"Papa and mamma both will be very happy that he should stay here;—of course they would not do what you call turning him out. But, Mad, my darling,"—and then she came up close and put her arm round her sister's waist. "I think mamma would be more comfortable in his remaining here if your charity towards him were—what shall I say?—less demonstrative."
"What do you mean, Isabella?"
"Dearest, dearest; you must not be angry with me. Nobody has hinted to me a word on the subject, nor do I mean to hint anything that can possibly be hurtful to you."
"But what do you mean?"
"Don't you know, darling? He is a young man—and—and—people see with such unkind eyes, and hear with such scandal-loving ears. There is that Miss Furnival—"
"If Miss Furnival can think such things, I for one do not care what she thinks."
"No, nor do I;—not as regards any important result. But may it not be well to be careful? You know what I mean, dearest?"
"Yes—I know. At least I suppose so. And it makes me know also how very cold and shallow and heartless people are! I won't ask any more questions, Isabella; but I can't know that a fellow-creature is suffering in the house,—and a person like him too, so clever, whom we all regard as a friend,—the most intimate friend in the world that Augustus has,—and the best too, as I heard papa himself say—without caring whether he is going to live or die."
"There is no danger now, you know."
"Very well; I am glad to hear it. Though I know very well that there must be danger after such a terrible accident as that."