actions, his daily course of life, even his conversation. She allowed
herself one luxury, she saw the newspapers every day, and feasted on the
praise and actions of the Protector. Not that this indulgence was devoid of
accompanying grief. Perdita's name was for ever joined with his; their
conjugal felicity was celebrated even by the authentic testimony of facts.
They were continually together, nor could the unfortunate Evadne read the
monosyllable that designated his name, without, at the same time, being
presented with the image of her who was the faithful companion of all his
labours and pleasures. They, their Excellencies, met her eyes in each line,
mingling an evil potion that poisoned her very blood.

It was in the newspaper that she saw the advertisement for the design for a
national gallery. Combining with taste her remembrance of the edifices
which she had seen in the east, and by an effort of genius enduing them
with unity of design, she executed the plan which had been sent to the
Protector. She triumphed in the idea of bestowing, unknown and forgotten as
she was, a benefit upon him she loved; and with enthusiastic pride looked
forward to the accomplishment of a work of hers, which, immortalized in
stone, would go down to posterity stamped with the name of Raymond. She
awaited with eagerness the return of her messenger from the palace; she
listened insatiate to his account of each word, each look of the Protector;
she felt bliss in this communication with her beloved, although he knew not
to whom he addressed his instructions. The drawing itself became ineffably
dear to her. He had seen it, and praised it; it was again retouched by her,
each stroke of her pencil was as a chord of thrilling music, and bore to
her the idea of a temple raised to celebrate the deepest and most
unutterable emotions of her soul. These contemplations engaged her, when
the voice of Raymond first struck her ear, a voice, once heard, never to be
forgotten; she mastered her gush of feelings, and welcomed him with quiet
gentleness.