"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 snatched to the old lady's breast and kissed passionately 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." "But I have said it, my dear. Ah, well, I won't think it, then, any more, for I don't see what greater judgment could fall upon him than losing you." Isabel could not trust herself to speak, but hurried out of the room and downstairs with Laura. "Don't speak to me, dear; let me go now," whispered the poor girl, faintly. "I am weak and ill, and can bear no more now. I ought not to have come, but the impulse was too strong. Good-bye, dear sister, good-bye!" The two girls were locked in a loving embrace, and then, with Isabel turning sick with dread, they sprang apart, for there was the rattle of a latch-key at the door, it was thrown open, and Chester strode in. He stood for a few moments aghast, as he saw Isabel recoil from him. Then, drawing down her veil, she tottered out, and was half-way to the brougham, drawn up by the kerb, before he recollected himself and sprang after her to open the door and try to hand her in. But she shrank from him as if in dread, and gathering her veil closely over her white, drawn face, she sank back in the carriage, and her betrothed stood gazing after her as she was rapidly driven away. CHAPTER THIRTEEN. WORKERS AT A TRAIN. "Of course, Orthur, the different grades in this service have to be kept distinct, and the inferiors have to look up to their superiors just as it is in the army." "Oh yes, sir, of course," said the gentleman addressed, squeezing his left eyelids together slightly, unseen by the pompous individual addressing him; "but you can't say as I haven't always been respectful and kept my place." "Always, Orthur, always, and that's why I come down a little to you and meet you on equal terms when we are alone, for I have always found you a very respectable, intelligent young man. What's that chap staring at?" "Us, seemingly, Mr Roach, sir," said the younger man, with a grin. "Book canvasser, that's what he is; been taking orders of the old chap next door, but didn't like the look of us, and didn't try it on. I had a peep through the open door there one day, and it was packed full o' books like a warehouse, sir."