ions. She said
something of my Uncle Oliver; but I disposed of that. However, I dare
say it made her less willing to throw me overboard! Anyway, she
smoothed me and nattered me, till I ended by agreeing that she has no
choice but to remove instanter from the Terrace, and forbid me her
abode! And, as I said, she wormed a promise from me not to correspond.'

'You have no great loss there. Depend upon it that Isabel would neither
brave her openly by receiving your letters, nor submit to do anything
underhand.'

'Nor would I ask her!--but it is intolerable to have been tricked into
complacent consent.'

'I am glad your belle-mere knows how to manage you.'

'I told you she was only less unbearable than yourself. You have it
from the same stock.'

'The better for your future peace. I honour her. If she had let the
Welsh dragon show his teeth in style, he would only have had to make
unpleasant apologies when the good time comes.'

'When!' sighed James.

'If Isabel be the woman I take her for, she will be easily content.'

'She is sick of parade; she has tried how little it can do for a mind
like hers: she desires nothing but a home like our own--but what
prospect have I of any such thing? Even if the loss of my fellowship
were compensated, how could I marry and let Clara be a governess? Clara
must be my first consideration. But, I say, we ought to be going home.'

'I thought I was at home.'

'My grandmother and Jane won't be pacified till they see you. They
think you are not fit to be in a house by yourself. They both fell on
me for having let you go. You must come back, or my grandmother will
think you gone off in despair, as you ought to be, and I shall never
dare to speak to her.'

'At your service,' said the duteous Fitzjocelyn. 'I'll leave word at
the lodge.'

'By-the-bye, are you up to walking?'

'Candidly, now I think of it, I doubt whether I am. Come, and let us
order the carriage.'

'No--no;--I can't stand waiting--I'll go home and get over the first
with granny--you come after. Yes; that's right.'

So the hunted Louis waited, contentedly, while James marched back,
chary of his precious secret, and unwilling to reveal it even to her,
and yet wanting her sympathy.

The disclosure was a greater shock than he had expected from her keen
and playful interest in matters of love and matrimony. It was a
revival of the mournful past, and she shed tears as she besought him
not to be imprude