They move at last, not through reasoning, but as the result of the more or less vague sentiment that while their home-life has brought them no love, yet they are made for love and have a love mission to fulfil. A modern aesthetic writer—but a man after all and only moderately sensible—has thus explained the appeal of grace as it affected himself: “I had nothing to love. For me my parents were in some sort only the visible powers of Nature.”[124] How much more does this apply to women! They want something to love! Separated from her family the wife finds in her husband the incarnation, in the fullest sense of the word, of the visible power of Nature, and so it is that the ardent instinct drawing her towards the light is very complex, much interwoven with pain and passion; it is a thirst for love almost cruel in its intensity. Just as the husband wins honour for himself by means of external activity and public service, so the wife hears destiny making a similar appeal to her. Around her there is a life to diffuse, a sweetness to sow, hungry folk to feed, wounds to dress, a great cry of distress and hardship to soothe; and act she must. A tradesman’s wife may shut herself up in the narrow egotism of her back shop. Could a woman of heart shut her eyes to the profound unrest of society? Ought she to remain a helpless pawn on the board, a mere victim? Was she not called to take her share, as an intelligent and free creature? Willy nilly, she must step forth from her house—burst her shell and wing away! At twenty it is excusable to confuse one’s ideals with life; ten or fifteen years later this illusion has dissolved. One feels then the need of setting one’s heart upon some firm, sure, noble spot out of reach of the swirling tide of existence; and a day thus arrives when every woman capable of reflecting and of loving throws a questioning look on what is around her.