Four Gates by Amy Le Feuvre

"Who would be planted chooseth not the soil, Or here or there, Or loam or peat, Wherein he best may grow, And bring forth guerdon of the planter's toil.

"Lord, even so I ask one prayer, The which if it be granted- It skills not where Thou plantest me- Only-I would be planted. " T. E. BROWN.

"PAULINE, do you honestly like being in a backwater?"

"Backwaters have their uses."

"That is not an answer."

"I think I regard it as a halting-place-a wayside station on life's railroad."

"But that is just what it isn't. It comes from nowhere, and leads to nowhere. And I stamp and I fume at the stagnation!"

"You are an impetuous spirit! Perhaps, later on, you will look back to these quiet sweet days, and long to experience them again."

"I don't say that I shouldn't enjoy it at the end of my life, when I have been in all the stir and rush; when I have had my good time and can sit in an easy-chair and look back at it all."

"Then you should have sympathy with your father."

"Oh, I have. From his point of view, his lines have fallen to him in pleasant places. But I am at the beginning of my life. I think everyone ought to be in towns when they are young, and retire into the country when they are old. Of course, it is delightful when you have money; then you can have both in your life. But with a small purse, if you live the first half of your life in the country, and only get release from it when you are old, then you are too old to enjoy your liberty. Opportunities are gone; your talents are rusted, your ignorance of the world is ridiculous!"

"Why, Audrey, dear, you are getting quite excited!"

"I am-I feel so. Do say you agree with me. You must if you think it out. Look at us in this village. Here are four young women, not poor enough to earn their living, but not rich enough to satisfy their mental needs. One, Pauline Erskine, devotes herself to an invalid mother, and never leaves home for a single night. Don't interrupt me. She might, as your old Mary would say, 'grace a castle,' with her dignity and beauty. She once had a longing for an artistic life, but it has been stifled. She did go to London for three weeks when she was quite young, and she has lived on the memory of it ever since. She pretends her life satisfies her, but I know it doesn't.

"Then there is Honor Broughton, who is nursery governess to her three small stepsisters. Her whole world is centred in this backwater. She can never talk of anyone but her immediate neighbours, and the iniquities of her mother's servants.

"Amabel Osborne is a most dutiful daughter, of course, and is always the picture of happy content. But she confesses that reading a newspaper to her father is the most uninteresting part of her day's work. She has never worked her brains, and never will. Picking flowers in the garden, and listening to a lark's song, and roaming across buttercup meadows are her highest pleasures."

"And Audrey Hume-"

"Oh, she's just another, with a passion for reading, but can get no books worth the name of books, and a passion for novelty and change, and has never been twelve miles out of this backwater all her life. Talk about the revolt of women, and the era of independent women-what do we understand by such terms? There are no stronger chains than those of affection and blood, and we are all tied to those who are old and weak and helpless, and who are our beloved belongings!"

Quick tears sprang to the young girl's eyes as she turned to her friend for sympathy.

Pauline looked at her, then gazed over the peaceful landscape in front of them with a wistful smile.

They were both leaning over a gate as they talked. It was a buttercup meadow in front of them, and young lambs were at play in it. The soft spring air, with the thrill of youth and expectancy in it, had got into Audrey's veins. She was quivering all over with excitement and feeling, and her dark grey eyes were flashing with a thousand lights and sparkles. Slim and of the average height, with a broad low brow, and soft dusky hair, and a face that owed all its beauty to its variety of expression, she was a marked contrast to the tall fair girl beside her.