n's. Isabel,
who was nervous and had no relish for the prospect of again arguing
the question he had so prematurely opened, could not help admiring his
good-humoured self-possession, which quite disguised the symptoms of
that preoccupation with her presence it was natural she should suppose
him to feel. He neither looked at her nor spoke to her, and the only
sign of his emotion was that he avoided meeting her eyes. He had plenty
of talk for the others, however, and he appeared to eat his luncheon
with discrimination and appetite. Miss Molyneux, who had a smooth,
nun-like forehead and wore a large silver cross suspended from her neck,
was evidently preoccupied with Henrietta Stackpole, upon whom her
eyes constantly rested in a manner suggesting a conflict between deep
alienation and yearning wonder. Of the two ladies from Lockleigh she
was the one Isabel had liked best; there was such a world of hereditary
quiet in her. Isabel was sure moreover that her mild forehead and
silver cross referred to some weird Anglican mystery--some delightful
reinstitution perhaps of the quaint office of the canoness. She wondered
what Miss Molyneux would think of her if she knew Miss Archer had
refused her brother; and then she felt sure that Miss Molyneux would
never know--that Lord Warburton never told her such things. He was fond
of her and kind to her, but on the whole he told her little. Such, at
least, was Isabel's theory; when, at table, she was not occupied in
conversation she was usually occupied in forming theories about her
neighbours. According to Isabel, if Miss Molyneux should ever learn what
had passed between Miss Archer and Lord Warburton she would probably be
shocked at such a girl's failure to rise; or no, rather (this was our
heroine's last position) she would impute to the young American but a
due consciousness of inequality.

Whatever Isabel might have made of her opportunities, at all events,
Henrietta Stackpole was by no means disposed to neglect those in which
she now found herself immersed. "Do you know you're the first lord I've
ever seen?" she said very promptly to her neighbour. "I suppose you
think I'm awfully benighted."

"You've escaped seeing some very ugly men," Lord Warburton answered,
looking a trifle absently about the table.

"Are they very ugly? They try to make us believe in America that they're
all handsome and magnificent and that they wear wonderful robes and
crowns."

"Ah, the robes and crow