cquiesce in.

The circumstances in which Margaret lived appeared to her life a
prison. She had no room for utterance, no sphere adequate; her powers
were unemployed. With what eloquence she described this want of a
field! Often have I listened with wonder and admiration, satisfied
that she exaggerated the evil, and yet unable to combat her rapid
statements. Could she have seen in how few years a way would open
before her, by which she could emerge into an ample field,--how soon
she would find troops of friends, fit society, literary occupation,
and the opportunity of studying the great works of art in their own
home,--she would have been spared many a sharp pang.

Margaret, like every really earnest and deep nature, felt the
necessity of a religious faith as the foundation of character. The
first notice which I find of her views on this point is contained
in the following letter to one of her youthful friends, when only
nineteen:--

* * * * *

'I have hesitated much whether to tell you what you ask about
my religion. You are mistaken! I have not formed an opinion.
I have determined not to form settled opinions at present.
Loving or feeble natures need a positive religion, a visible
refuge, a protection, as much in the passionate season of
youth as in those stages nearer to the grave. But mine is
not such. My pride is superior to any feelings I have yet
experienced: my affection is strong admiration, not the
necessity of giving or receiving assistance or sympathy. When
disappointed, I do not ask or wish consolation,--I wish to
know and feel my pain, to investigate its nature and its
source; I will not have my thoughts diverted, or my feelings
soothed; 'tis therefore that my young life is so singularly
barren of illusions. I know, I feel the time must come when
this proud and impatient heart shall be stilled, and turn from
the ardors of Search and Action, to lean on something above.
But--shall I say it?--the thought of that calmer era is to me
a thought of deepest sadness; so remote from my present being
is that future existence, which still the mind may conceive.
I believe in Eternal Progression. I believe in a God, a
Beauty and Perfection to which I am to strive all my life for
assimilation. From these two articles of belief, I draw the
rules by which I strive to regulate my life. But, though