“People did not make it a miserable world,” cried Isabel.
They were silent for a few minutes, and then the girl continued:
“You will help me, Neil?”
“By not letting you be alone with our gallant, foxhunting baronet?”
“Yes, dear.”
“I promise you,” said Neil half sadly, half playfully. “I will watch over you while I stay down here like a lynx.”
“Oh, my darling brother! But you are not going soon, Neil?” she cried, as she kissed him.
“Yes, very soon, dear. I must get back to my poor people and work. But I will work, too, to try and make my little sister happy.”
“Thank you—thank you—thank you, dear Neil!” cried the girl. “You’ve made the world seem so bright and happy again; and—and I’m not afraid to meet Sir Cheltnam now—and—and—oh, Neil, Neil, I must go upstairs and have a good cry!”
She ran out of the room before he could stop her. “Poor little sis!” he said, as he looked at the door through which she had passed. “Well, I can make someone happy if happiness is not to come to me.” He looked sadly about him for a few moments, and then half aloud he whispered, as he formed a mental future: