likeness on earth, and every wave on which the star of passion beams,
breaks the lustre into different refractions of light.

As one day she was turning listlessly over some books that had been put
aside by Godolphin in a closet, and hoping to find one that contained, as
sometimes happened, his comments or at least his marks--she was somewhat
startled to find among them several volumes which she remembered to have
belonged to her father. Godolphin had bought them after Volktman's death,
and put them by as relics of his singular friend, and as samples of the
laborious and selfwilled aberration of the human intellect.

Few among these works could Lucilla comprehend, for they were chiefly in
other tongues than the only two with which she was acquainted. But some,
among which were manuscripts by her father, beautifully written, and
curiously ornamented (some of the chief works on the vainer sciences are
only to be found in manuscript), she could contrive to decipher by a
little assistance from her memory, in recalling the signs and
hieroglyphics which her father had often explained to her, and, indeed,
caused her to copy out for him in his calculations. Always possessing an
untaxed and unquestioned belief in the astral powers, she now took some
interest in reading of their mysteries. Her father, secretly, perhaps,
hoping to bequeath his name to the gratitude of some future Hermes, had in
his manuscripts reduced into a system many scattered theories of others,
and many dogmas of his own. Over these, for they were simpler and easier
than the crabbed and mystical speculations in the printed books, she more
especially pored; and she was not sorry at finding fresh reasons for her
untutored adoration of the stars and apparitions of the heavens.

Still, however, these bewildering researches made but a small part,
comparatively speaking, of the occupation of her thoughts. To write to,