y Isabel quitted the room in the midst of it; and in the course of
the day Marvel took her departure, Joyce telling her that she ought to
be ashamed of herself.

"I couldn't help myself," retorted Marvel, "and I am sorry to leave her,
for she's a pleasant young lady to serve."

"Well, I know I'd have helped myself," was Joyce's remark. "I would not
go off in this unhandsome way from a good mistress."

"Perhaps you wouldn't," loftily returned Marvel, "but my inside feelings
are delicate and can't bear to be trampled upon. The same house is
not going to hold me and that tall female image, who's more fit to be
carried about at a foreign carnival than some that they do carry."

So Marvel left. And when Lady Isabel went to her room to dress for
dinner, Joyce entered it.

"I am not much accustomed to a lady's maid's duties," began she, "but
Miss Carlyle has sent me, my lady, to do what I can for you, if you will
allow me."

Isabel thought it was kind of Miss Carlyle.

"And if you please to trust me with the keys of your things, I will
take charge of them for you, my lady, until you are suited with a maid,"
Joyce resumed.

"I don't know anything about the keys," answered Isabel; "I never keep
them."

Joyce did her best, and Lady Isabel went down. It was nearly six
o'clock, the dinner hour, and she strolled to the park gates, hoping to
meet Mr. Carlyle. Taking a few steps out, she looked down the road, but
could not see him coming; so she turned in again, and sat down under a
shady tree out of view of the road. It was remarkably warm weather for
the closing days of May.

Half an hour, and then Mr. Carlyle came pelting up, passed the gates,
and turned on to the grass. There he saw his wife. She had fallen
asleep, her head leaning against the trunk of a tree. Her bonnet and
parasol lay at her feet, her scarf had dropped, and she looked like
a lovely child, her lips partly open, her cheeks flushed, and her
beautiful hair falling around. It was an exquisite picture, and his
heart beat quicker within him as he felt that it was all his own. A
smile stole to his lips as he stood looking at her. She opened her eyes,
and for a minute could not remember where she was. Then she started up.

"Oh, Archibald! Have I been asleep?"

"Ay; and might have been stolen and carried off. I could not afford
that, Isabel."

"I don't know how it came about. I was listening for you."

"What have you been doing all day?" he asked, as he