belong
to truths that virtue dare not tell aloud. And as Maltravers spoke, with
his eyes flashing almost intolerable light--his breast heaving, his form
dilated, never to the eyes of Florence Lascelles did he seem so great:
the chains that bound the strong limbs of his spirit seemed snapped
asunder, and all his soul was visible and towering, as a thing that has
escaped slavery, and lifts its crest to heaven, and feels that it is
free.

That evening saw a new bond of alliance between these two
persons,--young, handsome, and of opposite sexes, they agreed to be
friends, and nothing more. Fools!

CHAPTER II.

"Idem velle, et idem nolle, ea demum firma amicitia est."*
SALLUST.

*To will the same thing and not to will the same thing, that at length
is firm friendship.

"_Carlos._ That letter.
_Princess Eboli._ Oh, I shall die. Return it instantly."
SCHILLER: _Don Carlos_.

IT seemed as if the compact Maltravers and Lady Florence had entered
into removed whatever embarrassment and reserve had previously existed.
They now conversed with an ease and freedom not common in persons of
different sexes before they have passed their grand climacteric. Ernest,
in ordinary life, like most men of warm emotions and strong imagination,
if not taciturn, was at least guarded. It was as if a weight were taken
from his breast, when he found one person who could understand him best
when he was most candid. His eloquence--his poetry--his intense and
concentrated enthusiasm found a voice. He could talk to an individual
as he would have written to the public--a rare happiness to the men of
books.

Florence seemed to recover her health and spirits as by a miracle; yet
she was more gentle, more subdued, than of old--there was less effort
to shine, less indifference whether she shocked. Persons who had not
met her before, wondered why she was dreaded in society. But at times a
great natural irritability of temper--a quick suspicion of the motives
of those around her--an imperious and obstinate vehemence of will, were
visible to Maltravers, and served, perhaps, to keep him heart-whole.
He regarded her through the eyes of the intellect, not those of the
passions--he thought not of her as a woman--her very talents, her very
grandeur of idea and power of purpose, while they delighted him in
conversation, diverted his imagination from dwelling on her beauty.
He looked on her as something apart from her sex;--a glorious