o sympathy whatever,
and yet one whom he could not help both admiring and respecting; and in
these conflicting feelings were involved certain gloomy and humbling
inferences about himself, which he hated, and almost feared to
contemplate.

It was well, however, for the indulgence of Sir Wynston's conversational
propensities, that Dr. Danvers had happened to drop in; for Marston was
doggedly silent and sullen, and Mrs. Marston was herself scarcely more
disposed than he to maintain her part in a conversation; so that, had it
not been for the opportune arrival of the good clergyman, the supper must
have been dispatched with a very awkward and unsocial taciturnity.

Marston thought, and, perhaps, not erroneously, that Sir Wynston
suspected something of the real state of affairs, and he was, therefore,
incensed to perceive, as he thought, in his manner, very evident
indications of his being in unusually good spirits. Thus disposed, the
party sat down to supper.

"One of our number is missing," said Sir Wynston, affecting a slight
surprise, which, perhaps, he did not feel.

"Mademoiselle de Barras--I trust she is well?" said Doctor Danvers,
looking towards Marston.

"I suppose she is; I don't know," said Marston, drily.

"Why! how should he know," said the baronet, gaily, but with something
almost imperceptibly sarcastic in his tone. "Our friend, Marston, is
privileged to be as ungallant as he pleases, except where he has the
happy privilege to owe allegiance; but I, a gay young bachelor of fifty,
am naturally curious. I really do trust that our charming French friend
is not unwell."

He addressed his inquiry to Mrs. Marston, who, with some slight
confusion, replied:--

"No; nothing, at least, serious; merely a slight headache. I am sure she
will be quite well enough to come down to breakfast."

"She is, indeed, a very charming and interesting young person," said
Doctor Danvers. "There is a certain simplicity about her which argues a
good and kind heart, and an open nature."

"Very true, indeed, doctor," observed Berkley, with the same faint, but,
to Marston, exquisitely provoking approximation to sarcasm. "There is, as
you say, a very charming simplicity. Don't you think so, Marston?"

Marston looked at him for a moment, but continued silent.

"Poor mademoiselle!--she is, indeed, a most affectionate creature," said
Mrs. Marston, who felt called upon to say something.

"Come, Marston, will you contribute nothin