onet; she was unprepared to find him
thus practically sagacious. She fell many degrees; she wanted something
to cling to; so she clung to the man who struck her low. Love, then,
was earthly; its depth could be probed by science! A man lived who could
measure it from end to end; foretell its term; handle the young cherub
as were he a shot owl! We who have flown into cousinship with the
empyrean, and disported among immortal hosts, our base birth as a child
of Time is made bare to us!--our wings are cut! Oh, then, if science is
this victorious enemy of love, let us love science! was the logic of
the lady's heart; and secretly cherishing the assurance that she should
confute him yet, and prove him utterly wrong, she gave him the fruits of
present success, as it is a habit of women to do; involuntarily partly.
The fires took hold of her. She felt soft emotions such as a girl feels,
and they flattered her. It was like youth coming back. Pure women have a
second youth. The Autumn primrose flourished.

We are advised by The Pilgrim's Scrip that--

"The ways of women, which are Involution, and their practices, which
are Opposition, are generally best hit upon by guess work, and a bold
word;"--it being impossible to track them and hunt them down in the
ordinary style.

So that we may not ourselves become involved and opposed, let us each of
us venture a guess and say a bold word as to how it came that the lady,
who trusted love to be eternal, grovelled to him that shattered her
tender faith, and loved him.

Hitherto it had been simply a sentimental dalliance, and gossips had
maligned the lady. Just when the gossips grew tired of their slander,
and inclined to look upon her charitably, she set about to deserve every
word they had said of her; which may instruct us, if you please, that
gossips have only to persist in lying to be crowned with verity, or that
one has only to endure evil mouths for a period to gain impunity. She
was always at the Abbey now. She was much closeted with the baronet. It
seemed to be understood that she had taken Mrs. Doria's place. Benson in
his misogynic soul perceived that she was taking Lady Feverel's: but
any report circulated by Benson was sure to meet discredit, and drew the
gossips upon himself; which made his meditations tragic. No sooner was
one woman defeated than another took the field! The object of the System
was no sooner safe than its great author was in danger!

"I can't think what h