‘I like the quiet parts of the tale best, I think,’ replied the sister; ’but, of course, I am not a good judge of these things.  How still the people are at times!  I continually take my eyes from her to look at the listeners.  Did you notice the fat old lady in the second row, with her cloak a little thrown back?  She was absolutely unconscious, and stayed with her face up and lips parted like a little child of six.’

’She well may! the thing is a triumph.  That fellow Ladywell is here, I believe—­yes, it is he, busily talking to the man on his right.  If I were a woman I would rather go donkey-driving than stick myself up there, for gaping fops to quiz and say what they like about!  But she had no choice, poor thing; for it was that or nothing with her.’

Faith, who had secret doubts about the absolute necessity of Ethelberta’s appearance in public, said, with remote meanings, ’Perhaps it is not altogether a severe punishment to her to be looked at by well-dressed men.  Suppose she feels it as a blessing, instead of an affliction?’

’She is a different sort of woman, Faith, and so you would say if you knew her.  Of course, it is natural for you to criticize her severely just now, and I don’t wish to defend her.’

‘I think you do a little, Kit.’

’No; I am indifferent about it all.  Perhaps it would have been better for me if I had never seen her; and possibly it might have been better for her if she had never seen me.  She has a heart, and the heart is a troublesome encumbrance when great things have to be done.  I wish you knew her:  I am sure you would like each other.’

‘O yes,’ said Faith, in a voice of rather weak conviction.  ’But, as we live in such a plain way, it would be hardly desirable at present.’

* * * * *

Ethelberta being regarded, in common with the latest conjurer, spirit-medium, aeronaut, giant, dwarf or monarch, as a new sensation, she was duly criticized in the morning papers, and even obtained a notice in some of the weekly reviews.

‘A handsome woman,’ said one of these, ’may have her own reasons for causing the flesh of the London public to creep upon its bones by her undoubtedly remarkable narrative powers; but we question if much good can result from such a form of entertainment.  Nevertheless, some praise is due.  We have had the novel-writer among us for some time, and the novel-reader has occasionally appeared on our platforms; but we believe that this is the first instance on record of a Novel-teller—­one, that is to say, who relates professedly as fiction a romantic tale which has never been printed—­the whole owing its chief interest to the method whereby the teller identifies herself with the leading character in the story.’

Another observed:  ’When once we get away from the magic influence of the story-teller’s eye and tongue, we perceive how improbable, even impossible, is the tissue of events to which we have been listening with so great a sense of reality, and we feel almost angry with ourselves at having been the victims of such utter illusion.’