ered incense along with the angel. I grow sick with fear
for you--for both you and me--when I think how the Will against us two
has grown strong through the love you have given the angel--and how
long your own sweet Will has served that other. Are you strong enough,
Isabel? Can you make the fight? I promise you that if you will take
heart for it, you will find so quickly that it has all amounted
to nothing. You shall have happiness, and, in a little while, only
happiness. You need only to write me a line--I can't come to your
house--and tell me where you will meet me. We will come back in a month,
and the angel in your son will bring him to you; I promise it. What
is good in him will grow so fine, once you have beaten the turbulent
Will--but it must be beaten!

Your brother, that good friend, is waiting with such patience; I should
not keep him longer--and I am saying too much for wisdom, I fear. But,
oh, my dear, won't you be strong--such a little short strength it would
need! Don't strike my life down twice, dear--this time I've not deserved
it. Eugene.

Concluding this missive, George tossed it abruptly from him so that one
sheet fell upon his bed and the others upon the floor; and at the faint
noise of their falling Isabel came, and, kneeling, began to gather them
up.

"Did you read it, dear?"

George's face was pale no longer, but pink with fury. "Yes, I did."

"All of it?" she asked gently, as she rose.

"Certainly!"

She did not look at him, but kept her eyes downcast upon the letter in
her hands, tremulously rearranging the sheets in order as she spoke--and
though she smiled, her smile was as tremulous as her hands. Nervousness
and an irresistible timidity possessed her. "I--I wanted to say,
George," she faltered. "I felt that if--if some day it should happen--I
mean, if you came to feel differently about it, and Eugene and I--that
is if we found that it seemed the most sensible thing to do--I was
afraid you might think it would be a little queer about--Lucy, I mean
if--if she were your step-sister. Of course, she'd not be even legally
related to you, and if you--if you cared for her--"

Thus far she got stumblingly with what she wanted to say, while George
watched her with a gaze that grew harder and hotter; but here he cut her
off. "I have already given up all idea of Lucy," he said. "Naturally,
I couldn't have treated her father as I deliberately did treat him--I
cou