a deep desire he has that they, his father
and mother, should see and know his wife, and learn to admire her and
love her.

"Of course I know it," says Barbara, almost fiercely. "Do you think I
have lived with you all these years and cannot read your heart? Don't
think I blame you, Freddy. If the cases were reversed I should feel just
like you. I should go to any lengths to be at one with my own people."

"I don't want to go to even the shortest length," says Mr. Monkton. As
if a little nettled he takes up the dull old local paper again and
begins a third severe examination of it. But Mrs. Monkton, feeling that
she cannot survive another silence, lays her hand upon it and captures
it.

"Let us talk about it, Freddy," says she.

"It will only make you more unhappy."

"Oh, no. I think not. It will do her good," says Joyce, anxiously.

"Where is the letter? I hardly saw it. Who is asked?" demands Barbara
feverishly.

"Nobody in particular, except you. My father has expressed a wish that
we should occupy that house of his in Harley street for the winter
months, and my mother puts in, accidentally as it were, that she would
like to see the children. But you are the one specially alluded to."

"They are too kind!" says Barbara rather unkindly to herself.

"I quite see it in your light. It is an absolute impertinence," says
Monkton, with a suppressed sigh. "I allow all that. In fact, I am with
you, Barbara, all through: why keep me thinking about it? Put it out of
your head. It requires nothing more than a polite refusal."

"I shall hate to make it polite," says Barbara. And then, recurring to
her first and sure knowledge of his secret desires, "you want to go to
them?"

"I shall never go without you," returns he gravely.

"Ah! that is almost a challenge," says she, flushing.

"Barbara! perhaps he is right," says Joyce, gently; as she speaks she
gets up from the fire and makes her way to the door, and from that to
her own room.

"Will you go without me?" says Barbara, when she has gone, looking at
her husband with large, earnest eyes.

"Never. You say you know me thoroughly, Barbara; why then ask that
question?"

"Well, you will never go then," says she, "for I--I will never enter
those people's doors. I couldn't, Freddy. It would kill me!" She has
kept up her defiant attitude so successfully and for so long that Mr.
Monkton is now electrified when she suddenly bursts into tears and
throws herself into hi