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Updated: June 11, 2025
But as the woman although he tried his utmost to prevent it and to conjure up the form of a totally different type took the shape of Zora Middlemist, he discouraged such dreams as making more for mild unhappiness than for joy, and bent his thoughts to his guns and railway carriages and other world-upheaving inventions.
My work would suffer but in this mission of mine Zora Middlemist is intimately involved. I said it when I first saw her, and I said it just before she left for California. She is to stand by my side and help me. How, God knows." He laughed, seeing the bewildered face of Septimus, who had never heard of this transcendental connection of Zora with the spread of Sypher's Cure.
Middlemist, looking like a rose in June, had already irradiated the wan November garden. They must look over the house before lunch. Afterwards, outside, the great surprise awaited them. What was it? Ah! He turned laughing eyes on them, like a boy. The great London firm to whom he had entrusted the furniture and decoration had done their splendid worst.
"I don't think I quite like you er to look on Mrs. Middlemist as an advertisement," said Septimus. To speak so directly cost him considerable effort. "Don't you? Then I won't. I love a man to speak straight to me. I respect him. Here's my hand." He wrung Septimus's hand warmly. "I feel that we are going to be friends. I'm never wrong. I hope Mrs. Middlemist will allow me to be a friend.
Middlemist has ordered its immediate removal." That was the end of the board episode. The next day he had it taken down and chopped into fire-wood, a cart-load of which he sent with his humble compliments to Mrs. Middlemist. Zora called it a burnt offering.
"I would defy anybody to sell me a thing I didn't want," she replied. "Ah, that," said he with a glance of wistful admiration, "that is because you have red hair." If any other strange male had talked about her hair, Zora Middlemist would have drawn herself up in Junoesque majesty and blighted him with a glance. She had done with men and their compliments forever.
Of course, if the philosopher has guessed her unformulated desire, then things are easy for him, and he can discourse with certitude on feminine vagaries, as Rattenden did on the journeyings of Zora Middlemist. He has the word of the enigma. But to the woman herself her state of mind is an exasperating puzzle, and to her friends, philosophic or otherwise, her consequent actions are disconcerting.
She sat down at the piano, rattled a prelude, and gave forth an echo of the music-halls: 'It's all up with poor Tommy now. I shall never more be happy, I vow. It's just a week to-day Since my Sairey went away, And it's all up with poor Tommy now. Mrs. Middlemist, who prided herself upon serious vocal powers, remarked that comic singing should be confined to men.
"I hope she won't marry one of those dreadful creatures with lassos," said Mrs. Oldrieve, whose hazy ideas of California were based on hazier memories of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show which she had seen many years ago in London. "I hope Mrs. Middlemist won't marry at all," said Sypher, in a tone of alarm. "Why?" asked Cousin Jane. She shot the question at him with almost a snarl.
While he was deriving spiritual entertainment from the great battle between Christian and Apollyon and consolation from the latter's discomfiture, Septimus was walking down the road to the post-office, a letter in his hand. The envelope was addressed to "Mrs. Middlemist, White Star Co.'s S.S. Cedric, Marseilles." It contained a blank sheet of headed note-paper and the tail of a little china dog.
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