It was by no methodic inquiry, no deliberate reasoning, that Miriam had set aside her old convictions and ordered her intellectual life on the new scheme.  Of those who are destined to pass beyond the bounds of dogma, very few indeed do so by the way of studious investigation.  How many of those who abide by inherited faith owe their steadfastness to a convinced understanding?  Convictions, in the proper sense of the word, Miriam had never possessed; she accepted what she was taught, without reflecting upon it, and pride subsequently made her stubborn in consistency.  The same pride, aided by the ennui of mental faculties just becoming self-conscious, and the desires of a heart for the first time humanly touched, constrained her to turn abruptly from the ideal she had pursued, and with unforeseen energy begin to qualify herself for the assertion of new claims.  No barriers of logic stood in her way; it was a simple matter of facing round about.  True, she still had to endure the sense of having chosen the wide way instead of that strait one which is authoritatively prescribed.  It was a long time before she made any endeavour to justify herself; but the wide way ran through a country that delighted her, and her progress was so notable that self-commendation and the respect of others made her careless of the occasional stings of conscience.

She was able now to review the process of change, and to compare the two ideals.  Without the support of a single argument of logical value, she stamped all the beliefs of her childhood as superstition, and marvelled that they had so long held their power over her.  Her childhood, indeed, seemed to her to have lasted until she came to Naples; with hot shame she reflected on her speech and behaviour at that time.  What did the Spences think of her?  How did they speak of her to their friends?  What impression did she make upon Mallard?  These memories were torture; they explained the mixture of humility and assumption which on certain days made her company disagreeable to Eleanor, and the dark moods which now and then held her in sullen solitude.

But the word “superstition” was no guarantee against the haunting of superstition itself.  Miriam was far from being one of the emancipated, however arrogantly she would have met a doubt of her freedom.  Just as little as ever had she genuine convictions, capable of supporting her in hours of weakness and unsatisfied longing.  Several times of late she had all but brought herself to speak plainly with Eleanor, and ask on what foundation was built that calm life which seemed independent of supernatural belief; but shame always restrained her.  It would be the same as confessing that she had not really the liberty to which she pretended.  There was, however, an indirect way of approaching the subject, by which her dignity would possibly be rather enhanced than suffer; and this she at length took.  After her return from the Palazzo Borghese, she was beset with a confusion of anxious thoughts.  The need of confidential or semi-confidential speech with one of her own sex became irresistible.  In the evening she found an opportunity of speaking privately with Eleanor.