
existed, should not have been stressed. The turn for calculating was shown up
ridiculously; Mr. Cuthbert Dering was calculating in his impassioned moods as
well as in his cold. His head was a long division of ciphers. He had statistics
for spectacles, and beheld the world through them, and the mistress he
worshipped.
    »I see,« said Emma, during a pause; »he is a Saxon. You still affect to have
the race en grippe, Tony.«
    »I give him every credit for what he is,« Diana replied. »I admire the finer
qualities of the race as much as any one. You want to have them presented to you
in enamel, Emmy.«
    But the worst was an indication that the mania for calculating in and out of
season would lead to the catastrophe destructive of his happiness. Emma could
not bear that. Without asking herself whether it could be possible that Tony
knew the secret, or whether she would have laid it bare, her sympathy for
Redworth revolted at the exposure. She was chilled. She let it pass; she merely
said: »I like the writing.«
    Diana understood that her story was condemned.
    She put on her robes of philosophy to cloak discouragement. »I am glad the
writing pleases you.«
    »The characters are as true as life!« cried Arthur Rhodes. »The Cantatrice
drinking porter from the pewter at the slips after harrowing the hearts of her
audience, is dearer to me than if she had tottered to a sofa declining
sustenance; and because her creatrix has infused such blood of life into her
that you accept naturally whatever she does. She was exhausted, and required the
porter, like a labourer in the cornfield.«
    Emma looked at him, and perceived the poet swamped by the admirer. Taken in
conjunction with Mr. Cuthbert Dering's frenzy for calculating, she disliked the
incident of the porter and the pewter.
    »While the Cantatrice swallowed her draught, I suppose Mr. Dering counted
the cost?« she said.
    »It really might be hinted,« said Diana.
    The discussion closed with the accustomed pro and con upon the wart of
Cromwell's nose, Realism rejoicing in it, Idealism objecting.
    Arthur Rhodes was bidden to stretch his legs on a walk along the heights in
the afternoon, and Emma was further vexed by hearing Tony complain of Redworth's
treatment of the lad, whom he would not assist to any of the snug little posts
he was notoriously able to dispense.
    »He has talked of Mr. Rhodes to me,« said
