nds.

M. Roland, for whose sake she had taken so decisive a step, was far
from an ardent lover in his conduct at this juncture. He wrote her
affectionately, but he made no reference to his proposal of marriage
until six months had passed. Then he came to Paris, had an interview
through iron gratings, and expressed himself determined to make her
his wife. Since she had left her father's roof, she was at liberty
to accept his somewhat tardy proposal, and she emerged from the
convent to become Madame Roland.

We have seen that M. Roland was not an ardent lover, and it is
readily understood that this beautiful, intense girl, in the very
prime of young womanhood, was not in love with him. She felt only
esteem for his virtues, and admiration for his intellect. But she
was twenty-five years old, and virtually homeless; of all the score
of men who had sought her hand in marriage, no one had ever stirred
her heart, and she married, believing, no doubt, that this cold
regard and high admiration which the character of M. Roland
elicited, was all that she could feel for any man.

It was not until the thunders of the Revolution shook the world,
that her heart awoke to real passion; and even then, in a situation
where hundreds of women who have professed greater religious fervor,
have fallen, she conquered herself, and virtually died to protect
her husband's life.

During the first year of their marriage, the Rolands lived in Paris.
Manon had imagined a happy association with her friends, the
Cannets; but her husband was morbidly jealous of these friends, and
extracted a promise from her that she would see them as little as
possible. She became his amanuensis and secretary, and scarcely ever
left his side.

During the next ten years we find her passing the greater part of
her time in the Clos de la Platiere, an ancient and humble
country-seat belonging to the Roland family. Here, with her taxing
domestic duties, the exactions of her husband, the care of her child
Eudora, the tyrannies of her aged mother-in-law, this wonderful
woman had little opportunity for the exercise of her talents.

It seems strange to think of this beautiful martyr, whose name is a
synonym for all that is grand and heroic, passing the best years of
her womanhood in preparing dishes for the appetite of a dyspeptic
husband, in looking after house-linen, and arranging lessons for a
child. Matilda Blind says "This affects one with something of the
ludicrou