her
or she to me, a certain relief came into her face. All the while I was
conscious of one strange thing. The Archduchess, although she had the
Cardinal on one side and the Prince of Cleves on the other, was
continually watching us. Her interest in their conversation was purely
superficial. Her interest in us, on the contrary, was an absorbing one.
I could not understand it at all.

The conclusion of dinner was marked by an absence of all ceremony. The
cigarettes had already been passed round before the Archduchess rose,
but those who chose to remain at the table did so. Isobel leaned over
and whispered in my ear.

"Come with me into the drawing-room. I want to talk to you."

I obeyed, and the Archduchess seemed to me purposely to leave us alone.
We sat in a quiet corner, and when I saw that there were tears in
Isobel's eyes, I knew that my time of trial was not yet over.

"Arnold," she said quietly, "you care--whether I am happy or not? You
have done so much for me--you must care!"

"You cannot doubt it, Isobel," I answered.

"I do not. This sort of life will not suit me at all. I do not trust my
aunt. I am weary of strangers. Let us give it all up. Take me back to
London with you. I feel as though I were going into prison."

"Dear Isobel," I said, "you must remember why we decided that it was
right for you to rejoin your people."

"Oh, I know," she answered. "But even to the last Monsieur Feurgeres
hesitated. My mother would never have wished me to be miserable."

I shook my head.

"I believe that Feurgeres was right," I answered. "I believe that your
mother would wish to see you in your rightful place. I believe that it
is your duty to claim it."

Then I think that for the first time Isobel was unfair to me, and spoke
words which hurt.

"You do not wish to have me back again," she said slowly. "I have been a
trouble to you, I know, and I have upset your life. You want me to go
away."

I did not answer her. I could not. She leaned forward and looked into my
face, and instantly her tone changed. Her soft fingers clutched mine for
a moment.

"Dear Arnold," she whispered, "I am sorry! Forgive me! I will do what
you think best. I did not mean to hurt you."

"I am quite sure that you did not, Isobel," I answered. "Listen! I am
speaking now for Allan as well as for myself, and for Arthur too. To
tear you out of our lives is the hardest thing we have ever had to do.
Your coming changed everything for us