of the earl's,
really owing, every pound of it," observed Mr. Warburton. "A sharp man,
though, that Anstey, to hit upon such a scheme."

"And a shameless and a scandalous man," added Lord Mount Severn. "Well,
this is a pretty thing. What's to be done?"

While they consult, let us look for a moment at Lady Isabel. She sat
alone, in great perplexity, indulging the deepest grief. Lord Mount
Severn had intimated to her, kindly and affectionately, that henceforth
she must find her home with him and his wife. Isabel returned a faint
"Thank you" and as soon as he left her, burst into a paroxysm of
rebellious tears. "Have her home with Mrs. Vane!" she uttered to her own
heart; "No, never; rather would she die--rather would she eat a crust
and drink water!" and so on, and so on. Young demoiselles are somewhat
prone to indulge in these flights of fancy; but they are in most cases
impracticable and foolish--exceedingly so in that of Lady Isabel Vane.
Work for their living? It may appear very feasible in theory; but theory
and practice are as opposite as light and dark. The plain fact was, that
Isabel had no alternative whatever, save that of accepting a home with
Lady Mount Severn; and the conviction that it must be so stole over her
spirit, even while her hasty lips were protesting that she would not.

Two mourners only attended the funeral--the earl and Mr. Carlyle. The
latter was no relative of the deceased, and but a very recent friend;
but the earl had invited him, probably not liking the parading, solus,
his trappings of woe. Some of the county aristocracy were pallbearers,
and many private carriages followed.

All was bustle on the following morning. The earl was to depart, and
Isabel was to depart, but not together. In the course of the day the
domestics would disperse. The earl was speeding to London, and the
chaise to convey him to the railway station at West Lynne was already at
the door when Mr. Carlyle arrived.

"I was getting fidgety fearing you would not be here, for I have barely
five minutes to spare," observed the earl, as he shook hands. "You are
sure you fully understood about the tombstone?"

"Perfectly," replied Mr. Carlyle. "How is Lady Isabel?"

"Very down-hearted, I fear, poor child, for she did not breakfast
with me," replied the earl. "Mason privately told me that she was in
a convulsion of grief. A bad man, a _bad_ man, was Mount Severn," he
emphatically added, as he rose and rang the bell.

"L