Public opinion did not change, however, as far as Octavia was concerned. Having had her anxiety set at rest by several encouraging paternal letters from Nevada, she began to make up her mind to enjoy herself, and was, it is to be regretted, betrayed by her youthful high spirits into the committing of numerous indiscretions. Upon each festal occasion she appeared in a new and elaborate costume: she accepted the attentions of Mr. Francis Barold, as if it were the most natural thing in the world that they should be offered; she joked--in what Mrs. Burnham designated "her Nevada way"--with the Rev. Arthur Poppleton, who appeared more frequently than had been his habit at the high teas. She played croquet with that gentleman and Mr. Barold day after day, upon the grass-plat, before all the eyes gazing down upon her from the neighboring windows; she managed to coerce Mr. Burmistone into joining these innocent orgies; and, in fact, to quote Miss Pilcher, there was "no limit to the shamelessness of her unfeminine conduct." Several times much comment had been aroused by the fact that Lucia Gaston had been observed to form one of the party of players. She had indeed played with Barold, against Octavia and Mr. Poppleton, on the memorable day upon which that gentleman had taken his first lesson. Barold had availed himself of the invitation extended to him by Octavia, upon several occasions, greatly to Miss Belinda's embarrassment. He had dropped in the evening after the curate's first call. "Is Lady Theobald very fond of you?" Octavia had asked, in the course of this visit. "It is very kind of her, if she is," he replied with languid irony. "Isn't she fond enough of you to do any thing you ask her?" Octavia inquired. "Really, I think not," he replied. "Imagine the degree of affection it requires! I am not fond enough of any one to do any thing they ask me." Octavia bestowed a long look upon him. "Well," she remarked, after a pause, "I believe you are not. I shouldn't think so." Barold colored very faintly. "I say," he said, "is that an imputation, or something of that character? It sounds like it, you know." Octavia did not reply directly. She laughed a little. "I want you to ask Lady Theobald to do something," she said. "I am afraid I am not in such favor as you imagine," he said, looking slightly annoyed. "Well, I think she won't refuse you this thing," she went on. "If she didn't loathe me so, I would ask her myself." He deigned to smile. "Does she loathe you?" he inquired. "Yes," nodding. "She would not speak to me if it weren't for aunt Belinda. She thinks I am fast and loud. Do _you_ think I am fast and loud?"