came across them, but it
was evident that she was no longer an automaton to be moved at their will
and pleasure, but a woman and an artist, mistress of herself and of her
fate. Kendal fell into conversation on the subject with Mrs. Stuart, who
was as communicative and amusing as usual, and who chattered away to him
till he suddenly saw Miss Bretherton signalling to him with her arm in
that of his sister.

'Do you know, Mr. Kendal,' she said as he went up to her, 'you must
really take Madame de Chateauvieux away out of this noise and crowd? It
is all very well for her to preach to me. Take her to your rooms and
get her some food. How I wish I could entertain you here; but with this
crowd it is impossible.'

'Isabel, my dear Isabel,' cried Madame de Chateauvieux, holding her,
'can't you slip away too, and leave Mr. Wallace to do the honours? There
will be nothing left of you to-morrow.'

'Yes, directly, directly! only I feel as if sleep were a thing that did
not exist for me. But you must certainly go. Take her, Mr. Kendal;
doesn't she look a wreck? I will tell M. de Chateauvieux and send
him after you.'

She took Marie's shawl from Kendal's arm and put it tenderly round her;
then she smiled down into her eyes, said a low 'good-night, best and
kindest of friends!' and the brother and sister hurried away, Kendal
dropping the hand which had been cordially stretched out to himself.

'Do you mind, Eustace?' said Madame de Chateauvieux, as they walked
across the stage. 'I ought to go, and the party ought to break up. But it
is a shame to carry you off from so many friends.'

'Mind? Why, I have ordered supper for you in my rooms, and it is just
midnight. I hope these people will have the sense to go soon. Now then,
for a cab.'

They alighted at the gate of the Temple, and, as they walked across the
quadrangle under a sky still heavy with storm-clouds, Madame de
Chateauvieux said to her brother with a sigh: 'Well, it has been a great
event. I never remember anything more exciting, or more successful. But
there is one thing, I think, that would make me happier than a hundred
Elviras, and that is to see Isabel Bretherton the wife of a man she
loved!' Then a smile broke over her face as she looked at her
brother.

'Do you know, Eustace, I quite made up my mind from those first letters
of yours in May, in spite of your denials, that you were very deeply
taken with her? I remember quite seriously discussing the pros and con