iolable, his
measurements were all wrong. I was thrilled with the whole impression
and with all that came crowding in its train. It was too grand a
collapse--it was too hideous a triumph; I exalted almost with tears--I
lamented with a strange delight. Indeed as the short night waned and,
threshing about in my emotion, I fidgeted to my high-perched window for
a glimpse of the summer dawn, I became at last aware that I was staring
at it out of eyes that had compassionately and admiringly filled. The
eastern sky, over the London housetops, had a wonderful tragic crimson.
That was the colour of his magnificent mistake.

IV

If something less had depended on my impression I daresay I should have
communicated it as soon as I had swallowed my breakfast; but the
case was so embarrassing that I spent the first half of the day in
reconsidering it, dipping into the book again, almost feverishly turning
its leaves and trying to extract from them, for my friend's benefit,
some symptom of reassurance, some ground for felicitation. This rash
challenge had consequences merely dreadful; the wretched volumes,
imperturbable and impeccable, with their shyer secrets and their second
line of defence, were like a beautiful woman more denuded or a great
symphony on a new hearing. There was something quite sinister in the way
they stood up to me. I couldn't however be dumb--that was to give the
wrong tinge to my disappointment; so that later in the afternoon, taking
my courage in both hands, I approached with a vain tortuosity poor
Limbert's door. A smart victoria waited before it in which from the
bottom of the street I saw that a lady who had apparently just issued
from the house was settling herself. I recognised Jane Highmore and
instantly paused till she should drive down to me. She presently met me
half-way and as soon as she saw me stopped her carriage in agitation.
This was a relief--it postponed a moment the sight of that pale, fine
face of our friend's fronting me for the right verdict. I gathered from
the flushed eagerness with which Mrs. Highmore asked me if I had heard
the news that a verdict of some sort had already been rendered.

"What news?--about the book?"

"About that horrid magazine. They're shockingly upset. He has lost his
position--he has had a fearful flare-up with Mr. Bousefield."

I stood there blank, but not unaware in my blankness of how history
repeats itself. There came to me across the years Maud's ann