THE CAUSE.

Press, Volume LXIV, Issue 13101, 28 April 1908, Page 9

THE CAUSE.

Mas Nhsh, in "Black and White." "Pity's akin to love." —Southern*.

I hare been tatting over the fire wondering what it is that makes man love woman and woman love man, and I am wondering about a particular case. . , , , . Helen Bramdsoombo is good-Jookuig, and Sir Henry Morndngton isabig, clean, good-natured dear, ruM of chivalry and tenderness; but he does not love Helen. They are eminently suited in many ways, and yet there is just something, a sort of I'm-as-good-as-you-end-better air about Helen that jars on Harry; but there is no shadow of dojibt that she loves hmm. Alas! why do so many women show their love openly. There are many that do not, but Helen is not ono of them. Moreover, 6he has theories of how to make men fall in love, and theories on Jtove, like systems at Monte Carlo, begin in joy and end in disaster. has been airing her theories to mc this very afternoon. We were having tea at my olub when she pmopounded her views on man and on love. She made no secret, either, of her desire to attract Sir Harry. The oldfashioned girl who protested that the "Dick" she adored was the very last man she cared about ar wonld ever seek to marry, has given way to the girl who tolls you openly what she wants and how she means to get it. • • • "There is" only one way to treat the man, who T ' "Yes, I know, dearest." "Yes," said Helen, "you know wttrat I mean—if you like anyone, and you see they like you, but they aren't actually in love, but they——" "I know," I said again, and Helen laugfhed as she took her teacup. "There's one comfort about a woman friend—«ho understands the things you ca.n't say." "You don't say yon mean." I corrected. "Of course, he is net like other men." "No," I agreed, "they never are." "And ho can't bear the old-fashioned sort of girl who is afraid of a mouse, amd can't ride anything worthy of the name of horse, who gets hysterical over nothing " "I never saw a hysterical horse," I said. "Don't be silly, Norma—and he likes women with views; in fact, he says women don't assert themselves enough." "Are you a Suffragette, my dear Helen?" "Well, I am and I'm not/ dhe answered, glibly; "you see, I believe in women getting ail they can." "Votes, etc., husbands, or anything else that is going, Ln fact." "Yes," she laughed, "anything they want, and I don't see why women shou-ldm't have votes if they like; though I personally should think it a frightful bore, for ono would be sure to have to go vote the very day there was something else an, some special matinee, or a sale, or something really important." "I see," I said, "you are not prepared to inconvenience yourself—you wouldn't, for instance, go to prison for the Cause?" "Go to prison?" echoed Helen, in a horrified voice, "my dear Norma, what a mad idea! Why, if I went to prison, I shouldn't get a hot bath or a fire in my room—or my face powder, or my curling tongs, or—or anything," 6he finished up, the catalogue being too long to continue. ' '"No," I 6Jiid, "and yet, supposing I to3d you Sir Henry was an ardent Suffragette." Helen's jaw dropped. "Is he?" "I have heard so." "I don't believe it," eaid Helen, decidedly, "and if he is, it's his business to get us tho vote, so that 'we don't have to go to prison." "I douibt if his position in ParKament is strong enough," I said.

"Then it's quite time he got married," said Helen, with, much irrelevance.

"Sly dear Harry, you're looking very gloomy, como, unburden your soul— nQrat is it that is trouHing youP" "WoH, my deir Norma, the fact is —may I smoke? Thanks—well, you know, you're my favourite cousin, end ray best pal ." "Yes," I agreed, "and you're worried about Helen Brandscombe." "By Jove, how did yon guess?" "I've seen people hunted before," I «wd, gently, "and if you aren't careful you'll very soon te run to earth." 'Has she said anything?" he asked, seixioxisry. "Not a word." I replied, out of loyalty to my sex. "I'm a fatuous ass to have asked the question." "Not at all; you're here to be crossexamined ajid defended, Harry, and I'm very fond cf you, and Helen wouldn't 6iiit you at all." '•ft sounds beastly conceited to say anything, Norma, but realry she—she frightened mc. It isn't the mothers .rho make the marriages nowadays, by Tove. it's usually the .srirls themselves." "She cays you told her that you thought women did not assert themselves enough." "Did I? "Well. I didn't mean, her, anyway." •'Are you a Suffragette, my dear Harry?" "Good Lord! no> of course not—fflfiy,

I sarar them making one of ixhear rows tihe other day, and I felt sick, positively sick, at tire way they were going on, I was with Jack, you know; it waa Thursday last, I think:." 1 remembered the occasion, tor my husband had come home and said to mc: "I saw the Suffragettes suffraget-tiemto-dav, Norma, and do you know what I fefc-P" "No," I replied. "Well, I had a good look at them, and there wasn't a siiyrlo one among them with whom I would have oared to run over to Paris for n week'"; upon which I hud coldly explained to Jack that that was not tho object tho Suffragettes had in suffragetting. "Do you want to be saved, Harry?" He looked gratefully and yet diffidontiy across at mc. "It sounds so caddish to say yes." "I've got a plan," I said, ignoring this natural nice fooling on his part. '•What is it?" "Never you mind," I replied, "but just go and order the brougham, there's a dear, for I'm going to have tea with Helen." • » • "If yen think it would really pleise him,'' said Ho';wn. "At least it would show him tho kind of <jirl you ire," I 6aid, with evasive tmihfulnefis. "And, of course, I could slip into a 1 taxi, amd como homo directly the police began to lose their heads." "'Don't lose yours," I suggested gently. "Nonsense ; when have I ever lost my head ? I know ho loves mc, and he only wants mc to do Gometlhing heroic for hum to say so." "I thought it was the mom. who had to do po-n-.othing heroic." "My doar,"'gho replied, "men heroes are obsolete. It is wo wonwm who do everything brave nowadays."