gloom did not rise from the cause that he
knew it did rise from, Faraday continued to be a constant guest at the
Ryan mansion, continued to see Miss. Genevieve at Madame Delmonti's and
at the other small social gatherings, where the presentable young New
Englander found himself quite a lion. When Mrs. Ryan saw him alone she
flattered his superior intelligence and experience of the world by
asking his opinion of the approaching Lord Hastings's matrimonial plans.
This frank and outspoken lady was on the thorns of uncertainty, Lord
Hastings's flight on his former visit having shaken her faith in him.
Quite unconsciously she impressed upon Faraday how completely both she
and Genevieve had come to trust him as a tried friend.

With the exaltation of a knight of old, Faraday felt that their trust
would never be misplaced. He answered Mrs. Ryan's anxious queries with
all the honesty of the calmest friendship. Alone in the great gold
drawing-room, he talked to Genevieve on books, on music, on fashion, on
society--on all subjects but that of love. And all the while he felt
like the nightingale who sings its sweetest music while pressing its
breast against a thorn.

Lord Hastings seemed to have lost no time in repairing to the side of
the fair lady who was supposed to be the object of his fondest
devotions, and whom destiny appeared to have selected as the renovator
of Courtney Manor. Four weeks from the day Faraday had heard of his
intended visit, the Bostonian received a letter from Mrs. Ryan bidding
him to dinner to meet the illustrious guest. It seemed to Faraday that
to go to see the newcomer in converse with Genevieve, beautiful in her
costliest robes, to view the approving smiles of Mrs. Ryan, and perhaps
the happy blushes of Miss. Ryan, was the manly upright course for one
who could never be more than the avowed friend and silent worshipper of
Barney Ryan's only daughter.

Arriving ten minutes late, he found the party already at the table. It
was an inflexible rule of Barney Ryan's to sit down to dinner at the
stroke of half-past six, whether his guests were assembled or not--a
rule which even his wife's cajoleries and commands were powerless to
combat.

Tonight the iron old man might well regard with pride the luxury and
splendor that crowned a turbulent career begun in nipping poverty. The
round table, glowing beneath the lights of the long crystal chandeliers,
sparkled with cut-glass, and shone with antique silver