Her thoughts recurred to the madness driving Tony to betray the secret; and the ascent unhelped to get a survey of it and her and the conditions, was mountainous.  She toiled up but to enter the regions of cloud; sure nevertheless that the obscurity was penetrable and excuses to be discovered somewhere.  Having never wanted money herself, she was unable perfectly to realize the urgency of the need:  she began however to comprehend that the very eminent gentleman, before whom all human creatures were to bow in humility, had for an extended term considerably added to the expenses of Tony’s household, by inciting her to give those little dinners to his political supporters, and bringing comrades perpetually to supper-parties, careless of how it might affect her character and her purse.  Surely an honourable man was bound to her in honour?  Tony’s remark:  ‘I have the reptile in me, dear,’ her exaggeration of the act, in her resigned despair,—­was surely no justification for his breaking from her, even though he had discovered a vestige of the common ‘reptile,’ to leave her with a stain on her name?—­There would not have been a question about it if Tony had not exalted him so loftily, refusing, in visible pain, to hear him blamed.

Danvers had dressed a bed for Lady Dunstane in her mistress’s chamber, where often during the night Emma caught a sound of stifled weeping or the long falling breath of wakeful grief.  One night she asked whether Tony would like to have her by her side.

‘No, dear,’ was the answer in the dark; ’but you know my old pensioners, the blind fifer and his wife; I’ve been thinking of them.’

‘They were paid as they passed down the street yesterday, my love.’

’Yes, dear, I hope so.  But he flourishes his tune so absurdly.  I’ve been thinking, that is the part I have played, instead of doing the female’s duty of handing round the tin-cup for pennies.  I won’t cry any more.’

She sighed and turned to sleep, leaving Emma to disburden her heart in tears.

For it seemed to her that Tony’s intellect was weakened.  She not merely abased herself and exalted Dacier preposterously, she had sunk her intelligence in her sensations:  a state that she used to decry as the sin of mankind, the origin of error and blood.

Strangely too, the proposal came from her, or the suggestion of it, notwithstanding her subjectedness to the nerves, that she should show her face in public.  She said:  ’I shall have to run about, Emmy, when I can fancy I am able to rattle up to the old mark.  At present, I feel like a wrestler who has had a fall.  As soon as the stiffness is over, it’s best to make an appearance, for the sake of one’s backers, though I shall never be in the wrestling ring again.’

‘That is a good decision—­when you feel quite yourself, dear Tony,’ Emma replied.

’I dare say I have disgraced my sex, but not as they suppose.  I feel my new self already, and can make the poor brute go through fire on behalf of the old.  What is the task?—­merely to drive a face!’