by Henry James
CHAPTER XLIII
Three nights after this she took Pansy to a great party, to whichOsmond, who never went to dances, did not accompany them. Pansy was asready for a dance as ever; she was not of a generalising turn and hadnot extended to other pleasures the interdict she had seen placed onthose of love. If she was biding her time or hoping to circumvent herfather she must have had a prevision of success. Isabel thought thisunlikely; it was much more likely that Pansy had simply determined tobe a good girl. She had never had such a chance, and she had a properesteem for chances. She carried herself no less attentively than usualand kept no less anxious an eye upon her vaporous skirts; she held herbouquet very tight and counted over the flowers for the twentieth time.She made Isabel feel old; it seemed so long since she had been in aflutter about a ball. Pansy, who was greatly admired, was never in wantof partners, and very soon after their arrival she gave Isabel, who wasnot dancing, her bouquet to hold. Isabel had rendered her this servicefor some minutes when she became aware of the near presence of EdwardRosier. He stood before her; he had lost his affable smile and wore alook of almost military resolution. The change in his appearance wouldhave made Isabel smile if she had not felt his case to be at bottoma hard one: he had always smelt so much more of heliotrope than ofgunpowder. He looked at her a moment somewhat fiercely, as if to notifyher he was dangerous, and then dropped his eyes on her bouquet. Afterhe had inspected it his glance softened and he said quickly: "It's allpansies; it must be hers!"
Isabel smiled kindly. "Yes, it's hers; she gave it to me to hold."
"May I hold it a little, Mrs. Osmond?" the poor young man asked.
"No, I can't trust you; I'm afraid you wouldn't give it back."
"I'm not sure that I should; I should leave the house with it instantly.But may I not at least have a single flower?"
Isabel hesitated a moment, and then, smiling still, held out thebouquet. "Choose one yourself. It's frightful what I'm doing for you."
"Ah, if you do no more than this, Mrs. Osmond!" Rosier exclaimed withhis glass in one eye, carefully choosing his flower.
"Don't put it into your button-hole," she said. "Don't for the world!"
"I should like her to see it. She has refused to dance with me, but Iwish to show her that I believe in her still."
"It's very well to show it to her, but it's out of place to show it toothers. Her father has told her not to dance with you."
"And is that all YOU can do for me? I expected more from you, Mrs.Osmond," said the young man in a tone of fine general reference. "Youknow our acquaintance goes back very far--quite into the days of ourinnocent childhood."
"Don't make me out too old," Isabel patiently answered. "You come backto that very often, and I've never denied it. But I must tell you that,old friends as we are, if you had done me the honour to ask me to marryyou I should have refused you on the spot."
"Ah, you don't esteem me then. Say at once that you think me a mereParisian trifler!"
"I esteem you very much, but I'm not in love with you. What I mean bythat, of course, is that I'm not in love with you for Pansy."
"Very good; I see. You pity me--that's all." And Edward Rosier lookedall round, inconsequently, with his single glass. It was a revelation tohim that people shouldn't be more pleased; but he was at least too proudto show that the deficiency struck him as general.
Isabel for a moment said nothing. His manner and appearance had not thedignity of the deepest tragedy; his little glass, among other things,was against that. But she suddenly felt touched; her own unhappiness,after all, had something in common with his, and it came over her, morethan before, that here, in recognisable, if not in romantic form,was the most affecting thing in the world--young love struggling withadversity. "Would you really be very kind to her?" she finally asked ina low tone.
He dropped his eyes devoutly and raised the little flower that he heldin his fingers to his lips. Then he looked at her. "You pity me; butdon't you pity HER a little?"
"I don't know; I'm not sure. She'll always enjoy life."
"It will depend on what you call life!" Mr. Rosier effectively said."She won't enjoy being tortured."
"There'll be nothing of that."
"I'm glad to hear it. She knows what she's about. You'll see."
"I think she does, and she'll never disobey her father. But she's comingback to me," Isabel added, "and I must beg you to go away."
