Beauchamp, at the moment of the baronet's entrance, was speaking to Dr. Miles and Ned Hayward in the bay window, Isabella was seated at some distance, with her hand in her aunt's, and Mary Clifford was leaning tenderly over her. But the position of all parties was soon changed.
"The sooner the better, then," said Dr. Miles, in answer to something Beauchamp had said, and turning away, the young nobleman approached Isabella, and took her hand, saying, "Speak with me one moment, love."
Isabella rose, and her husband led her into the library, and thence to the dinning-room, leaving the doors open behind him. "Dearest Isabella," he said, "forgive me for all the terrible pain I have caused you--but you know it was that I was deceived, and that for the world I would not have inflicted such distress upon you intentionally."
"Oh, I know it, I know it," said the poor girl, her tears flowing fast.
"But out of evil springs good, dear Isabel," continued Beauchamp, "by this day's misery and anxiety, I trust we have purchased peace and happiness for the future. Yet for me, my beloved, remains one more painful effort. Till the decision of the law is pronounced upon all the circumstances of this case, I must leave you, dear girl. No happiness that your society can give me must induce me to place you in a doubtful position. I must leave you, then, my dear Isabella, my bride, my wife, even here almost at the steps of the altar; but I go to remove every obstacle to our permanent reunion, and I trust in a very few weeks to clasp you to my heart again, mine beyond all doubt--mine for ever. I knew not, dear girl--I hardly knew till now, how dearly, how passionately, I loved you, but I find from the difficulty of parting with you, from the agony of this moment, what it is to love with the whole heart. That very love, however, requires me to go. Therefore, for a short, a very short, time, farewell, my love;" and he threw his arms around her, and pressed one kiss upon her lips.
"Oh, do not go, do not go yet," said Isabella, clinging to him. "Oh, I was so happy this morning, Henry, I felt quite oppressed with it. I am sure there is a dizziness of the heart as well as of the brain--but now I shall go home and weep all day!"
"Nay, do not do that, dear girl," said Beauchamp, "for our parting is but for a short time, beloved. Every one judges that I am right in going. Do not let me think my Isabella thinks otherwise, do not render more bitter what is bitter enough already, by a knowledge that you are suffering more than is needful. Cheer thee, my Isabella, cheer thee, and do not give way to grief and apprehension, when our fate is lightened of half of its weight, by the certainty, the positive certainty, that there is no serious barrier between us."
"I will try," said Isabella, "I will try; and I believe you are right, but still this is all very sad," and the tears poured down her face afresh.
When Beauchamp came forth, however, Isabella came with him, and was calmer; but she would not trust herself to speak till he was gone. The parting was then soon over. Ned Hayward, called up the carriage, gave some directions regarding his own baggage to Sir John Slingsby's servants, and bade farewell to Mary Clifford and the rest. Beauchamp once more pressed Isabella's hand in his, and hurrying out sprang into his carriage, Ned Hayward followed, and one of the post-boys, approaching the side after a servant had shut the door, touched his hat, and asked, "Will you go by Winterton or Buxton's inn, my lord?"
"By Winterton," answered Beauchamp, mechanically, and in another minute the carriage was rolling on.