"
"It may be that you'll not find my cousin," said Isabel.
"I should like to be sure of it. However, I shall be as sure as
possible. At the same time I should like to see his house, that you
told me so much about at one time: what do you call it?-Gardencourt.
It must be a charming thing. And then, you know, I've a devotion to
the memory of your uncle: you made me take a great fancy to him. I
should like to see where he lived and died. That indeed is a detail.
Your friend was right. Pansy ought to see England."
"I've no doubt she would enjoy it," said Isabel.
"But that's a long time hence; next autumn's far off," Osmond
continued; "and meantime there are things that more nearly interest
us. Do you think me so very proud?" he suddenly asked.
"I think you very strange."
"You don't understand me."
"No, not even when you insult me."
"I don't insult you; I'm incapable of it. I merely speak of
certain facts, and if the allusion's an injury to you the fault's
not mine. It's surely a fact that you have kept all this matter
quite in your own hands."
"Are you going back to Lord Warburton?" Isabel asked. "I'm very
tired of his name.
Pages:
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844