t these notes to you so long! Take them!"

Sir Francis took the notes from her hand and placed them on a stand near
to her.

"If it be your wish that all relations should end between us, why, let
it be so," he said. "I must confess I think it may be the wisest course,
as things have come to this pass; for a cat and dog life, which would
seemingly be ours, is not agreeable. Remember, though, that it is your
doing, not mine. But you cannot think I am going to see you starve,
Isabel. A sum--we will fix upon the amount amicably--shall be placed to
your credit half-yearly, and--"

"I beg of you to cease," she passionately interrupted. "What do you take
me for?"

"Take you for! Why, how can you live? You have no fortune--you must
receive assistance from some one."

"I will not receive it from you. If the whole world denied me, and I
could find no help from strangers, or means of earning my own bread, and
it was necessary that I should still exist, I would apply to my husband
for means, rather than to you. In saying this, it ought to convince you
that the topic may cease."

"Your husband!" sarcastically rejoined Sir Francis. "Generous man!"

A flush, deep and painful, dyed her cheeks. "I should have said my late
husband. You need not have reminded me of the mistake."

"If you will accept nothing for yourself, you must for the child. He, at
any rate, falls to my share. I shall give you a few hundred a year with
him."

She beat her hands before her, as if beating off the man and his words.
"Not a farthing, now or ever. Were you to attempt to send money to him,
I would throw it into the nearest river. _Whom_ do you take me for? What
do you take me for?" she repeated, rising in her bitter mortification.
"If you have put me beyond the pale of the world, I am still Lord Mount
Severn's daughter!"

"You did as much toward putting yourself beyond its pale as--"

"Don't I know it? Have I not said so?" she sharply interrupted. And then
she sat, striving to calm herself, clasping together her shaking hands.

"Well, if you will persist in this perverse resolution, I cannot mend
it," resumed Sir Francis. "In a little time you may probably wish to
recall it; in which case a line, addressed to me at my banker's, will--"

Lady Isabel drew herself up. "Put away those notes, if you please," she
interrupted, not allowing him to finish his sentence.

He took out his pocket-book and placed the bank notes within it.

"Your clothes-