Isabella had returned at Christmas, engaged to a High Church curate, and beaming with satisfaction and health. And it gave Paul, and indeed them both, pleasure to meet and talk for an hour. She was a good sort always, and if he marvelled to himself how he had even been even mildly attracted by her, he did not let it appear in his manner. But one thing jarred. "My goodness, Paul, how smart Pike's collar is!" Isabella had said. "Did you ever! You extravagant boy! It is good enough for a lady's bracelet. You had better give it to me! It will make the finest wedding gift I'll have!" But Paul had snatched Pike up, the blood burning in his cheeks, and had laughed awkwardly and turned the conversation. No one's fingers but his own were ever allowed to touch the sacred gold. About this time his mother began to have the idea he ought really to marry. His father had been thirty at the time of his wedding with herself, and she had always thought that was starting too late. Twenty-three was a good age, and a sweet, gentle wife of Paul's would be the joy of her declining years--to say nothing of several grandchildren. But when this matter was broached to him first, Paul laughed, and when it became a daily subject of conversation, he almost lost that quick temper of his, which was not quite yet under perfect control. "I tell you what it is, mother," he said, "if you tease me like this I shall go away on a voyage round the world!" So the Lady Henrietta subsided into pained silence, and sulked with her adored son for more than a day. "Paul is so unaccountably changed since his visit abroad," she said to her husband plaintively. "I sometimes wonder, Charles, if we really know all the people he met." And Sir Charles had replied, "Nonsense! Henrietta--the lad is a man now, and immensely improved; do leave him in peace." But when he was alone the father had smiled to himself--rather sadly--for he saw a good deal with his shrewd eyes, though he said no words of sympathy to his son. He knew that Paul was suffering still, perhaps as keenly as ever, and he honoured his determination to keep it all from view. So the old year died, and the new one came--and soon February would be here. Ah! with what passionate anxiety the end of that month was awaited by Paul, only his own heart knew. CHAPTER XXV The days passed on, March had almost come, and Paul heard nothing. His father noticed the daily look of strain, and his mother anxiously inquired if he were dull, and if he would not like her to have some people to stay, and thus divert him in some fashion. And Paul had answered with what grace he could.