Page 592 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

been reading and took up the band of tapestry Pansy had
left on the table.
‘That’s partly why I’ve not spoken to you about this busi-
ness of my daughter’s,’ Osmond said, designating Pansy in
the manner that was most frequent with him. ‘I was afraid I
should encounter opposition-that you too would have views
on the subject. I’ve sent little Rosier about his business.’
‘You were afraid I’d plead for Mr. Rosier? Haven’t you
noticed that I’ve never spoken to you of him?’
‘I’ve never given you a chance. We’ve so little conversa-
tion in these days. I know he was an old friend of yours.’
‘Yes; he’s an old friend of mine.’ Isabel cared little more
for him than for the tapestry that she held in her hand; but
it was true that he was an old friend and that with her hus-
band she felt a desire not to extenuate such ties. He had a
way of expressing contempt for them which fortified her
loyalty to them, even when, as in the present case, they were
in themselves insignificant. She sometimes felt a sort of pas-
sion of tenderness for memories which had no other merit
than that they belonged to her unmarried life. ‘But as re-
gards Pansy,’ she added in a moment, ‘I’ve given him no
encouragement.’
‘That’s fortunate,’ Osmond observed.
‘Fortunate for me, I suppose you mean. For him it mat-
ters little.’
‘There’s no use talking of him,’ Osmond said. ‘As I tell
you, I’ve turned him out.’
‘Yes; but a lover outside’s always a lover. He’s sometimes
even more of one. Mr. Rosier still has hope.’

592 The Portrait of a Lady