"Indeed!" with a smile and a bow—"I should not have thought you more than nineteen. But twenty-two is not a great age either! and I do hope you will not be drawn into that set. They are sadly misguided. The ladies scoff at the wisdom of men, look for inconsistencies, and laugh at them—actually! It is very bad taste, you know; and they call it an impertinence for us to presume to legislate exclusively in matters which specially concern their sex, and also object to the interference of the Church, as being a distinctly masculine organization, in the regulation of their lives. Men, they declare, have always said that they do not understand women, and it is of course the height of folly for them to presume to express opinions upon a subject they do not understand. Now, can anything be more absurd? And it is dangerous besides—absolutely dangerous."
"Yet I hear that they are very good women," the girl ventured, and Angelica thought that she detected a note of derision, levelled at the clerical exponent of these reprehensible ideas, beneath the demure remark.
"Oh, saintlike!" he answered cordially; "but still to blame. Misguided, you know, so I venture to warn you. How can they presume to reject proper direction? Their pride is excessive, but the Church will receive them, and extend her benefits to them still if only they will humble themselves—" Conversation over the room entered upon a crescendo passage at this moment, and Angelica lost the rest of the sentence in the general outburst.
A new voice presently claimed her attention. The speaker was a young man addressing another young man, and both had their backs turned to her, and were looking hard at a portrait of herself hung so low on the wall that they had to stoop to look into it.
"Painted by a good man," were the first words she heard.
"Rather fine face; who is it?"
"Daughter of the house, don't you know? Old duke's granddaughter. Married old Kilroy of Ilverthorpe."
"Ah! Then that was done some time ago, I expect."
"Oh, dear, no! Only last year. It was exhibited in the last Academy."
"Then she's still young?" He peered into the portrait once more with an evident increase of interest. "She looks as if she might be larky."