s."

"Well, but promise me now, you will be very serious about it. They are
taking it seriously, and they won't like it if you persist in treating
it as a jest."

"I'll be a perfect judge."

"I know what that means"--indignantly--"that you are going to be as
frivolous as possible."

"My dear girl! If the bench could only hear you. Well, there then! Yes,
really! I'll be everything of the most desirable. A regular funeral
mute. And," seeing she is still offended, "I am glad about it, Barbara.
Honestly I think him as good a fellow as I know--and Joyce another."

Having convinced her of his good faith in the matter, and argued with
her on every single point, and so far perjured himself as to remember
perfectly and accurately the very day and hour on which, three months
ago, she had said that she knew Joyce preferred Felix to Beauclerk, he
is forgiven, and presently allowed to depart in peace with another
"there," even warmer than the first.

But it is unquestionable that she keeps a severe eye on him all through
dinner, and so forbids any trifling with the sacred topic. "It would
have put the poor things out so!" She had said to herself; and, indeed,
it must be confessed that the lovers are very shy and uncomfortable, and
that conversation drifts a good deal, and is only carried on irregularly
by fits and starts. But later, when Felix has unburdened his mind to
Monkton during the quarter of an hour over their wine--when Barbara has
been compelled, in fear and trembling, to leave Freddy to his own
devices--things grow more genial, and the extreme happiness that dwells
in the lovers' hearts is given full play. There is even a delightful
half hour granted them upon the balcony, Barbara having--like the good
angel she is--declared that the night is almost warm enough for June.

CHAPTER LV.

"Great discontents there are, and many murmurs."

"There is a kind of mournful eloquence
In thy dumb grief."

Lady Baltimore, too, had been very pleased by the news when Felix told
her next morning of his good luck. In all her own great unhappiness she
had still a kindly word and thought for her cousin and his fiancee.

"One of the nicest girls," she says, pressing his hands warmly. "I often
think, indeed, the nicest girl I know. You are fortunate, Felix,
but"--very kindly--"she is fortunate, too."

"Oh, no, the luck is all on my side," says he.

"It will be a blow to Norman," she says, presently.

"I th