very
temple of authorised love. Rosier gazed a moment through this aperture;
he was afraid that Pansy would run away, and felt almost capable of
stretching out a hand to detain her. But she lingered where the other
maiden had left them, making no motion to join a knot of visitors on
the far side of the room. For a little it occurred to him that she was
frightened--too frightened perhaps to move; but a second glance assured
him she was not, and he then reflected that she was too innocent indeed
for that. After a supreme hesitation he asked her if he might go and
look at the yellow room, which seemed so attractive yet so virginal. He
had been there already with Osmond, to inspect the furniture, which was
of the First French Empire, and especially to admire the clock (which he
didn't really admire), an immense classic structure of that period. He
therefore felt that he had now begun to manoeuvre.

"Certainly, you may go," said Pansy; "and if you like I'll show you."
She was not in the least frightened.

"That's just what I hoped you'd say; you're so very kind," Rosier
murmured.

They went in together; Rosier really thought the room very ugly, and it
seemed cold. The same idea appeared to have struck Pansy. "It's not for
winter evenings; it's more for summer," she said. "It's papa's taste; he
has so much."

He had a good deal, Rosier thought; but some of it was very bad. He
looked about him; he hardly knew what to say in such a situation.
"Doesn't Mrs. Osmond care how her rooms are done? Has she no taste?" he
asked.

"Oh yes, a great deal; but it's more for literature," said Pansy--"and
for conversation. But papa cares also for those things. I think he knows
everything."

Rosier was silent a little. "There's one thing I'm sure he knows!" he
broke out presently. "He knows that when I come here it's, with all
respect to him, with all respect to Mrs. Osmond, who's so charming--it's
really," said the young man, "to see you!"

"To see me?" And Pansy raised her vaguely troubled eyes.

"To see you; that's what I come for," Rosier repeated, feeling the
intoxication of a rupture with authority.

Pansy stood looking at him, simply, intently, openly; a blush was not
needed to make her face more modest. "I thought it was for that."

"And it was not disagreeable to you?"

"I couldn't tell; I didn't know. You never told me," said Pansy.

"I was afraid of offending you."

"You don't offend me," the young girl murmured, s