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CHAPTER II
〃What woman suffers from；〃 said the Philosopher； 〃is over…praise。 It
has turned her head。〃
〃You admit； then； that she has a head？〃 demanded the Girton Girl。
〃It has always been a theory of mine；〃 returned the Philosopher； 〃that
by Nature she was intended to possess one。 It is her admirers who have
always represented her as brainless。〃
〃Why is it that the brainy girl invariably has straight hair？〃 asked the
Woman of the World。
〃Because she doesn't curl it；〃 explained the Girton Girl。 She spoke
somewhat snappishly； it seemed to me。
〃I never thought of that；〃 murmured the Woman of the World。
〃It is to be noted in connection with the argument；〃 I ventured to
remark； 〃that we hear but little concerning the wives of intellectual men。
When we do； as in the case of the Carlyles； it is to wish we did not。〃
〃When I was younger even than I am now；〃 said the Minor Poet； 〃I
thought a good deal of marriagevery young men do。 My wife； I told
myself； must be a woman of mind。 Yet； curiously； of all the women I
have ever loved； no single one has been remarkable for intellect present
company； as usual； of course excepted。〃
〃Why is it；〃 sighed the Philosopher； 〃that in the most serious business
of our life； marriage； serious considerations count for next to nothing？ A
dimpled chin can； and often does； secure for a girl the best of husbands；
while virtue and understanding combined cannot be relied upon to obtain
her even one of the worst。〃
〃I think the explanation is；〃 replied the Minor Poet； 〃that as regards； let
us say； the most natural business of our life； marriage； our natural instincts
alone are brought into play。 Marriageclothe the naked fact in what
flowers of rhetoric we will… …has to do with the purely animal part of our
being。 The man is drawn towards it by his primeval desires； the woman
by her inborn craving towards motherhood。〃
The thin； white hands of the Old Maid fluttered； troubled； where they
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lay upon her lap。 〃Why should we seek to explain away all the beautiful
things of life？〃 she said。 She spoke with a heat unusual to her。 〃The
blushing lad； so timid； so devotional； worshipping as at the shrine of some
mystic saint； the young girl moving spell… bound among dreams！ They
think of nothing but of one another。〃
〃Tracing a mountain stream to its sombre source need not mar its
music for us as it murmurs through the valley；〃 expounded the Philosopher。
〃The hidden law of our being feeds each leaf of our life as sap runs
through the tree。 The transient blossom； the ripened fruit； is but its
changing outward form。〃
〃I hate going to the roots of things；〃 said the Woman of the World。
〃Poor； dear papa was so fond of doing that。 He would explain to us the
genesis of oysters just when we were enjoying them。 Poor mamma could
never bring herself to touch them after that。 While in the middle of
dessert he would stop to argue with my Uncle Paul whether pig's blood or
bullock's was the best for grape vines。 I remember the year before Emily
came out her favourite pony died； I have never known her so cut up about
anything before or since。 She asked papa if he would mind her having
the poor creature buried in the garden。 Her idea was that she would visit
now and then its grave and weep awhile。 Papa was awfully nice about it
and stroked her hair。 'Certainly； my dear；' he said； 'we will have him laid to
rest in the new strawberry bed。' Just then old Pardoe； the head gardener；
came up to us and touched his hat。 'Well； I was just going to inquire of
Miss Emily；' he said； 'if she wouldn't rather have the poor thing buried
under one of the nectarine…trees。 They ain't been doing very well of late。'
He said it was a pretty spot； and that he would put up a sort of stone。
Poor Emily didn't seem to care much where the animal was buried by that
time； so we left them arguing the question。 I forget how it was settled；
but I know we neither of us ate either strawberries or nectarines for the
next two years。〃
〃There is a time for everything；〃 agreed the Philosopher。 〃With the
lover； penning poetry to the wondrous red and white upon his mistress'
cheek； we do not discuss the subject of pigment in the blood； its cause and
probable duration。 Nevertheless； the subject is interesting。〃
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〃We men and women；〃 continued the Minor Poet； 〃we are Nature's
favourites； her hope； for whom she has made sacrifice； putting aside so
many of her own convictions； telling herself she is old… fashioned。 She
has let us go from her to the strange school where they laugh at all her
notions。 We have learnt new； strange ideas that bewilder the good dame。
Yet； returning home it is curious to notice how little； in the few essential
things of life； we differ from her other children； who have never wandered
from her side。 Our vocabulary has been extended and elaborated； yet
face to face with the realities of existence it is unavailing。 Clasping the
living； standing beside the dead； our language still is but a cry。 Our
wants have grown more complicated； the ten…course banquet； with all that
it involves； has substituted itself for the handful of fruits and nuts gathered
without labour； the stalled ox and a world of trouble for the dinner of
herbs and leisure therewith。 Are we so far removed thereby above our
little brother； who； having swallowed his simple； succulent worm； mounts
a neighbouring twig and with easy digestion carols thanks to God？ The
square brick box about which we move； hampered at every step by
wooden lumber； decked with many rags and strips of coloured paper；
cumbered with odds and ends