The articulation of faultless English was his object.  His sister Martha sat vice-regally to receive his loyal congratulations on the illustrious marriage, and she was pensive, less nervous than her brother from not having to speak continuously, yet somewhat perturbed.  She also had her task, and it was to avoid thinking herself the Person addressed by her suppliant brother, while at the same time she took possession of the scholarly training and perfect knowledge of diction and rules of pronunciation which would infallibly be brought to bear on him in the terrible hour of the delivery of the Address.  It was no small task moreover to be compelled to listen right through to the end of the Address, before the very gentlest word of criticism was allowed.  She did not exactly complain of the renewal of the rehearsal:  a fatigue can be endured when it is a joy.  What vexed her was her failing memory for the points of objection, as in her imagined High Seat she conceived them; for, in painful truth, the instant her brother had finished she entirely lost her acuteness of ear, and with that her recollection:  so there was nothing to do but to say:  “Excellent!  Quite unobjectionable, dear Martin, quite:”  so she said, and emphatically; but the addition of the word “only” was printed on her contracted brow, and every faculty of Tinman’s mind and nature being at strain just then, he asked her testily:  “What now? what’s the fault now?” She assured him with languor that there was not a fault.  “It’s not your way of talking,” said he, and what he said was true.  His discernment was extraordinary; generally he noticed nothing.

Not only were his perceptions quickened by the preparations for the day of great splendour:  day of a great furnace to be passed through likewise! —­he, was learning English at an astonishing rate into the bargain.  A pronouncing Dictionary lay open on his table.  To this he flew at a hint of a contrary method, and disputes, verifications and triumphs on one side and the other ensued between brother and sister.  In his heart the agitated man believed his sister to be a misleading guide.  He dared not say it, he thought it, and previous to his African travel through the Dictionary he had thought his sister infallible on these points.  He dared not say it, because he knew no one else before whom he could practice, and as it was confidence that he chiefly wanted—­above all things, confidence and confidence comes of practice, he preferred the going on with his practice to an absolute certainty as to correctness.

At midday came another card from Mr. Van Diemen Smith bearing the superscription:  alias Phil R.

“Can it be possible,” Tinman asked his sister, “that Philip Ribstone has had the audacity to return to this country?  I think,” he added, “I am right in treating whoever sends me this card as a counterfeit.”

Martha’s advice was, that he should take no notice of the card.