When the ensuing storm of exclamations and questions had somewhat subsided, Dido said suddenly, "But surely he never confessed all this to you alone? Who was with you? What do you mean by we?"
Helen's sole answer was a brilliant blush; and, strange to say, this reply was sufficient for her cousin.
A year has elapsed since Gilbert Lisle stood on his trial at the black gate. He has now quite settled down in the rôle of a married man, and spends most of his time between Berkshire and Ballyredmond. However, his wings have not been too closely clipped, for people who bore a striking resemblance to him and his wife were met in Tangiers last winter; and they are meditating a trip to the East, and paying a flying visit to Dido (Dido who is now residing on the plains of Hindostan and learning the practical use of punkahs and mosquito nets).
Thanks to Helen's good offices, the course of Miss Sheridan's true love ran smoothly after all, and she was married with considerable éclat from the Lisles' house in London. Between that mansion and 15, Upper Cream Street—there is a cloud. Helen and her relatives exchange dignified salutes when they meet in public, but there their intimacy ceases. Mr. Lisle has forbidden his wife to cross her aunt's threshold (an embargo that is by no means irksome to that young lady), and the Misses Platt tell all their acquaintance what an odious, ungrateful creature she is, and how once upon a time they took her in, and kept her out of charity. And this is their reward!
Nevertheless, the Honourable Mrs. Gilbert Lisle does not forget old friends. She is not ashamed to see the Smithson Villa vehicle standing before her door; and she has more than once visited at Malvern House, and entertained Mrs. Kane, and some of her former pupils. Lord Lingard has been altogether captivated by his daughter-in-law. She is everything his heart desires; young, pretty, and pleasant. He has invested her with the family diamonds!
Barry and Katie reign at Crowmore. The place is much altered, for the better; the old lodges have been swept away, the wall is gone, the gates restored; the garden is pruned, the yard is reclaimed, and the out-offices are roofed, and filled. Katie is happy in her own way. She rather enjoys being bullied by Barry, is lenient to his little foibles, and she listens to his vainglorious personal reminiscences with deep interest, and implicit faith. On one point alone she is somewhat sceptical, viz., that Barry could have married her cousin, had he chosen;—her pretty cousin Helen, who occasionally drives over from Ballyredmond in a smart Stanhope phaeton, and seems perfectly satisfied with her own husband, and who snubs Barry, as mercilessly as ever!
Mr. Sheridan, poor gentleman, has now but few lucid intervals. He is at present engaged in an absorbing search for the elixir of life, and lives in his tower along with a companion, whom he treats with the most reverent respect and calls "Archimedes," but to the outer world he is known as James Karney—a keeper from a lunatic asylum.
Biddy, thanks to Helen's good offices, has relented at last, and permitted her niece Sally to bestow her capable hand upon "that little sleveen, Larry Flood." The market-cart has consequently been abolished, and the Master's occupation (like Othello's), is gone. He is now a pensioner at Ballyredmond, where, to quote his late charioteer, Mrs. Flood, "he never does a hand's turn, barrin' thievin' in the haggard, and chasing the cows."
The "Fancy" continues to flourish, to levy tribute, and to make a comfortable income out of her holding at the Cross. And, according to the last accounts from America, Darby Chute reported himself to be doing well.