very far
above his fellows! I suppose it would be superfluous now to ask if that
night you speak of you were engaged to Mr. Dysart?"

"Oh, no," says Joyce quickly, as if struck. "There never has been, there
never will be aught of that sort between me and Mr. Dysart Surely--Mr.
Beauclerk did not----"

"Oh, yes, he did. He assured me--not in so many words (let me be
perfectly just to him)--but he positively gave me to understand that you
were going to marry Felix Dysart. There! Don't mind that," seeing the
girl's pained face. "He was bound to say something, you know. Though it
must be confessed the Indian cousin story was the more ingenious. Why
didn't you tell me of that before?"

"Because he told it to me in the strictest confidence."

"Of course. Bound you on your honor not to speak of it, lest my feelings
should be hurt. Really, do you know, I think he was almost clever enough
to make one sorry he didn't succeed. Well, good-by." She rises abruptly,
and, taking Joyce's hand, looks at her for a moment. "Felix Dysart has a
good heart," says she, suddenly. As suddenly she kisses Joyce, and,
crossing the room with a quick stride, leaves it.

CHAPTER XLIX.

"Shall we not laugh, shall we not weep?"

It is quite four o'clock, and therefore two hours later. Barbara has
returned, and has learned the secret of Joyce's pale looks and sad eyes,
and is now standing on the hearthrug looking as one might who has been
suddenly wakened from a dream that had seemed only too real.

"And you mean to say--you really mean, Joyce, that you refused him?"

"Yes. I actually had that much common-sense," with a laugh that has
something of bitterness in it.

"But I thought--I was sure----"

"I know you thought he was my ideal of all things admirable. And you
thought wrong."

"But if not he----"

"Barbara!" says Joyce sharply. "Was it not enough that you should have
made one mistake? Must you insist on making another?"

"Well, never mind," says Mrs. Monkton hastily. "I'm glad I made that
one, at all events; and I'm only sorry you have felt it your duty to
make your pretty eyes wet about it Good gracious!" looking put of the
window, "who is coming now? Dicky Browne and Mr. Courtenay and those
detestable Blakes. Tommy," turning sharply to her first-born. "If you
and Mabel stay here you must be good. Do you hear now, good! You are not
to ask a single question or touch a thing in the room, and you are to
keep Mabel quiet.