on account of that
luckless adventure with her hostess' brother.

Joyce was deaf to all such open hints. She remained obstinately
determined not to stay a moment longer there than could be helped. Was
it because of Norman she was going? No; she shook her head with such a
look of contemptuous indifference that Lady Baltimore found it
impossible to doubt her, and felt her heart thereby lightened. Was it
Felix?

Miss Kavanagh had evidently resented that question at first, but finally
had broken into a passionate fit of tears, and when Lady Baltimore
placed her arms round her had not repulsed her.

"But, dear Joyce, he himself is leaving to-morrow."

"Oh, let me go home. Do not ask me to stay. I am more unhappy than I can
tell you," said the girl brokenly.

"You have had a quarrel with him?"

Joyce bowed her head in a little quick, impatient way.

"It is Felix then, Joyce; not Norman? Let me say I am glad--for your
sake; though that is a hard thing for a sister to say of her brother.
But Norman is selfish. It is his worst fault, perhaps, but a bad one. As
for this little misunderstanding with Felix, it will not last. He loves
you, dearest, most honestly. You will make up this tiny----"

"Never!" said Joyce, interrupting her and releasing herself from her
embrace. Her young face looked hard and unforgiving, and Lady Baltimore,
with a sigh, decided on saying no more just then. So she went downstairs
and told her little tale about Joyce's indisposition, and was believed
by nobody. They all said they were sorry, as in duty bound, and perhaps
they were, taking their own view of her absence; but dinner went off
extremely well, nevertheless, and was considered quite a success.

Dysart was present, and was apparently in very high spirits; so high,
indeed, that at odd moments his hostess, knowing a good deal, stared at
him. He, who was usually so silent a member, to-night outshone even the
versatile Beauclerk in the lightness and persistency of his
conversation.

This sudden burst of animation lasted him throughout the evening,
carrying him triumphantly across the hour and a half of drawing-room
small talk, and even lasting till the more careless hours in the
smoking-room have come to an end, and one by one the men have yawned
themselves off to bed.

Then it died. So entirely, so forlornly as to prove it had been only a
mere passing and enforced exhilaration after all. They were all gone:
there was no need now to keep