Rosier lingered a moment till Pansy came in sight on the arm of hercavalier; he stood just long enough to look her in the face. Then hewalked away, holding up his head; and the manner in which he achievedthis sacrifice to expediency convinced Isabel he was very much in love.
Pansy, who seldom got disarranged in dancing, looking perfectly freshand cool after this exercise, waited a moment and then took back herbouquet. Isabel watched her and saw she was counting the flowers;whereupon she said to herself that decidedly there were deeper forces atplay than she had recognised. Pansy had seen Rosier turn away, but shesaid nothing to Isabel about him; she talked only of her partner, afterhe had made his bow and retired; of the music, the floor, the raremisfortune of having already torn her dress. Isabel was sure, however,she had discovered her lover to have abstracted a flower; though thisknowledge was not needed to account for the dutiful grace with which sheresponded to the appeal of her next partner. That perfect amenity underacute constraint was part of a larger system. She was again led forthby a flushed young man, this time carrying her bouquet; and she hadnot been absent many minutes when Isabel saw Lord Warburton advancingthrough the crowd. He presently drew near and bade her good-evening;she had not seen him since the day before. He looked about him, and then"Where's the little maid?" he asked. It was in this manner that he hadformed the harmless habit of alluding to Miss Osmond.
"She's dancing," said Isabel. "You'll see her somewhere."
He looked among the dancers and at last caught Pansy's eye. "She seesme, but she won't notice me," he then remarked. "Are you not dancing?"
"As you see, I'm a wall-flower."
"Won't you dance with me?"
"Thank you; I'd rather you should dance with the little maid."
"One needn't prevent the other--especially as she's engaged."
"She's not engaged for everything, and you can reserve yourself. Shedances very hard, and you'll be the fresher."
"She dances beautifully," said Lord Warburton, following her with hiseyes. "Ah, at last," he added, "she has given me a smile." He stoodthere with his handsome, easy, important physiognomy; and as Isabelobserved him it came over her, as it had done before, that it wasstrange a man of his mettle should take an interest in a little maid. Itstruck her as a great incongruity; neither Pansy's small fascinations,nor his own kindness, his good-nature, not even his need for amusement,which was extreme and constant, were sufficient to account for it. "Ishould like to dance with you," he went on in a moment, turning back toIsabel; "but I think I like even better to talk with you."
"Yes, it's better, and it's more worthy of your dignity. Great statesmenoughtn't to waltz."
"Don't be cruel. Why did you recommend me then to dance with MissOsmond?"
"Ah, that's different. If you danced with her it would look simply likea piece of kindness--as if you were doing it for her amusement. If youdance with me you'll look as if you were doing it for your own."
"And pray haven't I a right to amuse myself?"
"No, not with the affairs of the British Empire on your hands."
"The British Empire be hanged! You're always laughing at it."
"Amuse yourself with talking to me," said Isabel.
"I'm not sure it's really a recreation. You're too pointed; I've alwaysto be defending myself. And you strike me as more than usually dangerousto-night. Will you absolutely not dance?"
"I can't leave my place. Pansy must find me here."
He was silent a little. "You're wonderfully good to her," he saidsuddenly.
Isabel stared a little and smiled. "Can you imagine
one's not being?"
"No indeed. I know how one is charmed with her. But you must have done agreat deal for her."
"I've taken her out with me," said Isabel, smiling still. "And I've seenthat she has proper clothes."
"Your society must have been a great benefit to her. You've talked toher, advised her, helped her to develop."
"Ah yes, if she isn't the rose she has lived near it."
She laughed, and her companion did as much; but there was a certainvisible preoccupation in his face which interfered with completehilarity. "We all try to live as near it as we can," he said after amoment's hesitation.
