e happy but awkward
couple before her. "I'll tell him all about it. He will be just as glad
as I am. There, go away you two; you will find the small parlor empty,
and I dare say you have a great deal to say to each other still. Of
course you will dine with us, Felix, and give Freddy an opportunity of
saying something ridiculous to you."

"Thank you," says Dysart warmly. "I suppose I can write a line to my
cousin explaining matters."

"Of course. Joyce, take some writing things into the small parlor, and
call for a lamp as you go."

She is smiling at Joyce as she speaks, and now, going up to her, kisses
her impulsively. Joyce returns the caress with fervor. It is natural
that she should never have felt the sweetness, the content of Barbara so
entirely as she does now, when her heart is open and full of ecstasy,
and when sympathy seems so necessary. Darling Barbara! But then she must
love Felix now just as much as she loves her. She rather electrifies
Barbara and Felix by saying anxiously to the former:

"Kiss Felix, too."

It is impossible not to laugh. Mrs. Monkton gives way to immediate and
unrestrained mirth, and Dysart follows suit.

"It is a command," says he, and Barbara thereupon kisses him
affectionately.

"Well, now I have got a brother at last," says she. It is indeed her
first knowledge of one, for that poor suicide in Nice had never been
anything to her--or to any one else in the world for the matter of
that--except a great trouble. "There, go," says she. "I think I hear
Freddy coming."

They fly. They both feel that further explanations are beyond them just
as present; and as for Barbara, she is quite determined that no one but
she shall let Freddy into the all-important secret. She is now fully
convinced in her own mind that she had always had special prescience of
this affair, and the devouring desire we all have to say "I told you how
'twould be" to our unfortunate fellow-travellers through this vale of
tears, whether the cause for the hateful reminder be for weal or woe, is
strong upon her now.

She goes to the window, and seeing Monkton some way off, flings up the
sash and waves to him in a frenzied fashion to come to her at once.
There is something that almost approaches tragedy in her air and
gesture. Monkton hastens to obey.

"Now, what--what--what do you think has happened?" cries she, when he
has vaulted the window sill and is standing beside her, somewhat
breathless and distinctly un