17/26 "Farewell, my dear; make yourself happy at Castle Marling. I shall be home soon." Passing from the room with Mr.Carlyle, he stood talking with that gentleman a minute, his foot on the step of the chaise, and the next was being whisked away. Mr.Carlyle returned to the breakfast-room, where Isabel, an ashy whiteness having replaced the crimson on her cheeks, was picking up the gold. I told Marvel to send in and pay him, but it seems she forgot it, or put it off, and he is not paid. |