“Man sets up one standard of morals for woman and another for himself. She, according to his idea of the term ‘pure,’ must keep herself pure, undefiled, untouched. That means, to strangle nature’s desires, nature’s voice and nature’s longings until some man who has been letting his passion run riot, desecrating nature’s gifts until what remains is but a wreck and mockery of true manhood, comes to claim her in her inexperience. Then, in thousands of cases he drives her to insanity or to an early grave, with his insatiable lust.
“Marry! I would not marry for all the wealth that is yet hidden within the bowels of the earth. I will never, never, permit myself to become a piece of property, wherewith some one man may do as he wills. I intend to remain sole owner of my person.”
Imelda was awed by the storm of passion that shook the stately form of her friend. Her words seemed metallic shafts of a “white heat,” entering her sensitive soul. Could it be possible that man under his smooth outward seeming, could be such a monster? Surely, surely such are only exceptions, rare exceptions, never the rule. Her pure soul revolted at the horrible accusations to which Margaret had just given utterance. And, perhaps, this horror was intensified by hearing such accusations drop from the lips of a girl whom she had always regarded as the impersonation of maidenly purity.
And was not this girl pure? Yes; one look into that face, shining with a glory almost unearthly, was sufficient assurance of that. But were those accusations true? Again the conviction forced itself upon Imelda that, so far as Margaret herself was concerned, those lips were certainly not expressing a falsehood. But where, where had she learned to speak in this manner? She spoke of the sweetness of love and the bondage of marriage in the same breath. How could she speak of the desirability of the one without the sanction of the other? They must go hand in hand, and bear the risks attending such association. There was no other way.
These thoughts passed rapidly through Imelda’s mind; faster far than it takes to trace them. Believing she might have misunderstood her friend she could not but give speech to the doubts that were agitating her.
“Margaret! Margaret!” said Imelda, “calm yourself. Your words and manner are so strange; I am unable to comprehend them. How can you speak thus of marriage and yet welcome love? Surely I have not been mistaken in you when I thought you a pure woman. You could not mean to make holy love illicit, and desecrate it by removing the holiest of all holy sanctions, marriage?”
Margaret’s sweet excited face underwent a change. The color faded slowly, leaving it purest white. The firmly closed lips trembled; the fireflash in the eyes died out; slowly the tears gathered in them until the great pearly drops rolled down over the white cheeks, splashing upon her tightly clasped hands. A sad look overspread the expressive face as she said:
“My Imelda, have I shocked you? When you have been observing married people, married life and all the consequences attending it, as long and as closely as I have been, you will see as clearly as I now do that of all things imperfect under the sun, marriage is the most imperfect.”
“But what would you do?” again questioned Imelda.
An added sadness seemed to settle upon Margaret’s face as she answered: