“There’s nothing to be frightened of, sweetheart,” said her lover confidently. “Whether he gives his consent or not, you are going to be my wife. I’m quite independent of him. But, as I said just now, I would prefer to bring him round before, instead of after.”
“But do you think that possible?” inquired Isobel anxiously.
Guy reflected. “It’s a pretty even chance,” he said presently. “And, you see. I’ve got Mary on my side.”
Isobel lifted questioning eyes. “You have never spoken of Mary before. Who is she? I suppose your sister?”
“Yes, my sister, and the sweetest, dearest girl in the wide world. Just an angel without the wings, and they are growing, I believe. Not that she is meek and mild, and all that sort of thing. She can hit out as straight from the shoulder as a man when she chooses. But tell her a tale of two true lovers, and she will never be happy till she brings them together.”
“What a darling!” cried Isobel, in deep admiration. “How I should love to meet her.”
“No difficulty about that,” answered Guy easily. “As soon as I have arranged matters with the General, we will fix up a little lunch in London. You bring your father up; I’ll bring Mary up.”
“How lovely!” sighed Isobel. Truly, a new world, a delightful world, was opening to her.
The Clandons returned to their modest little nest at Eastbourne. On the first evening of their return, Isobel, sitting on a low footstool close to the General’s chair, told him the wonderful story of Guy Rossett’s love for her, of her love for Guy.
Her father listened sympathetically. He was intensely proud that his beloved daughter had chanced upon a wooer worthy of her. He had never dared to hope for such an alliance. Isobel was deserving of any Fairy Prince, but where was the Fairy Prince to come from?