"Very good; I'll put him into a corner and allow him so much a day."Madame Merle had, for the most part, while they talked, been glancing about her; it was her habit in this situation, just as it was her habit to interpose a good many blank-looking pauses.A long drop followed the last words I have quoted; and before it had ended she saw Pansy come out of the adjoining room, followed by Edward Rosier.The girl advanced a few steps and then stopped and stood looking at Madame Merle and at her father.
"He has spoken to her," Madame Merle went on to Osmond.
Her companion never turned his head."So much for your belief in his promises.He ought to be horse-whipped.""He intends to confess, poor little man!"Osmond got up; he had now taken a sharp look at his daughter."It doesn't matter," he murmured, turning away.
Pansy after a moment came up to Madame Merle with her little manner of unfamiliar politeness.This lady's reception of her was not more intimate; she simply, as she rose from the sofa, gave her a friendly smile.
"You're very late," the young creature gently said.
"My dear child, I'm never later than I intend to be."Madame Merle had not got up to be gracious to Pansy; she moved toward Edward Rosier.He came to meet her and, very quickly, as if to get it off his mind, "I've spoken to her!" he whispered.
"I know it, Mr.Rosier."
"Did she tell you?"
"Yes, she told me.Behave properly for the rest of the evening, and come and see me to-morrow at a quarter past five." She was severe, and in the manner in which she turned her back to him there was a degree of contempt which caused him to mutter a decent imprecation.
He had no intention of speaking to Osmond; it was neither the time nor the place.But he instinctively wandered toward Isabel, who sat talking with an old lady.He sat down on the other side of her; the old lady was Italian, and Rosier took for granted she understood no English."You said just now you wouldn't help me," he began to Mrs.
Osmond."Perhaps you'll feel differently when you know-when you know-!
Isabel met his hesitation."When I know what?""That she's all right."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, that we've come to an understanding.""She's all wrong," said Isabel."It won't do."Poor Rosier gazed at her half-pleadingly, half-angrily; a sudden flush testified to his sense of injury."I've never been treated so," he said."What is there against me, after all? That's not the way I'm usually considered.I could have married twenty times.""It's a pity you didn't.I don't mean twenty times, but once comfortably," Isabel added, smiling kindly."You're not rich enough for Pansy." "She doesn't care a straw for one's money.""No, but her father does."
"Ah yes, he has proved that!" cried the young man.
Isabel got up, turning away from him, leaving her old lady without ceremony; and he occupied himself for the next ten minutes in pretending to look at Gilbert Osmond's collection of miniatures, which were neatly arranged on a series of small velvet screens.But he looked without seeing; his cheek burned; he was too full of his sense of injury.It was certain that he had never been treated that way before; he was not used to being thought not good enough.He knew how good he was, and if such a fallacy had not been so pernicious he could have laughed at it.He searched again for Pansy, but she had disappeared, and his main desire was now to get out of the house.Before doing so he spoke once more to Isabel; it was not agreeable to him to reflect that he had just said a rude thing to her-the only point that would now justify a low view of him.
"I referred to Mr.Osmond as I shouldn't have done, a while ago," he began."But you must remember my situation.""I don't remember what you said," she answered coldly.
"Ah, you're offended, and now you'll never help me."She was silent an instant, and then with a change of tone: "It's not that I won't; I simply can't!" Her manner was almost passionate.
"If you could, just a little, I'd never again speak of your husband save as an angel.""The inducement's great," said Isabel gravely-inscrutably, as he afterwards, to himself, called it; and she gave him, straight in the eyes, a look which was also inscrutable.It made him remember somehow that he had known her as a child; and yet it was keener than he liked, and he took himself off.