it began with expressions of
warm gratitude to Mrs. Morley, not for her invitation only, but for the
interest she had conceived in his happiness. It went on thus "I join
with my whole heart in all that you say, with such eloquent justice, of
the mental and personal gifts so bounteously lavished by nature on the
young lady whom you name.

"No one can feel more sensible than I of the charm of so exquisite a
loveliness; no one can more sincerely join in the belief that the praise
which greets the commencement of her career is but the whisper of the
praise that will cheer its progress with louder and louder plaudits.

"He only would be worthy of her hand, who, if not equal to herself in
genius, would feel raised into partnership with it by sympathy with its
objects and joy in its triumphs. For myself, the same pain with which I
should have learned she had adopted the profession which she originally
contemplated, saddened and stung me when, choosing a career that confers
a renown yet more lasting than the stage, she no less left behind her
the peaceful immunities of private life. Were I even free to consult
only my own heart in the choice of the one sole partner of my destinies
(which I cannot at present honestly say that I am, though I had
expected to be so ere this, when I last saw you at Paris); could I even
hope--which I have no right to do--that I could chain to myself any
private portion of thoughts which now flow into the large channels
by which poets enrich the blood of the world,--still (I say it in
self-reproach, it may be the fault of my English rearing, it may rather
be the fault of an egotism peculiar to myself)--still I doubt if I could
render happy any woman whose world could not be narrowed to the Home
that she adorned and blessed.

"And yet not even the jealous tyranny of man's love could dare to say to
natures like hers of whom we speak, 'Limit to the household glory of
one the light which genius has placed in its firmament for the use and
enjoyment of all.'"

"I thank you so much," said Isaura, calmly; "suspense makes a woman so
weak--certainty so strong." Mechanically she smoothed and refolded the
letter--mechanically, with slow, lingering hands--then she extended it
to her friend, smiling.

"Nay, will you not keep it yourself?" said Mrs. Morley. "The more you
examine the narrow-minded prejudices, the English arrogant man's jealous
dread of superiority--nay, of equality--in the woman he 'can only
va