erly purposeless collections of strokes and dots, to
which she gave names that would have been blasphemous in any but a
lunatic's mouth. How she explained them! How fondly she looked at them!
and what anguish she told me she endured lest they should be injured,
or perish in some unworthy way. This woman believes herself to be the
spirit bride of ----! Can you fancy it? one of the most fervent,
poetic, spiritual, gifted of all Anglican divines. She says that since
his death he has been constantly near her. She sees him often, leads
the life he prescribes, making and shunning acquaintances at his
direction, going from place to place, crossing the ocean twice even at
his pleasure. Finally she showed a photograph--the faithfulest possible
presentment of her own unideal face and person, with, floating above,
arms extended in protecting angel guise, a mistily outlined, veiled
figure surmounted by the refined, beautiful face known to everybody in
the later editions of his poems, and in the windows of church
bookshops--the poor clergyman who is allowed to rest neither in his
grave nor in any unknown country beyond. It is hard for him, hard for
Mrs. ----, were she to hear of this post-mortem masquerading and
"affinity," hard for the deluded woman who wanders about the world
alone with her crazy fancies, repudiated by her kindred, and plundered
by the brigandish among her co-believers.

Here, too, I met again the tall, thin young lady, heroine of the device
for frightening small bores--the Plymouth Sister's daughter. We talked
of a good many things, but chiefly of marriage, and the position of
unmarried women in England. The girl was as simply frank as a child.
Matrimony, and matrimony alone, offered any career to women in England.
And upon Mrs. Stainton's saying that despite her own perfect
marriage--a marriage for love, and the union so entire that there
lurked no shadowy region in her soul of which she could not make her
husband as free as herself to enter--yet all that she had seen of life
made her feel sure that, beyond a few rare exceptions, it mattered not,
ten years after marriage, whether the match had been for love solely,
or arranged, or a _mariage de convenance_, the girl assented; somewhat
bitterly remarked that ideals were very well for a heroic life, but
terrible drawbacks in the world of to-day, and that any woman would do
better for herself to accept any reasonably suitable offer than to
cling to an impossible dr