Surely she there had proof of her capacity for pure disengagement.

Even in recollection the springs of spiritual happiness renewed the bubbling crystal play.

She believed that a divineness had wakened in her there, to strengthen her to the end, ward her from any complicity in her sex's culprit blushing.
Dacier's cry of her name was the cause, she chose to think, of the excessive circumspection she must henceforth practise; precariously footing, embracing hardest earth, the plainest rules, to get back to safety.

Not that she was personally endangered, or at least not spiritually; she could always fly in soul to her heights.

But she had now to be on guard, constantly in the fencing attitude.