le approach
from her window, and went down to the drawing-room, not in the least
knowing what her answer was to be; a shadowy idea was presenting itself,
that she would ask him for longer time, and write her answer.

In the drawing-room was Francis Levison, and her heart beat wildly;
which said beating might have convinced her that she ought not to marry
another.

"Where have you been hiding yourself?" cried he. "Did you hear of our
mishap with the pony carriage?"

"No," was her answer.

"I was driving Emma into town. The pony took fright, kicked, plunged and
went down upon his knees; she took fright in turn, got out, and walked
back. So I gave the brute some chastisement and a race, and brought him
to the stables, getting home in time to be introduced to Mr. Carlyle. He
seems an out-and-out good fellow, Isabel, and I congratulate you."

"What!" she uttered.

"Don't start. We are all in the family, and my lady told; I won't betray
it abroad. She says East Lynne is a place to be coveted; I wish you
happiness, Isabel."

"Thank you," she returned in a sarcastic tone, though her throat beat
and her lips quivered. "You are premature in your congratulations,
Captain Levison."

"Am I? Keep my good wishes, then, till the right man comes. I am beyond
the pale myself, and dare not think of entering the happy state," he
added, in a pointed tone. "I have indulged dreams of it, like others,
but I cannot afford to indulge them seriously; a poor man, with
uncertain prospects can only play the butterfly, perhaps to his life's
end."

He quitted the room as he spoke. It was impossible for Isabel to
misunderstand him, but a feeling shot across her mind, for the first
time, that he was false and heartless. One of the servants appeared,
showing in Mr. Carlyle; nothing false or heartless about _him_. He
closed the door, and approached her, but she did not speak, and her lips
were white and trembling. Mr. Carlyle waited.

"Well," he said at length, in a gentle tone, "have you decided to grant
my prayer?"

"Yes. But--" She could not go on. What with one agitation and another,
she had difficulty in conquering her emotion. "But--I was going to tell
you----"

"Presently," he whispered, leading her to a sofa, "we can both afford to
wait now. Oh, Isabel, you have made me very happy!"

"I ought to tell you, I must tell you," she began again, in the midst
of hysterical tears. "Though I have said 'yes' to your proposal, I do
not--ye