‘I’m always pleased to find a decent reason for what is,’ he said.  Then he queried:  ’But what is, if we look at it, and while we look, Simeon?  She may be going—­or she’s gone already, poor woman!  I shall have that scene of yesterday everlastingly before my eyes, like a drop-curtain.  Only, you know, Simeon, they don’t feel the end, as we in health imagine.  Colney would say, we have the spasms and they the peace.  I ’ve a mind to send up to Regent’s Park with inquiries.  It would look respectful.  God forgive me!—­the poor woman perverts me at every turn.  Though I will say, a certain horror of death I had—­she whisked me out of it yesterday.  I don’t feel it any longer.  What are you jerking at?’

’Only to remark, that if the thing’s done for us, we haven’t it so much on our sensations.’

’More, if we’re sympathetic.  But that compels us to be philosophic—­or who could live!  Poor woman!’

‘Waft her gently, Victor!’

’Tush!  Now for the South side of the Bridges; and I tell you, Simeon, what I can’t mention to-night:  I mean to enliven these poor dear people on their forsaken South of the City.  I ’ve my scheme.  Elected or not, I shall hardly be accused of bribery when I put down my first instalment.’

Fenellan went to work with that remark in his brain for the speech he was to deliver.  He could not but reflect on the genial man’s willingness and capacity to do deeds of benevolence, constantly thwarted by the position into which he had plunged himself.

They were received at the verge of the crowd outside the theatre-doors by Skepsey, who wriggled, tore and clove a way for them, where all were obedient, but the numbers lumped and clogged.  When finally they reached the stage, they spied at Nesta’s box, during the thunder of the rounds of applause, after shaking hands with Mr. Dubbleson, Sir Abraham Quatley, Dudley Sowerby, and others; and with Beaves Urmsing—­a politician ’never of the opposite party to a deuce of a funny fellow!—­go anywhere to hear him,’ he vowed.

‘Miss Radnor and Mademoiselle de Seilles arrived quite safely,’ said Dudley, feasting on the box which contained them and no Dartrey Fenellan in it.

Nesta was wondering at Dartrey’s absence.  Not before Mr. Dubbleson, the chairman, the ‘gentleman of local influence,’ had animated the drowsed wits and respiratory organs of a packed audience by yielding place to Simeon, did Dartrey appear.  Simeon’s name was shouted, in proof of the happy explosion of his first anecdote, as Dartrey took seat behind Nesta.  ‘Half an hour with the dear mother,’ he said.

Nesta’s eyes thanked him.  She pressed the hand of a demure young woman sitting close behind.  Louise de Seilles.  ‘You know Matilda Pridden.’

Dartrey held his hand out.  ‘Has she forgiven me?’

Matilda bowed gravely, enfolding her affirmative in an outline of the no need for it, with perfect good breeding.  Dartrey was moved to think Skepsey’s choice of a woman to worship did him honour.  He glanced at Louise.  Her manner toward Matilda Pridden showed her sisterly with Nesta.  He said:  ’I left Mr. Peridon playing.—­A little anxiety to hear that the great speech of the evening is done; it’s nothing else.  I’ll run to her as soon as it’s over.’