising her white hand, with its beautifully-shaped fingers, up into space ; her eyes darkened as the pupils grew, and she murmured in glad, bright accents, — ' Listen ! — listen !

He's calling.' ' Be quiet, Katherine,' answered the man, sullenly. ' No ! I heard it,' she wailed. ' I heard him say, " Katherine, are you going out ? " It was his voice. Did you not hear it ? ' ' No,' he answered morosely. She turned towards the bed, and on tiptoe went nearer, bending down with trembling mouth and lids quivering over glistening eyes. 'John,' she whispered, 'John.' ' Yes,' he answered. ' He is moving — he is smiling at me — look — look ! Oh ! he is only sleeping, and he will speak to me again. I know he will.' She went nearer and stroked the cold, white cheek. ' Yes, Stephen, I am here — always here. Tell me what you want ! My God ! ' she shrieked, ' he cannot answer ! He is dead — dead ! ' The prostrated woman knelt on the floor with arms stretched over the lifeless body, while the dark man, who would be tender, stood on the other side. +9 The Radical's Wife ' Katherine,' he said, and laid his hand on the rough, red hair, ' be brave !

Neither of us can aid him now ; we can but avenge.' She raised her head and looked at him and said, with lips white as tbe teeth within, ' Avenge him. How ? ' ' AVe can slay those who slew him. Let us fight for the people together.' She rose as he extended his broad right hand, and stood and faced him. A thin, narrow, slender woman, with soiled black gown and ruffled, death-scented hair. Her eyes, shrunken and pale, were the tint of her shrivelled skin, while the lids stood out, red, swollen and inflamed, burnt with an inward agony, not with tear-drops that bring intense relief. There was dumb pain in her gesture, in the silence that almost ached as she stood at the side of the still cold form. Stretched by her, though she dared not look at it, was that one treasured being, with heart that once a few hours ago had beat so warmly in unison with her own, whose mind had worked with hers, and laughing voice had answered thought A brilliant heaven in an empty room, and now an empty frame made havoc there.

She dared not think nor see that tender, life-like, soft, brown hair, the smiling, generous mouth, the wan, thin, shrivelled throat, the sleeping eyes, now still, and soon no more. Firmly she laid her hand in the outstretched palm across the bed, as she raised her weary, woe-blotted eyes and said, 'As God is my witness, John, we will!'

Chapter II

It was a wild, blustering night ; the rain came in sudden showers, whirled along by the gusty wind. The bright lights of the ' Adelphi ' gleamed down on a sea of mud and water, pools into which the great raindrops spattered, lay on the tramways and on the pavement. The wide streets of Liverpool, always wet and draughty, were at their worst on this raw November night There was a glare of light from street lamps and shop windows, the latter filled with goods and shrieking placards to catch the workman wending his way home at night. Sharp round the turning, down past Lewis's flaring lamps and the Central Station, came a young woman. She straggled with flying waterproof, holding umbrella against the wind and the knocks of the passers-by that thronged the street There were the usual loungers, notwithstanding the weather, and the hurrying stream of better-clad people ; the thin, dirty, Irish faces selling rubbish at the gutter side, women in old, tattered shawls, groups of sullen-looking men in ragged coats.

They all swarmed in the street down which the woman hurried. A young, slim woman was this hastener down the street, and of graceful form under the half-flying and half-clinging garment. Her step was youthful, too ; not a weary drag, but a bright, quick spring. That was all that could be seen, for her head and face was concealed by the swaying umbrella, which she held with both her hands. Another sharp turn and she passed the house where a death scene had been enacted just two years ago. AVithout a glance she went on down a narrow street, dark and ill-paved, and then another. Only a lamp glimmered here and there, but by it flamed a poster with great red letters — ' Vote for Broughton ! and for Liberty ! ' and somewhere near it, ' Vote against Monopoly ! Vote for higher wages, lower prices !

