e mixed with other
debates. Isabel liked better to think of the future than of the past;
but at times, as she listened to the murmur of the Mediterranean waves,
her glance took a backward flight. It rested upon two figures which, in
spite of increasing distance, were still sufficiently salient; they were
recognisable without difficulty as those of Caspar Goodwood and Lord
Warburton. It was strange how quickly these images of energy had fallen
into the background of our young lady's life. It was in her disposition
at all times to lose faith in the reality of absent things; she could
summon back her faith, in case of need, with an effort, but the effort
was often painful even when the reality had been pleasant. The past was
apt to look dead and its revival rather to show the livid light of a
judgement-day. The girl moreover was not prone to take for granted that
she herself lived in the mind of others--she had not the fatuity to
believe she left indelible traces. She was capable of being wounded by
the discovery that she had been forgotten; but of all liberties the one
she herself found sweetest was the liberty to forget. She had not given
her last shilling, sentimentally speaking, either to Caspar Goodwood or
to Lord Warburton, and yet couldn't but feel them appreciably in debt
to her. She had of course reminded herself that she was to hear from Mr.
Goodwood again; but this was not to be for another year and a half, and
in that time a great many things might happen. She had indeed failed to
say to herself that her American suitor might find some other girl more
comfortable to woo; because, though it was certain many other girls
would prove so, she had not the smallest belief that this merit
would attract him. But she reflected that she herself might know the
humiliation of change, might really, for that matter, come to the end of
the things that were not Caspar (even though there appeared so many of
them), and find rest in those very elements of his presence which struck
her now as impediments to the finer respiration. It was conceivable
that these impediments should some day prove a sort of blessing
in disguise--a clear and quiet harbour enclosed by a brave granite
breakwater. But that day could only come in its order, and she couldn't
wait for it with folded hands. That Lord Warburton should continue
to cherish her image seemed to her more than a noble humility or an
enlightened pride ought to wish to reckon with. She ha