oposal of marriage last week; what they call--no doubt--a dazzling
one."

"I'm very glad to hear it," said the young man gravely.

"It was a proposal many girls would have accepted; it had everything to
recommend it." Isabel had not proposed to herself to tell this story,
but, now she had begun, the satisfaction of speaking it out and doing
herself justice took possession of her. "I was offered a great position
and a great fortune--by a person whom I like extremely."

Caspar watched her with intense interest. "Is he an Englishman?"

"He's an English nobleman," said Isabel.

Her visitor received this announcement at first in silence, but at last
said: "I'm glad he's disappointed."

"Well then, as you have companions in misfortune, make the best of it."

"I don't call him a companion," said Casper grimly.

"Why not--since I declined his offer absolutely?"

"That doesn't make him my companion. Besides, he's an Englishman."

"And pray isn't an Englishman a human being?" Isabel asked.

"Oh, those people They're not of my humanity, and I don't care what
becomes of them."

"You're very angry," said the girl. "We've discussed this matter quite
enough."

"Oh yes, I'm very angry. I plead guilty to that!"

She turned away from him, walked to the open window and stood a moment
looking into the dusky void of the street, where a turbid gaslight
alone represented social animation. For some time neither of these young
persons spoke; Caspar lingered near the chimney-piece with eyes gloomily
attached. She had virtually requested him to go--he knew that; but at
the risk of making himself odious he kept his ground. She was far too
dear to him to be easily renounced, and he had crossed the sea all to
wring from her some scrap of a vow. Presently she left the window and
stood again before him. "You do me very little justice--after my telling
you what I told you just now. I'm sorry I told you--since it matters so
little to you."

"Ah," cried the young man, "if you were thinking of ME when you did it!"
And then he paused with the fear that she might contradict so happy a
thought.

"I was thinking of you a little," said Isabel.

"A little? I don't understand. If the knowledge of what I feel for you
had any weight with you at all, calling it a 'little' is a poor account
of it."

Isabel shook her head as if to carry off a blunder. "I've refused a most
kind, noble gentleman. Make the most of that."

"I thank you then," said