atisfaction at least to one person there. Mary could not keep
herself from some expression of joy by pressing her finger for a
moment against her lover's arm. He, though not usually given to such
manifestations, blushed up to his eyes. But the feeling produced on
the company was solemn rather than jovial. Everyone there understood
it all. Mr. Boncassen could read the Duke's mind down to the last
line. Even Mrs. Boncassen was aware that an act of reconciliation had
been intended. "When the governor drank that glass of wine it seemed
as though half the marriage ceremony had been performed," Gerald said
to his brother that evening. When the Duke's glass was replaced on
the table, he himself was conscious of the solemnity of what he had
done, and was half ashamed of it.

When the ladies had gone upstairs the conversation became political
and lively. The Duke could talk freely about the state of things
to Mr. Boncassen, and was able gradually to include Tregear in the
badinage with which he attacked the Conservatism of his son. And so
the half-hour passed well. Upstairs the two girls immediately came
together, leaving Mrs. Boncassen to chew the cud of the grandeur
around her in the sleepy comfort of an arm-chair. "And so everything
is settled for both of us," said Isabel.

"Of course I knew it was to be settled for you. You told me so at
Custins."

"I did not know it myself then. I only told you that he had asked me.
And you hardly believed me."

"I certainly believed you."

"But you knew about--Lady Mabel Grex."

"I only suspected something, and now I know it was a mistake. It has
never been more than a suspicion."

"And why, when we were at Custins, did you not tell me about
yourself?"

"I had nothing to tell."

"I can understand that. But is it not joyful that it should all be
settled? Only poor Lady Mabel! You have got no Lady Mabel to trouble
your conscience." From which it was evident that Silverbridge had not
told all.

CHAPTER LXXV

The Major's Story

By the end of March Isabel was in Paris, whither she had forbidden
her lover to follow her. Silverbridge was therefore reduced to the
shifts of a bachelor's life, in which his friends seemed to think
that he ought now to take special delight. Perhaps he did not
take much delight in them. He was no doubt impatient to commence
that steady married life for which he had prepared himself.
But nevertheless, just at present, he lived a good deal at th