Page 417 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

the doors. They paused a while on the skirts of this crowd,
composed in equal measure of Roman cockneys and in-
quisitive strangers, and while they stood there the sacred
concert went forward. Ralph, with Henrietta and Mr. Bant-
ling, was apparently within, where Isabel, looking behind
the dense group in front of her, saw the afternoon light, sil-
vered by clouds of incense that seemed to mingle with the
splendid chant, slope through the embossed recesses of
high windows. After a while the singing stopped and then
Lord Warburton seemed disposed to move off with her.
Isabel could only accompany him; whereupon she found
herself confronted with Gilbert Osmond, who appeared to
have been standing at a short distance behind her. He now
approached with all the forms—he appeared to have multi-
plied them on this occasion to suit the place.
‘So you decided to come?’ she said as she put out her
hand.
‘Yes, I came last night and called this afternoon at your
hotel. They told me you had come here, and I looked about
for you.’
‘The others are inside,’ she decided to say.
‘I didn’t come for the others,’ he promptly returned.
She looked away; Lord Warburton was watching them;
perhaps he had heard this. Suddenly she remembered it to
be just what he had said to her the morning he came to Gar-
dencourt to ask her to marry him. Mr. Osmond’s words had
brought the colour to her cheek, and this reminiscence had
not the effect of dispelling it. She repaired any betrayal by
mentioning to each companion the name of the other, and

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