As they were sitting by themselves in a corner of one of the rooms leading off the ballroom, and while the dancing was still going on, she said, “I must beg your pardon for what I said the other day.  You are not a bit more cowardly than the rest of them.”

“If we could manage to define exactly what you mean by cowardice,” said Jacob Worse.

“But you know perfectly well.”

“Well, then, is not this about your idea?  When a man, either in politics, or in religion, or in any other serious matter, is not at all in accordance with the general tone of the society in which he lives—­then, if he holds his tongue, it can be from no other cause than from what you are pleased to call cowardice.”

“That is exactly my opinion, and I maintain it is correct.”

“But, on the other hand, I am sure you must allow,” continued Jacob Worse, “that all opposition has not the same weight.  In many cases it might do more harm—­”

“Oh, I know that miserable, cowardly excuse!” broke in Rachel, abruptly.  “‘What is the good,’ you say, ’of even my best endeavours when I work alone?’ and then you lie down and go to sleep.  That is indeed cowardice par excellence.”

“I must, however, tell you, Miss Rachel,” answered Jacob Worse, who was beginning to lose his self-control, “that there is many a man who during his whole life is painfully conscious that he has not the power of making his views felt, or has even the opportunity of bringing them before the world.  But it is not in courage that such a man is wanting—­far from it.”

“I could almost believe that you were speaking of yourself,” said Rachel, with indifference.

“Yes, and so I am!” answered he, hurriedly.  “I have always been one of those heavy, slow-thinking people, but I have a quality which that kind of person would be better without.  I am hasty.  From my boyhood I have known it, and have kept it under to the best of my ability.  But, notwithstanding my efforts, this hastiness sometimes gets the better of me, just when I am most in want of a little cool reflection.  I lose my head, the words begin to flow like a torrent, and I listen to them myself almost with terror.  Yes, you have heard me yourself on one memorable occasion, Miss Rachel,” he added with a smile, “and I am sure you will confess that a man of my nature is but little suited to engage in a struggle with prejudice.  For, for such a struggle, patience and coolness are imperative.”

“It is quite possible that the attributes of which you speak are most desirable,” answered Rachel, “but still it seems quite clear to me that every man who has a conviction is bound to act up to it.  How much he can accomplish is not the question he must ask himself, but he is bound to make the attempt.”

“I will just tell you how my first attempt turned out,” said Jacob Worse.  “When I came home, which is now about two or three years ago, still breathing the comparative freedom of other lands, the first thing in our own country which attracted my attention was the exceptionally bad social condition of our labourers and mechanics.  Their houses and food, the bringing-up of their children, their teaching and education, in fact, everything which belonged to them, fell far short of what I thought it ought to be.”