Waiting for Rose

"Not envy, sure! for if you gave me
Leave to take or to refuse
In earnest, do you think I'd choose
That sort of new love to enslave me?"--R. BROWNING.

So, instead of going to Belfast, here was Colonel Keith actually
taking a lodging and settling himself into it; nay, even going over to
Avoncester on a horse-buying expedition, not merely for the Temples, but
for himself.

This time Rachel did think herself sure of Miss Williams' ear in peace,
and came down on her with two fat manuscripts upon Human Reeds and
Military Society, preluding, however, by bitter complaints of the
"Traveller" for never having vouchsafed her an answer, nor having even
restored "Curatocult," though she had written three times, and sent a
directed envelope and stamps for the purpose. The paper must be ruined
by so discourteous an editor, indeed she had not been nearly so much
interested as usual by the last few numbers. If only she could get her
paper back, she should try the "Englishwoman's Hobby-horse," or some
other paper of more progress than that "Traveller." "Is it not very
hard to feel one's self shut out from the main stream of the work of the
world when one's heart is burning?"

"I think you overrate the satisfaction."

"You can't tell! You are contented with that sort of home peaceful
sunshine that I know suffices many. Even intellectual as you are, you
can't tell what it is to feel power within, to strain at the leash, and
see others in the race."