East Lynne | Page 7

the earl; "we shall be quite alone, except my
daughter. Mrs. Vane, of Castle Marling, is staying with us. She came
up to present my child at the last drawing-room, but I think I heard
something about her dining out to-day. If not, we will have it by
ourselves here. Oblige me by touching the bell, Mr. Carlyle."
The servant entered.
"Inquire whether Mrs. Vane dines at home," said the earl.
"Mrs. Vane dines out, my lord," was the man's immediate reply. "The
carriage is at the door now."
"Very well. Mr. Carlyle remains."

At seven o'clock the dinner was announced, and the earl wheeled into
the adjoining room. As he and Mr. Carlyle entered it at one door, some
one else came in by the opposite one. Who--what--was it? Mr. Carlyle
looked, not quite sure whether it was a human being--he almost thought
it more like an angel.
A light, graceful, girlish form; a face of surpassing beauty, beauty that
is rarely seen, save from the imagination of a painter; dark shining curls
falling on her neck and shoulders, smooth as a child's; fair, delicate
arms decorated with pearls, and a flowing dress of costly white lace.
Altogether the vision did indeed look to the lawyer as one from a fairer
world than this.
"My daughter, Mr. Carlyle, the Lady Isabel."
They took their seats at the table, Lord Mount Severn at its head, in
spite of his gout and his footstool. And the young lady and Mr. Carlyle
opposite each other. Mr. Carlyle had not deemed himself a particular
admirer of women's beauty, but the extraordinary loveliness of the
young girl before him nearly took away his senses and his self-
possession. Yet it was not so much the perfect contour or the exquisite
features that struck him, or the rich damask of the delicate cheek, or the
luxuriant falling hair; no, it was the sweet expression of the soft dark
eyes. Never in his life had he seen eyes so pleasing. He could not keep
his gaze from her, and he became conscious, as he grew more familiar
with her face, that there was in its character a sad, sorrowful look; only
at times was it to be noticed, when the features were at repose, and it
lay chiefly in the very eyes he was admiring. Never does this
unconsciously mournful expression exist, but it is a sure index of
sorrow and suffering; but Mr. Carlyle understood it not. And who could
connect sorrow with the anticipated brilliant future of Isabel Vane?
"Isabel," observed the earl, "you are dressed."
"Yes, papa. Not to keep old Mrs. Levison waiting tea. She likes to take
it early, and I know Mrs. Vane must have kept her waiting dinner. It
was half-past six when she drove from here."

"I hope you will not be late to-night, Isabel."
"It depends upon Mrs. Vane."
"Then I am sure you will be. When the young ladies in this fashionable
world of ours turn night into day, it is a bad thing for their roses. What
say you, Mr. Carlyle?"
Mr. Carlyle glanced at the roses on the cheeks opposite to him; they
looked too fresh and bright to fade lightly.
At the conclusion of dinner a maid entered the room with a white
cashmere mantle, placing it over the shoulders of her young lady, as
she said the carriage was waiting.
Lady Isabel advanced to the earl. "Good-bye, papa."
"Good-night, my love," he answered, drawing her toward him, and
kissing her sweet face. "Tell Mrs. Vane I will not have you kept out till
morning hours. You are but a child yet. Mr. Carlyle, will you ring? I
am debarred from seeing my daughter to the carriage."
"If your lordship will allow me--if Lady Isabel will pardon the
attendance of one little used to wait upon young ladies, I shall be proud
to see her to her carriage," was the somewhat confused answer of Mr.
Carlyle as he touched the bell.
The earl thanked him, and the young lady smiled, and Mr. Carlyle
conducted her down the broad, lighted staircase and stood bareheaded
by the door of the luxurious chariot, and handed her in. She put out her
hand in her frank, pleasant manner, as she wished him good night. The
carriage rolled on its way, and Mr. Carlyle returned to the earl.
"Well, is she not a handsome girl?" he demanded.
"Handsome is not the word for beauty such as hers," was Mr. Carlyle's
reply, in a low, warm tone. "I never saw a face half so beautiful."
"She caused quite a sensation at the drawing-room last week--as I hear.

This everlasting gout kept me indoors all day. And she is as good as
she is beautiful."
The earl was not partial. Lady Isabel was