vision the name of Mr. Caspar Goodwood. She let the servant stand before her inquiringly for some instants, without signifying her wishes.
"Shall I show the gentleman up, ma'am?" he asked at last, with a slightly encouraging inflection.
Isabel hesitated still, and while she hesitated she glanced at the mirror.
"He may come in," she said at last; and waited for him with some emotion.
Caspar Goodwood came in and shook hands with her. He said nothing till the servant had left the room again, then he said—
"Why didn't you answer my letter?"
He spoke in a quick, full, slightly peremptory tone—the tone of a man whose questions were usually pointed, and who was capable of much insistence.
Isabel answered him by a question.
"How did you know I was here?"
"Miss Stackpole let me know," said Caspar Goodwood. "She told me that you would probably be at home alone this evening, and would be willing to see me."
"Where did she see you—to tell you that?"
"She didn't see me; she wrote to me."
Isabel was silent; neither of them had seated themselves; they stood there with a certain air of defiance, or at least of contention.
"Henrietta never told me that she was writing to you," Isabel said at last. "This is not kind of her."
"Is it so disagreeable to you to see me?" asked the young man.
"I didn't expect it. I don't like such surprises."
