One word more. It is a common saying, and as absurd as it is common—"Oh! women have no right to meddle in politics." Women, on the contrary, have as much right as "the lords of the creation" to exhibit an interest in the systems and institutions by which they are governed. For the sake of their children, as well as for their own, they should assert and exercise that right. It is a lamentable delusion to suppose that the intellect of woman is not powerful nor comprehensive enough to embrace such considerations. The intellect of woman is naturally as strong as that of man; but it has less chances and less opportunities of developing its capacity. The masculine study of politics would aid the intellect of woman in putting forth its strength; and we hope that the day is gone by when the female sex are to be limited to the occupations of the drawing-room, the nursery, or the kitchen. We do not wish to see women become soldiers or sailors, nor to work at severe employment: but we are anxious to behold them thinkers as well as readers—utilitarians as well as domestic economists. And we know of no greater benefit that could be conferred on society in general, than that which might be derived from the influence of the well developed intellect of woman. Her mind is naturally better poised than that of man: far-seeing and quick-sighted is she;—a readiness at devising and combining plans to meet emergencies, is intuitive with her. Her judgment is correct—her taste good;—and she profits by experience far more usefully than does man. Is it not absurd, then—is it not unjust—and is it not unwise to deny to woman the right of exercising her proper influence in that society of which she is the ornament and the delight?
Alas! that there should be such exceptions to the general rule of female excellence, as Martha Slingsby,—a woman whose principles were thoroughly corrupt, whose licentious passions were of the most devouring, insatiable kind, and whose talent for wicked combinations and evil plottings was unfortunately so great!
Let us return to this hypocritical and abandoned creature, and follow her in the vile scheme which now occupies all her attention.
Having breakfasted at an early hour, she seated herself at her desk, whence she drew forth a packet of letters received by her at various times from Sir Henry Courtenay, and the signatures of which now became the objects of her special study. The art of counterfeiting the late baronet's autograph was practised by her for nearly half an hour; for though she was already tolerably confident of her ability to forge his signature most successfully,—as she had assured Mr. Torrens,—she nevertheless deemed it prudent to render the imitation as perfect as possible.
At last the atrocious deed was accomplished to her complete satisfaction; and a cheque for two thousand pounds lay, drawn in a thoroughly business-like manner, upon her desk!
She was bold and courageous in the execution of plots and the carrying out of deep schemes;—but this dark and dangerous crime which she had just perpetrated, caused her to shudder from head to foot! Hitherto all her wickedness had been of a nature calculated only, if detected, to involve her in disgrace, and not in peril—to ruin her character, but not place her life in jeopardy! Now she had taken a step—a bold and desperate step—which at once set her on the high road that conducts all those who are found treading its pathway, to the foot of the scaffold!
Yes—she shrank back and she trembled violently as she rose from the desk whereon the forged cheque now lay; and for a moment she was inclined to seize it—to rend it into a thousand pieces—and thus to dispel at once and in an instant the tremendous black cloud of stormy danger which she had drawn over her own head.
But, no—she had courage enough to be wicked and rash; but she had not strength of mind sufficient to render her prudent. She therefore decided on daring all—risking everything, by the presentation of the forged cheque!
Having dressed herself in a style of unusual elegance, she proceeded in a hackney-coach to Lombard Street, and alighted at the door of the banking-house on which the cheque was drawn.
Saying to herself,—"Now for the aid of all my courage!"—she entered the spacious establishment, and advanced towards the counter.