to find the half of himself, which was to complete his happiness. He often

left us, and wandered by himself in the woods, or sailed in his little

skiff, his books his only companions. He was often the gayest of our party,

at the same time that he was the only one visited by fits of despondency;

his slender frame seemed overcharged with the weight of life, and his soul

appeared rather to inhabit his body than unite with it. I was hardly more

devoted to my Idris than to her brother, and she loved him as her teacher,

her friend, the benefactor who had secured to her the fulfilment of her

dearest wishes. Raymond, the ambitious, restless Raymond, reposed midway on

the great high-road of life, and was content to give up all his schemes of

sovereignty and fame, to make one of us, the flowers of the field. His

kingdom was the heart of Perdita, his subjects her thoughts; by her he was

loved, respected as a superior being, obeyed, waited on. No office, no

devotion, no watching was irksome to her, as it regarded him. She would sit

apart from us and watch him; she would weep for joy to think that he was

hers. She erected a temple for him in the depth of her being, and each

faculty was a priestess vowed to his service. Sometimes she might be

wayward and capricious; but her repentance was bitter, her return entire,

and even this inequality of temper suited him who was not formed by nature

to float idly down the stream of life.

During the first year of their marriage, Perdita presented Raymond with a

lovely girl. It was curious to trace in this miniature model the very

traits of its father. The same half-disdainful lips and smile of triumph,

the same intelligent eyes, the same brow and chestnut hair; her very hands

and taper fingers resembled his. How very dear she was to Perdita! In

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The Last Man