Page 679 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

‘I think you are my guardian angel!’ she exclaimed very
sweetly.
Isabel shook her head. ‘I’m not an angel of any kind. I’m
at the most your good friend.’
‘You’re a very good friend then-to have asked papa to be
gentle with me.’
‘I’ve asked your father nothing,’ said Isabel wondering.
‘He told me just now to come to the drawing-room, and
then he gave me a very kind kiss.’
‘Ah,’ said Isabel, ‘that was quite his own idea!
She recognized the idea perfectly; it was very character-
istic, and she was to see a great deal more of it. Even with
Pansy he couldn’t put himself the least in the wrong. They
were dining out that day, and after their dinner they went
to another entertainment; so that it was not till late in the
evening that Isabel saw him alone. When Pansy kissed him
before going to bed he returned her embrace with even
more than his usual munificence, and Isabel wondered if he
meant it as a hint that his daughter had been injured by the
machinations of her stepmother. It was a partial expression,
at any rate, of what he continued to expect of his wife. She
was about to follow Pansy, but he remarked that he wished
she would remain; he had something to say to her. Then he
walked about the drawing-room a little, while she stood
waiting in her cloak.
‘I don’t understand what you wish to do,’ he said in a
moment. ‘I should like to know-so that I may know how to
act.’
‘Just now I wish to go to bed. I’m very tired.’

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