my own talents. How infinitely more glorious to find my work-field
and my prize, not in dead forms and colours, or ink-and-paper
theories, but in a living, immortal, human spirit! I will study no
more, except the human heart, and only that to purify and ennoble
it.'

True, Argemone; and yet, like all resolutions, somewhat less than
the truth. That morning, indeed, her purpose was simple as God's
own light. She never dreamed of exciting Lancelot's admiration,
even his friendship for herself. She would have started as from a
snake, from the issue which the reader very clearly foresees, that
Lancelot would fall in love, not with Young Englandism, but with
Argemone Lavington. But yet self is not eradicated even from a
woman's heart in one morning before breakfast. Besides, it is not
'benevolence,' but love--the real Cupid of flesh and blood, who can
first


'Touch the chord of self which, trembling,
Passes in music out of sight.'


But a time for all things; and it is now time for Argemone to go
down to breakfast, having prepared some dozen imaginary dialogues
between herself and Lancelot, in which, of course, her eloquence
always had the victory. She had yet to learn, that it is better
sometimes not to settle in one's heart what we shall speak, for the
Everlasting Will has good works ready prepared for us to walk in, by
what we call fortunate accident; and it shall be given us in that
day and that hour what we shall speak.