ve accepted the idea of eternal singleness; but Isabel of
course was free to reflect that she had no conception of its meaning.
She was perfectly sincere; she was prepared to give up her lover. This
might seem an important step toward taking another, but for Pansy,
evidently, it failed to lead in that direction. She felt no bitterness
toward her father; there was no bitterness in her heart; there was only
the sweetness of fidelity to Edward Rosier, and a strange, exquisite
intimation that she could prove it better by remaining single than even
by marrying him.

"Your father would like you to make a better marriage," said Isabel.
"Mr. Rosier's fortune is not at all large."

"How do you mean better--if that would be good enough? And I have myself
so little money; why should I look for a fortune?"

"Your having so little is a reason for looking for more." With which
Isabel was grateful for the dimness of the room; she felt as if her face
were hideously insincere. It was what she was doing for Osmond; it was
what one had to do for Osmond! Pansy's solemn eyes, fixed on her own,
almost embarrassed her; she was ashamed to think she had made so light
of the girl's preference.

"What should you like me to do?" her companion softly demanded.

The question was a terrible one, and Isabel took refuge in timorous
vagueness. "To remember all the pleasure it's in your power to give your
father."

"To marry some one else, you mean--if he should ask me?"

For a moment Isabel's answer caused itself to be waited for; then she
heard herself utter it in the stillness that Pansy's attention seemed to
make. "Yes--to marry some one else."

The child's eyes grew more penetrating; Isabel believed she was doubting
her sincerity, and the impression took force from her slowly getting
up from her cushion. She stood there a moment with her small hands
unclasped and then quavered out: "Well, I hope no one will ask me!"

"There has been a question of that. Some one else would have been ready
to ask you."

"I don't think he can have been ready," said Pansy.

"It would appear so if he had been sure he'd succeed."

"If he had been sure? Then he wasn't ready!"

Isabel thought this rather sharp; she also got up and stood a moment
looking into the fire. "Lord Warburton has shown you great attention,"
she resumed; "of course you know it's of him I speak." She found
herself, against her expectation, almost placed in the position of
justifying he