"Don't go away, Miss Dallas," he said, entreatingly. "I have something to say to your mother which concerns you."
Isabella turned pale, for she guessed what was coming. As Etwald had raised his voice purposely, Maurice, who was standing by the tea-table, also pricked up his ears. Mrs. Dallas, with some curiosity, raised herself to look closer at Etwald and he, seeing that his auditory was attentive, prepared to launch his thunderbolt.
"My dear Mrs. Dallas," he said, in a soft voice, "you must have seen for a long time that my visits here have not been made without an object. To-day I come to ask you and your sweet daughter a question."
"What is it?" asked the mother, devoured by curiosity.
"Pray don't ask it," said Isabella, better informed by Etwald's glance as to his purpose. "It will only give you pain."
"I must risk that," said the doctor, slowly, "Mrs. Dallas, I love your daughter, and I wish to marry her. Miss Isabella, will you be my wife?"
Here Maurice set down his cup with a crash, and strode across the room, where he faced Etwald in no very pleasant frame of mind.
"I shall answer that question. Dr. Etwald," he said, loudly. "Miss Dallas shall not and can not marry you. She has promised to be my wife."
"Isabella!" said Mrs. Dallas, in an aggrieved tone. "Is this true?"
"Perfectly true," assented Isabella. "I love Maurice. I wish to marry him." And slipping her arm within that of her lover, she prepared to face the storm.