Chapter 43 - Page 2

reference. "You know our acquaintance goes back very far--quite
into the days of our innocent childhood."

"Don't make me out too old," Isabel patiently answered. "You come
back to that very often, and I've never denied it. But I must
tell you that, old friends as we are, if you had done me the
honour to ask me to marry you I should have refused you on the
spot."

"Ah, you don't esteem me then. Say at once that you think me a
mere Parisian trifler!"

"I esteem you very much, but I'm not in love with you. What I
mean by that, of course, is that I'm not in love with you for
Pansy."

"Very good; I see. You pity me--that's all." And Edward Rosier
looked all round, inconsequently, with his single glass. It was a
revelation to him that people shouldn't be more pleased; but he
was at least too proud to show that the deficiency struck him as
general.

Isabel for a moment said nothing. His manner and appearance had
not the dignity of the deepest tragedy; his little glass, among
other things, was against that. But she suddenly felt touched;
her own unhappiness, after all, had something in common with his,
and it came over her, more than before, that here, in
recognisable, if not in romantic form, was the most affecting
thing in the world--young love struggling with adversity. "Would
you really be very kind to her?" she finally asked in a low tone.

He dropped his eyes devoutly and raised the little flower that he
held in his fingers to his lips. Then he looked at her. "You pity
me; but don't you pity HER a little?"

"I don't know; I'm not sure. She'll always enjoy life."

"It will depend on what you call life!" Mr. Rosier effectively
said. "She won't enjoy being tortured."

"There'll be nothing of that."

"I'm glad to hear it. She knows what she's about. You'll see."

"I think she does, and she'll never disobey her father. But she's
coming back to me," Isabel added, "and I must beg you to go
away."

Rosier lingered a moment till Pansy came in sight on the arm of
her cavalier; he stood just long enough to look her in the face.
Then he walked away, holding up his head; and the manner in which
he achieved this sacrifice to expediency convinced Isabel he was
very much in love.

Pansy, who seldom got disarranged in dancing, looking perfectly
fresh and cool after this exercise, waited a moment and then took
back her bouquet. Isabel watched her and saw she was counting the
flowers; whereupon she said to herself that decidedly there were
deeper forces at play than she had recognised. Pansy had seen
Rosier turn away, but she said nothing to Isabel about him; she
talked only of her partner, after he had made his bow and
retired; of the