Catherine probably did not see the rocks ahead either for Harriet or for herself. She was indeed using up her own energies so fast that she was to face a breakdown later on in the very midst of a useful career. Then indeed she did have to listen to the monitors; but only after a period of ill health did she regain strength for work. During all her life thereafter she preached obedience to the laws of health, and found the truth of the old adage, “‘Had I but known!’ is very poor comfort.” Then we must remember, too, that Harriet had also drained her own spiritual energy in watching the soul-struggles of her sister Catherine during the sensitive years of her early girlhood. Catherine’s grief colored Harriet’s thoughts and wonderings in the years when everything in her own situation looked like a question. So poor little Harriet fell into a disconsolate mood. She thought that she did nothing right, that she yielded to temptation almost as soon as it assailed her. What most commonly beset her, she believed, was pride; she could trace all her sins back to that fault. She thought she was not fit for anything, and she wanted to die young. What young growing soul has not been assailed by moods like this? This half child, half grown woman was developing mentally with great swiftness, and could not understand the meaning of the tumults that were sweeping through her soul. Not being able to answer certain lofty questions, she decided at once that they were unanswerable and that therefore the universe must be all a disastrous affair. Who has not sometime made the same mistake? Little things had great power over her. If she met something that crossed her feelings she was unhappy for days. She wished she could bring herself to be perfectly indifferent to the judgments of others. She believed there never had been a person more dependent on the good and evil opinions of others than she was. This desire to be loved formed, she feared, the great motive for all her actions. Alas, she was in a parlous state! That young mourner for the death of Byron and author of the dramatic poem, “Cleon,” found her love of literature a snare in her spiritual pathway. Of course, she could not know that those very powers that were shown by her tastes and inclinations were to be trained and used for the most important and world-influencing work.