# Orange Grove (Wall)/Chapter 27

"Our souls at least are free, and 'tis in vain We would against them make the flesh obey— The spirit in the end will have its way."
How quickly glided by those long summer days, gone they scarcely knew whither, nor how they had been spent, yet not idly. It is not always a waste of time when the hands are unemployed. There are hours of physical repose when the soul acts most keenly, yes, demands it, in order to assert herself more strongly; not a languid inactivity, but a healthful abnegation of all labor for the time being. This is the charm of twilight. The outward eye and the inner sense hold sweet communion there, and no hour is so dear for social converse.
Then come the longer autumn evenings, and the hour of pleasant chat beside the cheerful winter fire before the usual avocations are resumed, all these being just as novel and susceptible of fresh enjoyment in every different situation of life, as if they had never come within the range of our experience before. So a newly wedded pair finds in every day's occurrence a fresh sensation of delight, so different from what they have ever known before, even as lovers, and on the real blending of their souls at that period depends much of their future happiness as ​husband and wife. No two persons can know each other intimately in any relation of life until they have lived together long enough to discover the sharp angles and latent virtues which elude the observation of casual observers, no matter how often they meet, if they do not come in Contact sufficiently to clash. It is only by a rough blow the steel emits its spark.
It was about six months after they were married that Mr. Livingston was invited to deliver an oration before a literary society in a neighboring city whither he was to be accompanied by two acquaintances who dined with him the same day. His wife was deeply interested in their conversation which turned mostly on literary and scientific subjects.
After dinner she left the three to themselves and withdrew to her chamber where she remained until the hour came for their departure, when Ernest repaired thither. He was surprised to find her sitting in an abstracted manner, looking thoughtfully out at the window, and" scarcely observing his entrance.
"Why Rosa," said he, "how blue you look! One might take you for the heroine of a love-tale whose honey-moon is over, and she is wishing herself back to maidenhood again."
She answered his salutation by a vacant smile, still watching the horizon. He observed her with no little curiosity for a few moments, and then sitting down beside her, took one of her hands in his, and gazed inquiringly into her face. He had seen her in many different phases before, but none resembled this.
​"I was thinking," said she, "why it is that women must be excluded from such honors and pursuits as you are going to share to-night. Why should not your enjoyment be increased by our presence, instead of being selfishly reserved to yourselves? Do you think affection can be weakened by exercising the intellect, or are your festivals of such a nature that you fear her moral character will suffer from contamination?
"If God has given us intellectual faculties, why should we not use them, as well as you? What would be said of a young man, who, when his education is considered completed, should content himself with the frivolities of fashionable life? He would be regarded as weak and effeminate, lacking those noble qualities of heart and soul that lead to an honorable ambition, both for his own development and the world's good.
"To stimulate a woman's affections, which is done by educating her into the belief that that is her only sphere, and provide her with no means of access to other channels to absorb her attention when the object of them is withdrawn, is to subject her to a stern ordeal of mental suffering. The mind must have food of some kind or it will become a prey to itself. We are reproached for being silly and weak-minded, because we spend so much time on dress, and study nothing but fashion, when, really, it is you who have forced us to this kind of life, by giving us no other means of relaxation and amusement. Even the woman, who is oppressed with the burden and care of a family through the day, would often find it a rest ​and diversion to spend an evening in mental enjoyments, where she would derive profit as well as pleasure.
"Every organ is stamped with its own particular function, which another cannot usurp, and only as each is developed according to the law that governs it, can we expect pure rational enjoyment, or advance to perfection. Affection can no more take the place of intellect, than meat can take the place of drink" The two should be considered as compliments to each other, not substitutes for each other.
"Mark how different the conversation when addressed to a lady from that to a gentleman. Even your friends this morning never thought of directing a remark to me. All that a woman is expected to be interested in or capable of appreciating is the merit or success of the last opera,—the most appropriate dress to be worn to a party, or, if seriously inclined, the prospects of the last revival. When you come to those sublime truths that underlie and uphold all this material world of ours,—the knowledge of those laws that govern the planets in their spheres, which sound the depths of the ocean, and measure the distances of the fixed stars, you club yourselves together as if God had been as narrow-minded as yourselves, and only created light enough to illuminate one-half of the world, leaving the other half in total darkness."
