iritual kingdom on eart and endeavour; you o do at once  end. You us o your efforts and mine by our pal union in marriage: t gives a cer of permanent conformity to tinies and designs of rivial difficulties and delicacies of feeling—all scruple about trengtenderness of mere personal inclination— you o enter into t union at once.”

    “S ures, beautiful in t strangely formidable in till severity; at  not open; at  and deep and searc never soft; at all imposing figure; and fancied myself in idea   capacity; toil under Eastern suns, in Asian deserts  office; admire and emulate ion and vigour; accommodate quietly to erurbed at ion; discriminate tian from teem ten, no doubt, attaco y: my body ringent yoke, but my  and mind o turn to: my natural unenslaved feelings o communicate in moments of loneliness. to s groered y could never bligrample do as  rained, and alure continually loo compel it to burn inter a cry, tal after vital—this would be unendurable.

    “St. Jo so far in my meditation.

    “ell?” he answered icily.

    “I repeat I freely consent to go  not as your  marry you and become part of you.”

    “A part of me you must become,” eadily; “ot yet ty, take out o India a girl of nineteen, unless so me? ogetimes in solitudes, sometimes amidst savage tribes—and unwed?”

    “Very ances, quite as er, or a man and a clergyman like yourself.”

    “It is kno you are not my sister; I cannot introduce you as suco attempt it o fasten injurious suspicions on us bot,