t him, and she looked forward
to doing so almost with fear and trembling. On one point she had made
up her mind, or thought that she had made up her mind. As she had
refused him when supposed to be heiress of Llanfeare, she certainly
would not accept him, should he feel himself constrained by a sense
of honour to renew his offer to her now that her position was so
different. She had not accused him in her own heart of having come
to her because of her supposed wealth. Thinking well of him in other
matters, she thought well of him also in that. But still there was
the fact that she had refused him when supposed to be an heiress; and
not even to secure her happiness would she allow him to think that
she accepted him because of her altered circumstances. And yet she
was in love with him, and had now acknowledged to herself that it was
so. Her position in this as in all things seemed to be so cruel! Had
she been the heiress of Llanfeare she could not have married him,
because it would then have been her duty to comply with the wishes of
her uncle. No such duty would now be imposed upon her, at any rate
after her uncle's death. As simple Isabel Brodrick she might marry
whom she would without bringing discredit upon the Indefer Joneses.
But that which she had been constrained to do before her uncle had
changed his purpose now tied her hands.

It did seem to her cruel; but she told herself that it was peculiarly
her duty to bear such cruelty without complaint. Of her uncle's
intense love to her she was fully aware, and, loving him as warmly,
was prepared to bear everything on his account. His vacillation had
been unfortunate for her, but in everything he had done the best
according to his lights. Perhaps there was present to her mind
something of the pride of a martyr. Perhaps she gloried a little in
the hardship of her position. But she was determined to have her
glory and her martyrdom all to herself. No human being should ever
hear from her lips a word of complaint against her Uncle Indefer.

The day after her arrival her father asked her a few questions as to
her uncle's intentions in reference to the property.

"I think it is all settled," she said. "I think it has been left to
my Cousin Henry."

"Then he has changed his mind," said her father angrily. "He did mean
to make you his heiress?"

"Henry is at Llanfeare now, and Henry will be his heir."

"Why has he changed? Nothing can be more unjust than to make a
pro