His manner and appearance had
not the dignity of the deepest tragedy; his little glass, among
other things, was against that. But she suddenly felt touched; her own
unhappiness, after all, had something in common with his, and it
came over her, more than before, that here, in recognizable, if not in
romantic form, was the most affecting thing in the world-young love
struggling with adversity. "Would you really be very kind to her?" she
finally asked in a low tone.
He dropped his eyes devoutly and raised the little flower that he
held in his fingers to his lips. Then he looked at her. "You pity
me; but don't you pity her a little?"
"I don't know; I'm not sure. She'll always enjoy life."
"It will depend on what you call life!" Mr. Rosier effectively said.
"She won't enjoy being tortured."
"There'll be nothing of that."
"I'm glad to hear it. She knows what she's about. You'll see."
"I think she does, and she'll never disobey her father. But she's
coming back to me," Isabel added, "and I must beg you to go away."
Rosier lingered a moment till Pansy came in sight on the arm of
her cavalier; he stood just long enough to look her in the face.
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