ittering smile." For it was thus that she would talk about
the mouth of the Clyde. Shelter near her there was none. The scrubby
trees lay nearly half a mile to the right,--and up the hill, too. She
had once clambered down to the actual shore, and might do so again.
But she doubted that there would be shelter even there; and the
clambering up on that former occasion had been a nuisance, and would
be a worse nuisance now. Thinking of all this, and feeling the sun
keenly, she gradually retraced her steps to the garden within the
moat, and seated herself, Shelley in hand, within the summer-house.
The bench was narrow, hard, and broken; and there were some snails
which discomposed her;--but, nevertheless, she would make the best
of it. Her darling "Queen Mab" must be read without the coarse,
inappropriate, every-day surroundings of a drawing-room; and it was
now manifest to her that, unless she could get up much earlier in the
morning, or come out to her reading after sunset, the knob of rock
would not avail her.

She began her reading, resolved that she would enjoy her poetry in
spite of the narrow seat. She had often talked of "Queen Mab," and
perhaps she thought she had read it. This, however, was in truth her
first attempt at that work. "How wonderful is Death! Death and his
brother, Sleep!" Then she half-closed the volume, and thought that
she enjoyed the idea. Death,--and his brother Sleep! She did not
know why they should be more wonderful than Action, or Life, or
Thought;--but the words were of a nature which would enable her to
remember them, and they would be good for quoting. "Sudden arose
Ianthe's soul; it stood all-beautiful in naked purity." The name of
Ianthe suited her exactly. And the antithesis conveyed to her mind
by naked purity struck her strongly, and she determined to learn the
passage by heart. Eight or nine lines were printed separately, like a
stanza, and the labour would not be great, and the task, when done,
would be complete. "Instinct with inexpressible beauty and grace,
Each stain of earthliness Had passed away, it reassumed Its native
dignity, and stood Immortal amid ruin." Which was instinct with
beauty,--the stain or the soul, she did not stop to inquire, and may
be excused for not understanding. "Ah,"--she exclaimed to herself,
"how true it is; how one feels it; how it comes home to one!--'Sudden
arose Ianthe's soul!'" And then she walked about the garden,
repeating the words to herself, a