Broughton ! Vote for Broughton ! ' Had the light permitted, a bright, gleaming smile would have been seen on the fair face under the bent umbrella. And her chest heaved, not with exhaustion, but with hot excitement as she saw them, though almost without looking as she went by. At a dark doorway she paused, or rather at the entrance to a passage, for the door was open and a covered way seemed to yawn. She stood for a moment, one foot on the threshold, leaning back into the street, the wet umbrella grasped in her small, delicate hand, her eyes staring into the darkness, her ears alert. A roar, a shout, burst on the damp, clear, echoing air, renewed cheering, and the heavy tramp of policemen coming near. +9 The Radical's Wife ' Disturbed,' she muttered, ' disturbed ! My God ! if I could go and speak to them they would hear me: not be cause I am a woman, but because I am human and from their midst' A tear of sorrow and great longing rose and fell from her eyelids as, half unconsciously, she stumbled on and groped her way up the staircase.

At a door on the first landing she knocked, and, hearing some timid sound in answer, opened it and went in. It was the living room of some poor people who might have been well-to-do — that is to say, well-to-do in their trade. It looked like the home of a shoemaker, with lasts and leather, and odds and ends about. It was a workshop and general sitting-room in one, while by the fire crouched a small, pale woman. ' Good evening, Mrs Manton ; is your husband out ? ' said the new-comer. 'Ay, mum, thank God, he be. Come in, mum, please, bless you ! I'm glad to see you. You'll excuse me rising, mum.' The lady who entered didn't seem to hear, as she advanced and stood by the firelight. She flung her wet umbrella on the table, and with the wandering tear forgotten on her cheek, seemed, in the bright light, almost a wondrous sight The worn, ugly woman of two years before was now a bright young wife, and instead of a watcher by the dead, an ardent worker among the living.

Her complexion of dazzling fairness shone pink and white by the flickering light, and the silken threads of her red gold hair only gleamed the more as they stood out, ruffled by the wind. The same, yet not the same, as the Children of Hope differ from Despair. The great eyes were dark, not colourless, and the small, chiselled Roman features stood out as she proudly raised her head. ' Your husband is out, you say,' she murmured anxiously. ' Has he gone to a meeting ? ' " Maybe it is, God knows. Is it the vote you'll be come for, mum? 'Yes, I came to see your husband. I believe he will vote for us, but I wanted to remind him it was most important, and on no account to miss coming to the poll.' ' He won't, mum ; he will give it right enough, no fear. The Union says they are to vote for Broughton, so for Broughton they'll all vote.' The woman sighed, and looked into the fire. ' I am afraid you are not well this evening, Mrs Manton ? ' Katherine inquired sympathically. ' No, mum, I'm not then.

The pain in my chest 'as come back orful.' ' AVhat is the matter ? Have you seen a doctor ? Have you a cough ? ' ' No, mum, its rheumatiz that was, 'ee says; rheumatiz in my 'art, I'm feared at times.' ' It couldn't be that, Mrs Manton, or you wouldn't be alive,' replied Katherine, with an effort to cheer her. ' Very likely it is in your chest. You should keep plenty of flannel over it. Have you any liniment ? ' The sickly-faced, shrunken woman looked up sadly as she drew her cotton gown apart and showed the cotton rag beneath. ' AVhere would I be getting flannel, Mrs Broughton ? ' ' AVhere would you get it ! ' exclaimed the lady. ' AVhy, you can easily get flannel. Your husband is in work, isn't he, and he gets good wages ? ' 'Ay,' murmured the woman, as she shook her head slowly, ' but I isn't 'ee and 'ee isn't me.' Katherine stared at her. ' But, Mrs Manton, you are his wife.' ' God help me ! yes.' The woman rocked herself before the fire.

