ramples on her own natural heritage, and seeks to
'best' him with his own weapons--she fails--she must fail--she deserves
to fail! But as true wife and true mother, she is supreme!"

"But the ladies are not content with such a limited sphere," began
Helmsley, with a little smile.

"Limited? Good God!--where does the limit come in?" demanded Reay. "It
is because they are not sufficiently educated to understand their own
privileges that women complain of limitations. An unthinking,
unreasoning, unintelligent wife and mother is of course no higher than
any other female of the animal species--but I do not uphold this class.
I claim that the woman who _thinks_, and gives her intelligence full
play--the woman who is physically sound and morally pure--the woman who
devoutly studies the noblest side of life, and tries to bring herself
into unison with the Divine intention of human progress towards the
utmost good--she, as wife and mother, is the angel of the world. She
_is_ the world!--she makes it, she rejuvenates it, she gives it
strength! Why should she condescend to mix with the passing political
squabbles of her slaves and children?--for men are no more than her
slaves and children. Love is her weapon--one true touch of that, and the
wildest heart that ever beat in a man's breast is tamed."

There was a silence. Suddenly Mary pushed aside her work, and going to
the door opened it.

"It's so warm to-day, don't you think?" she asked, passing her hand a
little wearily across her forehead. "One would think it was almost
June."

"You are tired, Miss Mary!" said Reay, somewhat anxiously.

"No--I'm not tired--but"--here all at once her eyes filled with tears.
"I've got a bit of a headache," she murmured, forcing a smile--"I think
I'll go to my room and rest for half an hour. Good-bye, Mr. Reay!"

"Good-bye--for the moment!" he answered--and taking her hand he pressed
it gently. "I hope the headache will soon pass."

She withdrew her hand from his quickly and left the kitchen. Angus
watched her go, and when she had disappeared heaved an involuntary but
most lover-like sigh. Helmsley looked at him with a certain whimsical
amusement.

"Well!" he said.

Reay gave himself a kind of impatient shake.

"Well, old David!" he rejoined.

"Why don't you speak to her?"

"I dare not! I'm too poor!"

"Is she so rich?"

"She's richer than I am."

"It is quite possible," said Helmsley slowly, "that she will always be
richer