Chapter 43

CHAPTER XLIII

Three nights after this she took Pansy to a great party, to which
Osmond, who never went to dances, did not accompany them. Pansy
was as ready for a dance as ever; she was not of a generalising
turn and had not extended to other pleasures the interdict she
had seen placed on those of love. If she was biding her time or
hoping to circumvent her father she must have had a prevision of
success. Isabel thought this unlikely; it was much more likely
that Pansy had simply determined to be a good girl. She had never
had such a chance, and she had a proper esteem for chances. She
carried herself no less attentively than usual and kept no less
anxious an eye upon her vaporous skirts; she held her bouquet
very tight and counted over the flowers for the twentieth time.
She made Isabel feel old; it seemed so long since she had been in
a flutter about a ball. Pansy, who was greatly admired, was never
in want of partners, and very soon after their arrival she gave
Isabel, who was not dancing, her bouquet to hold. Isabel had
rendered her this service for some minutes when she became aware
of the near presence of Edward Rosier. He stood before her; he
had lost his affable smile and wore a look of almost military
resolution. The change in his appearance would have made Isabel
smile if she had not felt his case to be at bottom a hard one: he
had always smelt so much more of heliotrope than of gunpowder. He
looked at her a moment somewhat fiercely, as if to notify her he
was dangerous, and then dropped his eyes on her bouquet. After he
had inspected it his glance softened and he said quickly: "It's
all pansies; it must be hers!"

Isabel smiled kindly. "Yes, it's hers; she gave it to me to
hold."

"May I hold it a little, Mrs. Osmond?" the poor young man asked.

"No, I can't trust you; I'm afraid you wouldn't give it back."

"I'm not sure that I should; I should leave the house with it
instantly. But may I not at least have a single flower?"

Isabel hesitated a moment, and then, smiling still, held out the
bouquet. "Choose one yourself. It's frightful what I'm doing for
you."

"Ah, if you do no more than this, Mrs. Osmond!" Rosier exclaimed
with his glass in one eye, carefully choosing his flower.

"Don't put it into your button-hole," she said. "Don't for the
world!"

"I should like her to see it. She has refused to dance with me,
but I wish to show her that I believe in her still."

"It's very well to show it to her, but it's out of place to show
it to others. Her father has told her not to dance with you."

"And is that all YOU can do for me? I expected more from you,
Mrs. Osmond," said the young man in a tone of fine general