Ernest was both amused and puzzled by this ex-tempore speech, which he could easily see by its earnestness of tone, and the deep revealings of those eyes so intently fixed on his, into which had risen all ​the passion of her soul, that it was neither the outgrowth of a momentary impulse, nor one of those transient, effervescent passages of her life, with which she often regaled him. Taking out his watch, and seeing it was time for him to go, he rose, saying to her caressingly, "Rosalind, as you are yet young and have such a fondness for literary pursuits, why don't you devote to them a portion of your time? I have formed too high an estimate of you to suppose you ambitious of mere worldly fame, and perhaps the assistance and approval of your husband may atone for some of the honors and privileges you envy us, and I do not say, without just cause."
She replied by a grateful smile, and he left her immediately. He was very conservative in his tastes and habits, and it had never occurred to him, as it never has to many other men, that a woman could want anything more after her affections were satisfied. Nothing that came from his wife was ever deemed unworthy of consideration, and there was so much of truth embodied in her remarks that he could not have thrust them aside if he would. He felt that there was not quite so much honor as is boasted in being styled the "lords of creation," and when greeted with applause and complimented with toasts, the sound of that delicate but keen reproach stung his sensibilities, and he felt more as if he had done some mean and cowardly act that merited disgrace than one deserving praise. He coveted more the smiling approval of his wife than all these courtly honors.
Rosalind never intended the personal rebuke she ​unwittingly administered. Not since her father's death had she taken any interest in her former studies, and her books still lay neglected on the shelves where they had been last deposited before he was taken sick. Since her acquaintance with Ernest her mind had been engrossed with other subjects, and it was not until that morning, in listening to the conversation on her favorite topics, that her old passion for them revived. All the latent energies of those years burst forth in a single flame, and with scorn and contempt she spurned the established usages that stood between her and the highest summit to which her capacities fitted her to ascend.
When Ernest was gone she reproached herself for the sarcastic manner in which she had spoken to him, as if she meant to censure him for the fault of society. Yet was he not one of that society which by its tacit consent perpetrated these unjust customs that debarred woman of rights and privileges coeval with nature, which, as they were God-given, no man had the authority to take away? Then acting upon his suggestion she set herself expeditiously to work to withdraw her books from their long hiding places. What a throng of associations they brought! Here were Latin exercises, there were diagrams, and carefully wrapped up so no dust or stain could reach them were some astronomical cuts, looking as neat and new as when her father brought them home. The afternoon glided imperceptibly away, and as her mother was absent, no one disturbed her in her disintegrations. Tho floor was literally covered with books, papers, and drawings. So engaged was she ​that she scarcely realized the absence of Ernest, who surprised her late in the evening, lost in reverie over the mystic shades of the Past, which seemed as unreal as the joys of the Present, yet fascinating from their strange power of inspiring Reverence for what has passed away. Before her on the table lay an open writing-book in which she had completed the translation of an English story into French, and written at the close, "Voila la fin de cette histoire! and Puss has nodded her approval of every word of it." Beneath was written in her father's hand-writing, looking so familiar that it seemed to bring him before her as if it were but yesterday, "Et tu l'a ecrit a merveille, ma chere; but think not that I shall accept the testimony of a stupid cat to decide its merits." How freshly it brought to mind the old gray cat whose presence was such a painful reminder of scenes that could never be recalled, but whose death had been mourned as if she were a thinking member of the household from her association with those scenes. She rested her face on her hands and gave herself up to reflection, in which position Ernest surprised her. She looked up with an exclamation of joy as he removed her hands. "What!" said she, "home so soon?" to which he replied laughing, "The time cannot have seemed very long if you call this soon, nearly midnight."
"It has been a very busy day with me and a pleasant one too, I confess, though mingled with much that is sad; and I was so still in my closet looking over some books in a trunk that Kate did not hear me, and thought I was out when Mrs. Lane ​called, so I did not see her. But then it was not much matter. Probably she would have talked mostly about the great party that is to come off Thursday evening. To tell the truth, if it were Hot for the looks of the thing, I should rather stay at home,—what does it amount to? So much labor and trouble just for a few minutes of enjoyment if we are so fortunate, which is too often paid for by a sick headache next morning."
