in shade or shine in strife,
And fluctuate 'twixt blind hopes and blind despairs,
And fancy that we put forth all our life,
And never know how with the soul it fares.

Still doth the soul from its lone fastness high,
Upon our life a ruling effluence send:
And when it fails, fight as we will, we die;
And, while it lasts, we cannot wholly end."

CHAPTER XVII

"I suppose," observed the real Elsie Marley thoughtfully, drawing one
of her long curls over her shoulder, "that if I'm going to be at the
library regularly, I'd better put up my hair?"

She addressed Mr. Middleton, but his wife, who had of late fallen into
the habit of sitting downstairs in the evening, replied. She had
conceived a strong fancy to the girl, who secretly shrank from her, and
bore herself toward her in a cold and distant manner.

"Oh, Elsie, love, it would be sweet to do it sort of _Grecian_," she
cried in her sentimental fashion, "with a classic knot at the nape of
your neck, and little curls hanging down behind your ears."

"Let her leave it as it is a little longer, Milly," her husband
pleaded, "for it's just as her mother wore hers."

This was not the fact, even though Elsie had been truly his niece. His
sister had worn her hair in curls, but they had been many and riotous,
and caught at the top of her head with a ribbon; while Elsie's two were
fastened at her neck by a neat clasp, and hung as demurely as a braid
would have done.

"Of course," assented Mrs. Middleton. "Elsie's the picture of her
mother, I suppose?"

"She reminds me of her mother more and more every day," he said, "but
she doesn't look like her at all. You remember I told you that
Elizabeth had enormous dimples? They were so large that I'm not sure
that they wouldn't have disfigured another face; but they added the
last touch to hers--made it irresistible."

He gazed at the fire. It was late September and a chill rain beat
against the windows.

"I suppose if Elizabeth had had a son, _he_ would have inherited the
dimples," he remarked. "I believe they say girls take traits from
their fathers and sons from the mother. Curious, isn't it?"

"Well, my dear, if Elsie had had dimples when she came, she would have
lost them ere this," said Mrs. Middleton with unusual energy. "She's
been put right into a treadmill, Jack. Only sixteen, sweet sixteen,
and she hasn't had any of the gayety a young girl wants and needs, but
has just slaved from morn