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 unwittingly administered. Not since her father's death had she taken any interest in her former studies, and her books still lay neglected on the shelves where they had been last deposited before he was taken sick. Since her acquaintance with Ernest her mind had been engrossed with other subjects, and it was not until that morning, in listening to the conversation on her favorite topics, that her old passion for them revived. All the latent energies of those years burst forth in a single flame, and with scorn and contempt she spurned the established usages that stood between her and the highest summit to which her capacities fitted her to ascend.

When Ernest was gone she reproached herself for the sarcastic manner in which she had spoken to him, as if she meant to censure him for the fault of society. Yet was he not one of that society which by its tacit consent perpetrated these unjust customs that debarred woman of rights and privileges coeval with nature, which, as they were God-given, no man had the authority to take away? Then acting upon his suggestion she set herself expeditiously to work to withdraw her books from their long hiding places. What a throng of associations they brought! Here were Latin exercises, there were diagrams, and carefully wrapped up so no dust or stain could reach them were some astronomical cuts, looking as neat and new as when her father brought them home. The afternoon glided imperceptibly away, and as her mother was absent, no one disturbed her in her disintegrations. Tho floor was literally covered with books, papers, and drawings. So engaged was she