that her exhibition of displeasure on the previous night had been sufficient to keep him away.  Had he been as tactless as she had at first thought, he would surely have sought an early opportunity of speaking to her alone, and the rest of the party were so much used to seeing them spend their mornings together that such an opportunity would not have been lacking, had he wished it.  And if he had misunderstood her words and manner—­well, if he had not thought they were meant as a decisive check, he would have followed her there and then, last night, when she left him.  She felt a little nervous about his future conduct, but for the present she was satisfied, and prepared herself for the inevitable meeting at dinner with a certain feeling of assurance.  “For,” said she, “I do not love him in the least, and why should I be embarrassed?”

Not so poor Claudius, who felt the blood leave his face and rush wildly to his heart, as he entered the saloon where the party were sitting down to dinner.  The vessel was rolling heavily, for the sea was running high under the north-easter, and dinner would be no easy matter.  He knew he must sit next to her and help her under all the difficulties that arise under the circumstances.  It would have been easy, too, for them both to see that the eyes of the other four were upon them, had either of them suspected it.  Claudius held himself up to the full of his great height and steadied every nerve of his body for the meeting.  Margaret belonged to the people who do not change colour easily, and when she spoke, even the alert ear of Mr. Barker opposite could hardly detect the faintest change of tone.  And yet she bore the burden of it, for she spoke first.

“How do you do, Dr. Claudius?”

“Thank you, well.  I was sorry to hear you had a headache to-day.  I hope you are better.”

“Thanks, yes; much better.”  They all sat down, and it was over.

The conversation was at first very disjointed, and was inclined to turn on small jokes about the difficulty of dining at an angle of forty-five degrees.  The weather was certainly much heavier than it had been in the morning, and the Duke feared they would have a longer passage than they had expected, but added that they would be better able to judge to-morrow at twelve.  Claudius and Margaret exchanged a few sentences, with tolerable tact and indifference; but, for some occult reason, Mr. Barker undertook to be especially lively and amusing, and after the dinner was somewhat advanced he launched out into a series of stories and anecdotes which served very well to pass the time and to attract notice to himself.  As Mr. Barker was generally not very talkative at table, though frequently epigrammatic, his sudden eloquence was calculated to engage the attention of the party.  Claudius and Margaret were glad of the rattling talk that delivered them from the burden of saying anything especial, and they both laughed quite naturally at