“Well, then, let me talk to you like a sister,” she rejoined.
He thought he had not seen her before in precisely the mood which was discernible in her face and tone this morning. Outwardly she was as gay and light-hearted as ever, and certainly she had not seemed on any previous day to come so near being beautiful as well. The sense of sheer pleasure in being where she was, in listening to her and looking’ at her, and holding her affectionately bright attention for his own thoughts, was peculiarly strong in him to-day. But there was also the consciousness of a new gravity in her attitude toward him—a kind of yearning apprehension of dangers threatening him. He saw again in her eyes when she looked at him that likeness to his mother’s glance—a wistfully sad glance as he most often recalled it. And yet Kathleen smiled merrily with it all, when occasion required.
“You are entering upon the great experience now,” she said to him: “I think it was very wise of Emanuel to show you first what we may call his ideal state of society. By all the rules, it ought to help you to understand in the right way what you will see of the society which—well, which isn’t in an ideal state. But there are certain things which get to be understood, not so much by brains, as by years. That is to say, the very cleverest youth may not be able to see, in this one respect, what is plain enough to most dull persons at forty. Emanuel tells me that he has talked with you about women in general.”
“He does not like them very much,” said Christian, laughingly.
She twisted the corners of her mouth in a droll little grimace, which seemed to express approval of his mirth, and something more besides.
“He takes them with tremendous seriousness,” she answered. “That is his way with everything. He makes all sorts of classifications—the bigger they are and the more complicated the better he likes them—and then he treats each one as a problem, and he worries at it with all his energy until he works out a satisfactory solution. It is only in that sense that he has a grievance against women. He has proceeded upon the theory that the sex is a unit, for philosophical purposes at least, and that he ought to be able to get at the rules which govern its actions. But we continue to baffle him,” she added, again with the playful curl of the lips.
“Oh, you—you are not in the problem,” protested Christian. “For you and his mother he has only the veneration one gives to one’s favorite saints.”
“His mother was a great woman,” said Kathleen, serious once more. “I never saw her, but she is my patron saint, as you put it, quite as much as his. I never permit myself to doubt that we should have loved each other deeply—and it is the sweetest thing any one can think of me, or say to me—to link us together. But even the saints have their specialties—and that implies limitations. I have a notion that Emanuel’s mother did not know many women, and so fell into a way of generalizing about them. Emanuel has that same tendency. I, who work among them daily, and make it my business to be teacher and mistress and mother and sister to some five hundred of them, young and old, foolish and wise—I come to believe that these generalizations are entirely mistaken. If a woman is brought up like a man, and circumstanced precisely like a man, and knows nothing of any conventions save those which control a man—why, then you can’t tell the difference between her opinions and actions and those of her brother. But you never get the chance to view a woman under those conditions.”
“But here we shall see them!” cried Christian, with premature enthusiasm. “You will change all that!”
“Oh, no, I shan’t,” she answered abruptly. “It is not being tried—it is not desirable. What I am doing proceeds quite on orthodox lines. We make a point of developing them in the way of usefulness—material usefulness, I mean. We teach them the useful accomplishments—spinning, weaving, sewing, dairy and poultry work, and above all things good cooking.”