her lady.

"My desk, Wilson, immediately," cried she, bearing off her gloves, her
bonnet, and her shawl. "Tell Peter to be in readiness to take a letter
to the post; and he must walk fast, or he will not catch it before the
English mail is closed."

The symptoms of sinful happiness throbbing at her heart while Francis
Levison told her of his love, spoke plainly to Lady Isabel of the
expediency of withdrawing entirely from his society, and his dangerous
sophistries; she would be away from the very place that contained him;
put the sea between them. So she dashed off a letter to her husband; an
urgent summons that he should come to her without delay for remain away
longer she _would not_. It is probable she would have started alone, not
waiting for Mr. Carlyle, but for fear of not having sufficient funds for
the journey, after the rent and other things were paid.

Mr. Carlyle, when he received the letter and marked its earnest tone,
wondered much. In reply, he stated that he would be with her on the
following Saturday, and then her returning, or not, with him could be
settled. Fully determined not to meet Captain Levison, Isabel, in the
intervening days, only went out in a carriage. He called once, and was
shown into the drawing-room; but Lady Isabel, who happened to be in
her own chamber, sent out a message, which was delivered by Peter. "My
lady's compliments, but she must decline receiving visitors."

Sunday morning--it had been impossible for him to get away
before--brought Mr. Carlyle. He strongly combatted her wish to return
home until six weeks should have expired, he nearly said he would not
take her, and she grew earnest over it, almost to agitation.

"Isabel," he said, "let me know your motive, for it appears to me you
have one. The sojourn here is evidently doing you a vast deal of good,
and what you urge about 'being dull,' sounds very like nonsense. Tell me
what it is."

A sudden impulse flashed over her that she _would_ tell him the truth.
Not tell him that she loved Francis Levison, or that he had spoken to
her as he did; she valued her husband too greatly to draw him into any
unpleasantness whose end could not be seen; but own to him that she had
once felt a passing fancy for Francis Levison, and preferred not to be
subjected to his companionship now. Oh, that she had done so! Her kind,
her noble, her judicious husband! Why did she not? The whole truth, as
to her present feelings, it was not expedie