ho made
bad verses; and then he went on as a fantastic young Viscount, skipping
and talking nonsense.'

'Oh!' cried Isabel, much discomposed. 'Did I leave that piece there? I
took it to Estminster by mistake, and they told me of it. I should
have taken it out.'

'That would have been a pity,' said Louis, 'for the Viscount is a much
more living man than the old troubadour. When he had so many plans of
poems for the golden violet that he made none at all, I was quite taken
with him. I began to think I was going to have a lesson.'

Isabel blushed and tried to laugh, but it was so unsuccessful that
Louis exclaimed in high glee--'There! I do believe I was the fantastic
Viscount! Oh! Isabel, it was too bad! I can fairly acquit myself of
skipping ever since I had the honour of your acquaintance.'

'Or of running away from the pirates,' said Isabel. 'No, it was a
great deal too bad, and very wrong indeed. It was when you did not run
away that I was so much ashamed, that I thought I had torn out every
atom. I never told any one--not even Virginia!'

Louis had a very hearty laugh, and, when Isabel gaw him so excessively
amused, she ventured to laugh too at her ancient prejudice, and the
strange chance which had made the fantastic Viscount, Sir Roland's
critic.

'You must restore him,' said Louis, returning to business. 'That old
troubadour is the one inconsistency in the story, evidently not fitting
into the original plot. I shall be delighted to sit for the portrait.'

'I don't think you could now,' said Isabel. 'I think the motley must
have been in the spectacles with which I looked at you.'

'Ah! it is a true poem,' said Louis, 'it must have been a great relief
to your feelings! Shall I give it back to you?

'Oh! I can't touch it now!' cried Isabel. 'You may give it to me, and
if ever I have time to think again of it, I may touch it up, but
certainly not now.'

'And when you do, pray don't omit the Viscount. I can't lose my chance
of going down to posterity.'

He went his way, while Isabel repaired to the Terrace, and found
Charlotte awaiting her answer in much trepidation.

The low wages, instead of none at all, were a great disappointment,
doing away with all the honour and sentiment, and merely degrading her
in the eyes of her companions; but her attachment conquered this
objection, and face to face with her mistress, the affectation
departed, and left remaining such honest and sincere faithf