that the reason was
hers; and, until I could persuade her that the past could be unacted, that
maturity could go back to the cradle, and that all that was could become as
though it had never been, it was useless to assure her that no real change
had taken place in her fate. And thus with stern pride she suffered him to
go, though her very heart-strings cracked at the fulfilling of the act,
which rent from her all that made life valuable.

To change the scene for her, and even for ourselves, all unhinged by the
cloud that had come over us, I persuaded my two remaining companions that
it were better that we should absent ourselves for a time from Windsor. We
visited the north of England, my native Ulswater, and lingered in scenes
dear from a thousand associations. We lengthened our tour into Scotland,
that we might see Loch Katrine and Loch Lomond; thence we crossed to
Ireland, and passed several weeks in the neighbourhood of Killarney. The
change of scene operated to a great degree as I expected; after a year's
absence, Perdita returned in gentler and more docile mood to Windsor. The
first sight of this place for a time unhinged her. Here every spot was
distinct with associations now grown bitter. The forest glades, the ferny
dells, and lawny uplands, the cultivated and cheerful country spread around
the silver pathway of ancient Thames, all earth, air, and wave, took up one
choral voice, inspired by memory, instinct with plaintive regret.

But my essay towards bringing her to a saner view of her own situation, did
not end here. Perdita was still to a great degree uneducated. When first
she left her peasant life, and resided with the elegant and cultivated
Evadne, the only accomplishment she brought to any perfection was that of
painting, for which she had a taste almost amounting to genius. This had
occupied her in her lonely cottage, when she quitted her Greek friend's
protection. Her pallet and easel were now thrown aside; did she try to
paint, thronging recollections made her hand tremble, her eyes fill with
tears. With this occupation she gave up almost every other; and her mind
preyed upon itself almost to madness.

For my own part, since Adrian had first withdrawn me from my selvatic
wilderness to his own paradise of order and beauty, I had been wedded to
literature. I felt convinced that however it might have been in former
times, in the present stage of the world, no man's faculties could be
developed, no man's