Isabel gave again the laugh whose blithe, final sigh was always its most
winning note. Then, with tremendous gravity, she said, "You are very
indiscreet, dear, to let me know my power."

His face clouded an instant, as if the thought startled him with its
truth and value. But when she added, with yet deeper seriousness of
brow, "That's no way to tame a shrew, my love," he laughed aloud, and
peace came again with Isabel's smile.

Then--because a woman must always insist on seeing the wrong side of the
goods--she murmured, "Tell me, Arthur, what disturbed you."

"Words, Isabel, mere words of yours, which I see now were meant in
purest play. You told Leonard"--

"Leonard! What did I tell Leonard, dear?"

"You told him not to confess certain anxieties, even if they were
justified."

"Oh, Arthur!"

"I see my folly, dearest. But Isabel, he ought not to have answered that
the more they were justified, the more they should go unconfessed!"

"Oh, Arthur! the merest, idlest prattle! What meaning could you"--

"None, Isabel, none! Only, my good angel, I so ill deserve you that with
every breath I draw I have a desperate fright of losing you, and a
hideous resentment against whoever could so much as think to rob me of