She started, trembled, turned upon him swiftly, made a low, strange cry, and then gazed rivetedly and imploringly upon him.
"I look rather queerish, sweet Isabel, do I not?" said Pierre at last with a writhed and painful smile.
"My brother, my blessed brother!--speak--tell me--what has happened--what hast thou done? Oh! Oh! I should have warned thee before, Pierre, Pierre; it is my fault--mine, mine!"
" What is thy fault, sweet Isabel?"
"Thou hast revealed Isabel to thy mother, Pierre."
"I have not, Isabel. Mrs. Glendinning knows not thy secret at all."
"Mrs. Glendinning?--that's,--that's thine own mother, Pierre! In heaven's name, my brother, explain thyself. Knows not my secret, and yet thou here so suddenly, and with such a fatal aspect? Come, come with me into the house. Quick, P
