‘I know what you’re going to say. You hoped we should always remain good friends.’ This formula, as Lord Warburton uttered it, was certainly flat enough; but then he was interested in making it appear so.

She found herself reduced simply to ‘Please don’t talk of all that’; a speech which hardly struck her as improvement on the other.

‘It’s a small consolation to allow me!’ her companion exclaimed with force.

‘I can’t pretend to console you,’ said the girl, who, all still as she sat there, threw herself back with a sort of inward triumph on the answer that had satisified him so little six months before. He was pleasant, he was powerful, he was gallant; there was no better man than he. But her answer remained.

‘It’s very well you don’t try to console me; it wouldn’t be in your power,’ she heard him say through the medium of her strange elation.

‘I hoped we should meet again, because I had no fear you would attempt to make me feel I had wronged you. But when you do that—the pain’s greater than the pleasure.’ And she got up with a small conscious majesty, looking for her companions.

‘I don’t want to make you feel that; of course I can’t say that. I only just want you to know one or two things—in fairness to myself, as it were. I won’t return to the subject again. I felt very strongly what I expressed to you last year; I couldn’t think of anything else. I tried to forget—energetically, systematically. I tried to take an interest in somebody else. I tell you this because I want you to know I did my duty. I didn’t succeed. It was for the same purpose I went abroad—as far away as possible. They say travelling distracts the mind, but it didn’t distract mine. I’ve thought of you perpetually, ever since I last saw you. I’m exactly the same. I love you just as much, and everything I said to you then is just as true. This instant at which I speak to you shows me again exactly how, to my great misfortune, you just insuperably charm me. There—I can’t say less. I don’t mean, however, to insist; it’s only for a moment. I may add that when I came upon you a few minutes since, without the smallest idea of seeing you, I was, upon my honour, in the very act of wishing I knew where you were.’ He had recovered his self-control, and while he spoke it became complete. He might have been addressing a small committee—making all quietly and clearly a statement of importance; aided by an occasional look at a paper of notes concealed in his hat, which he had not again put on. And the committee, assuredly, would have felt the point proved.

‘I’ve often thought of you, Lord Warburton,’ Isabel answered. ‘You may be sure I shall always do that.’ And she added in a tone of which she tried to keep up the kindness and keep down the meaning: ‘There’s no harm in that on either side.’

They walked along together, and she was prompt to ask about his sisters and request him to let them know she had done so. He made for the moment no further reference to their great question, but dipped again into shallower and safer waters. But he wished to know when she was to leave Rome, and on her mentioning the limit of her stay declared he was glad it was still so distant.

‘Why do you say that if you yourself are only passing through?’ she enquired with some anxiety.

‘Ah, when I said I was passing through I didn’t mean that one would treat Rome as if it were Clapham Junction. To pass through Rome is to stop a week or two.’

‘Say frankly that you mean to stay as long as I do!’

His flushed smile, for a little, seemed to sound her. ‘You won’t like that. You’re afraid you’ll see too much of me.’

‘It doesn’t matter what I like. I certainly can’t expect you to leave this delightful place on my account. But I confess I’m afraid of you.’


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