with his want of self-control, when, on
entering another room, he saw Lady Mabel seated between two old
ladies, having ensconced herself there to get rid of the small
_savant_.

She no longer looked discomposed or angry, nor did she turn her eyes
away on his approach. She almost seemed to wish to speak to him. So
he offered his arm, and they walked toward the room he had just left.

"I know that you are too proud," she said, "to ask any pardon for the
attack you made on me just now. So I wish to tell you that I have
already forgiven it."

"That is truly generous," said L'Isle, with haughty irony. "You prove
the adage false which says, 'The injurer never forgives.'"

"Say you so? I see then that you have gone back years to dig up old
offences. Although I remember, to repent of them, I trusted that you
would have willingly forgiven and forgot my folly, or only recall it
to laugh at it. I know now," she said, stealing a look at him, "that
you are of an unforgetting, unforgiving temper." Then looking away,
she added, "I thought better of you once."

"There are some things," answered L'Isle, but in a softened tone, "not
to be forgotten, nor easily forgiven."

"I assure you," said Lady Mabel, with the air of a penitent, "I have
been terribly ashamed of myself ever since. Had I known that you still
viewed my thoughtless conduct as a serious wrong to you, I would
willingly have made you any apology, any reparation."

"Apologies would hardly reach the evil," said L'Isle. "But any
reparation! That is a broad term."

"Any, I mean, that you ought to ask, or I to make."

"There would be no absolute impropriety in my asking a good deal,"
said L'Isle, in tones that reminded Lady Mabel of some witching
moments in Elvas, "I will not make the blunder of asking too little,"
he added resolutely. "Let me first ask when you will be at home
to-morrow--at three?"

"Certainly at three; more certainly at two," she answered in a low
tone.

"And most certainly at one," said he joyously. "I like your
superlative degree of comparison."

"I only meant," she said, yet more confused, "that I am more likely to
be at home alone at two." And turning quickly away, she took a vacant
seat beside one of her friends, to whom, while fanning herself, she
complained of the heated room. She seemed, indeed, quite overcome by
it, which accounted for her labored breathing and heightened color.

* * * * *

"After all,"