was even to be thought of.

I inquired about him in Brussels, and found his reputation was of
the highest. What could I do? I knew nothing of such things! And
what a responsibility for me to volunteer advice!

I could see that my deep affection for Barty was a source of immense
comfort to Lady Caroline, for whom I conceived a great and warm
regard, besides being very much charmed with her.

She was one of those gentle, genial, kindly, intelligent women of
the world, absolutely natural and sincere, in whom it is impossible
not to confide and trust.

When I left off talking about Barty, because there was really
nothing more to say, I fell into talking about myself: it was
irresistible--she _made_ one! I even showed her Leah's last
photograph, and told her of my secret aspirations; and she was so
warmly sympathetic and said such beautiful things to me about Leah's
face and aspect and all they promised of good that I have never
forgotten them, and never shall--they showed such a prophetic
insight! they fanned a flame that needed no fanning, good heavens!
and rang in my ears and my heart all the way to Barge Yard,
Bucklersbury--while my eyes were full of Barty's figure as he again
watched me depart by the _Baron Osy_ from the Quai de la Place Verte
in Antwerp; a sight that wrung me, when I remembered what a
magnificent figure of a youth he looked as he left the wharf at
London Bridge on the Boulogne steamer, hardly more than two short
years ago.

When I got back to London, after spending my Christmas holiday with
Barty, I found the beginning of a little trouble of my own.

My father was abroad; my mother and sister were staying with some
friends in Chiselhurst, and after having settled all business
matters in Barge Yard I called at the Gibsons', in Tavistock Square,
just after dusk. Mrs. Gibson and Leah were at home, and three or
four young men were there, also calling. There had been a party on
Christmas-eve.

I'm afraid I did not think much, as a rule, of the young men I met
at the Gibsons'. They were mostly in business, like myself; and why
I should have felt at all supercilious I can't quite see! But I did.
Was it because I was very tall, and dressed by Barty's tailor, in
Jermyn Street? Was it because I knew French? Was it because I was a
friend of Barty the Guardsman, who had never been supercilious
towards anybody in his life? Or was it those maternally ancestral
Irish Blakes of Derrydown stirring within me?