112 THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY. Lord Warburton' s glance had wandered a good deal, but at this it met the gaze of his neighbour. " Oh, yes," he answered, in a moment ; " the women go in for those things. The silver cross is worn by the eldest daughters of Viscounts." This was his harmless revenge for having occasionally had his credulity too easily engaged in America. After lunch he proposed ~to Isabel to come into the gallery and look at the pictures ; and though she knew that he had seen the pictures twenty times, she complied without criticising this pretext. Her conscience now was very easy ; ever since she sent him her letter she had felt particularly light of spirit. He walked slowly to the end of the gallery, staring at the paintings and saying nothing; and then he suddenly broke out " I hoped you wouldn't write to me that way." " It was the only way, Lord Warburton," said the girl. " Do try and believe that." rt If I could believe it, of course I should let you alone. But we can't believe by willing it; and I confess I don't understand. I could understand your disliking me ; that I could understand well. But that you should admit what you do " "What have I admitted?" Isabel interrupted, blushing a little. " That you think me a good fellow ; isn't that it ? " She said nothing, and' he went on " You don't seem to have any reason, and that gives me a sense of injustice." " I have a reason, Lord Warburton," said the girl ; and she said it in a tone that made his heart contract. "I should like very much to know it." ^ " I will tell you some day when there is more to show for it." " Excuse my saying that in the meantime I must doubt of it." " You make me very unhappy," said Isabel. " I am not sorry for that ; it may help you to know how I feel. Will you kindly answer me a question "? " Isabel made no audible assent, but he apparently saw something in her eyes which gave him courage to go on. " Do you prefer some one else?" "That's a question I would rather not answer." " Ah, you do then ! " her suitor murmured with bitterness. The bitterness touched her, and she cried out " You are mistaken ! I don't." He sat down on a bench, unceremoniously, doggedly, like a
