of a woman's life.' In flooding reminiscent thought she forgot her
remonstrating; her voice became full of natural pathos:

'To love; and be helpless! To wait, and wait, and wait; with your
heart all aflame! To hope, and hope; till time seems to have passed
away, and all the world to stand still on your hopeless misery! To
know that a word might open up Heaven; and yet to have to remain
mute! To keep back the glances that could enlighten; to modulate the
tones that might betray! To see all you hoped for passing away . . .
to another! . . . '

Stephen bent over and kissed her, then standing up said:

'I understand! Isn't it wrong, Auntie, that there should be such
tragedies? Should not that glance be given? Why should that tone be
checked? Why should one be mute when a single word might, would,
avert the tragedy? Is it not possible, Auntie, that there is
something wrong in our social system when such things can happen; and
can happen so often?'

She looked remorseless as well as irresistible in the pride of her
youthful strength as with eyes that blazed, not flashing as in
passion but with a steady light that seemed to burn, she continued:

'Some day women must learn their own strength, as well as they have
learned their own weakness. They are taught this latter from their
cradles up; but no one ever seems to teach them wherein their power
lies. They have to learn this for themselves; and the process and
the result of the self-teaching are not good. In the University
Settlement I learned much that made my heart ache; but out of it