The words brought a bitter pang to Lady Isabel.

“Not enough to eat!  Never to taste meat!” And she, in her carelessness, her ignorance, her indifference—­she scarcely knew what term to give it—­had not thought to order him a meal in their house of plenty!  He had walked from West Lynne, occupied himself an hour with her piano, and set off to walk back again, battling with his hunger.  A word from her, and a repast had been set before him out of their superfluities such as he never sat down to, and that word she had not spoken.

“You are looking grave, Lady Isabel.”

“I’m taking contrition to myself.  Never mind, it cannot now be helped, but it will always be a dark spot on my memory.”

“What is it?”

She lifted her repentant face to his and smiled.  “Never mind, I say, Mr. Carlyle; what is past cannot be recalled.  He looks like a gentleman.”

“Who?  Kane?  A gentleman bred; his father was a clergyman.  Kane’s ruin was his love of music—­it prevented his settling to any better paid profession; his early marriage also was a drawback and kept him down.  He is young still.”

“Mr. Carlyle I would not be one of your West Lynne people for the world.  Here is a young gentleman struggling with adversity, and you won’t put out your hand to help him!”

He smiled at her warmth.  “Some of us will take tickets—­I, for one; but I don’t know about attending the concert.  I fear few would do that.”

“Because that’s just the thing that would serve him?  If one went, another would.  Well, I shall try and show West Lynne that I don’t take a lesson from their book; I shall be there before it begins, and never come out till the last song’s over.  I am not too grand to go, if West Lynne is.”

“You surely do not think of going?”

“I surely do think of it; and papa goes with me—­I persuaded him; and I have given Mr. Kane the promise.”

Mr. Carlyle paused.  “I am glad to hear it; it will be a perfect boon to Kane.  If it once gets abroad that Lord Mount Severn and Lady Isabel intend to honor the concert, there won’t be standing room.”

She danced round with a little gleeful step.  “What high and mighty personages Lord Mount Severn and Lady Isabel seem to be!  If you had any goodness of heart, Mr. Carlyle, you would enlist yourself in the cause also.”

“I think I will,” he smiled.

“Papa says you hold sway at West Lynne.  If you proclaim that you mean to go, you will induce others.”

“I will proclaim that you do,” he answered; “that will be all sufficient.  But, Lady Isabel, you must not expect much gratification from the performance.”

“A tambourine will be quite enough for me; I told papa so, I shan’t think of music; I shall think of poor Mr. Kane.  Mr. Carlyle I know you can be kind if you like; I know you would rather be kind than otherwise—­it is to be read in your face.  Try and do what you can for him.”