A servant came, who made everything right.
Then Lance continued, "You interrupted me, Frances. I was just saying that child-murder is one of the greatest blots on the civilization of the present day."
"It is such a horrible thing to speak of," she said, feebly.
"It wants some speaking about," said Lance. "I never take up a paper without reading one or two cases. I wonder that the Government does not take it up and issue some decree or other. It is a blot on the face of the land."
"I do not suppose that any decree of Government would change it," I said; "the evil lies too deeply for that; the law should be made equal; as it is, the whole blame, shame and punishment fall on the woman, while the man goes free; there will be no change for the better while that is the case. I have not patience to think of the irregularity of the law."
"You are right, John," said my old friend. "Still, cruelty in a woman is so horrible, and the woman must be as cruel as a demon who deserts or slays her own child. If I had my own way, I would hang every one who does it; there would soon be an end of it then."
There was a low startled cry, and the paper fell to the ground. Mrs. Fleming rose from her chair with a ghastly face.
"Frances!" cried her husband, "what is the matter?"
"You will talk of such horrible things," she replied, vehemently, "and you know that I cannot bear them."
"Sweetheart," he whispered, as he kissed her, "I will be more careful. I know a sensitive heart like yours cannot bear the knowledge of such things. You must forgive me, Frances, but to me there is something far more loathing in the woman who kills a child than in the woman who slays a man. Do not look so pale and grieved, my darling! John, we must be more careful what we say."