Katherine still looked at her, mystified. ' And your son now is earning ? ' ' Ay, and 'ee is a good boy — 'ee is. God bless him ! ' ' Doesn't he help you ? ' ' He would if he could, bless his 'art ! ' The door opened and a lad lounged in, who started when he saw a lady in the room, dragged his hat off sideways, and, scraping one foot, gave an awkward kind of bow. He was dressed like an errand-boy of the lowest class, and was, per haps, not beyond the age of seventeen ; but he had the build and form of a well-developed labourer. He seemed to have the physical power of a man much older, who worked and lived in the fields, and with a broad, square, ugly jaw, and dark, heavy eyes. There was not the faintest resemblance +9 The Radical's Wife between mother and son ; in fact, the boy looked more as if he might have been the husband of the delicate, fragile, sickly woman by the fire.

A light of intense sympathy and tenderness shot towards her from under his lowered lids. ' Good evening, George. I have just been talking to your poor mother. She doesn't seem well.' 'No, mum, she bain't,' responded George. Apparently he hadn't many words, and seemed somewhat taciturn ; but he advanced towards the woman sitting on the low wooden chair beside the fire, and laid his hand on her shoulder with the gentle touch of a child. ' Mother, I've got the arnica, and ye're to rub it on to-night. AVe'll do it afore father's back ; he'll be out late.' ' Arnica ? ' queried Katherine. ' Yes 'um. Mother's sprained her foot' ' Oh ! I am sorry ! She didn't tell me of her foot, only of her chest.' George answered nothing, but hung his head silently. The sick woman put out her hand and caressed mutely the large, rough one that was laid so lovingly upon her shoulder. ' It ain't much, mum — jest a fall down the stair ; but it hurts a bit now and agen.' Involuntarily Katherine's small hands were clasped, as she started forward.

A new light seemed to break in on her — she who was on the search for votes. ' Mrs Manton,' she almost whispered, ' I know what suffering is — pain of body, which is as bad, and sometimes worse than pain of mind. I do feel for you. I would help you if I could.' She knelt at the fireside, on the barren boards ; one tender woman feeling for another. The boy turned away, opened the door and crept out. ' God bless ye, mum ; but I'll be no better this world, maybe.' The woman was too spent to rise to passion ; she was wan and worn. But Katherine's great eyes were humid as she grasped the bony hand of the invalid. ' If I only could, and when this election is over I will aid you. I dare not now ; it is against the law. But I am a woman, as you, and have felt as much, and perhaps more §^ sorrow than you.

AA'e are helpless and of no account, be cause we are not men. AVe have no votes, no voice to pro test or alter, so we are not worth considering. The State, or one man, may crush and trample on us, but humanity goes by.' A harsh grate came into Katherine's voice. ' I dare not send you help, or aid you now,' she continued, holding the poor woman's two sickly hands ; ' they would say we were buying votes. But I will come again as soon as ever I can.' She rose hurriedly, and tore from under her water proof a soft, grey, woollen shawl. ' No one will know of this. AVrap it close round your chest, make it warm. God bless you, my poor — sister ! ' Katherine was gone, as the woman tried to clasp her hand, and moistened a timid kiss with a piteous tear. In an instant she had opened the rickety door and stood without.

It was very dark on the landing and greasy stair, and a heavy form stood somewhat in the way. ' George, is it you,' said Katherine. ' Yes, mum, beg your pardon, didn't know yer was coming.' ' Your mother is ill. I am sorry.' A sob answered her. The great boy leaned over the broken banister. ' George ' — Katherine held the tattered and patched sleeve that covered a man's arm — ' I would give a day of my life to help her or any of you, but I dare not now — it is " bribery and corruption, ' you know. As soon as it is over, whether we are in or out, I will do my utmost. But I am helpless now.' The woman's sweet musical accents trembled as with tears. Again the man's form shook with a great sob. ' My lady, ye're an angel ! but it's life with death.' Katherine started. She began to suspect some mystery and misery greater than she saw. ' AVhat is it, George ?

