Page 581 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

desperate if he’ll only hold his tongue and be quiet. Unfor-
tunately he has taken it into his head to be jealous.’
‘Jealous?
‘Jealous of Lord Warburton, who, he says, is always
here.’
Isabel, who was tired, had remained sitting; but at this
she also rose. ‘Ah!’ she exclaimed simply, moving slowly to
the fireplace. Madame Merle observed her as she passed
and while she stood a moment before the mantel-glass and
pushed into its place a wandering tress of hair.
‘Poor Mr. Rosier keeps saying there’s nothing impossible
in Lord Warburton’s falling in love with Pansy,’ Madame
Merle went on.
Isabel was silent a little; she turned away from the glass.
‘It’s true-there’s nothing impossible,’ she returned at last,
gravely and more gently.
‘So I’ve had to admit to Mr. Rosier. So, too, your husband
thinks.’
‘That I don’t know.’
‘Ask him and you’ll see.’
‘I shall not ask him,’ said Isabel.
‘Pardon me; I forgot you had pointed that out. Of course,’
Madame Merle added, ‘you’ve had infinitely more observa-
tion of Lord Warburton’s behaviour than I.’
‘I see no reason why I shouldn’t tell you that he likes my
stepdaughter very much.’
Madame Merle gave one of her quick looks again. ‘Likes
her, you mean-Mr. Rosier means?’
‘I don’t know how Mr. Rosier means; but Lord Warbur-

581