IX

MME. DE L'ESTORADE TO MLLE. DE CHAULIEU.
December.

All is over, my dear child, and it is Mme. de l'Estorade who writes to
you. But between us there is no change; it is only a girl the less.

Don't be troubled; I did not give my consent recklessly or without
much thought. My life is henceforth mapped out for me, and the freedom
from all uncertainty as to the road for me to follow suits my mind and
disposition. A great moral power has stepped in, and once for all
swept what we call chance out of my life. We have the property to
develop, our home to beautify and adorn; for me there is also a
household to direct and sweeten and a husband to reconcile to life. In
all probability I shall have a family to look after, children to
educate.

What would you have? Everyday life cannot be cast in heroic mould. No
doubt there seems, at any rate at first sight, no room left in this
scheme of life for that longing after the infinite which expands the
mind and soul. But what is there to prevent me from launching on that
boundless sea our familiar craft? Nor must you suppose that the humble
duties to which I dedicate my life give no scope for passion. To
restore faith in happiness to an unfortunate, who has been the sport
of adverse circumstances, is a noble work, and one which alone may
suffice to relieve the monotony of my existence. I can see no opening
left for suffering, and I see a great deal of good to be done. I need