“But the wedding!” said Mr Norrell. “All the necessary arrangements! They could not have known how ill she was.”

“But I assure you,” said Drawlight, “they did know. Everyone knew. Why! there was a fellow called Drummond, who saw her at Christmas at a private ball in Leamington Spa, and wagered Lord Carlisle fifty pounds that she would be dead within a month.”

Mr Lascelles tutted in annoyance and put down his newspaper. “No, no,” he said, “that was not Miss Wintertowne. You are thinking of Miss Hookham-Nix, whose brother has threatened to shoot her, should she bring disgrace upon the family – which everyone supposes she must do sooner or later. But it happened at Worthing – and it was not Lord Carlisle who took the bet but the Duke of Exmoor.”

Drawlight considered this a moment. “I believe you are right,” he said at last. “But it does not matter, for everyone did know that Miss Wintertowne was ill. Except of course the old lady. She thought her daughter perfection – and what can Perfection have to say to ill-health? Perfection is only to be admired; Perfection has only to make a great marriage. But the old lady has never allowed that Perfection might be ill – she could never bear to hear the subject mentioned. For all Miss Wintertowne’s coughs and swoonings upon the ground and lyings-down upon the sopha, I never heard that any physician ever came near her.”

“Sir Walter would have taken better care of her,” said Lascelles, shaking out his newspaper before he began once more to read it. “One may say what one likes about his politics, but he is a sensible man. It is a pity she could not have lasted till Thursday.”

“But, Mr Norrell,” said Drawlight turning to their friend, “you look quite pale and sick! You are shocked, I dare say, at the spectacle of a young and innocent life cut off. Your good feelings, as ever, do you credit, sir – and I am entirely of your opinion – the thought of the poor young lady crushed out of existence like a lovely flower beneath someone’s boot – well, sir, it cuts my heart like a knife – I can hardly bear to think of it. But then, you know, she was very ill and must have died at some time or other – and by your own account she was not very kind to you. I know it is not the fashion to say so, but I am the sternest advocate in the world for young people giving respectful attention to scholarly old persons such as yourself. Impudence, and sauciness, and everything of that sort I hate.”

But Mr Norrell did not appear to hear the comfort his friend was so kind as to give him and when at last he spoke his words seemed chiefly addressed to himself, for he sighed deeply and murmured, “I never thought to find magic so little regarded here.” He paused and then said in a quick, low voice, “It is a very dangerous thing to bring someone back from the dead. It has not been done in three hundred years. I could not attempt it!”