ware, while in the
center a mass of pale purple orchids spread their fragile crepe-like
petals from a fringe of fern. Opposite him, still unfaded, superbly
dressed, and admirably self-possessed, was his smiling consort, toward
whom, whatever his pride in her might have been, his feelings this
evening were somewhat hostile, as the ambitious and determined lady had
forced him to don regulation evening dress, arrayed in which Barney's
peace of mind and body both fled.

On either side of the table sat his son and daughter, the latter
handsomer than Faraday had ever seen her, her heavy dress of
ivory-tinted silk no whiter than her neck, a diamond aigret trembling
like spray in her hair. Her brother Eddie, a year and a half her senior,
looked as if none of the blood of this vigorous strong-thewed, sturdy
stock could run in his veins. He was a pale and sickly looking lad, with
a weak, vulgar face, thin hair and red eyelids. Faraday had only seen
him once or twice before, and judged from remarks made to him by
acquaintances of the family that Eddie did not often honor the parental
roof with his presence. Eddie's irregular career appeared to be the one
subject on which the family maintained an immovable and melancholy
reserve. The disappointment in his only son was the bitter drop in
Barney Ryan's cup.

There were other guests at the table. Faraday received a coy bow from
Mrs. Peck, who had given her hair an extra bleaching for this occasion,
till her pinched and powdered little face looked out from under an
orange-colored thatch; Mrs. Wheatley was there too, with a suggestion of
large white shoulders shining through veilings of black gauze; and with
an air of stately pride, Mrs. Ryan presented him to Lord Hastings. This
young man, sitting next Genevieve, was a tall, fair, straight-featured
Englishman of gravely unresponsive manners. In the severe perfection of
his immaculate evening dress he looked a handsome, well-bred young
fellow of twenty-five or six.

As the late guest dropped into his seat, the interrupted conversation
regathered and flowed again. Barney Ryan said nothing. He never spoke
while eating, and rarely talked when women were present. Genevieve too
was quiet, responding with a gently absent smile, when her cavalier,
turning upon her his cold and expressionless steely-blue eyes, addressed
to her some short regulation remark on the weather, or the boredom of
his journey across the plains. The phlegmatic calm of