s are as unquestionable as Herby's and yours."

For a full minute, in strained silence, the concentrated gaze of the
Tressilvains was focused upon the guileless countenance of Malcourt;
and discovered nothing except a fatuous cordiality.

Lady Tressilvain drew a deep, noiseless breath and glanced at her
husband.

"I don't understand, Louis, exactly what settlement--what sort of
arrangement you made when you married this--very interesting young
girl--"

"Oh, I didn't have anything to endow her with," said Malcourt, so
amiably stupid that his sister bit her lip.

Tressilvain essayed a jest.

"Rather good, that!" he said with his short, barking laugh; "but I
da'say the glove was on the other hand, eh, Louis?"

"What?"

"Why the--ah--the lady did the endowing and all that, don't you see?"

"See what?" asked Malcourt so pleasantly that his sister shot a look at
her husband which checked him.

Malcourt was now on maliciously humourous terms with himself; he began
to speak impulsively, affectionately, with all the appearance of a
garrulous younger brother impatient to unbosom himself to his family;
and he talked and talked, confidingly, guilelessly, voluminously, yet
managed to say absolutely nothing. And, strain their ears as they might,
the Tressilvains in their perplexity and increasing impatience could
make out nothing of all this voluntary information--understand
nothing--pick out not one single fact to satisfy their desperately
hungry curiosity.

There was no use interrupting him with questions; he answered them with
others; he whispered ambiguities in a manner most portentous; hinted at
bewildering paradoxes with an air; nodded mysterious nothings, and
finally left them gaping at him, exasperated, unable to make any sense
out of what most astonishingly resembled a candid revelation of the
hopes, fears, ambitions, and worldly circumstances of Louis Malcourt.

"Good-night," he said, lingering at the door to look upon and enjoy the
fruit of his perversity and malice. "When I start on that journey I
mentioned to you I'll leave something for you and Herby--merely to show
you how much I think of my own people--a little gift--a trifle!
No--no!"--lifting his hand with smiling depreciation as Tressilvain
began to thank him. "One must look out for one's own family. It's
natural--only natural to make some provision. Good-night, Helen!
Good-night, Herby. Portlaw and I will take you on at Bridge if it rains
to-morrow