"
"Why?" asked Rose, merely for the sake of making conversation.
"Because just as Mamma writes to tell me that marriage is slavery, but
that if he can take care of me and Aunt Francesca approves of him, it
will be all right, Allison writes and releases me from the engagement."
"Poor boy!" sighed Madame.
"I don't know why you should say 'poor boy,'" Isabel observed, rather
fretfully. "He's not very ill if he can write letters. I'm sure I don't
feel like writing any."
"I wasn't thinking of that," said Madame, half to herself.
"And as for his releasing me," Isabel went on, coolly, "I'm glad he was
decent enough to do it and save me the trouble of releasing myself."
Rose got to her feet somehow, her face deathly white. "Do you mean," she
cried, "that you would think for a minute of accepting release?"
"Why, certainly," the girl replied, in astonishment. "Why not? He says
himself that he can't ask me to marry a cripple."
Rose winced visibly. "Isabel!" she breathed. "Oh, Isabel!"
"My dear," said Madame, with such kindness as she could muster, "have
you forgotten that he saved you from death, or worse?"
"He didn't do anything for me but to tell me to jump.
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