Poor Rosier's face assumed an expression of alarm; a suit for the hand of Pansy Osmond was even a more complicated business than his taste for proper transitions had allowed. But the extreme good sense which he concealed under a surface suggesting sprigged porcelain, came to his assistance.
"I don't see that I am bound to consider Mr. Osmond so much!" he exclaimed.
"No, but you should consider her. You say you are an old friend. Would you make her suffer?"
"Not for the world."
"Then be very careful, and let the matter alone until I have taken a few soundings."
"Let the matter alone, dear Madame Merle? Remember that I am in love."
"Oh, you won't burn up. Why did you come to me, if you are not to heed what I say?"
"You are very kind; I will be very good," the young man promised. "But I am afraid Mr. Osmond is rather difficult," he added, in his mild voice, as he went to the door.
Madame Merle gave a light laugh.
"It has been said before. But his wife is not easy either."
"Ah, she's a splendid woman!" Ned Rosier repeated, passing out.
He resolved that his conduct should be worthy of a young man who was already a model of discretion; but he saw nothing in any pledge he had given Madame Merle that made it improper he should keep himself in spirits by an occasional visit to Miss Osmond's home. He reflected constantly on what Madame Merle had said to him, and turned over in his mind the impression of her somewhat peculiar manner. He had gone to her de confiance, as they said in Paris; but it was possible that he had
