mise in such a matter and then to break it."

"Who says that he made a promise? You have never heard anything
of the kind from me. Papa, I would so much rather not talk about
Llanfeare. Ever since I have known him, Uncle Indefer has been all
love to me. I would not allow a thought of mine to be polluted by
ingratitude towards him. Whatever he has done, he has done because he
has thought it to be the best. Perhaps I ought to tell you that he
has made some charge on the property on my behalf, which will prevent
my being a burden upon you."

A week or ten days after this, when she had been nearly a fortnight
at Hereford, she was told that William Owen was coming in to drink
tea. This communication was made to her by her stepmother, in
that serious tone which is always intended to convey a matter of
importance. Had any other minor canon or any other gentleman been
coming to tea, the fact would have been announced in a different
manner.

"I shall be delighted to see him," said Isabel, suppressing with her
usual fortitude any slightest symptom of emotion.

"I hope you will, my dear. I am sure he is very anxious to see you."

Then Mr Owen came and drank his tea in the midst of the family.
Isabel could perceive that he was somewhat confused,--not quite able
to talk in his usual tone, and that he was especially anxious as
to his manner towards her. She took her part in the conversation
as though there were nothing peculiar in the meeting. She spoke of
Llanfeare, of her uncle's failing health, and of her cousin's visit,
taking care to indicate by some apparently chance word, that Henry
was received there as the heir. She played her part well, evincing no
sign of special feeling but her ear was awake to the slightest tone
in his voice after he had received the information she had given
him. She knew that his voice was altered, but she did not read the
alteration altogether aright.

"I shall call in the morning," he said, as he gave her his hand
at parting. There was no pressure of the hand, but still he had
addressed himself especially to her.

Why should he come in the morning? She had made up her mind, at the
spur of the moment, that the news which he had heard had settled that
matter for ever. But if so, why should he come in the morning? Then
she felt, as she sat alone in her room, that she had done him a foul
injustice in that spur of the moment. It must be that she had done
him an injustice, or he would not have sai