THE POETRAIT OF A LADY. 263 hear it. It was, perhaps, because she had ceased to be afraid of his renewing his suit ; she was thinking of something else. She was on the point of saying she was sorry, but she checked herself and simply wished him a happy journey. He looked at her with a somewhat heavy eye. " I am afraid you think me rather inconsistent," he said. " I told you the other day that I wanted so much to stay a while." "Oh no ; you could easily change your mind." " That's what I have done." " Bon voyage, then." " You're in a great hurry to get rid of me," said his lordship, rather dismally. " Not in the least. But I hate partings." " You don't care what I do," he went on pitifully. Isabel looked at him for a moment. " Ah," she said, " you are not keeping your promise ! " He coloured like a boy of fifteen. " If I am not, then it's because I can't ; and that's why I am going." "Good-bye, then." "Good-bye." He lingered still, however. "When shall I see you again 1 " Isabel hesitated, and then, as if she had had a happy inspira- tion " Some day after you are married." " That will never be. It will be after you are." " That will do as well," said Isabel, smiliDg. " Yes, quite as well. Good-bye." They shook hands, and he left her alone in the beautiful room, among the shining antique marbles. She sat down in the middle of the circle of statues, looking at them vaguely, resting her eyes on their beautiful blank faces ; listening, as it were, to their eternal silence. It is impossible, in Eome at least, to look long at a great company of Greek sculptures without feeling the effect of their noble quietude. It soothes and moderates the spirit, it purifies the imagination. I say in Eome especially, because the Koman air is an exquisite medium for such im- pressions. The golden sunshine mingles with them, the great stillness of the past, so vivid yet, though it is nothing but a void full of names, seems to throw a solemn spell upon them. The blinds were partly closed in the windows of the Capitol, and a clear, warm shadow rested on the figures and made them more perfectly human. Isabel sat there a long time, under the charm of their motionless grace, seeing life between their gazing eyelids and purpose in their marble lips. The dark red walls
