“That God hath given me the richest jewel He had for me,” he said, in the same tone as before.
Then Isoult knew what he meant. “Is it Frances?” she asked, speaking as softly as he had done.
“It is that fair and shining diamond,” he pursued, “known among men as the Lady Frances Basset.”
For a moment Isoult was silent, and if Mr Monke could have read the thoughts hidden behind that quiet face, perhaps he would not have felt flattered. For Isoult was wondering in her own mind whether she ought to be glad or sorry. But the next moment her delicate instinct had told her what to answer.
“Mr Monke,” she said, looking up again, “I do most heartily wish happiness to both you and her.”
And Mr Monke never guessed from any thing in the quiet face what the previous thought had been.
The next day brought a letter to Isoult from Lady Frances herself; and the last relic of Jennifer’s uneasiness was appeased by the fair hair and beard of the messenger. She only said now that there might have been two strangers in the fire; she ought to have looked more carefully.
All was smooth water now at Crowe. Lady Lisle had given way, but not until Frances plainly told her that she had urged this very match earnestly before, and now that she was reluctantly endeavouring to conform to her wishes, had turned round to the opposing side. Philippa was more readily won over. Lady Frances had told Mr Monke honestly that a great part of her heart lay in the grave of John Basset; but that she thoroughly esteemed himself, and such love as she could give him he should have.
“I trust,” she wrote to Isoult, “that we may help, not hinder, the one the other on the way to Heaven. We look to be wed in June next, after the new fashion, in the English tongue. Pray meanwhile for me, dear heart, that I may ‘abide in Him.’”
When Isoult came down-stairs from the careful perusal of her letter, she heard Dr Thorpe’s voice in the hall, and soon perceived that her husband and he were deep in religious conversation.