Part 39 (2/2)
Captain Levison came slowly on, approaching the pier where she sat. He glanced at her; not with the hardihood displayed by the two young men, but with quite sufficiently evident admiration.
”What a lovely girl!” thought he to himself. ”Who can she be, sitting there alone?”
All at once a recollection flashed into his mind; he raised his hat and extended his hand, his fascinating smile in full play.
”I certainly cannot be mistaken. Have I the honor of once more meeting Lady Isabel Vane?”
She rose from the seat, and allowed him to take her hand, answering a few words at random, for her wits seemed wool-gathering.
”I beg your pardon--I should have said Lady Isabel Carlyle. Time has elapsed since we parted, and in the pleasure of seeing you again so unexpectedly, I thought of you as you were then.”
She sat down again, the brilliant flush of emotion dying away upon her cheeks. It was the loveliest face Francis Levison had seen since he saw hers, and he thought so as he gazed at it.
”What can have brought you to this place?” he inquired, taking a seat beside her.
”I have been ill,” she explained, ”and am ordered to the sea-side. We should not have come here but for Mrs. Ducie; we expected to meet her.
Mr. Carlyle only left me this morning.”
”Mrs. Ducie is off to Ems. I see them occasionally. They have been fixtures in Paris for some time. You do indeed look ill,” he abruptly added, in a tone of sympathy, ”alarmingly ill. Is there anything I can do for you?”
She was aware that she looked unusually ill at that moment, for the agitation and surprise of meeting him were fading away, leaving her face an ashy whiteness. Exceedingly vexed and angry with herself did she feel that the meeting should have power to call forth emotion. Until that moment she was unconscious that she retained any sort of feeling for Captain Levison.
”Perhaps I have ventured out too early,” she said, in a tone that would seem to apologize for her looks: ”I think I will return. I shall meet my servant, no doubt. Good-morning, Captain Levison.”
”But indeed you do not appear fit to walk alone,” he remonstrated. ”You must allow me to see you safely home.”
Drawing her hand within his own quite as a matter of course, as he had done many a time in days gone by, he proceeded to a.s.sist her down the pier. Lady Isabel, conscious of her own feelings, felt that it was not quite the thing to walk thus familiarly with him, but he was a sort of relation of the family--a connection, at any rate--and she could find no ready excuse for declining.
”Have you seen Lady Mount Severn lately?” he inquired.
”I saw her when I was in London this spring with Mr. Carlyle. The first time we have met since my marriage; and we do not correspond. Lord Mount Severn had paid us two or three visits at East Lynne. They are in town yet, I believe.”
”For all I know; I have not seen them, or England either, for ten months. I have been staying in Paris, and got here yesterday.”
”A long leave of absence,” she observed.
”Oh, I have left the army. I sold out. The truth is, Lady Isabel--for I don't mind telling you--things are rather down with me at present. My old uncle has behaved shamefully; he has married again.”
”I heard that Sir Peter had married.”
”He is seventy-three--the old simpleton! Of course this materially alters my prospects, for it is just possible he may have a son of his own now; and my creditors all came down upon me. They allowed me to run into debt with complacency when I was heir to the t.i.tle and estates, but as soon as Sir Peter's marriage appeared in the papers, myself and my consequence dropped a hundred per cent; credit was stopped, and I dunned for payment. So I thought I'd cut it altogether, and I sold out and came abroad.”
”Leaving your creditors?”
”What else could I do? My uncle would not pay them, or increase my allowance.”
”What are your prospects then?” resumed Lady Isabel.
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