But one day I was told that she had been insulted by a young
fellow on her way to church. This was a boy whom we were
supporting. My husband turned him out of the house. There was
not a single soul, that day, who could forgive my husband for
that act--not even I. This time Miss Gilby left of her own
accord. She shed tears when she came to say good-bye, but my
mood would not melt. To slander the poor boy so--and such a fine
boy, too, who would forget his daily bath and food in his
enthusiasm for __Swadeshi__.

My husband escorted Miss Gilby to the railway station in his own
carriage. I was sure he was going too far. When exaggerated
accounts of the incident gave rise to a public scandal, which
found its way to the newspapers, I felt he had been rightly
served.

I had often become anxious at my husband's doings, but had never
before been ashamed; yet now I had to blush for him! I did not
know exactly, nor did I care, what wrong poor Noren might, or
might not, have done to Miss Gilby, but the idea of sitting in
judgement on such a matter at such a time! I should have refused
to damp the spirit which prompted young Noren to defy the
Englishwoman. I could not but look upon it as a sign of
cowardice in my husband, that he should fail to understand this
simple thing. And so I blushed for him.

And yet it was not that my husband refused to support
__Swadeshi__, or was in any way against the Cause. Only he
had not been able whole-heartedly to accept the spirit of