"Goosey, goosey!" said Emily, later in the day, as she came upon Everard in the music-room. "Why do you go on in this provoking way, Emily?" he said, angrily. "Because I have no patience with this stupid jealousy. If you care for her, why not try to win her in a straightforward manner; if not, why be vexed that another should?" "Why do you strive to undo that which has cost me so much? She is nothing to me; I have determined that she shall be nothing." "Then why so jealous?" "I cannot help it; you know that I cannot." "But why force yourself to give her up?" "Why, indeed," he echoed, "is it not worse than useless to cherish an attachment for one who is so perfectly indifferent?" "I do not believe that she is as indifferent and inaccessible as you imagine." "Why do you tempt me, Emily?" he returned, almost fiercely. "Let me be; the ordination will be very shortly, and I am sure of an appointment directly after." "Ah, goosey, goosey! 'Faint heart,' you know," she said, and left him--more angry with his favorite sister than he had ever been before. CHAPTER XXX. "Isabel, you said something about going home this week; now I have settled that for you. I wrote to mamma, saying that you were going to stay until after the ordination, and then we would all return together." "I declare those children will get quite unmanageable with such long holidays. When will the ordination be?" "The beginning of next month." "Dreadful! I do not think that Mrs. Arlington will consent." "Oh, yes, she will. What a state Everard is getting into about that ordination!" she continued, "and I am nearly as bad. I suppose we shall all go to see it." "I shall not," said Isabel. "Why not?" asked Emily. "I had rather not." "What a strange girl you are! I wouldn't miss it for the world. He will be so vexed, too." "Why should he?" "Of course he will." Isabel protested that she would not go; but for all that, when the time came, she could not resist the desire to be present, even at the risk of being thought changeable. She went, after the rest, and from her corner saw the whole. From where she sat she had a full view of his face--grave, earnest, calm, evidently feeling how much was implied in the ordination vows. As she returned before the others, they were quite unaware that she had been there, and she, little hypocrite, listened gravely to all Emily's descriptions. In the evening Isabel walked on the lawn in the pale moon's silvery beams, musing of all that had taken place that day, and thinking how very happy Everard must feel to-night. Suddenly that gentleman accosted her: "Why did you refuse to be present at the ordination to-day?" he asked. Isabel was silent. "How is it," he continued, "that while others were so anxious, you manifested no interest at all? It is, to say the least, unkind." "You may be sure that I wish you all prosperity in your new vocation," she said. "I would have said so before, had I thought you wished or expected it."