t me pluck a single flower! I've no right to say that, I know;
and you've no right to listen. But you don't listen; you never listen,
you're always thinking of something else. After this I must go, of
course; so I shall at least have a reason. Your asking me is no reason,
not a real one. I can't judge by your husband," he went on irrelevantly,
almost incoherently; "I don't understand him; he tells me you adore each
other. Why does he tell me that? What business is it of mine? When I say
that to you, you look strange. But you always look strange. Yes, you've
something to hide. It's none of my business--very true. But I love you,"
said Caspar Goodwood.

As he said, she looked strange. She turned her eyes to the door by which
they had entered and raised her fan as if in warning.

"You've behaved so well; don't spoil it," she uttered softly.

"No one hears me. It's wonderful what you tried to put me off with. I
love you as I've never loved you."

"I know it. I knew it as soon as you consented to go."

"You can't help it--of course not. You would if you could, but
you can't, unfortunately. Unfortunately for me, I mean. I ask
nothing--nothing, that is, I shouldn't. But I do ask one sole
satisfaction:--that you tell me--that you tell me--!"

"That I tell you what?"

"Whether I may pity you."

"Should you like that?" Isabel asked, trying to smile again.

"To pity you? Most assuredly! That at least would be doing something.
I'd give my life to it."

She raised her fan to her face, which it covered all except her eyes.
They rested a moment on his. "Don't give your life to it; but give a
thought to it every now and then." And with that she went back to the
Countess Gemini.

CHAPTER XLIX

Madame Merle had not made her appearance at Palazzo Roccanera on the
evening of that Thursday of which I have narrated some of the incidents,
and Isabel, though she observed her absence, was not surprised by it.
Things had passed between them which added no stimulus to sociability,
and to appreciate which we must glance a little backward. It has been
mentioned that Madame Merle returned from Naples shortly after Lord
Warburton had left Rome, and that on her first meeting with Isabel
(whom, to do her justice, she came immediately to see) her first
utterance had been an enquiry as to the whereabouts of this nobleman,
for whom she appeared to hold her dear friend accountable.

"Please don't talk of him," said Isabel for answer; "w