There was, it might be said, a double illumination. He stood by her side, and he suffered her hands to rest in his. Light the lantern. Following this direction, he opened a gate, and struck into one of the most beautiful green lanes imaginable; which, after various windings, conducted him into a more frequented road, and eventually brought him to the place he sought. "I'll tackle it to-night!" "But it's after ten!" "What's that got to do with it? … The roofs of the native huts scattering in the wind! … the absolute agony of the twisting palms!…. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. Hopefully. She was the High Priestess. "It's a mysterious transaction altogether. I am apparently a beast, a pig and an imbecile, too, if memory serves me. You used to beg me for hours at a time to give it all up, never to go near the ‘Ambassador’s’ again.
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