her sister, looking at her with a growing
surprise. "That is not like you. Why should we despise the rich, why
should we seek to emulate them? Surely both you and I have too good
blood in our veins to give way to such follies." She leans towards Mrs.
Monkton, and with a swift gesture, gentle as firm, turns her face to her
own.

"Now for the real reason," says she.

Unthinkingly she has brought confusion on herself. Barbara, as though
stung to cruel candor, gives her the real reason in a sentence.

"Tell me this," says she, "which do you like best, Mr. Dysart, or Mr.
Beauclerk?"

Joyce, taking her arm from round her sister's neck, moves back from her.
A deep color has flamed into her cheeks, then died away again. She looks
quite calm now.

"What a question," says she.

"Well," feverishly, "answer it."

"Oh, no," says the girl quickly.

"Why not? Why not answer it to me, your chief friend? You think the
question indelicate, but why should I shrink from asking a question on
which, perhaps, the happiness of your life depends? If--if you have set
your heart on Mr. Beauclerk----" She stops, checked by something in Miss
Kavanagh's face.

"Well, what then?" asks the latter coldly.

"It will bring you unhappiness. He is Lady Baltimore's brother. She
already plans for him. The Beauclerks are poor--he is bound to marry
money."

"That is a good deal about Mr. Beauclerk, but what about the other
possible suitor whom you suppose I am madly in love with?"

"Don't talk to me like that, Joyce. Do you think I have anything at
heart except your interests? As to Mr. Dysart, if you like _him_, I
confess I should be glad of it. He is only a cousin of the Baltimores,
and of such moderate means that they would scarcely object to his
marrying a penniless girl."

"You rate me highly," says Joyce, with a sudden rather sharp little
laugh. "I am good enough for the cousin--I am _not_ good enough for the
brother, who may reasonably look higher."

"Not higher," haughtily. "He can only marry a girl of good birth. _You_
are that, but he, in his position, will look for money, or else his
people will look for it for him. Whereas, Mr. Dysart----"

"Yes, you needn't go over it all. Mr. Dysart is about on a level with
me, he will _never_ have any money, neither shall I." Suddenly she looks
round at her sister, her eyes very bright. "Tell me then," says she,
"what does it all come to? That I am bound to refuse to marry a man
because he