"In the way of achievement recognised and reputation established?"
I asked. "To 'show' if you will, there isn't much, since his
writing, mostly, isn't as fine, isn't certainly as showy, as his
talk. Moreover two-thirds of his work are merely colossal projects
and announcements. 'Showing' Frank Saltram is often a poor
business," I went on: "we endeavoured, you'll have observed, to
show him to-night! However, if he HAD lectured he'd have lectured
divinely. It would just have been his talk."

"And what would his talk just have been?"

I was conscious of some ineffectiveness, as well perhaps as of a
little impatience, as I replied: "The exhibition of a splendid
intellect." My young lady looked not quite satisfied at this, but
as I wasn't prepared for another question I hastily pursued: "The
sight of a great suspended swinging crystal--huge lucid lustrous, a
block of light--flashing back every impression of life and every
possibility of thought!"

This gave her something to turn over till we had passed out to the
dusky porch of the hall, in front of which the lamps of a quiet
brougham were almost the only thing Saltram's treachery hadn't
extinguished. I went with her to the door of her carriage, out of
which she leaned a moment after she had thanked me and taken her
seat. Her smile even in the darkness was pretty. "I do want to
see that crystal!"

"You've only to come to the next lecture."

"I go abroad in a day or two with my aunt."