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248 The one dreamed—the other thought. The one, only accustomed to feel, acted from impulse—the other, forced to reflect, soon formed for herself a standard of principle. Emily was governed by others—Beatrice relied on herself. Emily loved Lorraine as the first idol which her feelings had set up, an almost ideal object—Beatrice loved him from a high sense of appreciation. The English girl would have died beneath the first danger that threatened her lover—the Spaniard would have stood the very worst by his side. Both were sweet in temper, gentle in step and voice, and refined in taste. Emily's history was soon told, with the exception of a name; and their intercourse continued to be equally unrestrained and affectionate, with a single mental reservation. Emily marvelled how one beloved by Lorraine could ever have endured to separate from him; and Beatrice secretly wondered at the weakness which had renounced faith, friends, and home, for a passion which seemed wholly founded on imagination. True it is, that we judge of others' actions by our own—but then we do not make the same allowances. Time passed away quickly, as time does when unbroken by any particular event. The restraint