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