should think not indeed! What if I _do_ think of this man in a way I never thought of anyone before, is there anything odd in that? How should I help it when he is unlike anyone I ever saw before? One must think of people as one finds them. Does it follow that I have power over myself no longer, and must go where any chance feeling may choose to lead me?” Here came a pause. Then she started, and once more began walking up and down the room, now hurriedly indeed. “I will _not_ have it!” she cried aloud--and checked herself, dashed at the sound of her own voice. But her soul went on loud enough for the thought-universe to hear. “There _can’t_ be a God, or he would never subject his women to what they don’t choose. If a God had made them, he would have them queens over themselves at least-- and I _will_ be queen, and then perhaps a God did make me. A slave to things inside myself!--thoughts and feelings I refuse, and which I _ought_ to have control over! I don’t want this in me, yet I can’t drive it out! I _will_ drive it out. It is not me. A slave on my own ground! worst slavery of all!--It will not go.--That must be because I do not will it strong enough. And if I don’t _will_ it --my God!--what does that mean?--That I am a slave already?” Again she threw herself on her couch, but only to rise and yet again pace the room. “Nonsense! it is _not_ love. It is merely that nobody could help thinking about one who had been so much before her mind for so long --one too who had made her think. Ah! there, I do believe, lies the real secret of it all!--There’s the main cause of my trouble --and nothing worse! I must not be foolhardy though, and remain in danger, especially as, for anything I can tell, he may be in love with that foolish child. People, they say, like people that are not at all like themselves. Then I am sure he might like me!--She _seems_ to be in love with him! I know she cannot be half a quarter in real love with him: it’s not in her.” She did not rejoin Florimel that evening: it was part of the understanding between the ladies that each should be at absolute liberty. She slept little during the night, starting awake as often as she began to slumber, and before the morning came was a good deal humbled. All sorts of means are kept at work to make the children obedient and simple and noble. Joy and sorrow are servants in God’s nursery; pain and delight, ecstasy and despair minister in it; but amongst them there is none more marvellous in its potency than that mingling of all pains and pleasures to which we specially give the name of Love.