from which alone the
diviner knowledge can arise,--the faith which, seeing the immortal
everywhere, purifies and exalts the mortal that beholds, the glorious
ambition that dwells not in the cabals and crimes of earth, but amidst
those solemn wonders that speak not of men, but of God; of that power to
abstract the soul from the clay which gives to the eye of the soul its
subtle vision, and to the soul's wing the unlimited realm; of that
pure, severe, and daring initiation from which the mind emerges, as from
death, into clear perceptions of its kindred with the Father-Principles
of life and light, so that in its own sense of the Beautiful it finds
its joy; in the serenity of its will, its power; in its sympathy with
the youthfulness of the Infinite Creation, of which itself is an essence
and a part, the secrets that embalm the very clay which they consecrate,
and renew the strength of life with the ambrosia of mysterious and
celestial sleep. And while he spoke, Viola listened, breathless. If she
could not comprehend, she no longer dared to distrust. She felt that in
that enthusiasm, self-deceiving or not, no fiend could lurk; and by an
intuition, rather than an effort of the reason, she saw before her, like
a starry ocean, the depth and mysterious beauty of the soul which
her fears had wronged. Yet, when he said (concluding his strange
confessions) that to this life WITHIN life and ABOVE life he had dreamed
to raise her own, the fear of humanity crept over her, and he read in
her silence how vain, with all his science, would the dream have been.

But now, as he closed, and, leaning on his breast, she felt the clasp of
his protecting arms,--when, in one holy kiss, the past was forgiven and
the present lost,--then there returned to her the sweet and warm hopes
of the natural life, of the loving woman. He was come to save her! She
asked not how,--she believed it without a question. They should be at
last again united. They would fly far from those scenes of violence and
blood. Their happy Ionian isle, their fearless solitudes, would once
more receive them. She laughed, with a child's joy, as this picture rose
up amidst the gloom of the dungeon. Her mind, faithful to its sweet,
simple instincts, refused to receive the lofty images that flitted
confusedly by it, and settled back to its human visions, yet more
baseless, of the earthly happiness and the tranquil home.

"Talk not now to me, beloved,--talk not more now to me of t