y had strength
for, and make it a woman's work in the doing, because she was pure woman
in herself; but these white fingers that had caught mine last
night,--what could they do? What ought they to do, save work delicately
with the needle, and make cordials and sweets (for in this my young lady
excelled), and beyond these matters, to play the harp and guitar, and
tend her roses, and adorn her own lovely person?

"But," cried the other voice in me, "I am young and strong, and I can
work! I can study the violin, I can become a musician, can earn my
bread and hers, so that there will be no need of the farm. It would be a
few years of study, a few years of waiting,--and she is so young!"

Ah, yes! she was so young! and then that voice died away, and knew that
it had no more to say. What--what was this, to think of urging a young
girl, still almost a child, to give up the station of life in which she
had lived happy and joyous, and go away with a stranger, far from her
own home and her own people, to share a struggling life, with no certain
assurance of anything, save love alone? What was this but a baseness, of
which no honest man could be capable? If,--if even I had read her glance
aright,--last night,--or was it a year ago? Still, it was but a thing of
a moment, the light springing up of a tiny fire of good will, that would
die out in a few days after I was gone, for want of fuel; even if it
were not snatched out strongly by other hands, as I had put out those
climbing flames last night. How her startled eyes sought mine! How the
colour flashed into her face when I spoke. No! no! Of that I must not
think, if my manhood was to stay in me!

This other, then, who was coming,--this man would turn her thoughts. She
would yield, as is the custom for young maidens in France, with no
thought that it might be otherwise. He was no longer young,--he had
already been once married,--I looked up at this moment, I do not know
by what chance, and my eyes fell on a long glass, what they call a
cheval-glass in France, my dear, showing the whole figure. I think no
harm, seeing this was so long ago, in saying that I appeared to
advantage in such a view, being well-made, and perhaps not without other
good points. This will seem strangely trifling to you, my child, who see
nothing but the soul of man or woman; but I have always loved a good
figure, and never felt shame to thank God for giving me one. My clothes
were good, having been bought i