I do not understand.' ' It's my father, mum ! Don't yer know, 'ee's killing 'er.' 'My God !' She staggered back against the wall — anything. 'He 'unted 'er down the stair, 'ee 'urt her ankle, 'ee's — 'ee's killin 'er.' He was again silent, with head falling on his folded arms. ' Oh ! George, save her if you can. She is your mother — +9 The Radical's Wife the most precious of women to you. I will come again as soon as possible. God help you both,' and a tender woman's voice died in a piteous wail. Down the dark stair, out again into the wet streets Katherine hurried, the closed umbrella grasped in her hand. The rain had for a time ceased, and only gusts of wild wind swept round her. It was hard and weary work walking through the pools of muddy water, and in and out of the throng of passers-by.

Here and there were the posters — some red, some blue, bright royal blue — and many of the shop windows were filled with the bills against or for one candidate or the other. Only at the red, occasionally, Katherine glanced, almost as if it were to number them, and see if the town might be called Radical or Tory. But she never lingered, for she knew the mottoes all by heart, save at one blue shop window. ' No Taxation without Representation J " stared her in the face, and she stopped and gasped — Electoral Reform — 800,000 women without representation ! ' The Tories have this,' she murmured, ' and we call ourselves Liberal and just.' Her face glowed with anger as she pressed her teeth hard into her lower lip. Then she rushed on again, not stopping till she reached what might be an empty shop, for at the open door there seemed no goods or wares for sale, and the great windows were simply lined with red posters from head to foot.

Here she entered, knocking against a placard at her feet, with Eight Hours' Day on it in flaming letters, and passing through the outer shop, went into the room beyond. Several tables were strewn with papers, or rather leaflets and printed cards. One man was sorting some and talking over his shoulder to another, who stood in front of a brightly-blazing fire. The latter started forward as Katherine entered, holding out his hand, which she shook warmly. ' Still at work, Mrs Broughton. AVhy, you are indefatig able.' ' We must all be that now, Mr Snelwood, don't you think ? There isn't much time to be wasted.' She took the chair he offered her, and spoke with some slight accent of reproof. Imperceptibly he shrugged his shoulders. 5c ' Oh ! well, there isn't very much more to do. Every street and house has been done three times.

AVe got the last batch of canvassing cards in to-night. I am afraid only personal influence can be brought to bear now,' and he smiled down at her admiringly. How ready men always are to idle when they can talk to a pretty woman. Again that flash of anger crossed her expressive face. ' I hope you are not taking a leaf out of the Tories' book, Mr Snelwood ? You seem somewhat apathetic to-night' ' It is for the first time then since I began work,' he answered quickly ; ' but as to Tory apathy, I wish to heaven they would show a little more of it just now.' 'They expend the little energy they have on red tape, and think birth is more matter than voice or mind.' ' They are working like demons now, Mrs Broughton.' The man shifted his position and looked uneasily into the fire. ' You don't think there is any fear of — our losing ? ' Katherine asked nervously. ' No, I think not,' he answered moodily ; ' but there will only be a small majority.' ' It is a Radical division ! ' ' Radical doesn't mean one party now.

The Trades Union Congress has done us a lot of harm.' ' But the majority were for legislation.' ' It was a paper majority. Believe me, Mrs Broughton, the Unions, with very few exceptions, are for the voluntary vote and "combination." Look at the dockers, whose delegates here voted for the Eight Hours' Bill, and have since passed a resolution condemning it. The old Trades Unions are the great powers still, and hard as the leaders of the new may work, they cannot create force where it is not' ' But if the State does not protect the workman, who or what will ? He is poor and undefended.' ' The people must be a power and protect themselves. Remember, it is against the very essence of Radical belief — coercion whether by State or man. Liberals lived to free men, and now they want to chain their individual desires, mash them all into one unnatural pulp.' ' I know you don't agree with my husband, Mr Snelwood.