wayward heart near which Agnes nestled so long. We look leniently on
Otho--parasite and profligate--when we see him lingering on his last
march, on the very verge of the death-struggle, in the teeth of Galba's
legions, to decorate Popæa's grave. More in pity than in scorn, be sure,
did Tacitus, the historic epigrammatist, write "_Ne tum quidem veterum
immemor amorum_."

Was it in remorseful consciousness of having inflicted a deep,
irreparable wrong, that Isabel rode so constantly by Bruce's side,
striving, by all means of timid propitiation, to chase the cloud
lowering on his sullen face as we returned slowly home?




CHAPTER XV.

_"To de prokluein,
Epei genoit' an êlusis, prochairetô;
Ison de tô prostenein,
Toron gar êxei sunorthron augais."_


My stay at Kerton Manor was drawing to a close. I had lingered there too
long already, and letters from neglected relatives and friends came,
reproachful, with every post. The day before I went, Guy called me into
his study.

"Frank," he said, "I am in a great strait of perplexity; my uncle has
been attacking me this morning about Isabel and Charley. Bruce puts him