But the bitterness of reality was not slow in developing itself beneath the heroism of her devotion.

"By dint," she herself says, "of occupying myself with the happiness of the man with whom I was associated, I felt that something was wanting to my own.

I have not for a moment ceased to see in my husband one of the most estimable persons that exists, and to whom it was an honour to me to belong; but I often felt that similarity was wanting between us,--that the ascendency of a dominating temper, united to that of twenty years more of age, made one of these superiorities too much.

If we lived in solitude, I had sometimes very painful hours to pass: if we went into the world, I was liked by persons, some one of whom I was fearful might affect me too closely.

I plunged into my husband's occupations, became his copying clerk, corrected his proofs, and fulfilled the task with an unrepining humility, which contrasted strongly with a spirit as free and tried as mine.