Isabel turned away; Pansy was about to be restored to her, and shewelcomed the diversion. We know how much she liked Lord Warburton shethought him pleasanter even than the sum of his merits warranted; therewas something in his friendship that appeared a kind of resource in caseof indefinite need; it was like having a large balance at the bank. Shefelt happier when he was in the room; there was something reassuring inhis approach; the sound of his voice reminded her of the beneficence ofnature. Yet for all that it didn't suit her that he should be too nearher, that he should take too much of her good-will for granted. She wasafraid of that; she averted herself from it; she wished he wouldn't. Shefelt that if he should come too near, as it were, it might be in her toflash out and bid him keep his distance. Pansy came back to Isabel withanother rent in her skirt, which was the inevitable consequence of thefirst and which she displayed to Isabel with serious eyes. There weretoo many gentlemen in uniform; they wore those dreadful spurs, whichwere fatal to the dresses of little maids. It hereupon became apparentthat the resources of women are innumerable. Isabel devoted herselfto Pansy's desecrated drapery; she fumbled for a pin and repaired theinjury; she smiled and listened to her account of her adventures. Herattention, her sympathy were immediate and active; and they werein direct proportion to a sentiment with which they were in no wayconnected--a lively conjecture as to whether Lord Warburton might betrying to make love to her. It was not simply his words just then; itwas others as well; it was the reference and the continuity. This waswhat she thought about while she pinned up Pansy's dress. If it wereso, as she feared, he was of course unwitting; he himself had not takenaccount of his intention. But this made it none the more auspicious,made the situation none less impossible. The sooner he should get backinto right relations with things the better. He immediately beganto talk to Pansy--on whom it was certainly mystifying to see that hedropped a smile of chastened devotion. Pansy replied, as usual, with alittle air of conscientious aspiration he had to bend toward her a gooddeal in conversation, and her eyes, as usual, wandered up and down hisrobust person as if he had offered it to her for exhibition. She alwaysseemed a little frightened; yet her fright was not of the painfulcharacter that suggests dislike; on the contrary, she looked as if sheknew that he knew she liked him. Isabel left them together a little andwandered toward a friend whom she saw near and with whom she talked tillthe music of the following dance began, for which she knew Pansy to bealso engaged. The girl joined her presently, with a little flutteredflush, and Isabel, who scrupulously took Osmond's view of his daughter'scomplete dependence, consigned her, as a precious and momentary loan,to her appointed partner. About all this matter she had her ownimaginations, her own reserves; there were moments when Pansy's extremeadhesiveness made each of them, to her sense, look foolish. But Osmondhad given her a sort of tableau of her position as his daughter'sduenna, which consisted of gracious alternations of concession andcontraction and there were directions of his which she liked to thinkshe obeyed to the letter. Perhaps, as regards some of them, it wasbecause her doing so appeared to reduce them to the absurd.
After Pansy had been led away, she found Lord Warburton drawing near heragain. She rested her eyes on him steadily; she wished she could soundhis thoughts. But he had no appearance of confusion. "She has promisedto dance with me later," he said.
"I'm glad of that. I suppose you've engaged her for the cotillion."
At this he looked a little awkward. "No, I didn't ask her for that. It'sa quadrille."
"Ah, you're not clever!" said Isabel almost angrily. "I told her to keepthe cotillion in case you should ask for it."
"Poor little maid, fancy that!" And Lord Warburton laughed frankly. "Ofcourse I will if you like."
"If I like? Oh, if you dance with her only because I like it--!"
"I'm afraid I bore her. She seems to have a lot of young fellows on herbook."
Isabel dropped her eyes, reflecting rapidly; Lord Warburton stood therelooking at her and she felt his eyes on her face. She felt much inclinedto ask him to remove them. She didn't do so, however; she only said tohim, after a minute, with her own raised: "Please let me understand."
"Understand what?"
"You told me ten days ago that you'd like to marry my stepdaughter.You've not forgotten it!"
"Forgotten it? I wrote to Mr. Osmond about it this morning."
"Ah," said Isabel, "he didn't mention to me that he had heard from you."
Lord Warburton stammered a little. "I--I didn't send my letter."
"Perhaps you forgot THAT."
"No, I wasn't satisfied with it. It's an awkward sort of letter towrite, you know. But I shall send it to-night."
"At three o'clock in the morning?"
"I mean later, in the course of the day."
