g at all, it was not possible for her to
make 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 exactly
the corner he had been looking for--a quiet nook in one of the smaller
rooms, where the music would come to them faintly and not interfere
with conversation. Isabel had decided to let him carry out his idea; she
wished to be satisfied. She wandered away from the ball-room with him,
though she knew her husband desired she should not lose sight of his
daughter. It was with his daughter's pretendant, however; that would
make it right for Osmond. On her way out of the ball-room she came upon
Edward Rosier, who was standing in a doorway, with folded arms, looking
at the dance in the attitude of a young man without illusions. She
stopped 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 good
counsel.

"I shall not go till she does!" And he let Lord Warburton pass without
giving him a look.

This nobleman, however, had noticed the melancholy youth, and he
asked Isabel who her dismal friend was, remarking that he had seen him
somewhere 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 very
harmless."

"He hasn't money enough, and he isn't very clever."

Lord Warburton listened with interest; he seemed struck with this
account of Edward Rosier. "Dear me; he looked a well-set-up young
fellow."

"So he is, but my husband's very particular."

"Oh, I see." And Lord Warburton paused a moment. "How much money has he
got?" 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 really
an idiot, the young man?"

"An idiot? Not in the least; he's charming. When he was twelve years old
I myself was in love with him."

"He doesn't look much more than twelve to-day," Lord Warburton rejoined
vaguely, looking about him. Then with more point, "Don't you think we
might sit here?" he asked.

"Wherever you