Ernest did not know himself. Even in Crusoe's desert isle, if the print of human footsteps were discovered on the sand, and had he flown to the uttermost parts of the earth, the phantom created by his own diseased imagination would have pursued him like the giant form that haunted from pole to pole the unhappy Frankenstein. Man cannot escape from his own passions; and in solitude their waves beat against his bosom, like the eternal dashing of the tide, scarcely perceived amidst the active sounds of day, but roaring and thundering in the deep stillness of the midnight hour. "We were happy here before Margaret came," I answered; "happy as it was possible for mortals to be. How strange that she should have come unasked, remain unurged, without dreaming of the possibility of her being otherwise than a welcome guest!" "There should be laws to prevent households from such intrusions," said Ernest, with warmth. "I consider such persons as great offenders against the peace of society as the midnight robber or the lurking assassin. Margaret Melville cares for nothing but her own gratification. A contemptible love of fun and frolic is the ruling passion of her life. How false, how artificial is that system where there is no redress for encroachments of this kind! Were I to act honestly and as I ought, I should say to her at once, 'leave us,--your presence is intolerable,--there is no more affinity between us than between glass and brass.' But what would my mother say? What would the world say? What would you say, my own dear wife, who desire her departure even as I do myself?" "I should be very much shocked, of course. If she had the least sensitiveness or delicacy of feeling, she would read all this in your countenance and manners. I often fear she will perceive in mine, the repulsion I cannot help experiencing. For your mother's sake I wish to be kind to Margaret." "Do you know, Gabriella, she once wished me to think of her as a wife? That was before her character was formed, however,--when its wild, untamable elements revelled in the morning freedom of girlhood, and reason and judgment were not expected to exert their restraining influence. Think of such an union, my flower-girl, my Mimosa. Do I deserve quite so severe a punishment?" "You would have lived in a perpetual fever of jealousy, or a state of open anarchy. There would have been some memorable scenes in your diary, I am certain." "Jealousy! The idea of being jealous of such a being as Margaret! The 'rhinoceran bear' might inspire the passion as soon. No, Gabriella, I do not believe I could be jealous of another woman in the world, for I cannot conceive of the possibility of my ever loving another; and the intensity of my love creates a trembling fear, that a treasure so inestimable, so unspeakably dear, may be snatched from my arms. It is not so much distrust of you, as myself. I fear the casket is not worthy of the jewel it enshrines."