I felt
this, and, in many matters, became her pupil. I soon, however, found
that, perhaps on account of her Presburg education, she placed before
me a number of those mystical writings which are usually considered
the mere dross of the early German literature. These, for what reason
I could not imagine, were her favourite and constant study- and that
in process of time they became my own, should be attributed to the
simple but effectual influence of habit and example.
In all this, if I err not, my reason had little to do. My
convictions, or I forget myself, were in no manner acted upon by the
ideal, nor was any tincture of the mysticism which I read to be
discovered, unless I am greatly mistaken, either in my deeds or in
my thoughts. Persuaded of this, I abandoned myself implicitly to the
guidance of my wife, and entered with an unflinching heart into the
intricacies of her studies. And then- then, when poring over
forbidden pages, I felt a forbidden spirit enkindling within me-
would Morella place her cold hand upon my own, and rake up from the
ashes of a dead philosophy some low, singular words, whose strange
meaning burned themselves in upon my memory.
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