Mr. Carlyle. The earl had grown to like him in no common degree, and was
disappointed if Mr. Carlyle spent an evening away from him, so that he
became, as it were, quite domesticated with the earl and Isabel. "I am
not quite equal to general society," he observed to his daughter,
"and it is considerate and kind of Carlyle to come here and cheer my
loneliness."

"Extremely kind," said Isabel. "I like him very much, papa."

"I don't know anybody that I like half as well," was the rejoinder of
the earl.

Mr. Carlyle went up as usual the same evening, and, in the course of it,
the earl asked Isabel to sing.

"I will if you wish, papa," was the reply, "but the piano is so much out
of tune that it is not pleasant to sing to it. Is there any one in West
Lynne who could come here and tune my piano, Mr. Carlyle?" she added,
turning to him.

"Certainly there is. Kane would do it. Shall I send him to-morrow?"

"I should be glad, if it would not be giving you too much trouble. Not
that tuning will benefit it greatly, old thing that it is. Were we to be
much at East Lynne, I should get papa to exchange it for a good one."

Little thought Lady Isabel that that very piano was Mr. Carlyle's, and
not hers. The earl coughed, and exchanged a smile and a glance with his
guest.