as the two women gazed at one another under the lamplight, one standing and looking down, the other sitting and looking up, you would have said they might have been twin sisters—they looked so wonderfully alike. both were fair, with pale forget-me-not eyes, and skins delicately clear; both were tall and slight. nor was there any very noticeable difference in the dress they wore. she who stood erect, with the rain beating down upon her head, wore only, besides her bonnet and dress of black stuff, a shawl wrapt tightly around her; the shawl was rich and valuable, but looked common enough in the dim light. she who sat, with her elbow on her knees and her chin resting in her open palms, wore a shawl too, and a plain stuff dress, sodden with the rain; her bonnet had fallen back, soaking and unheeded, on her shoulders, just held by the sodden strings.
a close observer, however, would have perceived a world of difference between these two women. the woman standing had the fierce, pained, impatient manner of a wild animal; every look, every gesture was self-contained, determined, yet full of overmastering anxiety, the woman sitting was a crushed, gin-sodden, passionless, powerless waif, with only the courage of a hunted pariah dog, to snap, and crawl uselessly away.
both were very young, neither being more than twenty-one or twenty-two years of age.
‘that way!—over the bridge!’ said the woman sitting, in a husky voice; then she added, as the other seemed about to pass on, ‘stop though! what are you going to stand?’
the other turned quickly, and again looked down with her large eager eyes.
‘what do you want?—money?’ the voice was deep and clear, though it trembled a little.
‘yes, i’m as thirsty as a fish. lend me a shilling, and i’ll pay you back some night when i’m in luck. only a shilling! that won’t break you!’
‘if i give you the money, what will you do with it?’
‘drink it,’ was the curt reply.
something in the answer had a curious effect on the hearer. she stooped softly down and looked earnestly in the other woman’s face.
‘you’ll know me again when you see me?’ ‘do you mind telling me your name?’
‘ellen,—never mind what else. nell for snort.
‘where do you live?’
‘anywhere.’
‘how old are you?’
‘lord knows. twenty or thereabouts. are you going to keep on questioning all the blessed night? i want something to drink.’
the girl who stood bent over the sitting girl and placed something in her hand. she uttered a suppressed cry.
‘gold! why, you’ve given me a sovereign! what for?’
‘i have only another, or i would give you more. i am sorry for you. good night!’
‘stop! don’t go. let me have another look at you.’
‘well?’
‘what a fool i was! why you’re a lady!’
it was the other’s turn to laugh now—a low, bitter laugh.
‘and you’ve got on a real injy shawl—let me feel it! and there’s a pair of gold bracelets on your wrists! well, i’m——!!’
this with a prolonged half whistle, expressive of utter surprise. then she continued—
‘i don’t know who you are, or where you’re a-going, but the streets ain’t safe for the likes of you. you’d best go home, my lady!’
‘i have no home.’
‘what!’
‘what home i had i have left, never to go back. i am leaving london.’
‘where are you going?’
‘anywhere.’ after a moment’s pause she pointed across the river and over the house-tops, and added, ‘out there.’
‘friends there, i suppose?’
‘no friends.’
‘and not much coin. ah, well, you’ve them swell bracelets; and the shawl, too, is worth money.’
it was very strange—innocent as the remark seemed, it appeared to make the tall figure of the listener tremble with agitation, perhaps with anger. with a quick impetuous movement she drew off her bracelets and threw them into the girl’s lap.
‘take them—i don’t want them! and the shawl too—take it, and give me yours.’
‘no, you’re joking!’
‘quick!’
in a moment the change was effected; and the women now stood erect and face to face. the commoner and more outcast creature seemed utterly stupefied by what had taken place. suddenly the other seized both her hands, and said quickly—
‘the river—is it there?’
a light seemed suddenly to flash in upon the outcast’s bewildered brain.
‘you’re not a-going to drown yourself? no!’ ‘i don’t know—perhaps!’
this with a peculiar smile.
‘it’s no use; there’s too many eyes a-watching. i tried it myself once, slap off the embankment, but i was fished out like a wet rag. don’t you be such a fool! you’re a lady, and you had best go home.’
without replying, the lady began to move rapidly away. seized by a peculiar impulse, the outcast cried after her—‘come back—take your things—it’s a shame for me to have them. take them back.’
‘no; keep them. good-bye. may i kiss you?’ ‘if you like,’ was the stupefied reply.
the lips of the two women met, their breaths mingled for a moment. then, while the one stood petrified, staring in utter astonishment, the other flitted rapidly and silently away.
