Hypatia, it may be, in the seclusion of her chamber, reflected, as other maidens have been known to do, on perhaps the too hasty dismissal of a lover so brave, so loyal, in every respect so worthy of woman's holiest devotion. She had, against her heart's inclination, against his fervent appeals, resolved to give her life to the regeneration of the race, to the reform of the social system, to the alteration of a condition of things which the efforts of saints, philosophers, rulers, and prophets throughout nearly two thousand years had failed materially to change. "Who was she," it now seemed to be inquired of her, by an inward voice that would not be stilled, "that she should presume to expect to move this colossal structure, so firmly rooted in the usages of immemorial custom?" In her first efforts, she had been discouraged and disillusioned. In this her second endeavour, what had she effected? As a direct result of her hasty and inconsiderate action, Massinger had abandoned home and friends, rushed away for distraction to this Ultima Thule, at the very end of the habitable globe, where he was now lying between life and death. And, as if that was not a sufficiently dolorous conclusion, his life had been saved by the courage and devotion of another woman, to whom his faith was justly, irrevocably pledged. The full bitterness of her position was reached, when she acknowledged to herself that in her heart of hearts she was now conscious of feelings which before she had only suspected. But Hypatia Tollemache, strong and deeply seated as were her primal emotions, was no lovesick girl to bewail herself over the inevitable; to chafe to morbid unrest against Destiny, that ancient force, which even the gods of an earlier world were powerless to disturb. No! "a perfect woman nobly planned," she accepted the blame of her mistaken act, as it now appeared to her, and facing, as she had full many a time and oft done before, an uncongenial part in life's mysterious drama, resolved to follow unswervingly the path marked out for her by duty and principle. Was she to falter, to fail, because the unexpected had happened; because life's thorny path had become difficult, well-nigh impenetrable? "If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is but small," said the wise king. More than once in time of trial had she braced up her courage by recalling the warning. Once more she looked the conflict of the future firmly in the face, and leaving her chamber with fixed resolve and earnest prayer, felt a renewed confidence in her ability to withstand, to undergo, whatever trials might be in store for her.