“Am I? Keep my good wishes, then, till
the right man comes. I am beyond the pale myself,
and dare not think of entering the happy state,”
he added, in a pointed tone. “I have indulged
dreams of it, like others, but I cannot afford to
indulge them seriously; a poor man, with uncertain
prospects can only play the butterfly, perhaps to his
life’s end.”
He quitted the room as he spoke. It was impossible
for Isabel to misunderstand him, but a feeling shot
across her mind, for the first time, that he was false
and heartless. One of the servants appeared,
showing in Mr. Carlyle; nothing false or heartless
about him. He closed the door, and approached
her, but she did not speak, and her lips were white
and trembling. Mr. Carlyle waited.
“Well,” he said at length, in a gentle
tone, “have you decided to grant my prayer?”
“Yes. But—” She could
not go on. What with one agitation and another,
she had difficulty in conquering her emotion.
“But—I was going to tell you——”
“Presently,” he whispered, leading her
to a sofa, “we can both afford to wait now.
Oh, Isabel, you have made me very happy!”
“I ought to tell you, I must tell you,”
she began again, in the midst of hysterical tears.
“Though I have said ‘yes’ to your
proposal, I do not—yet——It
has come upon me by surprise,” she stammered.
“I like you very much; I esteem and respect
you; but I do not love you.”
“I should wonder if you did. But you will
let me earn your love, Isabel?”
“Oh, yes,” she earnestly answered.
“I hope so.”
He drew her closer to him, bent his face, and took
from her lips his first kiss. Isabel was passive;
she supposed he had gained the right to do so.
“My dearest! It is all I ask.”
A MOONLIGHT WALK.
The sensations of Mr. Carlyle, when he returned to
West Lynne, were much like those of an Eton boy, who
knows he has been in mischief, and dreads detection.
Always open as to his own affairs—for he
had nothing to conceal—he yet deemed it
expedient to dissemble now. He felt that his
sister would be bitter at the prospect of his marrying;
instinct had taught him that, years past; and he believed
that, of all women, the most objectionable to her
would be Lady Isabel, for Miss Carlyle looked to the
useful, and had neither sympathy nor admiration for
the beautiful. He was not sure but she might
be capable of endeavoring to frustrate the marriage
should news of it reach her ears, and her indomitable
will had caused many strange things in her life; therefore,
you will not blame Mr. Carlyle for observing entire
reticence as to his future plans.
