twilight
is soft and perfumed as that which hovers over us,--tranquil--but it is
the tranquillity of hope. The twilight of middle life is, methinks,
nearly allied to that of an autumn evening,--doubts hover and come upon
us as the falling leaves; the wind whistles like the wailing of
departing days; there is but little tranquillity then, because the hope
that is left is enough to agitate by its vain dreams, but not to soothe.
What shall I say of the twilight of age? I do not like to think of
it--its tranquillity appears to me so closely linked with despair."

"No, Frances, not despair: it is only the moody and abstracted silence
of guilt that claims such awful kindred. I think age more
beautiful--more hope-giving, than youth; though its beauty is far
different, and its hope sublime, instead of joyous. Ask the most
prosperous--the most fortunate man in existence--one on whom the eyes of
the whole world are turned in admiration and its attendant, envy--ask
such a one if he would live over his life again, and he will answer,
'No!'"

"This speaks badly for the happiness of life," said Lady Frances.

"I do not think it does," replied Constantia; "every evil has either a
remedy or an anodyne: but, unfortunately, we are more prone to dwell
upon evils than upon blessings--yet this should make us less satisfied
with earth, as we draw nearer heaven."

"Constance, are you a philosopher?"

"No; for I am a woman! and what is called philosophy is sadly at war
with both our mental and our bodily endowments. I have heard there are
lands in which certain persons think they confer honour upon our sex, by
mixing us more up with the bustle and turmoil of the world--methinks
they would strangely pervert our natures."

"I agree with you, Constance: let men have all the public, and women all
the private business of life to manage, and my word on 't, the balance
of power is with us. Our tongues have enough to do at home, without
chattering in high places; and as to our arms! mine could ill wield
battle-axe or broadsword. I suppose these people of whom you speak would
invent a new sex to look after domestic matters, while we assist in the
broil and the battle! We shall lose our influence, depend on 't, the
moment we are taken out of our sphere--we shall lose caste as women, and
be treated with contempt as men. What _I_ like, Constance, is to have my
own dear little way, by my own pretty little manoeuvres--behind the
bush--thrust another