Up went his hand at the last word, and he made a sort of grab at the letters, stalked to the farthest window, opened it, and glanced over its contents.
"Sir--We beg to inform you that the suit Carlyle vs. Carlyle, is at an end. The divorce was pronounced without opposition. According to your request, we hasten to forward you the earliest intimation of the fact.
"We are, sir, faithfully yours, "MOSS & GRAB.
"F. LEVISON, Esq."
It was over, then, and all claim to the name of Carlyle was declared to have been forfeited by the Lady Isabel forever. Captain Levison folded up the letter, and placed it securely in an inner pocket.
"Is there any news?" she asked.
"News!"
"Of the divorce, I mean?"
"Tush!" was the response of Captain Levison, as if wishing to imply that the divorce was yet a far-off affair, and he proceeded to open the other letter.
"Sir--After sending off our last, dated to-day, we received tidings of the demise of Sir Peter Levison, your grand-uncle. He expired this afternoon in town, where he had come for the benefit of medical advice. We have much pleasure in congratulating you upon your accession to the title and estates, and beg to state that should it not be convenient to you to visit England at present, we will be happy to transact all necessary matters for you, on your favoring us with instructions. And we remain, sir, most faithfully yours, "MOSS & GRAB.
"SIR FRANCIS LEVISON, Bart."
The outside of the letter was superscribed as the other, "F. Levison, Esquire," no doubt with a view to its more certain delivery.
"At last, thank the pigs!" was the gentleman's euphonious expression, as he tossed the letter, open, on the breakfast-table.
"The divorce is granted!" feverishly uttered Lady Isabel.
He made no reply, but seated himself to breakfast.
"May I read the letter? Is it for me to read?"
"For what else should I have thrown it there?" he said.
"A few days ago you put a letter, open on the table, I thought for me; but when I took it up you swore at me. Do you remember it Captain Levison?"
"You may drop that odious title, Isabel, which has stuck to me too long. I own a better, now."
"What one, pray?"
"You can look and see."
Lady Isabel took up the letter and read it. Sir Francis swallowed down his coffee, and rang the table hand-bell--the only bell you generally meet with in France. Pierre answered it.
"Put me up a change of things," said he, in French. "I start for England in an hour."
"It is very well," Pierre responded; and departed to do it. Lady Isabel waited till the man was gone, and then spoke, a faint flush of emotion in her cheeks.
"You do not mean what you say? You will not leave me yet?"
"I cannot do otherwise," he answered. "There's a mountain of business to be attended to, now that I am come into power."
"Moss & Grab say they will act for you. Had there been a necessity for your going, they would not have offered that."
"Ay, they do say so--with a nice eye to the feathering of their pockets! Besides, I should not choose for the old man's funeral to take place without me."
"Then I must accompany you," she urged.
"I wish you would not talk nonsense, Isabel. Are you in a state to travel night and day? Neither would home be agreeable to you yet awhile."
She felt the force of the objections. Resuming after a moment's pause --"Were you to go to England, you might not be back in time."
"In time for what?"
"Oh, how can you ask?" she rejoined, in a sharp tone of reproach; "you know too well. In time to make me your wife when the divorce shall appear."
"I shall chance it," coolly observed Sir Francis.
"Chance it! /chance/ the legitimacy of the child? You must assure that, before all things. More terrible to me than all the rest would it be, if--"
"Now don't put yourself in a fever, Isabel. How many times am I to be compelled to beg that of you! It does no good. Is it my fault, if I am called suddenly to England?"
"Have you no pity for your child?" she urged in agitation. "Nothing can repair the injury, if you once suffer it to come upon him. He will be a by-word amidst men throughout his life."
"You had better have written to the law lords to urge on the divorce," he returned. "I cannot help the delay."
"There has been no delay; quite the contrary. But it may be expected hourly now."
"You are worrying yourself for nothing, Isabel. I shall be back in time."
He quitted the room as he spoke, and Lady Isabel remained in it, the image of despair. Nearly an hour elapsed when she remembered the breakfast things, and rang for them to be removed. A maid-servant entered to do it, and she thought how ill miladi looked.
"Where is Pierre?" miladi asked.
"Pierre was making himself ready to attend monsieur to England."
Scarcely had she closed the door upon herself and the tray when Sir Francis Levison appeared, equipped for traveling. "Good-bye, Isabel," said he, without further circumlocution or ceremony.
Lady Isabel, excited beyond all self-control, slipped the bolt of the door; and, half leaning against it, half leaning at his feet, held up her hand in supplication.
"Francis, have you any consideration left for me--any in the world?"
"How can you be so alarmed, Isabel? Of course I have," he continued, in a peevish, though kind tone, as he took hold of her hands to raise her.
"No, not yet. I will remain here until you say you will wait another day or two. You know that the French Protestant minister is prepared to marry us the instant news of the divorce shall arrive; if you do care still for me, you will wait."
"I cannot wait," he replied, his tone changing to one of determination. "It is useless to urge it."
He broke from her and left the room, and in another minute had left the house, Pierre attending him. A feeling, amounting to a conviction, rushed over the unhappy lady that she had seen him for the last time until it was too late.
She was right. It was too late by weeks and months.
