the darts that kill--blest darts of the celestial
Huntress, giving sweet sudden cessation of pain, in the one everlasting
last flash of life with thought that the shot was hers. Oh for the
'ayava behea' of the Merciful in splendour!

These were the outcries of the man deciding simultaneously not to
observe, not to think, not to feel, and husbanding calculations upon
storage of gain for the future. Softness held the song below. It came of
the fact that his enforced resolution, for the sake of sanity, drove his
whole reflective mind backward upon his younger days, when an Evening
and a Morning star in him greeted the bright Goddess Browny or sang
adieu, and adored beyond all golden beams the underworld whither she had
sunk, where she was hidden.

Meanwhile, the worthy dame who had dosed him was out in her carriage,
busy paying visits to distinguished ladies of the great world, with the
best of excuses for an early call, which was gossip to impart, such as
the Countess of Ormont had not yet thought of mentioning; and two or
three of them were rather amusedly interested to hear that Lord Ormont
had engaged a handsome young secretary, "under the patronage of Lady
Charlotte Eglett, devoted to sports of all kinds, immensely favoured by
both." Gossip must often have been likened to the winged insect bearing
pollen to the flowers; it fertilizes many a vacuous reverie. Those
flowers of the upper garden are not, indeed, stationary and in need of
the missionary buzzer, but if they have been in one place unmoved for
one hour, they are open to take animation from their visitors. Aminta
was pleasantly surprised next day by the receipt of a note from Mrs.
Lawrence Finchley, begging to be invited to lunch if she came, as she
had a purpose in the wish to meet my lord.

[NOTE: The remainder of 'Lord Ormont and His Aminta' is taken from an
older edition which uses single rather than double quotation marks.
D.W.]

CHAPTER VIII. MRS. LAWRENCE FINCHLEY

My lord had one of his wilful likings for Isabella Lawrence Finchley,
and he consented to the torture of an hour of Mrs. Nargett Pagnell in
the middle of the day, just to taste the favourite he welcomed at home
as he championed her abroad. The reasons were numerous and intimate why
she pleased him. He liked the woman, enjoyed the cause for battle that
she gave. Weyburn, on coming to the luncheon table, beheld a lady with
the head of a comely boy, the manner, softened in delicate