‘For, don’t deceive yourself,’ said Miss Catherine, ‘that would be the result. He may have been weak, but he has always been able to hope; but if you say “No” now, there will be no middle course for him. If he puts himself in your way again, I, for one, will wash my hands of him; and I will never do anything to throw him in your way. Do you understand what I mean?’ ‘Yes, I understand,’ cried the girl; ‘but if you think--if you think--I am to be threatened----! Miss Catherine, you have been very kind; but you are not my mother, or my near friend, to meddle with me now.’ ‘But I _will_ meddle,’ said Miss Catherine, ‘and for your good. Will you part with him and me, and all that is best near you, for a dream--a delusion--a fancy of your bit foolish heart? Or will you accept a happy life and a good man, and all that heart can desire, when Providence offers them to you, Isabel?--that is what I have come to ask. And I’ll not go till I get my answer. I was fond of your mother, and fond of Margaret, and I am fond of you,’ said the old lady, with softening eyes. ‘My dear, I would give a good year of my life to see you so safe landed. They are gone that would have advised you better than me; but I cannot stand by and let you throw your life away. It would be a happy, good life. You would be like the apple of his eye. He loves you like the men in books--like the men in your poetry you’re so fond of, him and you. If I were as young as you, and my life in my own hands again---- But when I was your age I was a fool; will you be like all the rest of us, and choose your own dream, and let your life go by?’ ‘Were the rest like that?’ said Isabel, suddenly rousing up, with white lips and troubled eyes, to gaze at her monitor, who had thus changed her tone all at once. ‘I could tell you stories of that,’ said Miss Catherine, suddenly taking the girl’s hand into her own, ‘and some day I may. But there is no time for that now. Isabel, will you think well, and ponder what I say?’ ‘I am dizzy with thinking,’ said Isabel, putting her hand to her head with a certain despair. ‘Then think no more,’ said Miss Catherine, ‘but take what God sends you. He must not find me here; he would never forgive me. Isabel, me, that was your mother’s friend, I bid you make that man happy, and not sin against your own life. He’ll come before I can get away. God bless you, bairn,’ said Miss Catherine, hurriedly kissing her, ‘and don’t forget what I say.’ CHAPTER XXVIII Miss Catherine’s words had scarcely died out of Isabel’s ear when the minister himself stood at the door.