ing, and
Isabel stepped out on the lawn to enjoy the refreshing breeze, but was
soon surprized to find that Louis had followed her.

"Let us at least be friends," he said. "You will remember that it was
not in anger we last parted."

But Isabel was silent.

"You doubt me," he continued. "I do not blame you, but you are harsh,
Miss Leicester."

"Not harsh, but just," returned Isabel. "Friends we can never be;
enemies I trust we never were."

"You draw fine distinctions. May I ask what place in your estimation I
am permitted to occupy?" said Louis, sarcastically.

"No place whatever, Dr. Taschereau; I must ever regard you with
indifference," returned Isabel, coldly.

"Be it so," he replied, angrily. "You have obstinately refused all
offers of reconciliation, and must therefore take the consequences."

"The consequences? You speak strangely, Dr. Taschereau."

I repeat: the consequences. I determined long since that you should
never marry another, and my sentiments on that subject have not changed.
No; I vow you shall not!" he added, with the old vindictive expression.

"How dare you hold such language to me, sir?" cried Isabel, indignantly.

Without answering, he drew a pistol from his pocket and would have shot
her, but, changing his purpose, he turned upon Everard, who was
approaching. With a cry of horror, Isabel threw herself between them,
and prevented Louis from taking as good an aim as he might otherwise
have done; for though the ball, in passing, grazed her shoulder, it
passed Everard harmlessly and lodged in the acacia tree. With parted
lips, but without the power of speech, she clung to Everard in an agony
of terror for a moment, and then lay motionless in his arms. In terrible
apprehension he carried the senseless girl into the house, fearing that
she was seriously hurt, as the blood had saturated a large portion of
her dress, which was of very thin texture. Of course the consternation
into which the family was thrown by the shot, followed by the entrance
of Everard with Isabel in this alarming condition, was tremendous. But
happily Isabel was more terrified than hurt, Dr. Heathfield pronouncing
the wound of no consequence (to Everard's intense disgust), telling her
to take a glass of wine and go to bed, and she would be none the worse
for her fright in the morning--in fact treated the whole thing quite
lightly, and laughed at Isabel for her pale cheeks, saying that such an
alabaster complexion was