"That's not as it should be," said Isabel, coldly. "I love you very much, but your father loves you better."
"It isn't because you love me—it's because you're a lady," Pansy answered, with the air of saying something very reasonable. "A lady can advise a young girl better than a man."
"I advise you, then, to pay the greatest respect to your father's wishes."
"Ah, yes," said Pansy, eagerly, "I must do that."
"But if I speak to you now about your getting married, it's not for your own sake, it's for mine," Isabel went on. "If I try to learn from you what you expect, what you desire, it is only that I may act accordingly."
Pansy stared, and then, very quickly—
"Will you do everything I desire?" she asked.
"Before I say yes, I must know what such things are."
Pansy presently told her that the only thing she wished in life was to marry Mr. Rosier. He had asked her, and she had told him that she would do so if her papa would allow it. Now her papa wouldn't allow it.
"Very well, then, it's impossible," said Isabel.
"Yes, it's impossible," said Pansy, without a sigh, and with the same extreme attention in her clear little face.
"You must think of something else, then," Isabel went on; but Pansy, sighing then, told her that she had attempted this feat without the least success.
"You think of those that think of you," she said, with a faint smile. "I know that Mr. Rosier thinks of me."
"He ought not to," said Isabel, loftily. "Your father has expressly requested he shouldn't."
"He can't help it, because he knows that I think of him."
