ir, where she finds Beauclerk awaiting her.

He is lounging comfortably on a satin fauteuil, looking the very _beau
ideal_ of pleasant, careless life. He makes his sister a present of a
beaming smile as she enters.

"Ah! good morning, Isabel. I am afraid we gave you rather a fright; but
you see it couldn't be helped. What an evening and night it turned out!
By Jove! I thought the water works above were turned on for good at last
and for ever. We felt like the Babes in the Wood--abandoned, lost. Poor,
dear Miss Kavanagh! I felt so sorry for her! You have seen her, I hope,"
his face has now taken the correct lines of decorous concern. "She is
not over fatigued?"

"She looks tired! depressed!" says Lady Baltimore, regarding him
seriously. "I wish, Norman, you had come home last evening."

"What! and bring Miss Kavanagh through all that storm!"

"No, you could have left her at Falling. I wish you had come home."

"Why?" with an amused laugh. "Are you afraid I have compromised myself?"

"I was not thinking of you. I am more afraid," with a touch of cold
displeasure, "of your having compromised Miss Kavanagh. There are such
things as gossips in this curious world. You should have left Joyce in
Mrs. Connolly's safe keeping, and come straight back here."

"To be laid up with rheumatism during the whole of the coming winter!
Oh! most unnatural sister, what is it you would have desired of me?"

"You showed her great attention all this summer," says Lady Baltimore.

"I hope I showed a proper attention to all your guests."

"You were very specially attentive to her."

"To Miss Kavanagh, do you mean?" with a puzzled air. "Ah! well, yes.
Perhaps I did give more of my time to her and to Miss Maliphant than to
the others."

"Ah! Miss Maliphant! one can understand that," says his sister, with an
intonation that is not entirely complimentary.

"Can one? Here is one who can't, at all events. I confess I tried very
hard to bring myself to the point there, but I failed. Nature was too
strong for me. Good girl, you know, but--er--awful!"

"We were not discussing Miss Maliphant, we were talking of Joyce,"
icily.

"Ah, true!" as if just awakening to a delightful fact. "And a far more
charming subject for discussion, it must be allowed. Well, and what of
Joyce--you call her Joyce?"

"Be human, Norman!" says Lady Baltimore, with a sudden suspicion of fire
in her tone. "Forget to pose once in a way. And this time it is
importa