“Yes, my dear Mrs. Tuis-but on the other hand, think what might happen if she were kept in ignorance in this matter.  She might bear another child.”

I got a new realization of the chasms that lay between us.  “Who are we,” she whispered, “to interfere in these sacred matters?  It is of souls, Mrs. Abbot, and not bodies, that the Kingdom of Heaven is made.”

I took a minute or so to get my breath, and then I said, “What generally happens in these cases is that God afflicts the woman with permanent barrenness.”

The old lady bowed her head, and I saw the tears falling into her lap.  “My poor Sylvia!” she moaned, only half aloud.

There was a silence; I too almost wept.  And finally, Aunt Varina looked up at me, her faded eyes full of pleading.  “It is hard for me to understand such ideas as yours.  You must tell me-can you really believe that it would help Sylvia to know this-this dreadful secret?”

“It would help her in many ways,” I said.  “She will be more careful of her health-she will follow the doctor’s orders—–­”

How quickly came the reply!  “I will stay with her, and see that she does that!  I will be with her day and night.”

“But are you going to keep the secret from those who attend her?  Her maid—­the child’s nurses—­everyone who might by any chance use the same towel, or a wash-basin, or a drinking-glass?”

“Surely you exaggerate the danger!  If that were true, more people would meet with these accidents!”

“The doctors,” I said, “estimate that about ten per cent. of cases of this disease are innocently acquired.”

“Oh, these modern doctors!” she cried.  “I never heard of such ideas!”

I could not help smiling.  “My dear Mrs. Tuis, what do you imagine you know about the prevalence of gonorrhea?  Consider just one fact—­that I heard a college professor state publicly that in his opinion eighty-five per cent. of the men students at his university were infected with some venereal disease.  And that is the pick of our young manhood—­the sons of our aristocracy!”

“Oh, that can’t be!” she exclaimed.  “People would know of it!

“Who are ‘people’?  The boys in your family know of it—­if you could get them to tell you.  My two sons studied at a State university, and they would bring me home what they heard—­the gossip, the slang, the horrible obscenity.  Fourteen fellows in one dormitory using the same bathroom—­and on the wall you saw a row of fourteen syringes!  And they told that on themselves, it was the joke of the campus.  They call the disease a ‘dose’; and a man’s not supposed to be worthy the respect of his fellows until he’s had his ’dose’—­the sensible thing is to get several, till he can’t get any more.  They think it’s ’no worse than a bad cold’; that’s the idea they get from the ‘clap-doctors,’ and the women of the street who educate our sons in sex matters.”

“Oh, spare me, spare me!” cried Mrs. Tuis.  “I beg you not to force these horrible details upon me!”