“Respectability!” said the count, thoroughly aroused. “I wonder that women do not hate the very word. No woman ever becomes worthy of herself until she finds out what a sham it is—a very bugbear to frighten slaves. No woman knows her strength until she has had to battle with the cry of ‘strong-minded,’ ‘out-of-her-sphere,’ ‘unfeminine,’ and all the other weapons of weak and hypocritical antagonists. I tell you, a woman who has fought that fight, and conquered an independent position by her own industry, has attractions in the eyes of a true man, as much above the show of little graces, polite accomplishments, meretricious toilet arts, and the gabble of inanities, as heaven is above the earth. She is a woman whom no man can hold by wealth or social position, but only by the love his devotion and manliness can inspire.”
No dissenting word followed this burst, which was Greek to the solid men. The count was a little daft anyway, on the subject of women, according to them. Mrs. Kendrick, after a moment, offered some safe, negative remark, and Burnham, anxious to neutralize the mischief his wife had done, said he thought a woman might, at least some women might, “work up” a business and yet remain feminine. Men were not so hard on women, it was their own sex. This roused Mrs. Burnham, for she knew well he talked very differently in the bosom of his family. She took up the thread of conversation. “I am sure,” she said—and here occurred a little jerky interruption to her speech, the cause of which no one knew but her lord, who had kicked her foot under the table, which meant, in his delicate, marital sign language, “Hold your tongue!” But like many of the slaves, as the doctor called married women, she made up in perversity what she lacked in independence; so glancing spitefully at her “lord,” she continued, “I am sure I think women have a right to all the money they can honestly gain, and if Miss Dykes had conducted herself properly, I should have much sympathy with her success.”
“Was it her fault, Mrs. Burnham,” asked the count, “that the man who won her affection did not marry her?——”
“My dear Louise,” said Mrs. Kendrick, begging the count’s pardon for interrupting, “I think you had better retire. It is getting rather late for you.”
“No; let her stay, my dear madam. I am not going to say anything that the Virgin Mary herself might not hear. Let her stay. I see she listens intently, and if to-night she gains a broader conception of the true position of her sex, you will hereafter rejoice in the fact. She is a pretty, a charming girl, just coming into the glare of the footlights on life’s stage, with bandaged eyes. This is what you mothers all do; and then if they stumble for want of eyes to see the trap-doors of the stage, you blame them—not yourselves. Teach a girl to know herself—to consider all her functions as worthy of admiration and respect; teach her to be independent, proud of her womanhood, and she will turn as instinctively from the seductive words of selfish men, as from the touch of unholy hands. Now, this little woman, Miss Dykes, had no such teaching, no knowledge of the world whatever, no standard by which to measure the honor of men’s motives; and, for believing and trusting, you, Mrs. Burnham, and other Christians, would stone her to death. But Nature is kinder than you are, madam, for it pardons her weakness, and compensates for her suffering by a most precious gift. Her child is one of the very brightest and loveliest I have ever met.”
“It is certainly a very charming little thing,” said Mrs. Kendrick, “and her mother’s conduct is now, I believe, every way exemplary. I am truly sorry that her child is illegitimate.”
“Illegitimate!” repeated Von Frauenstein, as if speaking in his sleep. “Why, all children must be legitimate. How can a child be otherwise? I must be a barbarian. I can see nothing in the same light that others do. Well, by heaven! I’ll adopt that child, if her mother will consent. I’ll take her abroad and educate her. I’ll give her my name, and present her at a dozen royal courts. There’ll be no question then, whether she is begotten by law or by the more primitive process of nature.” The company were astounded.
“Good heavens, count!” exclaimed Mrs. Kendrick, breaking the silence that followed this speech. “Would you really do such a thing?”
“Yes, my dear friend. I’ll do it—so help me God! and I’ll bring her back to Oakdale, when her education is finished, a perfect queen of a woman. You call her illegitimate, madam, and yet the time may come when you’ll be proud to kiss her hand!”
Mrs. Kendrick rose from the table, and the others followed. Miss Charlotte had retired some time before.