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trades, did mérchandizing, wrangled al the bar, ’ cheated at the stock-exchange? Isn't there: womething in a truly feminine character higher | and diviner than can co-exist with these things?” ; I thought bitterly of what he had often said of : Georgians. “Suppose, for argument’s sake, that |
the avenues to all pursuits were thrown freely ; open to women ; that, for every purpose of money- | making, the two sexes were put on an equal; that , voman was made the head of the family—do you, o your honor, believe that society would be im- proved by itt” }
I made no reply. Secretly, I felt that he was: right. He waited for awhile courteously: then | proceeded,
“If my mother had been hard, echeming, lacre-loving, what a wretch I would be now! And she would have been all this, I fear, Mies Gray, if she had been engaged, her life through, as men are, fighting, first for bread, and then for fortune. Under God,” he continued, solemnly, his voice trembling with emotion, ‘it is because women are preserved, as I would say; excluded, as you phrase it; from the rougher contact of life, that we mon begin, at least, with some high and holy feelings; and if we Jose them afterward, or if they often grow cold within us, it is because we are thrown, like gladiators, into the arena, and forced often to fight for our very lives. By her organization, indeed, woman is mow deli- cate, more refined, more ideal, more religious than man is; but even her organization cannot entirely resiet the cold teachings of a selfish world; for few women, I say it with regret, who play the part of men, whether they play it from ehoice or necessity, but become more or less tmannish; and to the extent they become man- nish, to that extent they cease to be really love- able.”
Mach of this moved me. Much of it I felt to be true. But it irritated me all the more. I believed he was indirectly telling me I was too masculine. I anewered,
“Is what you call womanly, really so? Haven't all men a false ideal? Wouldn’t they rather have & toy than s companion?”
“No,” he replied, with sudden energy, ‘a thousand times no! In proportion ass man is stroog himself, be wishes, longs for, will have, & compsnion, and not a toy.”
“The ivy and the oak,” I answered, scorn- fally; ‘it’s ivy man wants, after all.”
“You don’t argue, you sueer,” he said.
“I do argue. I have given you examples enough.”
‘*And your examples were all exceptions.”
“Oh! that’s always the answer,” Iasid. ‘It s eternally the same equivocation about excep- ions to general rules.”
“But society, as you surely know, has to make eneral laws,” he said. ‘It flows from the fal- ibility of the human intellect; and under general aws it is impossible always to prevent injustice o the few. Besides, I don’t see that women uffer more than men. If there are thousands ff educated women, doomed to a poverty that is he more painful because of their culture, and ompelled to labor at hateful tasks for a liveli- 1ood, there are quite as many men. The majority f my own sex, if I am to believe their words, ire discontented with their lot. It is very cer- ain that where one is born, as the proverb goes, with a silver spoon in his mouth,’ a dozen are porn without.”
“We cannot talk on this subject,” Isaid. ‘We liffer too irreconcilably.” And I moved to go.
“Nay! stay,” said he. ‘Hear me out. Is it man, or woman, who is to blame for this ostra- sism, of which you spoke, awhile ago? Are not your sex the first to drop the acquaintance of a woman reduced to work for a livelihood?”
I acknowledged, mentally, that he was right; but remained silent. Georgiana now interposed.
- You have converted me, at least, Mr. Tal-
bot,” she said, with a wonderfully natural air of frankness and innocence. ‘I confess I had never thought much on this subject, but had taken up the popular cry of my sex.”
“I wish you joy of your convert then, Mr. Talbot,” I said, curtsying ecornfully. ‘But it is, at least, thoroughly feminine on the part of Georgy. I suppose most of us women are 80, and that is. why man holds us in the slavery he does. You were right,” I added, bitterly. ‘We betray ourselves.” With which parting words, and a glance, like a Parthian arrow, sbot at my cousin, I swept proudly away.
But I had not reached the house before | was heartily ashamed of myself. I had given way to temper. I had shown jenlousy of Georgiana. I had exaggerated my opinions. ‘‘Vehement, was the word he used,” I said: and I felt its justice. Iwas self-condemned. I crept up to my room, double-locked the door, threw myself on the bed, and gave way to teara of mingled shame and remorse.
That night there was another “hop.” I had looked forward to it, only that morning, with unalloyed delight. But now I could not hope that Mr. Talbot would be with me. He would never be to me again what he had been. He might forgive my opinions, distasteful as they were to him; but he could not forget my too evident losa of temper.
