He interrupted with eager apologies, and soon they reached her home.
Captain Levison entered with her--uninvited. He probably deemed between
connections great ceremonies might be dispensed with, and he sat a
quarter of an hour, chatting to amuse her. When he rose, he inquired
what she meant to do with herself in the afternoon.

"To lie down," replied Isabel. "I am not strong enough to sit up all
day."

"Should you be going out afterwards, you must allow me to take care of
you," he observed. "I am glad that I happened to be here, for I am sure
you are not fit to wander out without an arm, and only followed by a
servant. When Mr. Carlyle comes, he will thank me for my pains."

What was she to urge in objection? Simply nothing. He spoke, let us not
doubt, from a genuine wish to serve her, in a plain, easy tone, as any
acquaintance might speak. Lady Isabel schooled herself severely. If
those old feelings were not quite dead within her, why, she must
smother them down again as effectually as if they were; the very fact of
recognizing such to her own heart, brought a glow of shame to her brow.
She would meet Captain Levison, and suffer his companionship, as she
would that of the most indifferent stranger.

It was just the wrong way for her to go to work, though.

As the days passed on, Lady Isabel improved wonderfully. She was soon
able to go to the sands in the morning and sit there to enjoy the sea
air, watching the waves come up to recede with the tide. She made no
acquaintance whatever in the place, and when she had a companion it was
Captain Levison. He would frequently join her there, sometimes take her,
almost always give her his arm home. Of all things, she disliked the
having to take his arm, would a thousand times over rather have taken
good old Peter's. A secret prick of the conscience whispered it might be
better if she did not. One day she said, in a joking sort of manner--she
would not say it in any other--that now she was strong, she had no need
of his arm and his escort. He demanded, in evident astonishment, what
had arisen that he might not still afford it, seeing her husband was not
with her to give her his. She had no answer in reply to this, no excuse
to urge, and, in default of one, took his arm, as usual. In the evening
he would be ready to take her to the pier, but they sat apart, mixing
not with the bustling crowd--he lending to his manner, as he conversed
with her, all that he would call up of