"Very good. You still wish then to marry her?"
"Very much indeed."
"Aren't you afraid that you'll bore her?" And as her companion stared atthis enquiry Isabel added: "If she can't dance with you for half an hourhow will she be able to dance with you for life?"
"Ah," said Lord Warburton readily, "I'll let her dance with otherpeople! About the cotillion, the fact is I thought that you--that you--"
"That I would do it with you? I told you I'd do nothing."
"Exactly; so that while it's going on I might find some quiet cornerwhere we may sit down and talk."
"Oh," said Isabel gravely, "you're much too considerate of me."
When the cotillion came Pansy was found to have engaged herself,thinking, in perfect humility, that Lord Warburton had no intentions.Isabel recommended him to seek another partner, but he assured her thathe would dance with no one but herself. As, however, she had, in spiteof the remonstrances of her hostess, declined other invitations on theground that she was not dancing at all, it was not possible for her tomake an exception in Lord Warburton's favour.
"After all I don't care to dance," he said; "it's a barbarous amusement:I'd much rather talk." And he intimated that he had discovered exactlythe corner he had been looking for--a quiet nook in one of the smallerrooms, where the music would come to them faintly and not interferewith conversation. Isabel had decided to let him carry out his idea; shewished to be satisfied. She wandered away from the ball-room with him,though she knew her husband desired she should not lose sight of hisdaughter. It was with his daughter's pretendant, however; that wouldmake it right for Osmond. On her way out of the ball-room she came uponEdward Rosier, who was standing in a doorway, with folded arms, lookingat the dance in the attitude of a young man without illusions. Shestopped a moment and asked him if he were not dancing.
"Certainly not, if I can't dance with HER!" he answered.
"You had better go away then," said Isabel with the manner of goodcounsel.
"I shall not go till she does!" And he let Lord Warburton pass withoutgiving him a look.
This nobleman, however, had noticed the melancholy youth, and heasked Isabel who her dismal friend was, remarking that he had seen himsomewhere before.
"It's the young man I've told you about, who's in love with Pansy."
"Ah yes, I remember. He looks rather bad."
"He has reason. My husband won't listen to him."
"What's the matter with him?" Lord Warburton enquired. "He seems veryharmless."
"He hasn't money enough, and he isn't very clever."
Lord Warburton liste
ned with interest; he seemed struck with thisaccount of Edward Rosier. "Dear me; he looked a well-set-up youngfellow."
"So he is, but my husband's very particular."
"Oh, I see." And Lord Warburton paused a moment. "How much money has hegot?" he then ventured to ask.
"Some forty thousand francs a year."
"Sixteen hundred pounds? Ah, but that's very good, you know."
"So I think. My husband, however, has larger ideas."
"Yes; I've noticed that your husband has very large ideas. Is he reallyan idiot, the young man?"
"An idiot? Not in the least; he's charming. When he was twelve years oldI myself was in love with him."
"He doesn't look much more than twelve to-day," Lord Warburton rejoinedvaguely, looking about him. Then with more point, "Don't you think wemight sit here?" he asked.
"Wherever you please." The room was a sort of boudoir, pervaded by asubdued, rose-coloured light; a lady and gentleman moved out of it asour friends came in. "It's very kind of you to take such an interest inMr. Rosier," Isabel said.
"He seems to me rather ill-treated. He had a face a yard long. Iwondered what ailed him."
"You're a just man," said Isabel. "You've a kind thought even for arival."
Lord Warburton suddenly turned with a stare. "A rival! Do you call himmy rival?"
"Surely--if you both wish to marry the same person."
"Yes--but since he has no chance!"
"I like you, however that may be, for putting your self in his place. Itshows imagination."
"You like me for it?" And Lord Warburton looked at her with an uncertaineye. "I think you mean you're laughing at me for it."
"Yes, I'm laughing at you a little. But I like you as somebody to laughat."
"Ah well, then, let me enter into his situation a little more. What doyou suppose one could do for him?"
"Since I have been praising your imagination I'll leave you to imaginethat yourself," Isabel said. "Pansy too would like you for that."
