One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library

George Meredith
when our hearts are pledged to thoughts upon others, they
are led by woman to glance revolving upon ourself, our vile
self! Mr. Barmby clutched it by the neck.
Light now, as of a strong memory of day along the street,
assisted him to forget himself at the sight of the inanimate
houses of this London, all revealed in a quietness not less
immobile than tombstones of an unending cemetery, with
its last ghost laid. Did men but know it!—The habitual necessity
to amass matter for the weekly sermon, set him noting
his meditative exclamations, the noble army of platitudes
under haloes, of good use to men: justifiably turned over in
his mind for their good. He had to think, that this act of the
justifying of the act reproached him with a lack of due emotion,
in sympathy with agonized friends truly dear. Drawing
near the hospitable house, his official and a cordial emotion
united, as we see sorrowful crape-wreathed countenances.
His heart struck heavily when the house was visible.
Could it be the very house? The look of it belied the tale
inside. But that threw a ghostliness on the look.
Some one was pacing up and down. They greeted Dudley
Sowerby. His ability to speak was tasked. They gathered, that
mademoiselle and ‘a Miss Pridden’ were sitting with Nesta,
and that their services in a crisis had been precious. At such
times, one of them reflected, woman has indeed her place:
when life’s battle waxes red. Her soul must be capable of
mounting to the level of the man’s, then? It is a lesson!
Dudley said he was waiting for Dr. Themison to come
forth. He could not tear himself from sight of the house.
The door opened to Dr. Themison departing, Colney Durance
and Simeon Fenellan bare-headed. Colney showed a
face with stains of the lashing of tears.
Dr. Themison gave his final counsels. ‘Her father must
not see her. For him, it may have to be a specialist. We will
hope the best. Mr. Dartrey Fenellan stays beside him:—good.
As to the ceremony he calls for, a form of it might soothe:—
any soothing possible! No music. I will return in a few hours.’
He went on foot.
Mr. Barmby begged advice from Colney and Simeon concerning
the message he had received—the ceremony requiring
his official presidency. Neither of them replied. They
breathed the morning air, they gave out long-drawn sighs of
relief, looking on the trees of the park.
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