him. Besides, he would ring out his alarum for the house to hear, pour
out all his poetry, poor dear, as Mr. Posterley called it, at a touch of
cold water. The catastrophe was one to weep over, the dilemma a trial of
the strongest intelligences.

In addition to reviews of their solitary alternative-the having of a
befouled degraded little dog in their chamber through the night, they
were subjected to a conflict of emotions when eyeing him: and there came
to them the painful, perhaps irreverent, perhaps uncharitable, thought:--
that the sinner who has rolled in the abominable, must cleanse him and do
things to polish him and perfume before again embraced even by the mind:
if indeed we can ever have our old sentiment for him again! Mr. Stuart
Rem might decide it for them. Nay, before even the heart embraces him,
he must completely purify himself. That is to say, the ordinary human
sinner--save when a relative. Contemplating Tasso, the hearts of the
ladies gushed out in pity of an innocent little dog, knowing not evil,
dependent on his friends for help to be purified;--necessarily kept at a
distance: the very look of him prescribed extreme separation, as far as
practicable. But they had proof of a love almost greater than it was
previous to the offence, in the tender precautions they took to elude
repulsion.

He was rolling on the rug, communicating contagion. Flasks of treble-
distilled lavender water, and their favourite, traditional in the family,
eau d'Arquebusade, were on the toilet-table. They sprinkled his basket,
liberally sprinkled the rug and the little dog. Perfume-pastilles were
in one of the sitting-rooms below; and Virginia would have gone down
softly to fetch a box, but Dorothea restrained her, in pity for the
servants, with the remark: 'It would give us a nightmare of a Roman
Catholic Cathedral!' A bit of the window was lifted by Dorothea,