ing. But she had other convictions also, which were perhaps
stronger. "Now that we have met, am I to lose you again?" he had
said. What could he mean by losing, except that she was the one thing
which he desired to find? But she had not seen him since, or heard a
word of his whereabouts, although, as she so well remembered, she had
given him an address at her Aunt Emmeline's,--not knowing then that
it would be her fate to become a resident in her Aunt Emmeline's
house. She had told him that Ayala would live there, and that perhaps
she might sometimes be found visiting Ayala. Now, she was herself
filling Ayala's place, and might so easily have been found. But she
knew nothing of the man who had once asked whether he was "to lose
her again."

Her own feelings about Isadore Hamel were clear enough to herself
now. Ayala in her hot humour had asked her whether she could give her
hand and her heart to such a one as their cousin Tom, and she had
found herself constrained to say that she could not do so, because
she was not free,--not quite free,--to do as she pleased with her
hand and her heart. She had striven hard not to acknowledge anything,
even to Ayala,--even to herself. But the words had been forced
from her, and now she was conscious, terribly conscious, that the
words were true. There could be no one else now, whether Tom or
another,--whether such as Tom or such as any other. It was just that
little word that had won her. "Am I to lose you again?" A girl loves
most often because she is loved,--not from choice on her part. She is
won by the flattery of the man's desire. "Am I to lose you again?" He
had seemed to throw all his soul into his voice and into his eyes as
he had asked the question. A sudden thrill had filled her, and, for
his sake,--for his sake,--she had hoped that she might not be lost to
him. Now she began to fear that he was lost to her.

Something has been told of the relations between Isadore Hamel and
his father. They were both sculptors, the father having become a
successful artist. The father was liberal, but he was essentially
autocratic. If he supplied to his son the means of living,--and
he was willing to supply the means of very comfortable life,--he
expected that his son should live to some extent in accordance with
his fancies. The father wished his son to live in Rome, and to live
after the manner of Romans. Isadore would prefer to live in London,
and after the manner of Londoners. For a ti