ABSTRACT
‘I am astonished my dear Gondimar,’ said Viviani one day, addressing him, ‘at the description which you gave me of Lady Avondale. I have seen her since we conversed togethera about her, more than once; and there is not, I think, much trace left of that excessive timidity of manner – that monastic rigidity in her opinions and conduct, of which you made mention in one of your letters from Castle Delaval.’ ‘I was wrong, utterly wrong,’ said Gondimar, ‘and you may now rank this model of purity, this paragon of wives, this pupil of nature, whom I have so often praised to you, on a level with the rest of her fellow mortals.’ ‘Not on a level – not on a level,’ replied Viviani with gravity; ‘but falling as I fear, far beneath it.’ /
