Without being really cultivated she was remarkably well-informed. She had read a prodigious number of books, she still read all day long, and works of a high ethical tone for choice. Her master, who was her lover, had given her his own veneration for Virtue, and Fénelon’s _Télémaque_ was his favourite hero. She practised saying over the magic words “Intolerance,” “Equality,” “Justice,” and her child-lips uttered maxims which would have staggered the Lord Chancellor. As to the Anglican religion she ignored it as completely as did Calypso and Nausicaa. Children are delightful, but their society is fatiguing. Fully alive to the charm, sweet temper, and unselfishness of Harriet, nevertheless Shelley now and again sighed for Hogg’s caustic talk, or Miss Hitchener’s ardent enthusiasm. He asked himself uneasily what the latter would think of his marriage. “My dearest Friend,” he wrote to her, “if I may still address you so? Or have I lost, through my equivocal conduct, the esteem of the virtuous and the wise? . . . How in one week all my plans have changed, and to what an extent are we the slaves of circumstance! You will ask how I, an atheist, could submit myself to the marriage ceremony, how my conscience could ever consent to it? This is what I want to explain to you. . . .” Thereupon, treading in Hogg’s footsteps, he proved that one has not the right to deprive a beloved being of all the advantages which are bound up with a good reputation. “Blame if thou wilt, dearest friend, for _still_ thou art dearest to me, yet pity even this error if thou blamest me. If Harriet be not at sixteen all you are at a more advanced age, assist me to mould a really noble soul into all that can make its nobleness useful and lovely. . . . Charming she is already unless I am the weakest of error’s slaves.” The letter finished with an invitation that the lady should join them at Edinburgh, where Harriet’s presence would prevent any thought of impropriety. Miss Kitchener did not accept. Evidently the poetic “thee’s” and “thou’s” were not sufficient to buy pardon for the somewhat unfortunate reference to Harriet’s and Miss Hitchener’s respective ages. But though the virgin of Cuckfield declined to come and help in the moulding of Harriet’s soul, one sunny morning Shelley heard a knock at the door of his flat, and looking out of the window was overjoyed to see Hogg standing in the street, bag in hand. Having just given himself a few weeks’ holiday, he came to pass them in Edinburgh. He received a triumphal reception. “We have met at last once more!” cried Shelley. “And we will never part again! You must have a bed in the house!” Harriet came in. Hogg was charmed with her. He had never seen such blooming, radiant youth and beauty. The landlord was summoned. “We want another bedroom, instantly, urgently, indispensably!” When the poor man was permitted to answer, he offered them a room at the top of the house.