is, to perform after a genuine fashion. I know that very little of what passes for it has the remotest claim to reality, and I will not say it has never to be done; but I am certain that a good deal of the energy spent by some devout and upright, people on trying to understand themselves and their own motives would be expended to better purpose, and with far fuller attainment even in regard to that object itself, in the endeavor to understand God, and what he would have us do.
Lady Clementina's attempt was as honest as she dared make it. It went something after this fashion: "How is it possible I should counsel a young creature like that, with all her gifts and privileges, to marry a groom — to bring the stable into her chamber? If I did, if she did, has she the strength to hold her face to it? Yes, I know how different he is from any other groom that ever rode behind a lady. But does she understand him? Is she capable of such a regard for him as could outlast a week of closer intimacy? At her age it is impossible she should know what she was doing in daring such a thing. It would be absolute ruin to her. And how could I advise her to do what I could not do myself? But then if she is in love with him?"
She rose and paced the room; not hurriedly — she never did anything hurriedly — but yet with unleisurely steps, until, catching sight of herself in the glass, she turned away as from an intruding and unwelcome presence, and threw herself on her couch, burying her face in the pillow. Presently, however, she rose again, her face glowing, and again walked up and down the room — almost swiftly now. I can but indicate the course of her thoughts: "If what he says be true! — It opens another and higher life. — What a man he, is! and so young! — Has he not convicted me of feebleness and folly, and made me ashamed of myself? — What better thing could man or woman do for another than lower her in her own haughty eyes, and give her a chance of becoming such as she had but dreamed of the shadow of? — He is a gentleman — every inch! Hear him talk! — Scotch, no doubt — and — well — a little long-winded — a bad fault at his age! But see him ride! see him swim — and to save a bird! — But then he is hard — severe at best! All religious people are so severe! They think they are safe themselves, and so can afford to be hard on others! He would serve his wife the same as his mare, if he thought she required it! — And I have known women for whom it might be the best thing. I am a fool! a soft-hearted idiot! He told me I would give a baby a lighted candle if it cried for it. — Or didn't he? I believe he never uttered a word of the sort: he only thought it." As she said this there came a strange light in her eyes, and the light seemed to shine from all around them as well as from the orbs themselves.
Suddenly she stood still as a statue in the middle of the room, and her face grew white as the marble of one. For a minute she stood thus, without a definite thought in her brain. The first that came was something like this: "Then Florimel does love him! and wants help to decide whether she shall marry him or not! Poor weak little wretch! — Then if I were in love with him I would marry him. — Would I? — It is well, perhaps, that I'm not! But she! he is ten times to good for her! He would be utterly thrown away on her! But I am her counsel, not his; and what better could come to her than have such a man for a husband, and instead of that contemptible Liftore, with his grand earldom ways and proud nose? He has little to be proud of that must take to his rank for it! Fancy a right man condescending to be proud of his own rank! Pooh! But this groom is a man! all a man! grand from the centre out, as the great God made him! — Yes, it must be a great God that made such a man as that! that is, if he is the same he looks — the same all through! — Perhaps there are more Gods than one, and one of them is the devil, and made Liftore! — But am I bound to give her advice? Surely not, I may refuse. And rightly too! A woman that marries from advice, instead of from a mighty love, is wrong. I need not speak. I shall just tell her to consult her own heart and conscience, and follow them. But gracious me! am I then going to fall in love with the fellow? — this stableman who pretends to know his Maker! — Certainly not. There is nothing of the kind in my thoughts. Besides, how should I know what falling in love means? I never was in love in my life, and don't mean to be. If I were so foolish as imagine myself in any danger, would I be such a fool as be caught in it? I should think not, indeed! What if I do think of this man in a way I never thought of any one before, is there anything odd in that? How should I help it when he is unlike any one I ever saw before? One must think of people as one finds them. Does it follow that I have power over myself no longer, and must go
