Very seldom did Graeme allow herself to put her troubled thoughts into words, and she rose now and went about the room, as if she wished to put an end to their talk. But Will said,—
“Even if it were true and real, all you say, it may not be for long. Some day, you don’t know how soon, you may have legitimate ‘woman’s work’ to do,—love, and sympathy, and care, and all the rest, without encroaching on Fanny’s domain.”
He began gravely, but blushed and stammered; and glanced with laughing deprecation at his sister, as he ended. She did not laugh.
“I have thought of that, too. It seems so natural and proper, and in the common course of things, that a woman should marry. And there have been times, during this last year, when, just to get away from it all, I have thought that any change would be for the better. But it would not be right, unless—” she hesitated.
“No, unless it was the right person, and all that, but may we not reasonably hope that the right person may come?”
“We won’t talk about it, Will. There must be some other way than that. Many women find an appropriate work to do without marrying. I wish I could do as the Merleville girls used to do, spin and weave, or keep a school.”
“But they don’t spin and weave now, since the factories have been built. And as for school-keeping—”
“It would be work, good wholesome work, in which, with God’s help, I might try to do as our father and mother did, and leave the world better for my labour.”
“But you could not part from Rose, and Arthur could never be made to see it right that you should go away,” said Will.
“Rose should go with me. And Arthur would not like it at first, nor Fanny, but they would reconcile themselves to it in time. And as to the school, that is only one kind of work, though there are few kinds left for a woman to do, the more’s the pity.”