``But why?'' the Princess wanted to know.
I studied her in silence for a moment. She was a new and interesting type to me, and I was glad to exchange viewpoints with her.
``You are proud of your family, are you not?'' I a sked. ``You are proud of your great line?''
The Princess drew herself up. ``Assuredly,'' she said.
``Very well,'' I continued. ``I am proud, too.
What I have done I have done unaided, and, to be frank with you, I rather approve of it. My work is my patent of nobility, and I am not willing to associate with those from whom it would have to be concealed or with those who would look down upon it.''
The Princess sighed. I was a new type to her, too, as new as she was to me; but I had the ad- v antage of her, for I could understand her point of view, whereas she apparently could not follow mine.
She was very gracious to me, however, showing me kindness and friendship in a dozen ways, giving me an immense amount of her time and taking rather more of my time than I could spare, but never for- g etting for a moment that her blood was among the oldest in Europe, and that all her traditions were in keeping with its honorable age.
After the Berlin meeting Miss Anthony and I w ere invited to spend a week-end at the home of Mrs. Jacob Bright, that ``Aunt Susan'' might re- n ew her acquaintance with Annie Besant. This visit is among my most vivid memories. Originally ``Aunt Susan'' had greatly admired Mrs. Besant, and had openly lamented the latter's concentration on theosophical interests--when, as Miss Anthony put it, ``there are so many live problems here in this world.'' Now she could not conceal her disapproval of the ``other-worldliness'' of Mrs. Besant, Mrs.
Bright, and her daughter. Some remarkable and, to me, most amusing discussions took place among the three; but often, during Mrs. Besant's most sus- t ained oratorical flights, Miss Anthony's interest would wander, and she would drop a remark that showed she had not heard a word. She had a great admiration for Mrs. Besant's intellect; but she dis- a pproved of her flowing and picturesque white robes, of her bare feet, of her incessant cigarette-smoking; a bove all, of her views. At last, one day.{sic} the climax of the discussions came.
``Annie,'' demanded ``Aunt Susan,'' ``why don't you make that aura of yours do its gallivanting in this world, looking up the needs of the oppressed, and investigating the causes of present wrongs?
Then you could reveal to us workers just what we should do to put things right, and we could be about it.''
Mrs. Besant sighed and said that life was short and aeons were long, and that while every one would be perfected some time, it was useless to deal with individuals here.
``But, Annie!'' exclaimed Miss Anthony, patheti- c ally. ``We ARE here! Our business is here! It's our duty to do what we can here.''
Mrs. Besant seemed not to hear her. She was in a trance, gazing into the aeons.
``I'd rather have one year of your ability, backed up with common sense, for the work of ****** this world better,'' cried the exasperated ``Aunt Susan,''
``than a million aeons in the hereafter!''
Mrs. Besant sighed again. It was plain that she could not bring herself back from the other world, so Miss Anthony, perforce, accompanied her to it.
``When your aura goes visiting in the other world,'' she asked, curiously, ``does it ever meet your old friend Charles Bradlaugh?''
``Oh yes,'' declared Mrs. Besant. ``Frequently.''
``Wasn't he very much surprised,'' demanded Miss Anthony, with growing interest, ``to discover that he was not dead?''
Mrs. Besant did not seem to know what emotion Mr. Bradlaugh had experienced when that revela- t ion came.
``Well,'' mused ``Aunt Susan,'' ``I should think he would have been surprised. He was so certain he was going to be dead that it must have been astounding to discover he wasn't. What was he doing in the other world?''
Mrs. Besant heaved a deeper sigh. ``I am very much discouraged over Mr. Bradlaugh,'' she ad- m itted, wanly. `` He is hovering too near this world. He cannot seem to get away from his mun- d ane interests. He is as much concerned with par- l iamentary affairs now as when he was on this plane.''
``Humph!'' said Miss Anthony; ``that's the most sensible thing I've heard yet about the other world.
It encourages me. I've always felt sure that if I e ntered the other life before women were enfran- c hised nothing in the glories of heaven would in- t erest me so much as the work for women's ******* on earth. Now,'' she ended, ``I shall be like Mr.
Bradlaugh. I shall hover round and continue my work here.''
When Mrs. Besant had left the room Mrs. Bright felt that it was her duty to admonish ``Aunt Susan'' t o be more careful in what she said.
``You are ****** too light of her creed,'' she ex- p ostulated. ``You do not realize the important position Mrs. Besant holds. Why, in India, when she walks from her home to her school all those she meets prostrate themselves. Even the learned men prostrate themselves and put their faces on the ground as she goes by.''
``Aunt Susan's'' voice, when she replied, took on the tones of one who is sorely tried. ``But why in Heaven's name does any sensible Englishwoman want a lot of heathen to prostrate themselves as she goes up the street?'' she demanded, wearily. ``It's the most foolish thing I ever heard.''
The effort to win Miss Anthony over to the theo- s ophical doctrine was abandoned. That night, after we had gone to our rooms, ``Aunt Susan'' summed up her conclusions on the interview:
``It's a good thing for the world,'' she declared, ``that some of us don't know so much. And it's a better thing for this world that some of us think a little earthly common sense is more valuable than too much heavenly knowledge.''
