After the death of Carlile, and as soon as Isis had recovered somewhat from the shock, she went to visit awhile with the Ebworth ladies, taking her two daughters with her, a home being found for the little boy Julian at Harmony Hall, Robert Owen's school. Carlile having died intestate, his eldest son, Richard, succeeded to the business and stock of books, etc., as also a few months afterwards to the annuity, while Isis had only the furniture and personal property. She was thus left totally unprovided for. The sum of £200 a year which had been promised to her by the hitherto generous friends, and upon which Carlile relied, was not forthcoming, and Isis was left perfectly helpless, with three children under ten years of age to be fed, clothed and educated. In a few weeks she was given charge of the sewing room of the "Concordium", as Alcott House was named, where she for some months supported herself and her little daughters, Hypatia and Theophila; but the health of the former giving way she was removed to Charing Cross Hospital. Isis did not remain very many months at Alcott House, but having a small legacy left her by an aunt she removed to London, and taking a large house she furnished apartments. In this way and with the help of some generous friends she managed to keep her little family together. She devoted herself to their care and education, and being an expert needlewoman she always kept them and herself well and comfortably dressed. Being still young and very attractive she had many admirers and would-be lovers, and, as might be expected, many offers of marriage. Such offers had no attraction for her, but rather troubled her than anything else. Her children had some amusing stories to tell of baffled lovers and rejected proposals. Her beauty became rather an annoyance than a pleasure to her, because of the notice and attention it caused her. She seldom went out, and when she did she was always thickly veiled; yet her form and carriage drew the same attention.

Isis struggled along for six or seven years, devoting herself to the care and education of her children, turning every stone to advance them in their studies; in this she was ably assisted by one or two faithful friends. A literary and scientific institute was established at the back of the Warner Street Temperance Hall. A fine lecture room was built and classes of all kinds inaugurated, a debating society formed, and quite a respectable library got together. This promised well at first, and probably would have been successful in other hands, that is, the hands of some experienced business man or woman; but as the manager of the details of such an establishment, Isis was out of place, and acknowledged it. She could grace a rostrum, but failed completely as a "server of coffee". To this place came many respectable young men, and quite a good membership rolled up, and it was in every respect a fitting and a proper place for the youth of both sexes, as educational and moral pursuits (with the relaxation of singing and dancing) only were countenanced.

Among the young men who were attracted by the lectures and debates to this institution was Charles Bradlaugh. He was known as the "Boy Preacher". He was a tall, well-developed youth, and was understood to be studying for the ministry, though he was at that time in the office of Green, Son and Jones, coal dealers, in London. It was understood that he was devoting his leisure hours to the necessary preparatory reading before going to a college or school to complete the course. It so happened that the subject for discussion on one particular week was the then comparatively new one of "Is there a God". There were several names enrolled on the books as taking part in this discussion, both for and against, and some were practised debaters. With something of the spirit of the old chivalric knights, Bradlaugh enrolled himself in the lists to fight for the affirmative side of the question. Not doubting for a moment but that he would be victorious, unluckily for him he had read only his own side of the question, and found himself hors de combat at the close of the first night. His opponent, who had been over the ground many times before, knew all the arguments that were likely to be advanced on either side, and thus had a great advantage over young Bradlaugh, who, though clever and intrepid, was very vulnerable to his older and more experienced adversary. The debate lasted three nights. The first night he, Bradlaugh, was thrown; the second night he was vanquished, and the third night he confessed himself completely conquered and threw up his case. But mark the consequence! One morning Julian Carlile, going on the street quite early, met Charles Bradlaugh, who told him that on going home the night before he found the door locked against him. His father speaking to him from a window, bade him never to enter his house again, and denied to his son even a change of linen. He had walked the street all night. On hearing this story from the lips of her son, Isis immediately sent for him, and after a long conference it was decided that he should make his home at the Institution, 1, Warner Place, Hackney Road, sharing the room of Julian, which they did for some time as though they were brothers; and indeed they looked considerably alike, both being of large build, fair complexioned, though Charles was considerably older. But in a few days or weeks he lost his position with the firm, his father withdrawing his security and telling the firm that his son had fallen into bad company. Nor did it rest there; the young man secured more than one position, only to lose it through the misrepresentation of this unnatural father. We know that this has been denied, but it is nevertheless strictly true, and the whole circumstance is as vivid in the mind of the writer (who was then a good-sized girl), as if it were a tale of yesterday; besides there are others living who can corroborate this statement. Bradlaugh then made himself as useful as possible in the Institution as librarian, lecturer, etc., and was to Isis as another son. It was very pleasant to hear him say a few years before his death that he owed all he was or became to her, for had she not counselled him and advised and guided him at that most trying period of his life as she did, he would have been desperate and probably done some rash thing which would have wrecked his life. It was soon after this that the health of Isis began to fail, and though change of scene and circumstances was tried, and some eminent physicians consulted, she was seen to be gradually but steadily losing ground. She had left the Institution by this time and had taken apartments in a very quiet place where there was a nice garden, and where she could have a room on the ground floor, which afforded easy access to the garden, and also a fine view of it from the bed upon which she was beginning to rest longer and longer each succeeding day. Doctors came and looked at her and shook their heads, and spoke outside of the room of her mind and heart, and that it was not a sickness of the body; no-medicine could reach the case. One more sympathetic than the rest suggested her native air, whereupon a kind friend wrote to the mother of Isis, telling what the doctor had said, and asking if they would receive her and let her come to them for a little while; and this was the answer—"As she has made her bed so she must lie". This was the last stroke. In a few days she passed away quietly in her sleep without suffering, indeed she had suffered very little pain during the whole of her illness, just a gradual wasting away of the body. No death could be more peaceful—

"We thought her dying when she slept And sleeping when she died".

The only witness to her passing away was the same little girl of whom the reader has read, now grown larger, but still only a girl.