ified themselves, that they should do so was the note of her
progress. Her prayer was for 'beauty in the inward soul,' which, if it
grew to be her conviction, was greatly--perhaps wholly--dependent on
the perception of external beauty. The development of beauty in the soul
would mean a life of ideal purity; all her instincts pointed to such a
life; her passionate motives converged on the one end of spiritual
chastity.

One ever-present fear she had to strive with in her progress toward
serene convictions. The misery of her parents' home haunted her, and by
no effort could she expel the superstition that she had only escaped
from that for a time, that its claws would surely overtake her and fix
themselves again in her flesh. Analysing her own nature, she discerned,
or thought she did, a lack of independent vigour; it seemed as if she
were too reliant on external circumstances; she dreaded what might
follow if their assistance were withdrawn. To be sure she had held her
course through the countless discouragements of early years; but that,
in looking back, seemed no assurance for the future; her courage, it
appeared to her, had been of the unconscious kind, and might fail her
when she consciously demanded it. As a child she had once walked in her
sleep, had gone forth from the house, and had, before she was awakened,
crossed the narrow footing of a canal-lock, a thing her nervousness
would not allow her to do at other times. This became to her a figure.
The feat she had performed when mere vital instinct guided her, she
would have failed in when attempting it with the full understanding of
its danger. Suppose something happened which put an end to her
independence--failure of health, some supreme calamity at home--could
she hold on in the way of salvation? Was she capable of conscious
heroism? Could her soul retain its ideal of beauty if environed by
ugliness?

The vice of her age--nay, why call it a vice?--the necessary issue of
that intellectual egoism which is the note of our time, found as good
illustration in this humble life as in men and women who are the
mouthpieces of a civilisation. Pre occupied with problems of her own
relation to the world, she could not enjoy without thought in the rear,
ever ready to trouble her with suggestions of unreality. Her distresses
of conscience were all the more active for being purely human; in her
soul dwelt an immense compassion, which, with adequate occasion, might
secure to