And I have very little money; why should I look for a fortune?"
"Your having so little is a reason for looking for more." Isabel was grateful for the dimness of the room; she felt as if her face were hideously insincere. She was doing this for Osmond; this was what one had to do for Osmond! Pansy's solemn eyes, fixed on her own, almost embarrassed her; she was ashamed to think that she had made so light of the girl's preference.
"What should you like me to do?" said Pansy, softly.
The question was a terrible one, and Isabel pusillanimously took refuge in a generalisation.
"To remember all the pleasure it is in your power to give your father."
"To marry some one else, you mean—if he should ask me?"
For a moment Isabel's answer caused itself to be waited for; then she heard herself utter it, in the stillness that Pansy's attention seemed to make.
"Yes—to marry some one else."
Pansy's eyes grew more penetrating; Isabel believed that she was doubting her sincerity, and the impression took force from her slowly getting up from her cushion. She stood there a moment, with her small hands unclasped, and then she said, with a timorous sigh—
"Well, I hope no one will ask me!"
"There has been a question of that. Some one else would have been ready to ask you."
"I don't think he can have been ready," said Pansy.
"It would appear so—if he had been sure that he would succeed."
"If he had been sure? Then he was not ready!"
