can tell you, Emmy.' Sir Lukin further observed that he was a
gentlemanly fellow. 'A gentlemanly official!' Diana's primary dash of
portraiture stuck to him, so true it was! As for her, she seemed to have
forgotten it. Not only did she strive to show him to advantage by
leading him out; she played second to him; subserviently, fondly; she
quite submerged herself, content to be dull if he might shine; and her
talk of her husband in her friend's blue-chamber boudoir of the golden
stars, where they had discussed the world and taken counsel in her maiden
days, implied admiration of his merits. He rode superbly: he knew Law:
he was prepared for any position: he could speak really eloquently; she
had heard him at a local meeting. And he loved the old Crossways almost
as much as she did. 'He has promised me he will never ask me to sell
it,' she said, with a simpleness that could hardly have been acted.

When she was gone, Lady Dunstane thought she had worn a mask, in the
natural manner of women trying to make the best of their choice; and she
excused her poor Tony for the artful presentation of him at her own cost.
But she could not excuse her for having married the man. Her first and
her final impression likened him to a house locked up and empty: a London
house conventionally furnished and decorated by the upholsterer, and
empty of inhabitants. How a brilliant and beautiful girl could have
committed this rashness, was the perplexing riddle: the knottier because
the man was idle: and Diana had ambition; she despised and dreaded
idleness in men. Empty of inhabitants even to the ghost! Both human and
spiritual were wanting. The mind contemplating him became reflectively
stagnant.

I must not be unjust! Lady Dunstane hastened to exclaim, at a whisper
that he had at least proved his appreciation of Tony; whom he preferred
to call Diana, as she gladly remembered: and the two were bound together