THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY. 253 he repeated more than once that he had not expected to meet her, and it was evident that the encounter touched him in a way that would have made preparation advisable. He had abrupt alternations of gaiety and gravity ; he appeared at one moment to seek his neighbour's eye and at 'the next to avoid it. He was splendidly sunburnt ; even his multitudinous beard seemed to have been burnished by the fire of Asia. He was dressed in the loose-fitting, heterogeneous garments in which the English traveller in foreign lands is wont to consult his comfort and affirm his nationality; and with his clear grey eye, his bronzed complexion, fresh beneath its brownness, his manly figure, his modest manner, and his general air of being a gentle- man and an explorer, he was such a representative of the British race as need not in any clime have been disavowed by those who have a kindness for it. Isabel noted these things, and was glad she had always liked Lord Warburton. He was evidently as likeable as before, and the tone of his voice, which she had formerly thought delightful, was as good as an assurance that he would never change for the worse. They talked about the matters that were naturally in order; her uncle's death, Ralph's state of health, the way she had passed her winter, her visit to Rome, her return to Florence, her plans for the summer, the hotel she was staying at ; and then Lord Warburton's own adventures, movements, intentions, impressions and present domicile. At last there was a silence, and she knew what he was thinking of. His eyes were fixed on the ground; but at last he raised them and said gravely "I have written to you several times." " Written to me? I have never got your letters." " I never sent them. I burned them up." " Ah," said Isabel with a laugh, " it was better that you should do that than I ! " " I thought you wouldn't care about them," he went on, with a simplicity that might have touched her. " It seemed to me that after all I had no right to trouble you with letters." " I should have been very glad to have news of you. You know that I hoped that that " Isabel stopped ; it seemed to her there would be a certain flatness in the utterance of her thought. " I know what you are going to say. You hoped we should always remain good friends." This formula, as Lord Warburton uttered it, was certainly flat enough ; but then he was interested in making it appear so. Isabel found herself reduced simply to saying " Please don't
