We left Colonel Charles Manners standing at the library door, with his hand upon the great brazen ball, embossed with sundry figures, which served as the handle to the lock. It may be remembered that Colonel Manners, being somewhat troubled with the internal contention between feeling for his friend's uneasiness and wonder for its cause, was seeking an empty room to let those two emotions calm themselves; but when he turned the above brazen ball, and the door opened to his will, he found that he had been mistaken in looking for solitude there; for the first things he saw were, a very beautiful face and a pair of bright gay eyes looking up at him from the other side of the little table on the left hand, with the hat and feathers, which it was then customary for ladies to wear in riding, thrown somewhat back from the forehead, so as to show the whole countenance of Isadore Falkland, raising her face with a look of half-laughing vexation, as if asking, "Who is about to disturb me now, when I came here in search of solitude?" The interpretation of the expression was so self-evident that Colonel Manners paused with a smile; and Isadore, finding that her face had told the truth somewhat too plainly, laughed, and begged him to come in. "Nay, Miss Falkland," said Manners, "I will not disturb you. Your look, I can assure you, said, _Not at home!_ as plain as those words ever were spoken." And he took a step back, as if to withdraw. "The servant made a mistake, then," replied Isadore; "I did not bid him say, 'Not at home' to Colonel Manners. But the truth is, I am endeavouring to compose my mind." "Indeed!" he exclaimed, in some surprise; "I am very sorry to hear that any thing has occurred to agitate it." "And can you say so, Colonel Manners?" asked Isadore laughing, "when you, yourself, were art and part in the deed?" Manners was still more surprised; but, as he saw that the agitation of which Miss Falkland complained was of no very serious nature, it only affected him so far as to bring him two steps farther into the room. "If I am one of the culprits," he said, approaching nearer the table, where Isadore sat enjoying his astonishment,--for hers was one of those light and happy hearts that can win a drop of honey from every flower, however small,--"if I am one of the culprits, I claim the right of an Englishman to hear the charge fairly read, Miss Falkland. Otherwise I refuse to plead."