Lady Randal marked her confusion, and feeling it might have appeared a rude question, hastened to add:
“Pardon me, but they are so like some that I once saw a long time ago, that I could not help exclaiming at the moment.”
“Ah!” said Isabel, regaining her self-possession, and striving to speak indifferently; “I did not suppose there was another set like them in the world—they were made to order,” and the lie slipped off her tongue without a quaver.
“It is a singular coincidence, surely,” murmured Lady Randal, absently. “Did you ever know——” she began again, then suddenly checking herself, she added: “But, of course, you did not, for she must be over sixty if she is living now. It is strange, though, I could have sworn they are the same.”
“What were you saying?” asked Isabel, who had not distinctly understood what she said last.
“Never mind, dear; but a lady whom I used to know had some ornaments very like these. Have you nothing else which will do to go with this costume?”
She seemed to dislike the idea of her wearing them.
“Oh, yes; I have plenty of others, but these look best with this light blue—they give a dash of color which it seems to need, and I prefer them.”
“Well, never mind; you do look very nice, and,” she added, partly to herself, “perhaps he will not notice.”
Isabel created quite a sensation upon entering the great drawing-room at Dunforth, for there were many people present whom she had never met before, and all were quite anxious to see the bride Sir Charles had chosen.