e countess. She
was and would remain Mr. Wythan's guest. As for the earl, Gower inclined
to plead hesitatingly, still to plead, on behalf of a nobleman owning
his influence and very susceptible to his wisdom, whose echo of a
pointed saying nearly equalled the satisfaction bestowed by print. The
titled man affected the philosopher in that manner; or rather, the crude
philosopher's relish of brilliant appreciation stripped him of his robe.
For he was with Owain Wythan at heart to scorn titles which did not
distinguish practical offices. A nation bowing to them has gone to pith,
for him; he had to shake himself, that he might not similarly stick; he
had to do it often. Objects elevated even by a decayed world have their
magnetism for us unless we nerve the mind to wakeful repulsion. He
protested he had reason to think the earl was humanizing, though he
might be killing a woman in the process. 'Could she wish for better?'
he asked, with at least the gravity of the undermining humourist; and
he started Owain to course an idea when he remarked of Lord Fleetwood:
'Imagine a devil on his back on a river, flying a cherub.'

Owain sparkled from the vision of the thing to wrath with it.

'Ay, but while he's floating, his people are edging on starvation. And
I've a personal grievance. I keep, you know, open hall, bread and cheese
and beer, for poor mates. His men are favouring us with a call. We have
to cart treble from the town. If I straighten the sticks he dies to
bend, it'll be a grievance against me--and a fig for it! But I like to
be at peace with my neighbours, and waft them "penillion" instead of
dealing the "cleddyfal" of Llewellyn.'

At last the tension ceased; they had intelligence of the earl's arrival.

His countess was little moved by it; and the reason for that lay in her
imagination being absorbed. Henrietta had posted her a journal telling
of a deed of Chillon's: no great feat, but precious for its 'likeness
to him,' as they phrased it; that is, for the light it cast on their
conception of the man. Heading a squadron in a riotous Midland town, he
stopped a charge, after fire of a shot from the mob, and galloped up
the street to catch a staggering urchin to his saddle-bow, and place the
mite in safety. Then it was a simple trot of the hussars ahead; way was
made for him.

Now, to see what banquet there is for the big of heart in the world's
hot stress, take the view of Carinthia, to whom her brother's thoughtful