"What was it then?"
"It was a very quiet conversation."
Henrietta for a moment contemplated her friend.
"It must have been awful," she then remarked. And Isabel did not deny that it had been awful. But she confined herself to answering Henrietta's questions, which was easy, as they were tolerably definite. For the present she offered her no new information. "Well," said Miss Stackpole at last, "I have only one criticism to make. I don't see why you promised little Miss Osmond to go back."
"I am not sure that I see myself, now," Isabel replied. "But I did then."
"If you have forgotten your reason perhaps you won't return."
Isabel for a moment said nothing, then—
"Perhaps I shall find another," she rejoined.
"You will certainly never find a good one."
"In default of a better, my having promised will do," Isabel suggested.
"Yes; that's why I hate it."
"Don't speak of it now. I have a little time. Coming away was hard; but going back will be harder still."
"You must remember, after all, that he won't make a scene!" said Henrietta, with much intention.
"He will, though," Isabel answered gravely. "It will not be the scene of a moment; it will be a scene that will last always."
For some minutes the two women sat gazing at this prospect; and then Miss Stackpole, to change the subject, as Isabel had requested, announced abruptly—
"I have been to stay with Lady Pensil!"
