er, in air and sea and unknown coast, was
fresh and prompting. And if she looked on Beauchamp, the thought--my
husband! palpitated, and destroyed and re-made her. Rapidly she
underwent her transformation from doubtfully-minded woman to woman
awakening clear-eyed, and with new sweet shivers in her temperate blood,
like the tremulous light seen running to the morn upon a quiet sea. She
fell under the charm of Beauchamp at sea.

In view of the island of Madeira, Jenny noticed that some trouble had
come upon Dr. Shrapnel and Beauchamp, both of whom had been hilarious
during the gales; but sailing into Summer they began to wear that look
which indicated one of their serious deliberations. She was not taken
into their confidence, and after awhile they recovered partially.

The truth was, they had been forced back upon old English ground by
a recognition of the absolute necessity, for her sake, of handing
themselves over to a parson. In England, possibly, a civil marriage
might have been proposed to the poor girl. In a foreign island, they
would be driven not simply to accept the services of a parson, but to
seek him and solicit him: otherwise the knot, faster than any sailor's
in binding, could not be tied. Decidedly it could not; and how submit?
Neither Dr. Shrapnel nor Beauchamp were of a temper to deceive the
clerical gentleman; only they had to think of Jenny's feelings. Alas
for us!--this our awful baggage in the rear of humanity, these women who
have not moved on their own feet one step since the primal mother taught
them to suckle, are perpetually pulling us backward on the march.
Slaves of custom, forms, shows and superstitions, they are slaves of the
priests. 'They are so in gratitude perchance, as the matter works,' Dr.
Shrapnel admitted. For at one period the priests did cherish and protect
the weak from animal man. But we have entered a broader daylight now,
when the sun of high heaven has crowned our structure with the flower of
brain, like him to scatter mists, and penetrate darkness, and shoot
from end to end of earth; and must we still be grinning subserviently to
ancient usages and stale forms, because of a baggage that it is, woe to
us! too true, we cannot cut ourselves loose from? Lydiard might say we
are compelling the priests to fight, and that they are compact foemen,
not always passive. Battle, then!--The cry was valiant. Nevertheless,
Jenny would certainly insist upon the presence of a parson, in spite