"To see me, Susan?" exclaimed Isabel.

 

"Yes, Miss, he asked for you, but he would not give his name."

 

"Very well, Susan. Who can it be?" she asked, turning to Alice.

 

"I'm sure I don't know," answered Alice, laughing, "you had better go and see."

 

On entering the drawing-room, Isabel saw to her astonishment that it was Louis Taschereau. "This is indeed a surprise," she said, extending her hand, for in her present happiness she could not be ungracious or unkind.

 

Encouraged by her cordial greeting, Louis began: "I thought of writing, but determined on seeking an interview, as a letter could but inadequately convey what I wished to say. I have suffered much, as you are aware, and my troubles have made me a very different man; but a gleam of light seems once more to shine on my path, and I hope yet to repair the error of my life. Can you--will you--overlook and forgive the past, and be again to me all that you once were? I know that I do not deserve it, but I will try to atone for the past if, dear Isabel, you will be my wife."

 

"Stay, Dr. Taschereau!" interposed Isabel, "I am just about to marry a clergyman who is going abroad."

 

Had a cannon-ball fallen at his feet, Louis could scarcely have been more dumbfounded than he was at this intelligence. He became deadly pale, and she thought he would faint.

 

"You are ill, Dr. Taschereau. Let me ring for some wine."

 

"Don't ring, I don't want any. Is this true?" he continued, "are you really going to marry another?"

 

"I am, and I do not see why you should be surprised."

 

"Why do you make me love you so? Why must your image intrude itself into every plan, and all be done as you would approve, if, after all, you are to marry another? You would not wonder at the effect of what you have told me, if you knew how the hope that you would forgive me and yet be mine, has been my only comfort a long, dreary time."

 

"You have no right to speak in this way, Dr. Taschereau; it was I who had cause of complaint, not you. But I am very sorry that you should feel so; very sorry that you should have suffered yourself to imagine for a moment that we could ever be again to each other what we once were. And do not think that my present engagement is the cause of my saying this; for never, never, under any circumstances, could I have been your wife after what has passed. I say not this in anger or ill-will for the past, I do not regret it--I feel it was best."

 

"Will you not tell me the name of the fortunate clergyman?" he asked.

 

"Certainly, if you wish it; it is no secret. It is Everard Arlington."

 

"Everard Arlington!" he exclaimed in unfeigned astonishment. "It was the knowledge of his hopeless attachment that made me hope--almost make sure--that you had not entirely ceased to love me, and might yet be mine; the more despairing he became, the higher my hopes rose."

 

"How could you, how dared you, indulge such thoughts after what I said in the woods at D----?" exclaimed Isabel, indignantly. "If Everard had so long to believe that his attachment was unavailing, it was because Isabel Leicester would not give her hand unless her heart went with it; because I respected his affection too much to trifle with it, and not at all on your account. Believe me, that from the time I first learned that you were married, every thought of you was rigidly repelled, and it was arrant presumption in you to suppose anything else," she continued, proudly, the angry tears suffusing her eyes.

 

The conference was here ended, to Isabel's great relief, by the entrance of Everard, who looked inquiringly at each.

 

"How are you, old fellow?" he said (for Isabel's proud anger fled at his approach), "what brought you here so unexpectedly?"

 

"Oh, a little private affair," he replied, looking rather uncomfortable; but there was that in Louis's eye, as he said this, that made Isabel distrust him; something that made her determined to put it out of his power to misrepresent and make mischief. True, he had said how changed he was, and spoken of the reformation his trials had made. Certainly he had been more calm under disappointment than had been his wont. But still she doubted him. She had seen that look before, and knew that it was the same false Louis, not so changed as he imagined. The dark side was only lying dormant; she could read his malicious enjoyment in that cruel smile, and knew its meaning well. Meeting his glance with one of proud defiance and quiet determination, which said, as plainly as words, "I will thwart your fine plans, Mr. Louis," she said:

 

"You are aware that I was formerly engaged to Dr. Taschereau. His business here to-day was to endeavor to renew that engagement. I need not say how very strange and absurd this appears, as you are acquainted with the circumstances under which the former engagement terminated."

 

"Yes, that was the 'little private affair,' but I find that you have already won the prize; allow............