Isabel rose later, and lingered over her breakfast, listless enough.
She was wondering how she would make the next few weeks pass; what she should do with her time. She had taken two sea baths since her arrival, but they had appeared not to agree with her, leaving her low and shivering afterwards, so it was not deemed advisable that she should attempt more. It was a lovely morning, and she determined to venture on to the pier, to where they had sat on the previous evening.
She had not Mr. Carlyle's arm, but it was not far, and she could take a good rest at the end of it.
She went, attended by Peter, took her seat, and told him to come for her in an hour. She watched the strollers on the pier as they had done the previous evening; not in crowds now, but stragglers, coming on at intervals. There came a gouty man, in a list shoe, there came three young ladies and their governess, there came two fast puppies in shooting jackets and eye-glasses, which they turned with a broad stare on Lady Isabel; but there was something about her which caused them to drop their glasses and their ill manners together. After an interval, there appeared another, a tall, handsome, gentlemanly man. Her eyes fell upon him; and--what was it that caused every nerve in her frame to vibrate, every pulse to quicken? /Whose/ form was it that was thus advancing and changing the monotony of her mind into tumult? It was that of one whom she was soon to find had never been entirely forgotten.
Captain Levison came slowly on, approaching the pier where she sat. He glanced at her; not with the hardihood displayed by the two young men, but with quite sufficiently evident admiration.
"What a lovely girl!" thought he to himself. "Who can she be, sitting there alone?"
All at once a recollection flashed into his mind; he raised his hat and extended his hand, his fascinating smile in full play.
"I certainly cannot be mistaken. Have I the honor of once more meeting Lady Isabel Vane?"
She rose from the seat, and allowed him to take her hand, answering a few words at random, for her wits seemed wool-gathering.
"I beg your pardon--I should have said Lady Isabel Carlyle. Time has elapsed since we parted, and in the pleasure of seeing you again so unexpectedly, I thought of you as you were then."
She sat down again, the brilliant flush of emotion dying away upon her cheeks. It was the loveliest face Francis Levison had seen since he saw hers, and he thought so as he gazed at it.
"What can have brought you to this place?" he inquired, taking a seat beside her.
"I have been ill," she explained, "and am ordered to the sea-side. We should not have come here but for Mrs. Ducie; we expected to meet her.
Mr. Carlyle only left me this morning."
"Mrs. Ducie is off to Ems. I see them occasionally. They have been fixtures in Paris for some time. You do indeed look ill," he abruptly added, in a tone of sympathy, "alarmingly ill. Is there anything I can do for you?"
She was aware that she looked unusually ill at that moment, for the agitation and surprise of meeting him were fading away, leaving her face an ashy whiteness. Exceedingly vexed and angry with herself did she feel that the meeting should have power to call forth emotion.
Until that moment she was unconscious that she retained any sort of feeling for Captain Levison.
"Perhaps I have ventured out too early," she said, in a tone that would seem to apologize for her looks: "I think I will return. I shall meet my servant, no doubt. Good-morning, Captain Levison."
"But indeed you do not appear fit to walk alone," he remonstrated.
"You must allow me to see you safely home."
Drawing her hand within his own quite as a matter of course, as he had done many a time in days gone by, he proceeded to assist her down the pier. Lady Isabel, conscious of her own feelings, felt that it was not quite the thing to walk thus familiarly with him, but he was a sort of relation of the family--a connection, at any rate--and she could find no ready excuse for declining.
"Have you seen Lady Mount Severn lately?" he inquired.
"I saw her when I was in London this spring with Mr. Carlyle. The first time we have met since my marriage; and we do not correspond.
Lord Mount Severn had paid us two or three visits at East Lynne. They are in town yet, I believe."
"For all I know; I have not seen them, or England either, for ten months. I have been staying in Paris, and got here yesterday."
"A long leave of absence," she observed.
"Oh, I have left the army. I sold out. The truth is, Lady Isabel--for I don't mind telling you--things are rather down with me at present.
My old uncle has behaved shamefully; he has married again."
"I heard that Sir Peter had married."
"He is seventy-three--the old ******ton! Of course this materially alters my prospects, for it is just possible he may have a son of his own now; and my creditors all came down upon me. They allowed me to run into debt with complacency when I was heir to the title and estates, but as soon as Sir Peter's marriage appeared in the papers, myself and my consequence dropped a hundred per cent; credit was stopped, and I dunned for payment. So I thought I'd cut it altogether, and I sold out and came abroad."
"Leaving your creditors?"
"What else could I do? My uncle would not pay them, or increase my allowance."
"What are your prospects then?" resumed Lady Isabel.
"Prospects! Do you see that little ragged boy throwing stones into the harbor?--it is well the police don't drop upon him,--ask him what his prospects are, and he will stare you in the face, and say, 'None.'
Mine are on a like par."
"You may succeed Sir Peter yet."
"I may, but I may not. When those old idiots get a young wife--"
"Have you quarreled with Sir Peter?" interrupted Lady Isabel.
"I should quarrel with him as he deserves, if it would do any good, but I might get my allowance stopped. Self interest, you see, Lady Isabel, is the order of the day with most of us."
"Do you propose staying in Boulogne long?"
