surprise, which, perhaps, he did not feel.

"Mademoiselle de Barras--I trust she is well?" said Doctor Danvers,
looking towards Marston.

"I suppose she is; I don't know," said Marston, drily.

"Why! how should he know," said the baronet, gaily, but with something
almost imperceptibly sarcastic in his tone. "Our friend, Marston, is
privileged to be as ungallant as he pleases, except where he has the
happy privilege to owe allegiance; but I, a gay young bachelor of fifty,
am naturally curious. I really do trust that our charming French friend
is not unwell."

He addressed his inquiry to Mrs. Marston, who, with some slight
confusion, replied:--

"No; nothing, at least, serious; merely a slight headache. I am sure she
will be quite well enough to come down to breakfast."

"She is, indeed, a very charming and interesting young person," said
Doctor Danvers. "There is a certain simplicity about her which argues a
good and kind heart, and an open nature."

"Very true, indeed, doctor," observed Berkley, with the same faint, but,
to Marston, exquisitely provoking approximation to sarcasm. "There is, as
you say, a very charming simplicity. Don't you think so, Marston?"

Marston looked at him for a moment, but continued silent.