had never yet had an explanation; she had not known the need of one.  Felix was presumably following the bent of his disinterested genius, and she felt that she had no advice to give him that he would understand.  With this, there was always a certain element of comfort about Felix—­the assurance that he would not interfere.  He was very delicate, this pure-minded Felix; in effect, he was her brother, and Madame Munster felt that there was a great propriety, every way, in that.  It is true that Felix was delicate; he was not fond of explanations with his sister; this was one of the very few things in the world about which he was uncomfortable.  But now he was not thinking of anything uncomfortable.

“Dear brother,” said Eugenia at last, “do stop making les yeux doux at the rain.”

“With pleasure.  I will make them at you!” answered Felix.

“How much longer,” asked Eugenia, in a moment, “do you propose to remain in this lovely spot?”

Felix stared.  “Do you want to go away—­already?”

“‘Already’ is delicious.  I am not so happy as you.”

Felix dropped into a chair, looking at the fire.  “The fact is I am happy,” he said in his light, clear tone.

“And do you propose to spend your life in making love to Gertrude Wentworth?”

“Yes!” said Felix, smiling sidewise at his sister.

The Baroness returned his glance, much more gravely; and then, “Do you like her?” she asked.

“Don’t you?” Felix demanded.

The Baroness was silent a moment.  “I will answer you in the words of the gentleman who was asked if he liked music:  ‘Je ne la crains pas!’”

“She admires you immensely,” said Felix.

“I don’t care for that.  Other women should not admire one.”

“They should dislike you?”

Again Madame Munster hesitated.  “They should hate me!  It ’s a measure of the time I have been losing here that they don’t.”

“No time is lost in which one has been happy!” said Felix, with a bright sententiousness which may well have been a little irritating.

“And in which,” rejoined his sister, with a harsher laugh, “one has secured the affections of a young lady with a fortune!”

Felix explained, very candidly and seriously.  “I have secured Gertrude’s affection, but I am by no means sure that I have secured her fortune.  That may come—­or it may not.”

“Ah, well, it may!  That ’s the great point.”

“It depends upon her father.  He does n’t smile upon our union.  You know he wants her to marry Mr. Brand.”

“I know nothing about it!” cried the Baroness.  “Please to put on a log.”  Felix complied with her request and sat watching the quickening of the flame.  Presently his sister added, “And you propose to elope with mademoiselle?”

“By no means.  I don’t wish to do anything that ’s disagreeable to Mr. Wentworth.  He has been far too kind to us.”