little copse wood, the children were looking for
berries, and Isabel sat upon a mossy bank reading.

"Come Isabel, let us at least be friends," said a voice close beside
her.

Surprised and startled, Isabel beheld Louis Taschereau.

"Let us be friends," he repeated taking a seat on the bank.

"Impossible, Dr. Taschereau," said Isabel rising, "had you broken off
your engagement in a straightforward manner, it might have been
different, as your feelings had undergone a change, I should have been
quite content to release you, but to have corresponded with me up to the
very day of your marriage, and allow me by a chance meeting at an
evening party to become aware of the fact for the first time, together
with the effrontery with which you behaved on that occasion, are insults
which I should be wanting in self respect not to resent."

"My feelings have undergone no change, they cannot change, it is you
alone that I have ever loved or shall love, my wife I never did, never
can. Oh pity me Isabel for I am most miserably unhappy."

"From my heart I pity her who is so unfortunate as to have Dr.
Taschereau for a husband," she replied, "I cannot pity you, for if
anything could make your conduct more contemptible, it is the fact that
you have just acknowledged, that you do not love the girl that you have
made your wife, though having seen the way in which you treat those you
profess to love it is no great loss, and your happiness must ever be a
matter of indifference to me."

"Oh cruel girl, I am not so heartless, what grieves me more than even my
own misery is the thought of your suffering."

"Then pray do not distress yourself on my account Dr. Taschereau,
whatever I may have felt it is past, for when Isabel Leicester could no
longer esteem, she must cease to love."

"I will not believe that you find it so easy to forget me, for that you
did love me you dare not deny, it was no passing fancy, you must feel
more than you are willing to own," he said angrily.

"I do not wish to deny it," returned Isabel firmly, "but you out to have
known me better than to think that I should continue to do so. After you
were married it became my duty to forget that I had ever loved you, and
to banish every thought of you. You have made your choice and now
regrets are useless, even wrong, whatever she may be, she is your wife,
and it is your duty and should be your pleasure to make her happy, and
as you value happiness, never give her cau