her position, and Miss Evans notified some of her closest friends that
hereafter she wished to be considered the wife of Mr. Lewes. She was then
in her thirty-sixth year.

The couple disappeared, having gone to Germany.

Many people were shocked. Some said, "We knew it all the time," and when
Herbert Spencer was informed of the fact he exclaimed, "Goodness me!" and
said--nothing.

After six months spent at Weimar and other literary centers, Mr. and Mrs.
Lewes returned to England and began housekeeping at Richmond. Any one who
views their old quarters there will see how very plainly and economically
they were forced to live. But they worked hard, and at this time the
future novelist's desire seemed only to assist her husband. That she
developed the manly side of his nature none can deny. They were very
happy, these two, as they wrote, and copied, and studied, and toiled.

Three years passed, and Mrs. Lewes wrote to a friend:

"I am very happy; happy with the greatest happiness that life can
give--the complete sympathy and affection of a man whose mind stimulates
mine and keeps up in me a wholesome activity."

Mr. Lewes knew the greatness of his helpmeet. She herself did not. He
urged her to write a story; she hesitated, and at last attempted it.
They read the first chapter together and cried over it. Then she wrote
more and always read her husband the chapters as they were turned off. He
corrected, encouraged, and found a publisher. But why should I tell about
it here? It's all in the "Britannica"--how the gentle beauty and