have been since you came—how much we owe to your kindness! I had no idea that life could be so pleasant till we knew you;" and again poor Isabella's voice failed.
Mr. Glentworth rose, and took one or two turns up and down the room; suddenly he caught Isabella's eyes fixed upon him with such a look of wretchedness that his heart smote him. He thought on the lonely and unprotected state of such singularly lovely girls—he could not be blind to what Isabella's feeling was to himself, so unconsciously, so innocently betrayed—he felt that he was not only their sole friend, but that he possessed the power to make that friendship available in many ways, while he was scarcely able to do so in their peculiar situation. A sudden impulse led to an equally sudden resolution—he took a seat by Isabella's side, and took her little, cold, trembling hand in his own.
"My dear girl," said he, very kindly, "I have a great deal to say to you. Will you listen to me, patiently?"
Isabella's eyes, even more than her words, assured him that her patience would be little tried while listening to him. "Are you aware," asked he, "of why I have not been to see you during the last fortnight?" His companion looked astonished. "The fact is," continued he, "Lady Anne fears that my visits here may prove detrimental to what she considers your best interests. I thought myself an old, safe friend;
