She was startled by his entrance, half fearing that he had come to summon her to an interview with Mr. Fenton. She wanted time to think. She had not made up her mind whether she would see Harry again, or write to him, or whether she would ask her uncle to tell him of her decision. The latter course would be the pleasantest of the three, but there were difficulties even there.
The way Mr. Lewis had taken the matter had complicated it. He had seemed unable to imagine that an accurate knowledge of Harry’s prospects could make any difference to her feelings, and if her lover should wring a consent from his father, there would be nothing she could do short of breaking with him on her own initiative. She would be able to give no reason but the real one, and that she hardly liked to do. She dared not say, “I thought you were rich, but I find you are poor, so I will not marry you.”
Her uncle might certainly make the objection for her with some propriety, but how was she to ask him to do so? Though she had no love for him, a certain respect had crept into her secret soul which made her hesitate to lay it bare before his eyes; he took too much for granted. She knew that her deliverance lay in the Squire’s probable disapproval, and that disapproval would make a suitable meekness becoming in herself. Meanwhile she would neither see Harry nor any one belonging to him. But it was all harassing enough. Her heart jumped as the Vicar came in.
“You may be wondering what has happened, Isoline. Poor Howell has had a dreadful accident. It seems there was a play going on at Llangarth Fair, and something caught fire; Llewellyn Fenton and he put it out together, and saved the lives of two children. Howell’s hands and arms are badly burnt, brave boy that he is.”
“Fancy Howell doing that! I should never have believed it of him,” exclaimed the girl, whose estimate of human nature was entirely feminine. To dislike a person was to prove him incapable of a high action.
“Mr. Fenton will be gone in a few minutes. It is wise of you, my dear, to stay in your room. You are a good girl.”
She did not reply, but looked out of the window. The Vicar felt rather chilled.
“You are all right up here?” he asked awkwardly.
“Yes, thank you.”