t relieved this friend of a heavy responsibility.
Pansy had a sufficient illumination of her own, and Isabel felt that
she herself just now had no light to spare from her small stock.
Nevertheless it still clung to her that she must be loyal to Osmond,
that she was on her honour in dealing with his daughter. Under the
influence of this sentiment she threw out another suggestion before she
retired--a suggestion with which it seemed to her that she should have
done her utmost.

"Your father takes for granted at least that you would like to marry a
nobleman."

Pansy stood in the open doorway; she had drawn back the curtain for
Isabel to pass. "I think Mr. Rosier looks like one!" she remarked very
gravely.

CHAPTER XLVI

Lord Warburton was not seen in Mrs. Osmond's drawing-room for several
days, and Isabel couldn't fail to observe that her husband said nothing
to her about having received a letter from him. She couldn't fail to
observe, either, that Osmond was in a state of expectancy and that,
though it was not agreeable to him to betray it, he thought their
distinguished friend kept him waiting quite too long. At the end of four
days he alluded to his absence.

"What has become of Warburton? What does he mean by treating one like a
tradesman with a bill?"

"I know nothing about him," Isabel said. "I saw him last Friday at the
German ball. He told me then that he meant to write to you."

"He has never written to me."

"So I supposed, from your not having told me."

"He's an odd fish," said Osmond comprehensively. And on Isabel's making
no rejoinder he went on to enquire whether it took his lordship five
days to indite a letter. "Does he form his words with such difficulty?"

"I don't know," Isabel was reduced to replying. "I've never had a letter
from him."

"Never had a letter? I had an idea that you were at one time in intimate
correspondence."

She answered that this had not been the case, and let the conversation
drop. On the morrow, however, coming into the drawing-room late in the
afternoon, her husband took it up again.

"When Lord Warburton told you of his intention of writing what did you
say to him?" he asked.

She just faltered. "I think I told him not to forget it.

"Did you believe there was a danger of that?"

"As you say, he's an odd fish."

"Apparently he has forgotten it," said Osmond. "Be so good as to remind
him."

"Should you like me to write to him?" she demanded.

"I've