nse:--'Men hating Nature are insane. Women and
Nature are close. If it is rather general to hate Nature and maltreat
women, we begin to see why the world is a mad world.' That is the tune
of the fiddler's fiddling. As for him, something protects him. He was
the slave of Countess Livia; like Abrane, Mallard, Corby, St. Ombre,
young Cressett, and the dozens. He is now her master. Can a man like
that be foolish, in saying of the Countess Carinthia, she is 'not
only quick to understand, she is in the quick of understanding'? Gower
Woodseer said it of her in Wales, and again on the day of his walk up
to London from Esslemont, after pedestrian exercise, which may heat the
frame, but cools the mind. She stamped that idea on a thoughtful fellow.

He's a Welshman. They are all excitable,--have heads on hound's legs for
a flying figure in front. Still, they must have an object, definitely
seen by them--definite to them if dim to their neighbours; and it will
run in the poetic direction: and the woman to win them, win all classes
of them, within so short a term, is a toss above extraordinary. She is
named Carinthia--suitable name for the Welsh pantomimic procession. Or
cry out the word in an amphitheatre of Alpine crags,--it sounds at home.

She is a daughter of the mountains,--should never have left them. She is
also a daughter of the Old Buccaneer--no poor specimen of the fighting
Englishman of his day. According to Rose Mackrell, he, this Old
Buccaneer, it was, who, by strange adventures, brought the great Welsh
mines into the family! He would not be ashamed in spying through his
nautical glass, up or down, at his daughter's doings. She has not yet
developed a taste for the mother's tricks:--the mother, said to have
been a kindler. That Countess of Cressett was a romantic little fly-away
bird. Both parents were brave: the daughter would inherit gallantry. She
inherits a kind of thwarted beauty. Or it needs the situation seen
in Wales: her arms up and her unaffrighted eyes over the unappeasable
growl. She had then the beauty coming from the fathom depths, with the
torch of Life in the jaws of Death to light her: beauty of the nether
kingdom mounting to an upper place in the higher. Her beauty recognized,
the name of the man who married her is not Longears--not to himself, is
the main point; nor will it be to the world when he shows that it is not
so to himself.

Suppose he went to her, would she be trying at domination? The wom