"
In a slow and tentative way, then, Herminia crept back into
unrecognized recognition. It was all she needed. Companionship
she liked; she hated society. That mart was odious to her where
women barter their bodies for a title, a carriage, a place at the
head of some rich man's table. Bohemia sufficed her. Her terrible
widowhood, too, was rendered less terrible to her by the care of
her little one. Babbling lips, pattering feet, made heaven in her
attic. Every good woman is by nature a mother, and finds best in
maternity her social and moral salvation. She shall be saved in
child-bearing. Herminia was far removed indeed from that blatant
and decadent sect of "advanced women" who talk as though motherhood
were a disgrace and a burden, instead of being, as it is, the full
realization of woman's faculties, the natural outlet for woman's
wealth of emotion. She knew that to be a mother is the best
privilege of her sex, a privilege of which unholy manmade
institutions now conspire to deprive half the finest and noblest
women in our civilized communities.
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