“I recognized the genius, the future of Eldon Parr at a time when he was not yet independent and supreme, when association with a Constable meant much to him.  Mr. Parr made us, as the saying goes.  Needless to say; money has not brought happiness, but a host of hard, false ambitions which culminated in Gertrude’s marriage with Victor Warren.  I set my heart on the match, helped it in every, way, and until now nothing but sorrow has come of it.  But my point—­is this,—­I see so clearly, now that it is too late, that two excellent persons may demoralize each other if they are ill-mated.  It may be possible that I had the germs of false ambition in me when I was a girl, yet I was conscious only of the ideal which is in most women’s hearts . . . .

“You must not think that I have laid my soul bare in the hope of changing your mind in regard to Gertrude.  I recognize clearly, now, that that is impossible.  Oh, I know you do not so misjudge me,” she added, reading his quick protest in his face.

“Indeed, I cannot analyze my reasons for telling you something of which I have never spoken to any one else.”

Mrs. Constable regarded him fixedly.  “You are the strongest reason.  You have somehow drawn it out of me . . . .  And I suppose I wish some one to profit by it.  You can, Mr. Hodder,—­I feel sure of that.  You may insist now that my argument against your present conviction of the indissolubility of marriage is mere individualism, but I want you to think of what I have told you, not to answer me now.  I know your argument by heart, that Christian character develops by submission, by suffering, that it is the woman’s place to submit, to efface herself.  But the root of the matter goes deeper than that.  I am far from deploring sacrifice, yet common-sense tells us that our sacrifice should be guided by judgment, that foolish sacrifices are worse than useless.  And there are times when the very limitations of our individuality —­necessary limitation’s for us—­prevent our sacrifices from counting.

“I was wrong, I grant you, grievously wrong in the course I took, even though it were not consciously deliberate.  But if my husband had been an artist I should always have remained separated from his real life by a limitation I had no power to remove.  The more I tried, the more apparent my lack of insight became to him, the more irritated he grew.  I studied his sketches, I studied masterpieces, but it was all hopeless.  The thing wasn’t in me, and he knew it wasn’t.  Every remark made him quiver.

“The Church, I think, will grow more liberal, must grow more liberal, if it wishes to keep in touch with people in an age when they are thinking out these questions for themselves.  The law cannot fit all cases, I am sure the Gospel can.  And sometimes women have an instinct, a kind of second sight into persons, Mr. Hodder.  I cannot explain why I feel that you have in you elements of growth which will eventually bring you more into sympathy with the point of view I have set forth, but I do feel it.”