Their Yesterdays by Harold Bell Wright
page 87 of 221 (39%)
page 87 of 221 (39%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
And in the woman's fight there was this to help her: in the crowd that
had laughed, her startled eyes had seen one or two who did not laugh--one or two there were whose faces were filled with pity and with shame. Always, in the crowded cars, there was some one who tried quietly to shield her from the press--some one who seemed to understand. It was this that helped. These men who knew the value of Ignorance kept the spark of her faith in men alive. The faith, without which her dreams would be idle dreams, impossible of fulfillment, was kept for her by those men who knew the value of Ignorance. The woman went to her work the next morning with a heart that was heavy with dread and nerves that were quivering with fear. The brightness, the beauty, and the joy, of her womanhood, she felt to be going from her as the sunshine goes under threatening clouds. The blackness, the ugliness, and the sorrow, of life, she felt coming over her as fog rolls in from the sea. The faith, trust, and hope, that is the soul of womanhood was threatened by doubt, distrust, and despair. The gentleness, sensitiveness, and delicacy, that is the heart of womanhood was beset by coarseness, vulgarity, and rudeness. Could she harden her woman heart, steel her woman nerves, and make coarse her woman soul to withstand the things that she was forced to meet and know? And if she could--what then--would she gain or lose thereby? For the life of which she had dreamed, would she gain or lose? It was nearly noon when a voice at her side said: "You are ill!" It was a voice of authority but it was not at all unkind. Turning, she looked up into his face and stammered a feeble denial. No, she was not ill. |
|