Nature, ever striving to reduce the mountain to the level of the plain by its disintegrating and destructive processes, does but bring earth to earth; while man, repressing his holiest and most exalted emotions to the level of mere physiological processes, reduces spirit to earth. Mr. Crowe had perfectly succeeded. He went to his hotel. The nightingales in Wellington’s elms were singing—not for him; the streams were answering the constant whisper of the leaves—to him it was nothing but gravitation. The fire-flies danced and the moon shed her silver light over all this beauty. Bah! it was easily done in a laboratory! The whole universe was but an expansion of that. To bed, therefore, to rest, and to dream of something grander than scenery, poetry, or romance—money whereby to win a wider, a more enduring, and a more brilliant fame! Mr. Crowe flattered himself that were he free to ask Mildred to become his wife, he would stand a good chance of being accepted. His long and close connection with her father, his acquaintance, not to say intimate friendship, with herself, the many opportunities time had afforded him of winning her esteem, his growing fame, the respect the world was beginning to show for his achievements in science,—all led him to hope that, were he but disencumbered, he might win the heiress. Yet, at the rate his wife was sinking, she might last for many months. What was the good of her life to her? Would it not be merciful to terminate such an existence? When it became misery to live, why continue to do so? Of course he maintained the right we all had to commit suicide. Might not such a man as himself, who had pushed many a poor wretch into Charon’s boat, scientifically hasten her removal? CHAPTER XXXVII. MILDRED LEE. Grief should be Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate; Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free; Strong to consume small troubles; to commend Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts lasting to the end. —_Aubrey de Vere._ Mildred Lee, at the time of our story, was twenty-eight. She early lost her mother, and now, by the recent death of her father, was left to her own devices. She was fortunate in the devoted attachment of her maiden aunt, Janet, who shared her tastes, and whose views on things in general were, with some important differences, which gave a zest to their discussion, pretty much her own.