"We have had the charge of her for ten years. That itself is a claim. It is unseemly that she should remain with you."
"Madame," I answered, "Isobel is meant for life—not a living death."
The woman crossed herself.
"There is but one life," she said. "We wish to prepare Isobel for it."
"Madame," I said, "as to that, argument between us is impossible. I shall consult with my friends. Your messenger shall bring back word as to our decision."
The face of the woman grew darker.
"But surely," she protested, "you will not dare to keep the child?"
"Madame," I answered, "humanity makes sometimes strange claims upon us. Isobel is as yet a child. She came into my keeping by the strangest of chances. I did not seek the charge of her. It was, to tell the truth, an embarrassment to me. Yet she is under my care to-day, and I shall do what I believe to be the right thing."
"Monsieur," she said, "you are interfering in matters greater than you have any knowledge of."
"It is in your power," I reminded her, "to enlighten me."