woman's dignity, that this orphan girl could, with character so
unscathed, pass through the trying ordeal of the public babble, the
public gaze-command alike the esteem of a woman so pure as Mrs. Morley,
the reverence of a man so chivalrously sensitive to honour as Alain de
Rochebriant?

Musing thus, Graham's countenance at last brightened--a glorious joy
entered into and possessed him. He felt as a man who had burst asunder
the swathes and trammels which had kept him galled and miserable with the
sense of captivity, and from which some wizard spell that took strength
from his own superstition had forbidden to struggle.

He was free!--and that freedom was rapture!--yes, his resolve was taken.

The day was now far advanced. He should have just time before the dinner
with Duplessis to drive to A------, where he still supposed Isaura
resided. How, as his _fiacre_ rolled along the well-remembered road--
how completely he lived in that world of romance of which he denied
himself to be a denizen.

Arrived at the little villa, he found it occupied only by workmen--it was
under repair. No one could tell him to what residence the ladies who
occupied it the last year had removed.

"I shall learn from Mrs. Morley," thought Graham, and at her house he
called in going back, but Mrs. Morley was not at home; he had only just
time, after regaining his apartment, to change his dress for the dinner
to which he was invited. As it was, he arrived late, and while
apologising to his host for his want of punctuality, his tongue faltered.
At the farther end of the room he saw a face, paler and thinner than when