Colney might not have been under prompting of Nataly when he derided Dudley; but Victor was at war with the picture of her, in her compression of a cruel laugh, while her eyelids were hard shut, as if to exclude the young patriarch of Philistines’ ridiculous image.

He hearkened to the Nature interrogating him, why had he stepped on a path to put division between himself and his beloved?—­the smallest of gaps; and still the very smallest between nuptial lovers is a division—­and that may become a mortal wound to their one-life.  Why had he roused a slumbering world?  Glimpses of the world’s nurse-like, old-fashioned, mother-nightcap benevolence to its kicking favourites; its long-suffering tolerance for the heroic breakers of its rough-cast laws, while the decent curtain continues dropped, or lifted only ankle-high; together with many scenes, lively suggestions, of the choice of ways he liked best, told of things, which were better things, incomprehensibly forfeited.  So that the plain sense of value insisted on more than one weighing of the gain in hand:  a dubious measure.

He was as little disposed to reject it as to stop his course at a goal of his aim.  Nevertheless, a gain thus poorly estimated, could not command him to do a deed of humiliation on account of it.  The speaking to this dry young Dudley was not imperative at present.  A word would do in the day to come.

Nataly was busy with her purchases of furniture, and the practise for the great August Concert.  He dealt her liberal encouragements, up to the verge of Dr. Themison’s latest hummed words touching Mrs. Burman, from which he jumped in alarm lest he should paralyze her again:  the dear soul’s dreaded aspect of an earthy pallor was a spectre behind her cheeks, ready to rush forth.  Fenellan brought Carling to dine with him; and Themison was confirmed by Carting, with incidents in proof; Caning by Jarniman, also with incidents; one very odd one—­or so it seemed, in the fury of the first savour of it:—­she informed Jarniman, Skepsey said his friend Jarniman said, that she had dreamed of making her appearance to him on the night of the 23rd August, and of setting the date on the calendar over his desk, when she entered his room:  ’Sitting-room, not bedroom; she was always quite the lady,’ Skepsey reported his Jarniman.  Mrs. Burman, as a ghost, would respect herself; she would keep to her character.  Jarniman quite expected the dream to be verified; she was a woman of her word:  he believed she had received a revelation of the approaching fact:  he was preparing for the scene.

Victor had to keep silent and discourse of general prosperity.  His happy vivaciousness assisted him to feel it by day.  Nataly heard him at night, on a moan:  ‘Poor soul!’ and loudly once while performing an abrupt demi-vault from back to side:  ‘Perhaps now!’ in a voice through doors.  She schooled herself to breathe equably.