And yet dost thou not more admire him who dies for another?
Since I have loved her, Mejnour, it seems almost cowardice to elude the grave which devours the hearts that wrap us in their folds.

I feel it,--the earth grows upon my spirit.

Thou wert right; eternal age, serene and passionless, is a happier boon than eternal youth, with its yearnings and desires.

Until we can be all spirit, the tranquillity of solitude must be indifference.
....
Extracts from Letter IV.
I have received thy communication.

What! is it so?
Has thy pupil disappointed thee?
Alas, poor pupil! But-- ....
(Here follow comments on those passages in Glyndon's life already known to the reader, or about to be made so, with earnest adjurations to Mejnour to watch yet over the fate of his scholar.) ....
But I cherish the same desire, with a warmer heart.