Page 753 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

But all the same the girl had taken fright; the impression her
father desired to make would evidently be sharp enough.
The old Protestant tradition had never faded from Isabel’s
imagination, and as her thoughts attached themselves to this
striking example of her husband’s genius-she sat looking,
like him, at the basket of flowers-poor little Pansy became
the heroine of a tragedy. Osmond wished it to be known that
he shrank from nothing, and his wife found it hard to pre-
tend to eat her dinner. There was a certain relief presently,
in hearing the high, strained voice of her sister-in-law. The
Countess too, apparently, had been thinking the thing out,
but had arrived at a different conclusion from Isabel.
‘It’s very absurd, my dear Osmond,’ she said, ‘to invent
so many pretty reasons for poor Pansy’s banishment. Why
don’t you say at once that you want to get her out of my way?
Haven’t you discovered that I think very well of Mr. Rosier?
I do indeed; he seems to me simpaticissimo. He has made
me believe in true love; I never did before! Of course you’ve
made up your mind that with those convictions I’m dreadful
company for Pansy.’
Osmond took a sip of a glass of wine; he looked perfectly
good humoured. ‘My dear Amy,’ he answered, smiling as if
he were uttering a piece of gallantry, ‘I don’t know anything
about your convictions, but if I suspected that they interfere
with mine it would be much simpler to banish you.’

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