She dropped on her chair, overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions that rose in her at the sight of the bracelet, at the reading of the note.

Her head drooped, and the tears filled her eyes.

"Are all women as blind as I have been to what is good and noble in the men who love them ?" she wondered, sadly.

"Better as it is," she thought, with a bitter sigh; "I am not worthy of him." As she took up the pencil to write her answer to Moody on the back of her dinner-card, the servant appeared again at the door of the tent.
"My master wants you at the cottage, miss, immediately." Isabel rose, putting the bracelet and the note in the silver-mounted leather pocket (a present from Hardyman) which hung at her belt.

In the hurry of passing round the table to get out, she never noticed that her dress touched Hardyman's pocketbook, placed close to the edge, and threw it down on the grass below.