"Ah, well, I have!" was all he could murmur; and he knew
his murmur was partly lost as he turned away. He took his course to the
adjoining room and met Mrs. Osmond coming out of the deep doorway. She
was dressed in black velvet; she looked high and splendid, as he had
said, and yet oh so radiantly gentle! We know what Mr. Rosier thought
of her and the terms in which, to Madame Merle, he had expressed his
admiration. Like his appreciation of her dear little stepdaughter it
was based partly on his eye for decorative character, his instinct for
authenticity; but also on a sense for uncatalogued values, for that
secret of a "lustre" beyond any recorded losing or rediscovering,
which his devotion to brittle wares had still not disqualified him
to recognise. Mrs. Osmond, at present, might well have gratified such
tastes. The years had touched her only to enrich her; the flower of her
youth had not faded, it only hung more quietly on its stem. She had lost
something of that quick eagerness to which her husband had privately
taken exception--she had more the air of being able to wait. Now, at all
events, framed in the gilded doorway, she struck our young man as the
picture of a gracious lady. "You see I'm very regular," he said. "But
who should be if I'm not?"

"Yes, I've known you longer than any one here. But we mustn't indulge in
tender reminiscences. I want to introduce you to a young lady."

"Ah, please, what young lady?" Rosier was immensely obliging; but this
was not what he had come for.

"She sits there by the fire in pink and has no one to speak to." Rosier
hesitated a moment. "Can't Mr. Osmond speak to her? He's within six feet
of her."

Mrs. Osmond also hesitated. "She's not very lively, and he doesn't like
dull people."

"But she's good enough for me? Ah now, that's hard!"

"I only mean that you've ideas for two. And then you're so obliging."

"No, he's not--to me." And Mrs. Osmond vaguely smiled.

"That's a sign he should be doubly so to other women.

"So I tell him," she said, still smiling.

"You see I want some tea," Rosier went on, looking wistfully beyond.

"That's perfect. Go and give some to my young lady."

"Very good; but after that I'll abandon her to her fate. The simple
truth is I'm dying to have a little talk with Miss Osmond."

"Ah," said Isabel, turning away, "I can't help you there!"

Five minutes later, while he handed a tea-cup to the damsel in pink,
whom he had conducted into th