As Barbara said, when she came up from the diminished dinner-party to spend the evening with her friend--

"Those delightful things always do happen to other people!"

"It wasn't very delightful!" said Sydney.

"Not at the time, but you dear old thing, you have really saved a life!

That was always our dream!"

"The boy is not at all like our dream!" said Sydney. "He is a horrid little fellow."

"Oh, he will come right now!"

"If you knew the family, you would very much doubt it."

"Sydney, why will you go on disenchanting me? I thought _the real thing_ had happened to you at last as a reward for having been truer to our old woman than I."

"I don't think you would have thought hanging on that bank much reward,"

said Sydney.

"Adventures aren't nice when they are going on. It is only 'meminisse juvat', you know. You must have felt like the man in Ruckert's Apologue, with the dragon below, and the mice gnawing the root above."

"My dear, that story kept running in my head, and whenever I looked at the river it seemed to be carrying me away, bank, and stump, and all.

I'm afraid it will do so all night. It did, when some hot wine and water they made me have with my dinner sent me to sleep. Then I thought of--

"Time, with its ever rolling stream, Is bearing them away."

and I didn't know which was Time and which was Avon."

"In your sleep, or by the river?"

"Both, I think! I seem to have thought of thousands of things, and yet my whole soul was one scream of despairing prayer, though I don't believe I said anything except to bid the boy hold still, till I heard that welcome shout."

"Ah, the excellent Monk! He is the family hero. I wonder if he enjoys it more than you? Did he really never let you guess how much he was hurt?"

"I asked him once; but he said it was only a dig in the side, and would go off."

"Ah, well! Allen says it is accident that makes the hero. Now the Monk has been as good as the hyena knight of the Jotapata, who was a mixture of Tyr, with his hand in the wolf's mouth, and of Kunimund, when he persuaded Amala that his blood running into the river was only the sunset."

"Don't," said Sydney. "I won't have it made nonsense of!"

"Indeed," said Babie, almost piteously, "I meant it for the most glorious possible praise; but somehow people always seem to take me for a little hard bit of spar, a barbarian, or a baby; I wish I had a more sensible name!"

"Infanta, his princess, is what Duke always calls you," said Sydney, drawing her fondly to nestle close to her on the bed in her fire-lit room. "Do you know one of the thoughts I had time for in that dreadful eternity by the river, was how I wished it were you that were going to be a daughter to poor mamma."

"Esther will make a very kind, gentle, tender one."

"Oh, yes; but she won't be quite what you are. We have all been children together, and you have fitted in with us ever since that journey when we talked incessantly about Jotapata." Then, as Babie made no answer, Sydney gave her a squeeze, and whispered, "I know!"

"Who told you?" asked Babie, with eyes on the fire.

"Mamma, when I was crazy with Cecil for caring for a pretty face instead of real stuff. She thought it would hurt Duke if I went on."

"Does he care still?" said Babie, in a low voice.

"Oh, Babie, don't you feel how much?"

"Do you know, Sydney, sometimes I can't believe it. I'm sure I have no right to complain of being thought a childish, unfeeling little wretch, when I recollect how hard, and cold, and impertinent I was to him three years ago."

"It was three years ago, and we were very foolish then," consolingly murmured the wisdom of twenty, not without recollections of her own.

"I hope it was only foolishness," said Barbara; "but I have only now begun to understand the rights of it, only I could not bear the thoughts of seeing him again. And now he is so kind!"

"Do you wish you had?"

"Not that. I don't think anything but fuss and worry would have come of it then. I was only fifteen, and my mother could never have let it go on, and even if--; but what I am so grieved and ashamed at is my fancying him not enough of a man for such a self-sufficient ape as I was. And now I have seen more of the world, and know what men are, I see his generosity, and that his patient fight with ill-health to do his best and his duty, is really very great and good."

"I wish you could tell him so. No, I know you can't; but you might let him feel it, for you need not be afraid of his ever asking you again.

They have had a great examination of his lungs, and there's only part of one in any sort of order. They say he may go on with great care unless he catches cold, or sets the disease off again, and upon that he made up his mind that it was a very good thing he had not disturbed your peace."

"As if I should not be just as sorry!" said Babie. "Oh, Sydney, what a sad world it is! And there is he going about as manful, and pleased, and merry about this wedding as if it were his own. And the worst of it is, though I do admire him so, it can't be real, proper, lover's love, for I felt quite glad when you said he would never ask me, so it is all wasted."

The mothers would hardly have liked the subject of the maidens' talk in their bower, and Barbara bade good-night, feeling as if she should never look at Fordham with the same eyes again; but the light of day restored commonplace thoughts of the busy Monday.

Reeves, having been sent up by his lord with inquiries, found the patient's toilet so far advanced, that under protest he could only a.s.sist in the remainder. So the hero and heroine met on the stairs, and clasped hands in haste to the sound of the bell for morning prayers in the household chapel, to which they carried their thankful hearts.

The Fordham household was not on such a scale that the heads of the family could sit still in dignified ease on the eve of such a spectacle.

Every one was busy adorning the hall or the tables, and John would not be denied his share, though as he could neither stoop, lift, nor use his right arm, he was reduced to making up wreaths and bouquets, with Lina to supply him with flowers, since he was the one person with whom she never failed to be happy or good. Fordham was entreated to sit still and share the employment, but his long, thin hands proved utterly wanting in the dexterity that the Monk displayed. He was, moreover, the man in authority constantly called to give orders, and in his leisure moments much more inclined to haunt his Infanta's winged steps, and erect his tall person where she could not reach. Artistic taste rendered her, her mother, and Allen most valuable decorators, and it might be doubted whether Allen had ever toiled so hard in his life. In pity to the busy servants, luncheon was served up cold on a side table, when Barbara, who had rallied her spirits to nonsense pitch, declared that metaphorically, Fordham and the agent carved the meal with gloves of steel, and that the workers drank the red wine through the helmet barred. In the midst, however, in marched Reeves, with a tray and a napkin, and a regular basin of invalid soup, which he set down before John in his easy chair. There was something so exceedingly ludicrous in the poor Friar's endeavour to be gratified, and his look of dismay and disgust, that the public fairly shrieked with laughter, in which he would fain have joined, but had to beg pardon for only looking solemn; laughter was a painful matter.

However, later in the afternoon, when he was looking white and tired, his host came and said--

"Your object is to be about, and not make a sensation when people arrive. Come and rest then;" then landed him on his own sofa in his sitting-room, which was kept sacred from all confusion.

About half an hour later Mrs. Evelyn said--

"Sydney, my dear, Willis is come for the tickets. Are they ready?"

"Oh, mother, I meant to have done them yesterday evening!"

"You had better take them to Duke's room, it is the only quiet place. He is not there, I wish he were. Willis can wait while you fill them up,"

said Mrs. Evelyn, not at all sorry to pin her daughter down for an hour's quiet, and unaware that the room was occupied.

So Sydney, with a list of names and packet of cards, betook herself to her brother's writing-table, never perceiving that there was anybody under the Algerine rug, till there was a movement, suddenly checked, and a voice said--

"Can I help?"

"Oh! don't move. I'm so sorry, I hope--"