“They are, in body and mind,” replied Flora: “but sex, I suppose, does not extend to soul. There, some men are far weaker than some women. Look at Peter. I dare say the maid who kept the door would have been less frightened of the two, if he had taunted her with being one of ‘this man’s disciples.’”
“Well, I should feel ashamed!” I said.
“I am not sure if women do not feel moral weakness a greater shame than men do,” replied Flora. “Men seem to think so much more of want of physical bravery. Many a soldier will not stand an ill-natured laugh, who would want to fight you in a minute if you hinted that he was afraid of being hurt. Things seem to look so different to men from what they do to women; and, I think, to the angels, and to God.”
I did not like to leave her alone in her trouble: but she said she wanted nothing, and was going to write to her father; so I went back to Sophy’s room, and gave Flora’s message to the girls.
“Dear! I am sure we don’t want her,” said Hatty: and Charlotte added, “She is more of a spoil-sport than anything else.”
So we played at “Hunt the slipper,” and “Questions and commands,” and “The parson has lost his cloak,” and “Blind man’s buff”: and then when we got tired we sat down—on the beds or anywhere—Hatty took off the mirror and perched herself on the dressing-table, and Charlotte wanted to climb up and sit on the mantel-shelf, but Sophy would not let her—and then we had a round of “How do you like it?” and then we went to bed.
In the middle of the night I awoke with a start, and heard a great noise, and Sam’s voice, and old Will’s, and a lot of queer talking, as if something were being carried up-stairs that was hard to pull along; and there were a good many words that I am sure my Aunt Kezia would not let me write, and—well, if He do look at what I am writing, I should not like God to see them neither. I felt sure that the gentlemen were being carried up to bed—such of them as could not walk—and such as could were being helped along. I rather wonder that gentlemen like to drink so much, and get themselves into such a queer condition. I do not think they would like it if the ladies began to do such things. I could not help wondering if Angus were among them. Flora, who had lain awake for a long while, and had only dropped asleep, as she told me afterwards, about half an hour before, for she heard the clock strike one, slept on at first, and I hoped she would not awake. But as the last lot were being dragged past our door, Flora woke up with a start, and cried,—
“What is that? O Cary, what can be the matter?”
I wanted to make as light of it as I could.
“Oh, go to sleep,” I said; “there is nothing wrong.”