At the best, such moments will be few amid the fateful succession of common cares, of lassitudes, of disillusions.

Emily had gone deep enough in thought already to understand this; in her rapture there was no want of discerning consciousness.

If this morning were to be unique in her life, she would have gained from it all that it had to give.

Those subtle fears, spiritual misgivings, which lurked behind her perceptions would again have their day, for it was only by striving that she had attained her present modes of thought; her nature concealed a darker strain, an instinct of asceticism, which had now and again predominated, especially in the period of her transition to womanhood, when the material conditions of her life were sad and of little hope.

It was no spirit of unreflective joy that now dwelt within her, but the more human happiness extorted from powers which only yield to striving.