lue as he does his house or his horse, because she is his exclusive
property, the more you will be rejoiced to find yourself free for a more
worthy choice. Keep the letter; read it till you feel for the writer
forgiveness and disdain."

Isaura took back the letter, and leaned her cheek on her hand, looking
dreamily into space. It was some moments before she replied, and her
words then had no reference to Mrs. Morley's consolatory exhortation.

"He was so pleased when he learned that I renounced the career on which
I had set my ambition. I thought he would have been so pleased when I
sought in another career to raise myself nearer to his level--I see
now how sadly I was mistaken. All that perplexed me before in him is
explained. I did not guess how foolishly I had deceived myself till
three days ago,--then I did guess it; and it was that guess which
tortured me so terribly that I could not keep my heart to myself when I
saw you to-day; in spite of all womanly pride it would force its way--to
the truth.

"Hush! I must tell you what was said to me by another friend of mine--a
good friend, a wise and kind one. Yet I was so angry when she said it
that I thought I could never see her more."

"My sweet darling! who was this friend, and what did she say to you?"

"The friend was Madame Savarin."

"No woman loves you more except myself--and she said?"

"That she would have suffered no daughter of hers to commit her name to
the talk of the world as I have done--be exposed to the risk of insult
as I have been--until she had the shelter and protection denied to
me. And I have thus overleaped the bound that a prudent mother would
prescribe to her child, have become one whose hand men do not seek,
unless they themselves take the same roads to notoriety. Do you not
think she was right?"

"Not as you so morbidly put it, silly girl,--certainly not right. But
I do wish that you had the shelter and protection which Madame Savarin
meant to express; I do wish that you were happily married to one very
different from Mr. Vane--one who would be more proud of your genius than
of your beauty--one who would say, 'My name, safer far in its enduring
nobility than those that depend on titles and lands--which are held on
the tenure of the popular breath--must be honoured by posterity, for
She has deigned to make it hers. No democratic revolution can disennoble
me."

"Ay, ay, you believe that men will be found to think with complacency
that