mantic. I suppose Barbara may know, considering
her contribution to this matter. Your brother is resigning his seat,
my dear; his conscience will not permit him to retain it, under certain
circumstances that have arisen."

"Oh!" cried Barbara: "but surely----"

"The matter has been argued, Babs," Lord Valleys said shortly; "unless
you have some better reason to advance than those of ordinary common
sense, public spirit, and consideration for one's family, it will hardly
be worth your while to reopen the discussion."

Barbara looked up at Miltoun, whose face, all but the eyes, was like a
mask.

"Oh, Eusty!" she said, "you're not going to spoil your life like this!
Just think how I shall feel."

Miltoun answered stonily:

"You did what you thought right; as I am doing."

"Does she want you to?"

"No."

"There is, I should imagine," put in Lord Valleys, "not a solitary
creature in the whole world except your brother himself who would
wish for this consummation. But with him such a consideration does not
weigh!"

"Oh!" sighed Barbara; "think of Granny!"

"I prefer not to think of her," murmured Lady Valleys.

"She's so wrapped up in you, Eusty. She always has believed in you
intensely."

Miltoun sighed. And, encouraged by that sound, Barbara went closer.

It was plain enough that, behind his impassivity, a desperate struggle
was going on in Miltoun. He spoke at last:

"If I have not already yielded to one who is naturally more to me than
anything, when she begged and entreated, it is because I feel this in a
way you don't realize. I apologize for using the word comic just now,
I should have said tragic. I'll enlighten Uncle Dennis, if that will
comfort you; but this is not exactly a matter for anyone, except
myself." And, without another look or word, he went out.

As the door closed, Barbara ran towards it; and, with a motion strangely
like the wringing of hands, said:

"Oh, dear! Oh! dear!" Then, turning away to a bookcase, she began to
cry.

This ebullition of feeling, surpassing even their own, came as a real
shock to Lady and Lord Valleys, ignorant of how strung-up she had been
before she entered the room. They had not seen Barbara cry since she was
a tiny girl. And in face of her emotion any animus they might have shown
her for having thrown Miltoun into Mrs. Noel's arms, now melted away.
Lord Valleys, especially moved, went up to his daughter, and stood with
her in that dark corner, saying no