inent in that silent way of his. I
believe," with a contemptuous laugh, "he has given it as his opinion
that there is very little to like in me either."

"Has he? We were saying just now he is always right," says Miss
Kavanagh, absently, and in a tone so low that Beauclerk may be excused
for scarcely believing his ears.

"Eh?" says he. But there is no answer, and presently both fall into a
silent mood--Joyce because conversation is terrible to her, and he
because anger is consuming him.

He had kept up a lively converse all through the earlier part of their
drive, ignoring the depression that only too plainly was crushing upon
his companion, with a view to putting an end to sentimentality of any
sort. Her discomfort, her unhappiness, was as nothing to him--he thought
only of himself. Few men, under the circumstances, would have so acted,
for most men, in spite of all the old maids who so generously abuse
them, are chivalrous and have kindly hearts; and indeed it is only a
melancholy specimen here and there who will fail to feel pity for a
woman in distress. Beauclerk is a "melancholy specimen."

CHAPTER XXV.

"Man, false man, smiling, destructive man."

"Who breathes, must suffer, and who thinks, most mourn;
And he alone is bless'd who ne'er was born."

"Oh! my dear girl, is it you at last?" cries Lady Baltimore, running out
into the hall as Joyce enters it. "We have been so frightened! Such a
storm, and Baltimore says that mare you had is very uncertain. Where did
you get shelter?"

The very warmth and kindliness of her welcome, the utter absence of
disapproval in it of any sort, so unnerves Joyce that she can make no
reply; can only cling to her kindly hostess, and hide her face on her
shoulder.

"Is that you, Mrs. Connolly?" says Lady Baltimore, smiling at mine
hostess of the Baltimore Arms, over the girl's shoulder.

"Yes, my lady," with a curtsey so low that one wonders how she ever
comes up again. "I made so bould, my lady, as to bring ye home Miss
Joyce myself. I know Misther Beauclerk to be a good support in himself,
but I thought it would be a raisonable thing to give her the company of
one of her own women folk besides."

"Quite right. Quite," says Lady Baltimore.

"Oh! she has been so kind to me," says Joyce, raising now a pale face to
turn a glance of gratitude on Mrs. Connolly.

"Why, indeed, my lady, I wish I might ha' bin able to do more for her;
an' I'm sorry to say I