"Ah," cried the young man, "if you were thinking of me when you did it!" And then he paused, with the fear that she might contradict so happy a thought.
"I was thinking of you a little," said Isabel.
"A little? I don't understand. If the knowledge that I love you had any weight with you at all, it must have had a good deal."
Isabel shook her head impatiently, as if to carry off a blush. "I have refused a noble gentleman. Make the most of that."
"I thank you, then," said Caspar Goodwood, gravely. "I thank you immensely."
"And now you had better go home."
"May I not see you again?" he asked.
"I think it is better not. You will be sure to talk of this, and you see it leads to nothing."
"I promise you not to say a word that will annoy you."
Isabel reflected a little, and then she said—"I return in a day or two to my uncle's, and I can't propose to you to come there; it would be very inconsistent."
Caspar Goodwood, on his side, debated within himself. "You must do me justice too. I received an invitation to your uncle's more than a week ago, and I declined it."
"From whom was your invitation?" Isabel asked, surprised.
"From Mr. Ralph Touchett, whom I suppose to be your cousin. I declined it because I had not your authorisation to accept it. The suggestion that Mr. Touchett should invite me appeared to have come from Miss Stackpole."
"It certainly did not come from me. Henrietta certainly goes very far," Isabel added.
"Don't be too hard on her—that touches me."
"No; if you declined, that was very proper of you, and I thank you for it." And Isabel gave a little shudder of
