er were looking for? They
looked for what they found; they knew what pleased them only when
they saw it. No theory was valid in such matters, and nothing was more
unaccountable or more natural than anything else. If he had cared for
HER it might seem odd he should care for Pansy, who was so different;
but he had not cared for her so much as he had supposed. Or if he had,
he had completely got over it, and it was natural that, as that affair
had failed, he should think something of quite another sort might
succeed. Enthusiasm, as I say, had not come at first to Isabel, but
it came to-day and made her feel almost happy. It was astonishing what
happiness she could still find in the idea of procuring a pleasure for
her husband. It was a pity, however, that Edward Rosier had crossed
their path!

At this reflection the light that had suddenly gleamed upon that path
lost something of its brightness. Isabel was unfortunately as sure that
Pansy thought Mr. Rosier the nicest of all the young men--as sure as if
she had held an interview with her on the subject. It was very tiresome
she should be so sure, when she had carefully abstained from informing
herself; almost as tiresome as that poor Mr. Rosier should have taken it
into his own head. He was certainly very inferior to Lord Warburton. It
was not the difference in fortune so much as the difference in the men;
the young American was really so light a weight. He was much more of
the type of the useless fine gentleman than the English nobleman. It
was true that there was no particular reason why Pansy should marry a
statesman; still, if a statesman admired her, that was his affair, and
she would make a perfect little pearl of a peeress.

It may seem to the reader that Mrs. Osmond had grown of a sudden
strangely cynical, for she ended by saying to herself that this
difficulty could probably be arranged. An impediment that was embodied
in poor Rosier could not anyhow present itself as a dangerous one; there
were always means of levelling secondary obstacles. Isabel was perfectly
aware that she had not taken the measure of Pansy's tenacity, which
might prove to be inconveniently great; but she inclined to see her
as rather letting go, under suggestion, than as clutching under
deprecation--since she had certainly the faculty of assent developed in
a very much higher degree than that of protest. She would cling, yes,
she would cling; but it really mattered to her very little what sh