painting idea

and deep and searching, but never soft; at his tall imposing figure;
and fancied myself in idea his wife. Oh! it would never do! As his
curate, his comrade, all would be right: I would cross oceans with him
in that capacity; toil under Eastern suns, in Asian deserts with him
in that office; admire and emulate his courage and devotion and
vigour; accommodate quietly to his masterhood; smile undisturbed at
his ineradicable ambition; discriminate the Christian from the man:
profoundly esteem the one, and freely forgive the other. I should
suffer often, no doubt, attached to him only in this capacity: my body
would be under rather a stringent yoke, but my heart and mind would be
free. I should still have my unblighted self to turn to: my natural
unenslaved feelings with which to communicate in moments of
loneliness. There would be recesses in my mind which would be only
mine, to which he never came, and sentiments growing there fresh and
sheltered which his austerity could never blight, nor his measured
warrior-march trample down: but as his wife- at his side always, and