That he cared for you, Mrs. Osmond."

Isabel shook her head gravely. "That's nonsense, you know."

"Of course it is. But the nonsense is Warburton's, not mine."

"That would be very tiresome." She spoke, as she flattered herself, with
much subtlety.

"I ought to tell you indeed," Ralph went on, "that to me he has denied
it."

"It's very good of you to talk about it together! Has he also told you
that he's in love with Pansy?"

"He has spoken very well of her--very properly. He has let me know, of
course, that he thinks she would do very well at Lockleigh."

"Does he really think it?"

"Ah, what Warburton really thinks--!" said Ralph.

Isabel fell to smoothing her gloves again; they were long, loose gloves
on which she could freely expend herself. Soon, however, she looked
up, and then, "Ah, Ralph, you give me no help!" she cried abruptly and
passionately.

It was the first time she had alluded to the need for help, and the
words shook her cousin with their violence. He gave a long murmur of
relief, of pity, of tenderness; it seemed to him that at last the gulf
between them had been bridged. It was this that made him exclaim in a
moment: "How unhappy you must be!"

He had no sooner spoken than she recovered her self-possession, and the
first use she made of it was to pretend she had not heard him. "When I
talk of your helping me I talk great nonsense," she said with a quick
smile. "The idea of my troubling you with my domestic embarrassments!
The matter's very simple; Lord Warburton must get on by himself. I can't
undertake to see him through."

"He ought to succeed easily," said Ralph.

Isabel debated. "Yes--but he has not always succeeded."

"Very true. You know, however, how that always surprised me. Is Miss
Osmond capable of giving us a surprise?"

"It will come from him, rather. I seem to see that after all he'll let
the matter drop."

"He'll do nothing dishonourable," said Ralph.

"I'm very sure of that. Nothing can be more honourable than for him to
leave the poor child alone. She cares for another person, and it's cruel
to attempt to bribe her by magnificent offers to give him up."

"Cruel to the other person perhaps--the one she cares for. But Warburton
isn't obliged to mind that."

"No, cruel to her," said Isabel. "She would be very unhappy if she were
to allow herself to be persuaded to desert poor Mr. Rosier. That idea
seems to amuse you; of course you're not in love with him. He has t