Page:The Portrait of a Lady (1882).djvu/389

381 THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY. 381 be a better proof of it than that she should linger there half the night, trying to persuade herself that there was no reason why Pansy shoufdn't be married as you would put a letter in the post- office ? When the clock struck four she got up ; she was going to bed at last, for the lamp had long since gone out and the candles had burned down to their sockets. But even then she stopped again in the middle of the room, and stood there gazing at a remembered vision that of her husband and Madame Merle, grouped unconsciously and familiarly. XLIII. THREE nights after this she took Pansy to a great party, to which Osmond, who -never went to dances, did not accompany them. Pansy was as ready for a dance as ever ; she was not of a generalising turn, and she had not extended to other pleasures the interdict that she had seen placed on those of love. If she was biding her time or hoping to circumvent her father, she must have had a prevision of success. Isabel thought that this was not likely ; it was much more likely that Pansy had simply determined to be a good girl. She had never had such a chance, and she had a proper esteem for chances. She carried herself no less attentively than usual, and kept no less anxious an eye upon her vaporous skirts; she held her bouquet very tight, and counted over the flowers for the twentieth time. She made Isabel feel old ; it seemed so long since she had been in a nutter about a ball. Pansy, who was greatly admired, was never in want of partners, and very soon after their arrival she gave Isabel, who was not dancing, her bouquet to hold. Isabel had rendered this service for some minutes when she became aware that Edward Rosier was standing before her. He had lost his affable smile, and wore a look of almost military resolution; the change in his appearance would have made Isabel smile if she had not felt that at bottom his case was a hard one ; he had always smelt so much more of heliotrope than of gunpowder. He looked at her a moment somewhat fiercely, as if to notify her that he was dangerous, and then he dropped his eyes on her bouquet. After he had inspected it his glance softened, and he said quickly. " It's all pansies ; it must be hers ! " Isabel smiled kindly. " Yes, it's hers ; she gave it to me to hold."