acle of the ludicrous-terrific, in the shape of an entire community
pursuing countless herds of poor scampering animal life for blood: she,
meanwhile, with Nevil and Dr. Shrapnel, stood apart contemning. For
whoso would not partake of flesh in this kingdom of roast beef must be
of the sparse number of Nevil's execrated minority in politics.

The example will show that she touched the borders of delirium.
Physically, the doctor pronounces her bilious. She was in earnest so far
as to send down to the library for medical books, and books upon diet.
These, however, did not plead for the beasts. They treated the subject
without question of man's taking that which he has conquered. Poets and
philosophers did the same. Again she beheld Nevil Beauchamp solitary in
the adverse rank to the world;--to his countrymen especially. But that
it was no material cause which had wasted his cheeks and lined his
forehead, she was sure: and to starve with him, to embark with him in
his little boat on the seas he whipped to frenzy, would have been a
dream of bliss, had she dared to contemplate herself in a dream as his
companion.

It was not to be thought of.

No: but this was, and to be thought of seriously: Cecilia had said to
herself for consolation that Beauchamp was no spiritual guide; he had
her heart within her to plead for him, and the reflection came to her,
like a bubble up from the heart, that most of our spiritual guides
neglect the root to trim the flower: and thence, turning sharply on
herself, she obtained a sudden view of her allurement and her sin
in worshipping herself, and recognized that the aim at an ideal life
closely approaches, or easily inclines, to self-worship; to which the
lady was woman and artist enough to have had no objection, but that
therein visibly she discerned the retributive vain longings, in the
guise of high individual superiority and distinction, that had thwarted
her with Nevil Beauchamp, never permitting her to love single-mindedly
or whole-heartedly, but always in reclaiming her rights and sighing
for the loss of her ideal; adoring her own image, in fact, when she
pretended to cherish, and regret that she could not sufficiently
cherish, the finer elements of nature. What was this ideal she had
complained of losing? It was a broken mirror: she could think of it in
no other form.

Dr. Shrapnel's 'Ego-Ego' yelped and gave chase to her through the pure
beatitudes of her earlier days down to her pres