She appreciated that she was still a comparatively young woman, and that, notwithstanding her love for Wilbur, she had been unable as his wife to exhibit herself to the world in her true light. She was free once more to lead her own life, and to obtain due recognition for her ideas and principles. She deplored with a grief which depleted the curve of her oval cheeks the premature end of her husband's artistic career--an aspiring soul cut off on the threshold of success--yet, though of course she never squarely made the reflection, she was aware that the development of her own life was more intrinsically valuable to the world than his, and that of the two it was best that he should be taken. She was sad, sore against Providence, and uncertain as to the future. But she was keenly conscious that she had a future, and she was eager to be stirring. Still, for the moment, the outlook was perplexing. What was she to do? First, and certainly, she desired to shake the dust of New York from her feet at the earliest opportunity. She inclined toward Benham as a residence, and to the lecture platform, supplemented by literature, and perhaps eventually the stage, as a means of livelihood. She believed in her secret soul that she could act. Her supposed facility in acquiring the New York manner had helped to generate that impression. It seemed to her more than probable that with a little instruction as to technical stage business she could gain fame and fortune almost at once as an actress of tragedy or melodrama. Comedy she despised as unworthy of her. But the stage appealed to her only on the ground of income. The life of an actress lacked the ethical character which she liked to associate with whatever she did. To be sure, a great actress was an inspiring influence. Nevertheless she preferred some more obviously improving occupation, provided it would afford a suitable support. Yet was it fitting that she should be condemned to do hack work for her daily bread instead of something to enlighten and uplift the community in which she lived? She considered that she had served her apprenticeship by teaching school and writing for the newspapers, and she begrudged spending further time in subordinate work. Better on the whole a striking success on the stage than this, for after she had made a name and money she could retire and devote herself to more congenial undertakings. Nevertheless her conscience told her that a theatrical career must be regarded as a last resort, and she appreciated the importance of not making a hasty decision as to what she would do. The lease of her house would not expire for six months, and it seemed to her probable that even in New York, where she was not understood, someone would realize her value as a manager of some intellectual or literary movement and make overtures to her. She wrote to Mrs. Earle and received a cordial response declaring that Benham would welcome her with open arms, a complimentary though