“Are you really, now? Do you care about it, Isola? Can you, who are firmly anchored in the haven of marriage, feel any sentimental interest in other people, tossing about on the sea of courtship? Martin is to be told everything to-night—so you may as well know all about it now. You like Captain Hulbert, don’t you, Isola?”
“I do, indeed. I like him, and believe in him.”
“Thank Heaven! I should have been miserable if you had doubted or disliked him. He is to be my husband some day, Isa, if Martin approve—but not for a year, at least. Tell me, dear, are you glad?”
“Yes, I am very glad. God bless you, Allegra, and make your life happy—and free—from—care.”
She broke down with those last faltered words, and Allegra discovered that she was crying.
“My dearest Isa, don’t cry! I shall fancy you are sorry—that you think him unworthy.”
“No, no, no. It is not that. He is worthy. He is all that I could desire in the man who is to be your husband. No, I was only thinking how completely happy you and he must be—how cloudless your life promises to be. God keep you, and guard you, dear! And may you never know the pain of parting with the husband you love—with your protector and friend—as I have known it.”
“Yes, love; but that is all past and done with. There are to be no more farewells for you and Martin.”
“No, it is past, thank God! Yet one cannot forget. I am very glad Captain Hulbert has left the navy—that his profession cannot call him away from you.”