THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY. 423 " Where is the letter that you told me he had written me 1 " her husband asked. " I haven't the least idea ; I haven't asked him." " You stopped it on the way," said Osmond. Isabel slowly got up; standing there, in her white cloak, which covered her to her feet, she might have represented the angel of disdain, first cousin to that of pity. " Oh, Osmond, for a man who was so fine ! " she exclaimed, in a long murmur. " I was never so fine as you ! You have done everything you wanted. You have got him out of the way without appearing to do so, and you have placed me in the position in which you wished to see me that of a man who tried to marry his daughter to a lord, but didn't succeed." " Pansy doesn't care for him ; she is very glad he is gone," said Isabel. ' That has nothing to do with the matter." " And he doesn't care for Pansy." " That won't do ; you told me he did. I don't know why you wanted this particular satisfaction," Osmond continued ; "you might have .taken some other. It doesn't seem to me that I have been presumptuous that I have taken too much for granted. I have been very modest about it, very quiet. The idea didn't originate with me. He began to show that he liked her before I ever thought oit. I left it all to you." " Yes, you were very glad to leave it to me. After this you must attend to such things yourself." He looked at her a moment, and then he turned away. "I thought you were very fond of my daughter." " I have never been more so than to-day." " Your affection is attended with immense limitations. How- ever, that perhaps is natural." "Is this all you wished to say to me 1 ?" Isabel asked, taking a candle that stood on one of the tables. " Are you satisfied 1 Am I sufficiently disappointed 1 " " I don't think that on the whole you are disappointed. You have had another opportunity to try to bewilder me." 45 It's not that. It's proved that Pansy can aim high." " Poor little Pansy ! " said Isabel, turning away with her candle.
