ot as I have said? Are not your mere
society-ladies too often miserable at home?"

She sighed heavily, as if unpleasant images were forcing themselves upon
her mind. I felt that I might follow up the impression I had made, and
resumed:

"There was a time, Delia--and it lies only three or four short years
backward on your path of life--when I read in your opening mind a
promise of higher things than have yet been attained--you must pardon
the freedom of an old but true friend. A time when thought, taste,
feeling were all building for themselves a habitation, the stones
whereof were truths, and the decorations within and without pure and
good affections. All this"--I glanced at the rich furniture, mirrors,
and curtains--"is poor and mean to that dwelling place of the soul, the
foundations for which you once commenced laying. Are you happier now
than then? Have the half bewildering experiences through which you have
passed satisfied you that you are in the right way? That life's highest
blessings are to be found in these pageantries? Think, think, my dear
young friend! Look inwards. Search into your heart, and try the quality
of its motives. Examine the foundation upon which you are building, and
if it is sand, in heaven's name stop, and look for solid earth on which
to place the corner stone of your temple of happiness."

"You bewilder me, Doctor," she said, in reply to this. "I can't think,
I can't look inwards. If I am building on a sandy foundation, God help
me!--for I cannot turn back to search for the solid earth of which you
speak."

"But--"

She raised her hand and said,

"Spare me, Doctor. I know you are truthful and sincere--a friend who
may be trusted--but you cannot see as I see, nor know as I know. I have
chosen my way, and must walk in it, even to the end, let it terminate as
it will. I had once a dream of other things--a sweet, entrancing dream
while it lasted--but to me it can never be more than a dream. There
are quiet, secluded, peaceful ways in life, and happy are they who are
content to walk in them. But they are not for my feet, and I do not envy
those who hide themselves in tranquil valleys, or linger on the distant
hill-slopes. The crowd, the hum, the shock of social life for me!"

"But this you cannot have in S----. And is it not the part of a wise
woman--"

"Again, Doctor, let me beg of you to spare me." she said, lifting her
hands, and turning her face partly away. "I only half comprehen