“Isabel!” cried Sir Cheltnam. “How can you be so foolish, dear? Send this woman away. It is too absurd.”
“Come,” said Elisia in a low voice; and then, as if to herself, “I cannot speak to him. Come, my dear; I will take you to your room.”
“Ridiculous!” cried Sir Cheltnam angrily, for he caught her last words. “Isabel, my child, how can you be so silly? For Heaven’s sake, have some self-respect—some for me, your affianced husband.”
He spoke in a low, earnest tone, now, and tried to take one of her hands.
“Do you hear me?” he continued, with a touch of anger in his tones. “Can you not see that this woman is bound to go and repeat all she has seen? You are behaving like a little schoolgirl. This will be the talk of the servants’ hall. For your father’s sake, do try and be sensible. There, my good woman, you see that you are not wanted here; have the goodness to go.”
To his rage and astonishment, Elisia averted her face more from him, and, utterly ignoring his presence, led Isabel toward the door; but, before they could reach it, he interposed, and placed his back against the panel.
“Stop!” he cried angrily. “Isabel, my child, this wretched scene must come to an end. You are making us both too ridiculous. Leave this woman, and order her to go. Tell her it was all a wretched mistake, and that she had no business to intrude.”
“No, no,” said Isabel huskily. “It is not a mistake.” Then, in a whisper to Elisia, “Pray, pray don’t listen to what he says. Why is not Neil here?”
“Am I to ring for the servants, and have you turned out of the room?” cried Sir Cheltnam furiously. “Do you hear me? Miss Elthorne does not require your presence, and I order you to go.”
No answer, but the face kept resolutely averted.