’My Dear Cousin,—­I trust to you to prevent Mr. F. Dynevor from being hurt or disappointed; and, indeed, I scarcely think he will, though I should not avail myself of the permission for meeting him so kindly intended.  I saw at once that you felt as I did, and as I know he will.  He would not like me to have cause to blush before my kind friends—­to know that I had acted a deceit, nor to set an example to my sisters for which they might not understand the justification.  I know that you will obtain my pardon, if needed; and to be assured of it, would be all that would be required to complete the grateful happiness of
             ‘Isabel.’

The boy had orders not to wait; and these being seconded by fears of something that ‘walked’ in Ebbscreek wood after dark, he was gone before an answer could be thought of.  It mattered the less, since Isabel must receive James’s note early in the morning; and so, in fact, she did—­and she was blushing over it, and feeling as if she could never have borne to meet his eye but for the part she had fortunately taken, when Louisa tapped at her door, with a message that Mr. Mansell wished to speak with her, if she were ready.

She went down-stairs still in a glow; and her old friend’s first words were a compliment on her roses, so pointed, that she doubted for a moment whether he did not think them suspicious, especially as he put his hands behind his back, and paced up and down the room, for some moments.  He then came towards her, and said, in a very kind tone, ’Isabel, my dear, I sent for you first, because I knew your own mother very well, my dear; and though Lady Conway is very kind, and has always done you justice,—­that I will always say for her,—­yet there are times when it may make a difference to a young woman whether she has her own mother or not.’

Isabel’s heart was beating.  She was certain that some discovery had been made, and longed to explain; but she was wise enough not to speak in haste, and waited to see how the old gentleman would finally break it to her.  He blundered on a little longer, becoming more confused and distressed every minute, and at last came to the point abruptly.  ’In short, Isabel, my dear, what can you have done to set people saying that you have been corresponding with the young men at Ebbscreek?’

‘I sent a note to my cousin Fitzjocelyn last night,’ said Isabel, with such calmness, that the old gentleman fairly stood with his mouth open, looking at her aghast.

‘Fitzjocelyn!  Then it is Fitzjocelyn, is it?’ he exclaimed.  ’Then, why could he not set about it openly and honourably?  Does his father object?  I would not have thought it of you, Isabel, nor of the lad neither!’

’You need not think it, dear Mr. Mansell.  There is nothing between Lord Fitzjocelyn and myself but the warmest friendship.’