“Because they have themselves suffered oppression,” said the Professor. “It is a law that we cannot evade; if we are injured, we pay back the injury, whether we will or not, upon our neighbours. If we are blessed, we bless, but if we are cursed, we curse.”
“These moral laws, or laws of nature, or whatever one likes to call them, seem to be stern as death!” exclaimed Valeria. “I suppose we are all inheriting the curse that has been laid upon our mothers through so many ages.”
“We are not free from the shades of our grandmothers,” said Hadria, “only I hope a little (when I have not been to the Vicarage for some time) that we may be less of a hindrance and an obsession to our granddaughters than our grandmothers have been to us.”
“Ah! that way lies hope!” cried the Professor.
“I wish, I wish I could believe!” Valeria exclaimed. “But I was born ten years too early for the faith of this generation.”
“It is you who have helped to give this generation its faith,” said Hadria.
“But have you real hope and real faith, in your heart of hearts? Tell me, Hadria.”
Hadria looked startled.
“Ah! I knew it. Women don’t really believe that the cloud will lift. If they really believed what they profess, they would prove it. They would not submit and resign themselves. Oh, why don’t you shew what a woman can do, Hadria?”
Hadria gave a faint smile.