mbraces, which were presently interrupted by Madame Merle.

"Stay with me, dear child," she said, "while your father takes the good
ladies to the door."

Pansy stared, disappointed, yet not protesting. She was evidently
impregnated with the idea of submission, which was due to any one who
took the tone of authority; and she was a passive spectator of the
operation of her fate. "May I not see mamman Catherine get into the
carriage?" she nevertheless asked very gently.

"It would please me better if you'd remain with me," said Madame Merle,
while Mr. Osmond and his companions, who had bowed low again to the
other visitor, passed into the ante-chamber.

"Oh yes, I'll stay," Pansy answered; and she stood near Madame Merle,
surrendering her little hand, which this lady took. She stared out of
the window; her eyes had filled with tears.

"I'm glad they've taught you to obey," said Madame Merle. "That's what
good little girls should do."

"Oh yes, I obey very well," cried Pansy with soft eagerness, almost with
boastfulness, as if she had been speaking of her piano-playing. And then
she gave a faint, just audible sigh.

Madame Merle, holding her hand, drew it across her own fine palm and
looked at it. The gaze was critical, but it found nothing to deprecate;
the child's small hand was delicate and fair. "I hope they always see
that you wear gloves," she said in a moment. "Little girls usually
dislike them."

"I used to dislike them, but I like them now," the child made answer.

"Very good, I'll make you a present of a dozen."

"I thank you very much. What colours will they be?" Pansy demanded with
interest.

Madame Merle meditated. "Useful colours."

"But very pretty?"

"Are you very fond of pretty things?"

"Yes; but--but not too fond," said Pansy with a trace of asceticism.

"Well, they won't be too pretty," Madame Merle returned with a laugh.
She took the child's other hand and drew her nearer; after which,
looking at her a moment, "Shall you miss mother Catherine?" she went on.

"Yes--when I think of her."

"Try then not to think of her. Perhaps some day," added Madame Merle,
"you'll have another mother."

"I don't think that's necessary," Pansy said, repeating her little soft
conciliatory sigh. "I had more than thirty mothers at the convent."

Her father's step sounded again in the antechamber, and Madame Merle got
up, releasing the child. Mr. Osmond came in and closed the door; then,
without lookin