"Really, you have taken a very practical turn to-night. Then you do not like these social entertainments? You, ladies are not so happy there as you profess to be?"
"Now Ernest, you know as well as I do that the greatest motive a lady has for going is to show off and be admired. If fortunate enough to succeed in that she is happy for the time being I suppose; if not, look out for a nervous headache. And you gentlemen, laugh in your sleeves to think we are such dunces as to have our heads turned with a little flattery. But how shall we amuse ourselves? It is not expected we shall take part in any sensible conversation."
"You will have a motive for going to Mrs. Lane's, for Professor M., the great astronomer, is to be there, and you will enjoy his conversation."
"A precious little of it I fear I shall have the privilege of enjoying, for he will collect around him a company of gentlemen; and if by chance a lady gets into the circle, he would perhaps remark that it is a very pleasant evening, in the midst of a rain storm. I don't wonder that it is so. It would be ​disagreeable on both sides to talk upon subjects which one party is not familiar with, and a man coming down from lofty themes to some trifling affair might be so embarrassed as to make a ludicrous blunder. We ought to be able to entertain him."
"Perhaps it will be a rest, a diversion, to leave those lofty themes for a while and indulge in a little chat on common place affairs."
"Oh yes! now you've said it. When you are tired and want a little diversion, woman serves a very good purpose for you to amuse yourselves with, and possibly if you should have the sick headache or find a rent in your coats, she might be very useful; but whoever dreamed of any benefit to the literary or scientific world through her? It is not expected, and therefore she must take her rank as the appendage or ornament of social circles whose highest sphere is to give the prevailing ton to all fashionable society."
"I have no objection to the presence of woman anywhere I go. On the contrary I should enjoy it, but I think in general, they are better content to stay away. How many ladies of your acquaintance would not shrink from conducting the conversation with Professor M., if the opportunity were tendered them?"
"Probably most of them would, because they are not educated or qualified for it, and are too much the slaves of custom to step out of the path you have assigned to them. But if he is there I shall avail myself of as much of his conversation as I can, regardless of etiquette. Perhaps you will regret then ​that I had not promised to obey, but it is too late now, and you will have to make the best of it."
"I will introduce you to him, and tell him I have the misfortune to be joined to a very refractory little wife who will have her own way, even to talking upon the science of Astronomy." So with a merry laugh and pulling his curls which was returned by pinching her ear the subject was dropped.
The morning was far advanced ere Rosalind could slumber. The thought of resuming her old pursuits through the enchanting mazes of science, and a rapid survey of the intervening years since she dropped them, with the varied scenes of pain and pleasure they had brought, so filled her mind as to chase the sleep from her pillow. At break of day she fell into an unquiet slumber when she returned in dreams to the happy hours of her childhood and was again a little girl sitting on her father's knee, or coasting down hill with him for a companion. Then came confused images of fireside pleasures, playing with wax dolls, imaginary tea-parties, and calculating eclipses; and lastly, she saw her father an angel seraph beckoning to her to follow him. She essayed to rise but was held back by an invisible power. She opened her eyes and saw Ernest standing over her. He had risen early and taken his accustomed walk, returning to the chamber just in season to see the smile that flitted across her features, and the partial raising of the hand.
"Oh Ernest," said she, "I have had such a beautiful dream!"
Its influence followed her all day, imparting one ​of those trance-like states common to her, when every trace of earthly passion vanished and her countenance was so radiant and serene with an inspiration, not of this world, that she reminded one of some saintly picture, rather than the impulsive girl of yesterday.
She met with the desired interview on the evening of the party. Standing among the "Literatii" who gathered around the Professor as the honored guest of the evening, she sustained her part in conversation with an ability equal to any one of them; and even Ernest was surprised at the extent of her knowledge. Never was he more proud of her than at that moment. All the genius of her soul was kindled which glowed with a wealth and splendor far surpassing the rich profusion of satins and laces that graced the outward form.