I can think of many women distinguished in art, literature, and science,--and multitudes whose hearts and minds find good employment in less ostentatious ways,--who lead high, lonely lives, and are conscious of no sacrifice so far as your sex is concerned." "And Hilda will be one of these!" said Kenyon sadly; "the thought makes me shiver for myself, and and for her, too." "Well," said Miriam, smiling, "perhaps she may sprain the delicate wrist which you have sculptured to such perfection.

In that case you may hope.
These old masters to whom she has vowed herself, and whom her slender hand and woman's heart serve so faithfully, are your only rivals." The sculptor sighed as he put away the treasure of Hilda's marble hand into the ivory coffer, and thought how slight was the possibility that he should ever feel responsive to his own the tender clasp of the original.

He dared not even kiss the image that he himself had made: it had assumed its share of Hilda's remote and shy divinity.
"And now," said Miriam, "show me the new statue which you asked me hither to see.".