VOLUME II
37. CHAPTER XXXVII
(continued)
"In old pots and plates? Yes, I'm losing my interest."
Rosier for an instant forgot the delicacy of his position. "You're
not thinking of parting with a--a piece or two?"
"No, I'm not thinking of parting with anything at all, Mr.
Rosier," said Osmond, with his eyes still on the eyes of his
visitor.
"Ah, you want to keep, but not to add," Rosier remarked brightly.
"Exactly. I've nothing I wish to match."
Poor Rosier was aware he had blushed; he was distressed at his
want of assurance. "Ah, well, I have!" was all he could murmur;
and he knew his murmur was partly lost as he turned away. He took
his course to the adjoining room and met Mrs. Osmond coming out of
the deep doorway. She was dressed in black velvet; she looked high
and splendid, as he had said, and yet oh so radiantly gentle! We
know what Mr. Rosier thought of her and the terms in which, to
Madame Merle, he had expressed his admiration. Like his
appreciation of her dear little stepdaughter it was based partly
on his eye for decorative character, his instinct for
authenticity; but also on a sense for uncatalogued values, for
that secret of a "lustre" beyond any recorded losing or
rediscovering, which his devotion to brittle wares had still not
disqualified him to recognise. Mrs. Osmond, at present, might well
have gratified such tastes. The years had touched her only to
enrich her; the flower of her youth had not faded, it only hung
more quietly on its stem. She had lost something of that quick
eagerness to which her husband had privately taken exception--she
had more the air of being able to wait. Now, at all events, framed
in the gilded doorway, she struck our young man as the picture of
a gracious lady. "You see I'm very regular," he said. "But who
should be if I'm not?"
"Yes, I've known you longer than any one here. But we mustn't
indulge in tender reminiscences. I want to introduce you to a
young lady."
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