“There’s reason in what he says.  It is an opportunity.  You could be of use, in that way, and perhaps it’s the only way.  Yes,” she continued, fascinated by the logic of the position, and its capabilities for vicarious self-sacrifice.  “I don’t see how you can get out of it:  You have spent years and years of study, and a great deal of money, to educate yourself for a profession that you’re too weak to practise alone.  You can’t say that I ever advised your doing it.  It was your own idea, and I did n’t oppose it.  But when you’ve gone so far, you’ve formed an obligation to go on.  It’s your duty not to give up, if you know of any means to continue.  That’s your duty, as plain as can be.  To say nothing of the wicked waste of your giving up now, you’re bound to consider the effect it would have upon other women who are trying to do something for themselves.  The only thing,” she added, with some misgiving, “is whether you believe he was in earnest and would keep his word to you.”

“I think he was secretly laughing at me, and that he would expect to laugh me out of his promise.”

“Well, then, you ought to take time to reflect, and you ought to be sure that you’re right about him.”

“Is that what you really think, mother?”

“I am always governed by reason, Grace, and by right; and I have brought you up on that plan.  If you have ever departed from it, it has not been with my consent, nor for want of my warning.  I have simply laid the matter before you.”

“Then you wish me to marry him?”

This was perhaps a point that had not occurred to Mrs. Breen in her recognition of the strength of Dr. Mulbridge’s position.  It was one thing to trace the path of duty; another to support the aspirant in treading it.  “You ought to take time to reflect,” Mrs. Green repeated, with evasion that she never used in behalf of others.

“Well, mother,” answered Grace, “I didn’t take time to reflect, and I should n’t care whether I was right about him or not.  I refused him because I did n’t love him.  If I had loved him that would have been the only reason I needed to marry him.  But all the duty in the world wouldn’t be enough without it.  Duty?  I am sick of duty!  Let the other women who are trying to do something for themselves, take care of themselves as men would.  I don’t owe them more than a man would owe other men, and I won’t be hoodwinked into thinking I do.  As for the waste, the past is gone, at any rate; and the waste that I lament is the years I spent in working myself up to an undertaking that I was never fit for.  I won’t continue that waste, and I won’t keep up the delusion that because I was very unhappy I was useful, and that it was doing good to be miserable.  I like pleasure and I like dress; I like pretty things.  There is no harm in them.  Why should n’t I have them?”

“There is harm in them for you,”—­her mother began.

“Because I have tried to make my life a horror?  There is no other reason, and that is no reason.  When we go into Boston this winter I shall go to the theatre.  I shall go to the opera, and I hope there will be a ballet.  And next summer, I am going to Europe; I am going to Italy.”  She whirled away toward the door as if she were setting out.