be one of those souls privileged to pray the Divine Intercessor for
merciful light on those beloved and left dark on earth."

"Isaura!" exclaimed Gustave, his mobile temperament impressed, not by the
words of Isaura, but by the passionate earnestness with which they were
uttered, and by the exquisite spiritual beauty which her face took from
the combined sweetness and fervour of its devout expression,--"Isaura, I
merit your censure, your sentence of condemnation; but do not ask me to
give back your plighted troth. I have not the strength to do so. More
than ever, more than when first pledged to me, I need the aid, the
companionship, of my guardian angel. You were that to me once; abandon
me not now. In these terrible times of revolution, excitable natures
catch madness from each other. A writer in the heat of his passion says
much that he does not mean to be literally taken, which in cooler moments
he repents and retracts. Consider, too, the pressure of want, of hunger.
It is the opinions that you so condemn which alone at this moment supply
bread to the writer. But say you will yet pardon me,--yet give me trial
if I offend no more--if I withdraw my aid to any attacks on your views,
your religion--if I say, 'Thy God shall be my God, and thy people shall
be my people.'"

"Alas!" said Isaura, softly, "ask thyself if those be words which I can
believe again. Hush!" she continued, checking his answer with a more
kindling countenance and more impassioned voice. "Are they, after all,
the words that man should address to woman? Is it on the strength of
Woman that Man should rely? Is it to her that he should say, 'Dictate my
opinions on all that belongs to the Mind of man; change the doctrines
that I have thoughtfully formed and honestly advocate; teach me how to
act on earth, clear all my doubts as to my hopes of heaven'? No, Gustave;
in this task man never should repose on woman. Thou are honest at this