_Bowring_.

Nor they unblest,
Who underneath the world's bright vest
With sackcloth tame their aching breast,
The sharp-edged cross in jewels hide.

_Keble_.

From eighteen to twenty-four--a long step; and it covers the ground that
is generally the brightest and gayest in a woman's life, and the most
decisive. With me it was, in a certain sense, bright and gay; but the
deciding events of my life seemed to have been crowded into the year,
the story of which has just been told. Of the six years that came after,
there is not much to tell. My character went on forming itself, no
doubt, and interiorly I was growing in one direction or the other; but
in external matters, there is not much of interest.

I had "no end of money," so it seemed to me, and to a good many other
people, I should think, from the way that they paid me court. I don't
see why it did not turn my head, except that I was what they call
religious, and dreadfully afraid of doing wrong. I was not my own
mistress exactly, either, for I had some one to direct my conscience,
though that was the only direction that I ever had. I had not the
smallest restriction as to money from Richard (to whom the estate was
left in trust); and it had been found much to exceed his expectations,
or those of anybody else.

I had the whole world before me, where to go and what to choose; not
very much stability of character, and the greatest ignorance; a
considerable share of good looks, and the love of pleasure inseparable
from youth and health; absolutely no authority, and any amount of
flattery and temptation. I think it must be agreed, it was a happy thing
for me that I was brought under the influence of Sister Madeline, and
that through her I was made to feel most afraid of sin, and of myself;
and that the life within, the growth in grace, and the keeping clear my
conscience, was made to appear of more consequence than the life
without, that was so full of pleasures and of snares.

I often think now of the obedience with which I would give up a party,
stay at home alone, and read a good book, because I had been advised to
do it, or because it was a certain day; of the simplicity with which I
would pat away a novel, when its interest was at the height, because it
was the hour for me to read something different, or because it was
Friday, or because I was to learn to give up doing what