"That is a serious difficulty," said Lady Farley.
"They cannot find any one who happens to be going and who would take charge of her: besides, it would be hard for the poor girl to go out, perhaps to die, with strangers; and the journey would kill Mr. or Mrs. Seaton right out, even if they could afford it."
"Couldn't her brother take her?" Lady Farley suggested.
Edgar shook his head. "He could not possibly spare the time. He is such an unselfish fellow that he would gladly go with Joanna if it could be managed, and take every care of her; but he could not leave London for several months without resigning his appointment as editor of The Pendulum; and if he did that, he could not afford to pay even Joanna's expenses, much less his own."
Then Lady Farley—being tired of the Seatons as a subject of conversation—began to talk about other things, while Isabel dispensed the tea which had just been brought in.
"I am afraid I must be off," Edgar said at last, "for I am going to the service at St. James's Hall to-night, and it is impossible to get a seat unless one is there half an hour before the time."
"I have never been," said Isabel, "I should like to go and see what it is like." She felt great leanings towards anything connected with Methodism just then; not from any special sympathy with the teachings of John Wesley, but simply because Methodism—like yellow roses—reminded her of Paul.
"Then come with me now! I will take great care of her, Lady Farley, and bring her back safe and sound."
"Yes; go, my dear," said her ladyship kindly, "if you think it will interest you." Lady Farley regarded religious services as she regarded love affairs, namely, as seemly diversions pour passer le temps.
So Isabel ran upstairs to put on what women call "her things," and then she and Edgar repaired to St. James's Hall.