Lady Rodwell Blachington:  Mrs. Fanning, wife of the General:  young Mrs. Blathenoy, wife of the great bill-broker:  ladies of Wrensham and about.  And it was a tasking of her energies equal to the buffeting of recurrent waves on deep sea.  The ladies were eager for her entry into Lakelands.  She heard that Victor had appointed Lady Blachington’s third son to the coveted post of clerk in the Indian house of Inchling and Radnor.  These are the deluge days when even aristocracy will cry blessings on the man who procures a commercial appointment for one of its younger sons offended and rebutted by the barrier of Examinations for the Civil Service.  ’To have our Adolphus under Mr. Victor Radnor’s protection, is a step!’ Lady Blachington said.  Nataly was in an atmosphere of hints and revealings.  There were City Dinners, to which one or other of the residents about Lakelands had been taken before he sat at Victor’s London table.  He was already winning his way, apparently without effort, to be the popular man of that neighbourhood.  A subterranean tide or a slipping of earth itself seemed bearing her on.  She had his promise indeed, that he would not ask of her to enter Lakelands until the day of his freedom had risen; but though she could trust to his word, the heart of the word went out of it when she heard herself thanked by Lady Blachington (who could so well excuse her at such a time of occupation for not returning her call, that she called in a friendly way a second time, warmly to thank her) for throwing open the Concert room at Lakelands in August, to an Entertainment in assistance of the funds for the purpose of erecting an East of London Clubhouse, where the children of the poor by day could play, and their parents pass a disengaged evening.  Doubtless a worthy Charity.  Nataly was alive to the duties of wealth.  Had it been simply a demand for a donation, she would not have shown that momentary pucker of the brows, which Lady Blachington read as a contrast with the generous vivacity of the husband.

Nataly read a leaf of her fate in this announcement.  Nay, she beheld herself as the outer world wexedly beholds a creature swung along to the doing of things against the better mind.  An outer world is thoughtless of situations which prepare us to meet the objectionable with a will benumbed;—­if we do not, as does that outer world, belong to the party of the readily heroical.  She scourged her weakness:  and the intimation of the truth stood over her, more than ever manifest, that the deficiency affecting her character lay in her want of language.  A tongue to speak and contend, would have helped her to carve a clearer way.  But then again, the tongue to speak must be one which could reproach, and strike at errors; fence, and continually summon resources to engage the electrical vitality of a man like Victor.  It was an exultation of their life together, a mark of his holiness for them both, that they had never breathed a reproach upon one another.