always think that the woman should be punished as the sinner and that
the man should be assisted to escape. The hardness of heart of such
women,--who in all other views of life are perhaps tender and
soft-natured,--is one of the marvels of our social system. It is as
though a certain line were drawn to include all women,--a line, but,
alas, little more than a line,--by overstepping which, or rather by
being known to have overstepped it, a woman ceases to be a woman in the
estimation of her own sex. That the existence of this feeling has strong
effect in saving women from passing the line, none of us can doubt. That
its general tendency may be good rather than evil, is possible. But the
hardness necessary to preserve the rule, a hardness which must be
exclusively feminine but which is seldom wanting, is a marvellous
feature in the female character. Lady Mary Quin probably thought but
little on the subject. The women in the cottage on the cliff, who were
befriended by Father Marty, were to her dangerous scheming Roman
Catholic adventurers. The proper triumph of Protestant virtue required
that they should fail in their adventures. She had always known that
there would be something disreputable heard of them sooner or later.
When the wretched Captain came into the neighbourhood,--and she soon
heard of his coming,--she was gratified by feeling that her convictions
had been correct. When the sad tidings as to poor Kate reached her ears,
she had "known that it would be so." That such a girl should be made
Countess of Scroope in reward for her wickedness would be to her an
event horrible, almost contrary to Divine Providence,--a testimony that
the Evil One was being allowed peculiar power at the moment, and would
no doubt have been used in her own circles to show the ruin that had
been brought upon the country by Catholic emancipation. She did not for
a moment doubt that the present Earl should be encouraged to break any
promises of marriage to the making of which he might have been allured.

But it was not so with Lady Scroope. She, indeed, came to the same
conclusion as her friend, but she did so with much difficulty and after
many inward struggles. She understood and valued the customs of the
magic line. In her heart of hearts she approved of a different code of
morals for men and women. That which merited instant, and as regarded
this world, perpetual condemnation in a woman, might in a man be very
easily forgiven. A sigh,