very limited."

"She ought to be all the easier for Mr. Rosier to love. Mr. Rosier's not
unlimited."

"No," said Isabel, "he has about the extent of one's
pocket-handkerchief--the small ones with lace borders." Her humour had
lately turned a good deal to sarcasm, but in a moment she was ashamed
of exercising it on so innocent an object as Pansy's suitor. "He's very
kind, very honest," she presently added; "and he's not such a fool as he
seems."

"He assures me that she delights in him," said Madame Merle.

"I don't know; I've not asked her."

"You've never sounded her a little?"

"It's not my place; it's her father's."

"Ah, you're too literal!" said Madame Merle.

"I must judge for myself."

Madame Merle gave her smile again. "It isn't easy to help you."

"To help me?" said Isabel very seriously. "What do you mean?"

"It's easy to displease you. Don't you see how wise I am to be careful?
I notify you, at any rate, as I notified Osmond, that I wash my hands of
the love-affairs of Miss Pansy and Mr. Edward Rosier. Je n'y peux rien,
moi! I can't talk to Pansy about him. Especially," added Madame Merle,
"as I don't think him a paragon of husbands."

Isabel reflected a little; after which, with a smile, "You don't wash
your hands then!" she said. After which again she added in another tone:
"You can't--you're too much interested."

Madame Merle slowly rose; she had given Isabel a look as rapid as the
intimation that had gleamed before our heroine a few moments before.
Only this time the latter saw nothing. "Ask him the next time, and
you'll see."

"I can't ask him; he has ceased to come to the house. Gilbert has let
him know that he's not welcome."

"Ah yes," said Madame Merle, "I forgot that--though it's the burden of
his lamentation. He says Osmond has insulted him. All the same," she
went on, "Osmond doesn't dislike him so much as he thinks." She had got
up as if to close the conversation, but she lingered, looking about her,
and had evidently more to say. Isabel perceived this and even saw the
point she had in view; but Isabel also had her own reasons for not
opening the way.

"That must have pleased him, if you've told him," she answered, smiling.

"Certainly I've told him; as far as that goes I've encouraged him. I've
preached patience, have said that his case isn't desperate if he'll only
hold his tongue and be quiet. Unfortunately he has taken it into his
head to be jealous."

"Jealous?"

"