ot over all that foolishness now. It always made me
so vexed;--the idea of being angry with a man because,--because--!
You know one can't talk about it, it is so foolish. But that is all
over now."

"Do you mean to say you don't care for him, Mary? Do you remember
what you used to swear to me less than two years ago?"

"I remember it all very well, and I remember what a goose I was. As
for caring for him, of course I do,--because he is your brother, and
because I have known him all my life. But if he were going to be
married to-morrow, you would see that it would make no difference to
me."

Barbara Finn walked on for a couple of minutes in silence before she
replied. "Mary," she said at last, "I don't believe a word of it."

"Very well;--then all that I shall ask of you is, that we may not
talk about him any more. Mamma believes it, and that is enough for
me." Nevertheless, they did talk about Phineas during the whole of
that day, and very often talked about him afterwards, as long as Mary
remained at Killaloe.

There was a large dinner party at the doctor's on the day after Mr.
Monk's arrival. The bishop was not there, though he was on terms
sufficiently friendly with the doctor's family to have been invited
on so grand an occasion; but he was not there, because Mrs. Finn
was determined that she would be taken out to dinner by a Cabinet
Minister in the face of all her friends. She was aware that had the
bishop been there, she must have taken the bishop's arm. And though
there would have been glory in that, the other glory was more to her
taste. It was the first time in her life that she had ever seen a
Cabinet Minister, and I think that she was a little disappointed at
finding him so like other middle-aged gentlemen. She had hoped that
Mr. Monk would have assumed something of the dignity of his position;
but he assumed nothing. Now the bishop, though he was a very mild
man, did assume something by the very facts of his apron and
knee-breeches.

"I am sure, sir, it is very good of you to come and put up with our
humble way of living," said Mrs. Finn to her guest, as they sat down
at table. And yet she had resolved that she would not make any speech
of the kind,--that she would condescend to no apology,--that she
would bear herself as though a Cabinet Minister dined with her at
least once a year. But when the moment came, she broke down, and made
this apology with almost abject meekness, and then hated herself
b