What a tide of disagreeable thoughts rushed through me in that short passage from the dining room to the parlor.

How gladly I would have glided out the front door! But that was impossible, so I made up my mind to stroll round as if self-absorbed, and look at the books and paintings until the Judge appeared; as I took it for granted that, after all I had said at the table on the political, religious, and social equality of women, not a lady would have anything to say to me.
Imagine, then, my surprise when, the moment the parlor door was closed upon us, Mrs.Seward, approaching me most affectionately, said: "Let me thank you for the brave words you uttered at the dinner table, and for your speech before the legislature, that thrilled my soul as I read it over and over." I was filled with joy and astonishment.

Recovering myself, I said, "Is it possible, Mrs.Seward, that you agree with me?
Then why, when I was so hard pressed by foes on every side, did you not come to the defense?
I supposed that all you ladies were hostile to every one of my ideas on this question." "No, no!" said she; "I am with you thoroughly, but I am a born coward; there is nothing I dread more than Mr.Seward's ridicule.

I would rather walk up to the cannon's mouth than encounter it." "I, too, am with you," "And I," said two or three others, who had been silent at the table.
I never had a more serious, heartfelt conversation than with these ladies.

Mrs.Seward's spontaneity and earnestness had moved them all deeply, and when the Senator appeared the first words he said were: "Before we part I must confess that I was fairly vanquished by you and the Judge, on my own principles" (for we had quoted some of his most radical utterances).