but to the astonishment of all, and not the least of himself, Oliver was
invited by the Baron to sit by his side. Oliver could not understand
this special mark of favour; the others, though far too proud for a
moment to resent what they might have deemed a slight upon them, at once
began to search their minds for a reason. They knew the Baron as an old
intriguer; they attached a meaning, whether intended or not, to his
smallest action.

Felix, crowded out, as it were, and unnoticed, was forced to take his
seat at the end of the table nearest that set apart in the corner for
the aged and honoured servitors of the family. Only a few feet
intervened between him and ancient henchmen; and he could not but
overhear their talk among themselves, whispered as it was. He had merely
shaken hands with Aurora; the crowd in the drawing-room and the marked
attentions of Durand had prevented the exchange of a single word between
them. As usual, the sense of neglect and injury over which he had so
long brooded with little or no real cause (considering, of course, his
position, and that the world can only see our coats and not our hearts),
under these entirely accidental circumstances rose up again within him,
and blinded him to the actual state of things.

His seat, the lowest, and the nearest to the servitors, was in itself a
mark of the low estimation in which he was held. The Lord Durand had
been placed next to Aurora, as a direct encouragement to him, and a
direct hint to himself not to presume. Doubtless, Durand had been at the
castle many times, not improbably already been accepted by the Baron,
and not altogether refused by Aurora. As a fact, though delighted with
her beauty and conversation, Durand's presence was entirely due to the
will of his father, the Earl, who wished to maintain friendly relations
with Baron Thyma, and even then he would not have come had not the