To touch the electric wire, and feel the bolt scathing one's own brain,--to speak, to hear the dreary echo of one's voice return through the desert waste,--to enter the temple and find nothing but ruins and desolation,--to lay a sacrifice on the altar, and see no fire from heaven descend in token of acceptance,--to stand the priestess of a lonely shrine, uttering oracles to the unheeding wind,--is not such too often the doom of those who have looked to fame as their heritage, believing genius their dower? Heaven save me from such a destiny. Better the daily task, the measured duty, the chained-down spirit, the girdled heart. A year after Mrs. Linwood pointed out to me the path of duty, I began to walk in it. I have passed the winter in the city, but it was one of deep seclusion to me. I welcomed with rapture our return to the country, and had so far awakened from dream-life, as to prepare myself with steadiness of purpose for the realities of my destiny. Edith rebelled against her mother's decision. There was no need of such a thing. I was too young, too delicate, too sensitive for so rough a task. There was a plenty of robust country girls to assist Mr. Regulus, if he wanted them to, without depriving her of her companion and sister. She appealed to Dr. Harlowe, in her sweet, bewitching way, which always seemed irresistible; but he only gave her a genial smile, called me "a brave little girl," and bade me "God speed." "I wish Richard Clyde were here," said she, in her own artless, half-childish manner, "I am sure he would be on my side. I wish brother Ernest would come home, he would decide the question. Oh, Gabriella, if you only knew brother Ernest!" If I have not mentioned this _brother Ernest_ before, it is not because I had not heard his name repeated a thousand times. He was the only son and brother of the family, who, having graduated with the first honors at the college of his native State, was completing his education in Germany, at the celebrated University of Gottingen. There was a picture of him in the library, taken just before he left the country, on which I had gazed, till it was to me a living being. It was a dark, fascinating face,--a face half of sunshine and half shadow, a face of mysterious meanings; as different from Edith's as night from morning. It reminded me of the head of Byron, but it expressed deeper sensibility, and the features were even more symmetrically handsome. Edith, who was as frank and artless as a child, was always talking of her brother, of his brilliant talents, his genius, and peculiarities. She showed me his letters, which were written with extraordinary beauty and power, though the sentiments were somewhat obscured by a transcendental mistiness belonging to the atmosphere he breathed. "Ernest never was like anybody else," said Edith; "he is the most singular, but the most fascinating of human beings. Oh Gabriella, I long to have him come back, that you may know and admire him."