ishes on this subject."

"If I have erred, it was from mistaken delicacy. I thought I had no
right to betray an unreturned affection. It was not from a want of
confidence in you."

"If you could have loved Richard, it would have been well for you, my
dear Gabriella; but I know the heart admits of no coercion, and least of
all a heart like yours. I no longer warn, for it is in vain; but I would
counsel and instruct. If you _do_ become the wife of my son, you will
assume a responsibility as sacred as it is deep. Not alone for your
happiness do I tremble, O Gabriella,--I fear,--I dread, for him."

"Oh! Mrs. Linwood, when I love him so exclusively, so devotedly; when I
feel that I must love him forever--"

"It is the very exclusiveness and strength of your devotion that I fear.
You will love him too well for your _own_ peace,--too well for _his_
good. Far better is a rational, steadfast attachment, that neither rises
above the worth of the object, nor sinks below it, than the two great
extremes, idolatry and indifference. The first is a violation of the
commands of God,--the last, of the rights of man. Remember, my child,
that it is not by the exhibition of idolatrous affection, that a wife
secures a husband's happiness. It is by patient _continuance_ in
well-doing, that she works out the salvation of her wedded peace. Sit
down by me, Gabriella; draw up your work-table; for one can listen best
when their hands are busy. I have a great deal that I wish to say, and I
cannot talk as well with your eyes bent so earnestly on me."

I obeyed her without trepidation. I felt the need of her guiding
counsels, and resolved to lay them up in my heart, and make them the
rule and guide of my life.

"When a young girl marries a man whom she has been taught to believe
perfection," continued Mrs. Linwood, "and after marriage discovers her
golden idol to be an image of wood and clay, she may be permitted to sit
down and weep a while over her vanished dreams. But when she _knows_ the
imperfections of him she loves; when she _knows_ they are of a nature to
try, as with seven-fold heat, the strength and purity of her affection;
when with this conviction she breathes her wedded vows, she has no right
to upbraid him. She has walked with open eyes into the furnace, and she
must not shrink from the flames. She must fold over her woman's heart
the wings of an angel. She must look up to God, and be silent."

"When innocent of blame, surely she