Isabel was alone when this telegram was brought to her, and as she read it she flushed with joy.
"He hasn't wasted a minute," she said to herself. "He must have started as soon as he had my letter, and be travelling night and day without stopping."
Then she looked at her reflection in a mirror and laughed softly, because she was still young and a man loved her. She was very human, even at her best.
But when Thursday came she was dreadfully frightened. It was one thing to feel conscious of her power over Paul while half a continent divided them, and quite another to feel conscious of his power over her when she was expecting to see him face to face every minute.
When at last he did arrive, Joanna went into the hall to meet him; but Isabel was stricken with that paralyzing form of shyness which so often seizes us when our heart's desire is within our grasp, and makes us wish, for one mad moment, to throw it away because we have longed for it so passionately. So she remained alone in the salon and looked out of the window, and her knees felt as if they were made of muslin, like the knees of dolls. Then some one opened the door and shut it behind him; and at that her heart beat so violently that the very snow-clad mountains outside began to tremble and shake as she looked at them. With a supreme effort she turned round, and tried to repeat the appeal for forgiveness which she had prepared; but she could not utter a word, because Paul's arms were holding her fast; and there was no need to utter a word, because she had seen Paul's face.
Life's attar-of-roses is as rare as it is precious, and it takes the sunshine of many summers and the braving of many thorns to produce a single drop. But that drop, when produced, is worth all that it cost, and the perfume of it will last for ever. So Paul and Isabel thought during the next half-hour.
After the lovers had returned to earth, Isabel said: "I shall now tell the whole world that I wrote that horrid book, and that it has misjudged you all along; and then every one will know how splendidly you have behaved."
"You shall do nothing of the kind, sweetheart." And Paul kissed her again.
"But I must. I could not bear for you to bear the blame any longer."
"Still, you will have to bear it, my darling. I could not bear any one to have it in his power to blame you, and I must have my own way this time."