Blind Policy Part 17

Isabel flushed up, and Laura stared at her, wondering whether this was the placid, gentle girl whom she had known so long.

"Then why have you nothing to say?" cried Isabel, angrily. "He is your brother, and if all the world is turning against him, is it not your duty to defend--to try and find excuses for his conduct?"

"Isabel!"

"Well, I mean what I say. It is quite enough that I turn against him and that everything between us is at an end. I hate him now, for he has used me cruelly, and it seems to have changed my nature; but I cannot forget the past, and would not be malignant and cruel too."

Laura took the hand that was resigned to her, and the pair sat in silence for some minutes.

Isabel's lips moved several times, as if she were about to speak, but no words came, till, with a desperate effort, she said in a husky whisper--

"Have you seen her, Laura?"

"I? No!" cried the girl, who was startled by the question.

"But you know she is beautiful, and rich, and aristocratic?"

"I only know what aunt has said, dear; but if she were the most beautiful woman that ever breathed, it is no excuse for Fred treating you as he did."

"I don't know," said Isabel, sadly. "He is wise and clever, while I have often felt that it was more than I could expect for a man like him to care for me, so simple and homely as I am."

"Fred ought to have been only too proud to have won such a girl," cried Laura, sharply, but her visitor shook her head.

"It was only a brief fancy of his, dear, and as soon as the right woman came across his path he forgot me. Well, I am patient if I am not proud, for I cannot resent it, dear, only try to bear it, for I loved him very dearly; but it is very hard for the little romance of one's poor homely life to be so soon brought to an end."

"It was cruel--cruel in the extreme," cried Laura, angrily. "I would not have believed that my brother, whom I almost worshipped, could have behaved so ill."

"These things are a mystery," said Isabel, gently; "and perhaps it is better that it should have happened now than later on when we were married. But tell me about him, dear. Has he settled down to seeing his patients again? You wrote to me saying that he was neglecting everything."

"So he is, nearly everything, now. Bel dear, I will not be so hard upon him any more. You must be right, that he cannot help himself, or he would never have behaved so ill. He must be mad."

Isabel clung to her with a startled look in her eyes.

"It is the only way in which I can account for the change," continued Laura, "for I will not believe what Aunt Grace says, that all men are bad at heart. If they are, women must be as wicked too."

Isabel shivered slightly.

"Tell me about what he does now."

"I can't, dear," cried Laura, piteously. "I seem to know so little.

Only that he goes out soon after breakfast, and does not come back till dinner-time, and so wet sometimes that he must have been walking about the streets for hours."

Isabel sighed.

"I've tried--oh, how I've tried!--to win his confidence; but he says nothing, only turns away, and goes out. It is just as if he had lost something of which he is always in search, and every day he grows more moody and strange."

"Then he is ill--mentally ill," cried Isabel, excitedly. "I knew that there must be some excuse for his strange behaviour. Laura dear, my heart has misgiven me from the first. It is all so directly opposed to his nature and character. I will not believe that he could be so false to everything that he has said to me."

Laura was silent again, and Isabel's careworn face flushed once more.

"You are not sisterly and true," she cried. "The world is censorious enough without those who are nearest and dearest to us turning away and becoming our enemies."

"I am not Fred's enemy, Bel," said Laura, gently.

"Then why are you so hard against him?"

"Because I feel that by his conduct he has put us all to shame."

"Yes, all to shame--all to shame, my dear," cried Aunt Grace, who had entered the room unnoticed. "It's a wicked, wicked world; but it's very good of you to come and see us, my dear, heart-broken as we are. You have come to stop a few days, of course?"

"I? Oh, no no, no. We are staying in town," said Isabel, hurriedly, "and I must go directly."

"I am sorry to hear that," said Aunt Grace in rather an offended tone.

"I did not think you would turn away from us in our trouble, Isabel; I thought better of you."

"I turn away from you and Laura, Aunt Grace? Oh no, no, no."

"I'm glad to hear it, my dear, because if you would stay we should be very glad."

"Oh, auntie!" whispered Laura, "impossible."

"It is not impossible, Laura," cried the old lady; "and I beg that you will not interfere. Isabel, my child, I shall be very glad indeed if you will stay, and you need not be at all afraid of meeting that dissolute, dissipated young man."

"Mrs Crane"--began Isabel, agitatedly, but she was interrupted at once.

"No, no, no, my dear; pray don't apologise and make excuses. Laura and I would be very pleased, and we see nothing whatever of Frederick now from breakfast-time to dinner. I don't know where he spends his days, but he is after no good."

"Aunt dear, I really must interfere once more," cried Laura, warmly.

"It is, as I said, impossible for Isabel to stoop to meet Fred again; and as to staying in the house--my dear aunt, of what can you be thinking?"

"That we are beginning to live in evil times, Laura," cried the old lady, indignantly, "when little girls so far forget the respect due to their elders as to speak as you did just now. I ought to be the best judge, miss, of what is correct, if you please."

"Pray say no more, Mrs Crane," cried Isabel, earnestly. "I must go back to the hotel where we are staying. It would indeed be impossible for me to visit here now."

"Oh, very well, my dear, very well," cried the old lady, drawing herself up. "I can see very plainly that you have allowed yourself to be impressed by what Laura has said. Young people will hold together, and think that they are wiser than their elders. There is one comfort, though, for us old folk: you all find out your mistake."

"Good-bye, dear Mrs Crane," said Isabel, advancing with open hands.

"Good-day, Miss Lee," said the old lady, frigidly, as she held out her fingers limply.

But Isabel did not take them. She laid her hands upon her shoulders, and, with tears in her eyes, kissed her affectionately twice.

There was magic in the touch, for in an instant she was s.n.a.t.c.hed to the old lady's breast and kissed pa.s.sionately again and again.

"Oh, my dear, my dear!" was sobbed; "I didn't think I was such an ill-tempered, wicked old woman. Pray, pray forgive me. I don't know what comes to me sometimes. And you in such sorrow and pain! Oh, that wicked, miserable, faithless boy! Something will come upon him some day like a judgment."

"Oh no, no, no!" cried Isabel, wildly. "Don't--pray don't say that."