Jane?"

"Yes, indeed! Some put knowledge and progress--always progress--before
everything else."

"My dear Jane, think of this--all we call 'progress' ends with death.
What is that progress worth which is bounded by the grave? If progress
in men and women is not united with faith in God, and hope in His
eternal life and love, I would not lift my hand or speak one word to
help either man or woman to such blank misery."

"Do not put yourself out of the way, John. There will be no change in
the women of today that will affect you. But no doubt they will
eventually halve--and better halve--the world's work and honors with
men. Do you not think so, John?"

"My dear, I know not; women perhaps may cease to be women; but I am
positive that men will continue to be men."

"I mean that women will do men's work as well as men do it."

"Nature is an obstinate dame. She offers serious opposition to that
result."

"Well, I was only telling you how far progressive ideas had grown in
Hatton town. Women propose to share with men the honors of statecraft
and the wealth of trading and manufacturing."

"Jane, dear, I don't like to hear you talking such nonsense. The mere
fact that women _can not fight_ affects all the unhappy equality they
aim at; and if it were possible to alter that fact, we should be
equalizing _down_ and not up." Then he looked at his watch and said he
must be at the Club very soon.

"Will you remain in the parlor until I return, Jane?" he asked. "I will
come home as quickly as possible."

"No, John, I find it is better for me to go to sleep early. Indeed, as
you are leaving me, I will go to my room now. Good night, dear!"

He said good night but his voice was cold, and his heart anxious and
dissatisfied. And after Jane had left the room he sat down again,
irresolute and miserable. "Why should I go to the Club?" he asked
himself. "Why should I care about its small ways and regulations? I have
something far more important to think of. I will not go out tonight."

He sat still thinking for half an hour, then he looked again at his
watch and found that it was yet possible to be at the Club in time. So
with a great sigh he obeyed that urging of duty, which even in society
matters he could not neglect and be at rest.

There was no light in Jane's room when he returned home and he spent the
night miserably. Waking he felt as if walking through the valley of the
shadows of loss and intolerable wrong. Phantoms