“But it was useless. Isola was loud and stubborn in her _Cevenol patois_. Mademoiselle (so she still called my wife) was perfect. What would I? Did I wish to freeze the warm southern blood in her veins, and teach her the cunning and caution of the cold-hearted northerners? Had not Aimée’s father and mother, each in dying, committed their darling to her care, and no power in heaven or earth would induce her to betray the trust. ‘I love those who love her,’ the poor ignorant faithful creature concluded, ‘and those who hate her, I hate also with an undying hatred.’ These last words she almost hissed in my face, then abruptly turned and left me, taking my little girl by the hand, telling her to come and gather lilies to make a crown for her dear mamma. “Then I went to Aimée herself, and asked if she were ready to give me some real proof of her love, for I had come to ask her a great favour— “‘What is it?’ said Aimée, petulantly, ‘I have not loved you so well lately, for you have been cross and cruel to me.’ “How lovely she looked that morning, angry and scornful though she was. I remember she was threading some bright Andalusian beads, one of our little girl’s lily crowns, half-faded, drooped over her forehead, and an Indian scarf, draped round her waist, fell in folds over her white dress. Poor, poor Aimée! My girl-wife! then scarcely nineteen years of age—till I die, your image will remain in my mind fresh and glowing, as on that last morning I looked on your sweet face! “The favour I had to ask was a very simple one. I merely wished to take my wife and daughter to England, and introduce both to my friends and relations, from whom I had been, to a certain extent, alienated during my long residence in France. But the one thing which I begged with great earnestness was, that Isola should be left behind with her own people. I explained to her that my motive in asking this was a kind one. Isola should be well cared for during our absence, and, as I loved my wife well, I wished to have her all to myself, for a short time at any rate. “Then the storm burst. It was terrible to see my wife’s anger— “‘Did I wish to kill her in some secret place,’ she asked, ‘that I should thus take her away from her own bright land, and the one, the only one who loved her truly?’ “The scene was indescribable; in vain I attempted to reason with, or calm her. In a perfect whirlwind of fury, she swept out of the room.