away for more than three weeks, and that he must have some walking; so
that, what we propose at present is to pick up Edward at Venice at the
end of August, and move up all together into the mountains afterwards.
Oh, Mr. Kendal,' she went on a little nervously, as if not quite knowing
whether to attack the subject or not, 'it _was_ devoted of you to throw
yourself into the breach for Edward as you did at Oxford. I am afraid it
must have been very disagreeable, both to you and to her. When Edward
told me of it next morning it made me cold to think of it. I made up my
mind that our friendship--yours and ours--with her was over. But do you
know she came to call on me that very afternoon--how she made time I
don't know--but she did. Naturally, I was very uncomfortable, but she
began to talk of it in the calmest way while we were having tea. "Mr.
Kendal was probably quite right," she said, "in thinking the part
unsuited to me; anyhow, I asked him for his opinion, and I should be a
poor creature to mind his giving it." And then she laughed and said that
I must ask Edward to keep his eyes open for anything that would do better
for her in the autumn. And since then she has behaved as if she had
forgotten all about it. I never knew any one with less smallness about
her.'

'No; she is a fine creature,' said Kendal, almost mechanically. How
little Mrs. Stuart knew--or rather, how entirely remote she was from
_feeling_--what had happened! It seemed to him that the emotion of that
scene was still thrilling through all his pulses, yet to what ordinary
little proportions had it been reduced in Mrs. Stuart's mind! He alone
had seen the veil lifted, had come close to the energetic reality of the
girl's nature. That Isabel Bretherton could feel so, could look so, was
known only to him--the thought had pain in it, but the keenest pleasure
also.