"If a prince of Eldorado" said Elizabeth Barrett to her sister Arabel, "should come with a pedigree of lineal descent from some signory in the moon in one hand, and a ticket of good behaviour from the nearest Independent chapel in the other--" "Why, even then," interrupted Arabel, "it would not _do_" One admirable trait, however, Mr Moulton Barrett did possess--he was nearly always away from home till six o'clock.
The design that Miss Barrett should winter abroad was still under consideration, but the place now fixed upon was Pisa.

Suddenly, in mid-September, she finds herself obliged to announce that "it is all over with Pisa." Her father had vetoed the undutiful project, and had ceased to pay her his evening visits; only in his separate and private orisons were all her sins remembered.

To admit the fact that he did not love her enough to give her a chance of recovery was bitter, yet it could not be denied.

Her life was now a thing of value to herself, for it was precious to another.

She beat against the bars of her cage; planned a rebellious flight; made inquiries respecting ships and berths; but she could not travel alone; and she would not subject either of her sisters to the heavy displeasure of the ruler of the house.