know. But never so much as this time—really, never so much. I should like particularly to know what you think of my prospects. I'm afraid Mr. Osmond doesn't think me a phœnix."
"Do you wish me to intercede?" Madame Merle asked, with her fine arms folded, and her mouth drawn up to the left.
"If you could say a good word for me, I should be greatly obliged. There will be no use in my troubling Miss Osmond unless I have good reason to believe her father will consent."
"You are very considerate; that's in your favour. But you assume, in rather an off-hand way, that I think you a prize."
"You have been very kind to me," said the young man. "That's why I came."
"I am always kind to people who have good bibelots; there is no telling what one may get by it."
And the left-hand corner of Madame Merle's mouth gave expression to the joke.
Edward Rosier stared and blushed; his correct features were suffused with disappointment.
"Ah, I thought you liked me for myself!"
"I like you very much; but, if you please, we won't analyse. Excuse me if I seem patronising; but I think you a perfect little gentleman. I must tell you, however, that I have not the marrying of Pansy Osmond."
"I didn't suppose that. But you have seemed to me intimate with her family, and I thought you might have influence."
Madame Merle was silent a moment.
"Whom do you call her family?"
"Why, her father; and—how do you say it in English?—her belle-mère."
"Mr. Osmond is her father, certainly; but his wife can
