her theories to some considerable extent; as on one occasion, when,
after talking long and earnestly of the sin of selfishness, she
absently picked up a paper I had just cut with intent to enjoy myself,
took it away with her to the drawing-room, and sat on it for the rest
of the morning--as I afterwards heard.




CHAPTER III.


Ideala held that dignity and calm are essential in a woman, but, like
the rest of the world, she found it hard to attain to her own standard
of excellence. Her bursts of enthusiasm were followed by fits of
depression, and these again by periods of indifference, when it was
hard to rouse her to interest in anything. She always said, and was
probably right, that want of proper discipline in childhood was the
reason of this variableness, which she deplored, but could neither
combat nor conceal. Temperament must also have had something to do with
it. Her nervous system was too highly strung, she was too sensitive,
too emotional, too intense. She reflected phases of feeling with which
she was brought into contact as a lake reflects the sky above it, and
the bird that skims across it, and the boats that rest upon its breast;
yet, like the lake's, her own nature remained unchanged; it might be
darkened by shadows, and lashed by tempests till it raged, but the pure
element showed divinely even in its wrath, and the passion of it was
expended always to some good end.

But even her love of the beautiful was carried to excess. It was a