Cashel Byron's Profession

"Wallace," said Alice, with dignity; "I will not be forced into

giving an answer against my will. I regard you as a cousin."

"I do not wish to be regarded as a cousin. Have I ever regarded you

as a cousin?"

"And do you suppose, Wallace, that I should permit you to call me by

my Christian name, and be as familiar as we have always been

together, if you were not my cousin? If so, you must have a very

strange opinion of me."

"I did not think that luxury could so corrupt--"

"You said that before," said Alice, pettishly. "Do not keep

repeating the same thing over and over; you know it is one of your

bad habits. Will you stay to lunch? Miss Carew told me to ask you."

"Indeed! Miss Carew is very kind. Please inform her that I am deeply

honored, and that I feel quite disturbed at being unable to accept

her patronage."

Alice poised her head disdainfully. "No doubt it amuses you to make

yourself ridiculous," she said; "but I must say I do not see any

occasion for it."

"I am sorry that my behavior is not sufficiently good for you. You

never found any cause to complain of it when our surroundings were

less aristocratic. I am quite ashamed of taking so much of your

valuable time. GOOD-morning."

"Good-morning. But I do not see why you are in such a rage."

"I am not in a rage. I am only grieved to find that you are

corrupted by luxury. I thought your principles were higher.

Good-morning, Miss Goff. I shall not have the pleasure of seeing you

again in this very choice mansion."

"Are you really going, Wallace?" said Alice, rising.

"Yes. Why should I stay?"

She rang the bell, greatly disconcerting him; for he had expected

her to detain him and make advances for a reconciliation. Before

they could exchange more words, Bashville entered.

"Good-bye," said Alice, politely.

"Good-bye," he replied, through his teeth. He walked loftily out,

passing Bashville with marked scorn.

He had left the house, and was descending the terrace steps, when he

was overtaken by the footman, who said, civilly, "Beg your pardon, sir. You've forgotten this, I think." And he

handed him a walking-stick.

Parker's first idea was that his stick had attracted the man's

attention by the poor figure it made in the castle hall, and that

Bashville was requesting him, with covert superciliousness, to

remove his property. On second thoughts, his self-esteem rejected

this suspicion as too humiliating; but he resolved to show Bashville

that he had a gentleman to deal with. So he took the stick, and

instead of thanking Bashville, handed him five shillings.