"Miss Osmond? Ah, she, I flatter myself, likes me already."
"Very much, I think."
He waited a little; he was still questioning her face. "Well then, Idon't understand you. You don't mean that she cares for him?"
A quick blush sprang to his brow. "You told me she would have no wishapart from her father's, and as I've gathered that he would favourme--!" He paused a little and then suggested "Don't you see?" throughhis blush.
"Yes, I told you she has an immense wish to please her father, and thatit would probably take her very far."
"That seems to me a very proper feeling," said Lord Warburton.
"Certainly; it's a very proper feeling." Isabel remained silent for somemoments; the room continued empty; the sound of the music reached themwith its richness softened by the interposing apartments. Then at lastshe said: "But it hardly strikes me as the sort of feeling to which aman would wish to be indebted for a wife."
"I don't know; if the wife's a good one and he thinks she does well!"
"Yes, of course you must think that."
"I do; I can't help it. You call that very British, of course."
"No, I don't. I think Pansy would do wonderfully well to marry you,and I don't know who should know it better than you. But you're not inlove."
"Ah, yes I am, Mrs. Osmond!"
Isabel shook her head. "You like to think you are while you sit herewith me. But that's not how you strike me."
"I'm not like the young man in the doorway. I admit that. But what makesit so unnatural? Could any one in the world be more loveable than MissOsmond?"
"No one, possibly. But love has nothing to do with good reasons."
"I don't agree with you. I'm delighted to have good reasons."
"Of course you are. If you were really in love you wouldn't care a strawfor them."
"Ah, really in love--really in love!" Lord Warburton exclaimed, foldinghis arms, leaning back his head and stretching himself a little. "Youmust remember that I'm forty-two years old. I won't pretend I'm as Ionce was."
"Well, if you're sure," said Isabel, "it's all right."
He answered nothing; he sat there, with his head back, looking beforehim. Abruptly, however, he changed his position he turned quickly tohis friend. "Why are you so unwilling, so sceptical?" She met his eyes,and for a moment they looked straight at each other. If she wished tobe satisfied she saw something that satisfied her; she saw in hisexpression the gleam of an idea that she was uneasy on her ownaccount--that she was perhaps even in fear. It showed a suspicion, not ahope, but such as it was it told her what she wanted to know. Not for aninstant should he suspect her of detecting in his proposal of marryingher step-daughter an implication of increased nearness to herself, orof thinking it, on such a betrayal, ominous. In that brief, extremelypersonal gaze, however, deeper meanings passed between them than theywere conscious of at the moment.
"My dear Lord Warburton," she said, smiling, "you may do, so far as I'mconcerned, whatever comes into your head."
And with this she got up and wandered into the adjoining room, where,within her companion's view, she was immediately addressed by a pair ofgentlemen, high personages in the Roman world, who met her as if theyhad been looking for her. While she talked with them she found herselfregretting she had moved; it looked a little like running away--all themore as Lord Warburton didn't follow her. She was glad of this, however,and at any rate she was satisfied. She was so well satisfied thatwhen, in passing back into the ball-room, she found Edward Rosier stillplanted in the doorway, she stopped and spoke to him again. "You didright not to go away. I've some comfort for you."
"I need it," the young man softly wailed, "when I see you so awfullythick with him!"
"Don't speak of him; I'll do what I can for you. I'm afraid it won't bemuch, but what I can I'll do."
He looked at her with gloomy obliqueness. "What has suddenly brought youround?"
"The sense that you are an inconvenience in doorways!" she answered,smiling as she passed him. Half an hour later she took leave, withPansy, and at the foot of the staircase the two ladies, with manyother departing guests, waited a while for their carriage. Just as itapproached Lord Warburton came out of the house and assisted them toreach their vehicle. He stood a moment at the door, asking Pansy ifshe had amused herself; and she, having answered him, fell back with alittle air of fatigue. Then Isabel, at the window, detaining him bya movement of her finger, murmured gently: "Don't forget to send yourletter to her father!"
