d assurance of his character, lift her to
another stage, above the pleasures. May she not prove to him how really
matched with him she is, to disdain the pleasures, cheerfully accept the
burdens, meet death, if need be; readily face it as the quietly grey
to-morrow: at least, show herself to her hero for a woman--the incredible
being to most men--who treads the terrors as well as the pleasures of
humanity beneath her feet, and may therefore have some pride in her
stature. Ay, but only to feel the pride of standing not so shamefully
below his level beside him.

Woods were flying past the carriage-windows. Her solitary companion was
of the class of the admiring gentlemen. Presently he spoke. She answered.
He spoke again. Her mouth smiled, and her accompanying look of abstract
benevolence arrested the tentative allurement to conversation.

New ideas were set revolving in her. Dartrey and Victor grew to a
likeness; they became hazily one man, and the mingled phantom
complimented her on her preserving a good share of the beauty of her
youth. The face perhaps: the figure rather too well suits the years! she
replied. To reassure her, this Dartrey-Victor drew her close and kissed
her; and she was confused and passed into the breast of Mrs. Burman
expecting an operation at the hands of the surgeons. The train had
stopped. 'Penhurst?' she said.

'Penhurst is the next station,' said the gentleman. Here was a theme for
him! The stately mansion, the noble grounds, and Sidney! He discoursed of
them.

The handsome lady appeared interested. She was interested also by his
description of a neighbouring village, likely one hundred years hence to
be a place of pilgrimage for Americans and for Australians. Age, he said,
improves true beauty; and his eyelids indicated a levelling to perform
the soft intentness. Mechanically, a ball rose in her throat; the remark
was illuminated by a saying of Colney's, with regard to his countrymen at
the play of courtship. No laughter came. The gentleman talked on.

All fancies and internal communications left her. Slowness of motion
brought her to the plain piece of work she had to do, on a colourless
earth, that seemed foggy; but one could see one's way. Resolution is a
form of light, our native light in this dubious world.

Dudley Sowerby opened her carriage-door. They greeted.

'You have seen Nesta?' she said.

'Not for two days. You have not heard? The Miss Duvidneys have gone to
Brighton.'