ly if it is done again and again. Nature maltreated
will send in her bill. That is sure as life and death, and the longer it
is delayed, the heavier the bill.' I went on and told her that Mary
Fairfax had been married seventeen years and had never borne but one
child. She had long credit, I said, but Nature sent in her bill at last,
and Mary had it to settle. Now, John, I did my duty, didn't I?"

"You did, mother. What did Jane say?"

"She said women had a hard lot to endure. She said they were born slaves
and died slaves and a good deal more of the same kind of talk. I told
her in reply that women were sent into life _to give life_, to be, as
thou said, _mothers of men_, and she laughed, a queer kind of laugh
though. Then I added, 'You may like the reason or not, Jane. You may
accept or defy it, but I tell you plainly, motherhood was and is and
always will be the chief reason and end of womanhood.'"

"Well, mother?"

"She was unpleasant and sarcastic and said this and that for pure
aggravation about the selfishness of men. So our cup of tea was a bit
bitter, and as a last fling she said my muffins were soggy and she would
send me her mother's receipt. And I have been making muffins for thirty
years, John!"

"I am astonished at Jane. She is usually so careful not to hurt or
offend."

"Well, she forgets once in a while. I had the best of the argument, for
I had only to remind her that it was I who taught her mother how to make
muffins and who gave her my receipt for the same. Then she said,
'Really,' and, 'It is late, I must go!' And go she did and I have not
seen her since."

"I wish I knew what to do, mother."

"Go to thy bed now and try to sleep. This thing is beyond thy ordering
or mending. Leave it to those who are wiser than thou art. It will be
put right at the right time by them. And don't meddle with it rashly.
Every step thou takes is like stirring in muddy water--every step makes
it muddier."

"But I must go to Harlow and see Jane if she does not come home."

"Thou must not go a step on that road. If thou does, thou may go on
stepping it time without end. She left thee of her own free will. Let
her come back in the same way. She is wrong. If thou wert wrong, I would
tell thee so. Yes, I would be the first to bid thee go to Harlow and say
thou wanted to be forgiven and loved again."

"I believe that, mother."

"By the Word of Christ, I would!"

"I shall be utterly unhappy if I do not know that