not long enough for her companion to reply. He was apparently on the point of doing so, when she went on—"Let me say this to you, Mr. Goodwood. You are so kind as to speak of being afraid of my marrying. If you should hear a rumour that I am on the point of doing so—girls are liable to have such things said about them—remember what I have told you about my love of liberty, and venture to doubt it."
There was something almost passionately positive in the tone in which Isabel gave him this advice, and he saw a shining candour in her eyes which helped him to believe her. On the whole he felt reassured, and you might have perceived it by the manner in which he said, quite eagerly—"You want simply to travel for two years? I am quite willing to wait two years, and you may do what you like in the interval. If that is all you want, pray say so. I don't want you to be conventional; do I strike you as conventional myself? Do you want to improve your mind? Your mind is quite good enough for me; but if it interests you to wander about a while and see different countries, I shall be delighted to help you, in any way in my power."
"You are very generous; that is nothing new to me. The best way to help me will be to put as many hundred miles of sea between us as possible."
"One would think you were going to commit a crime!" said Caspar Goodwood.
"Perhaps I am. I wish to be free even to do that, if the fancy takes me."
"Well then," he said, slowly, "I will go home." And he put out his hand, trying to look contented and confident.
Isabel's confidence in him, however, was greater than any he could feel in her. Not that he thought her capable of commit-
