Isabel made for a moment no answer to this; she felt choked with bitterness.It was not the insolence of Madame Merle's informing her that Osmond had been taking her into his confidence as against his wife that struck her most; for she was not quick to believe that this was meant for insolence.Madame Merle was very rarely insolent, and only when it was exactly right.It was not right now, or at least it was not right yet.What touched Isabel like a drop of corrosive acid upon an open wound was the knowledge that Osmond dishonoured her in his words as well as in his thoughts."Should you like to know how I judge him?" she asked at last.
"No, because you'd never tell me.And it would be painful for me to know."There was a pause, and for the first time since she had known her Isabel thought Madame Merle disagreeable.She wished she would leave her."Remember how attractive Pansy is, and don't despair," she said abruptly, with a desire that this should close their interview.
But Madame Merle's expansive presence underwent no contraction.
She only gathered her mantle about her and, with the movement, scattered upon the air a faint, agreeable fragrance."I don't despair;I feel encouraged.And I didn't come to scold you; I came if possible to learn the truth.I know you'll tell it if I ask you.
It's an immense blessing with you that one can count upon that.No, you won't believe what a comfort I take in it.""What truth do you speak of?" Isabel asked, wondering.
"Just this: whether Lord Warburton changed his mind quite of his own movement or because you recommended it.To please himself I mean, or to please you.Think of the confidence I must still have in you, in spite of having lost a little of it," Madame Merle continued with a smile, "to ask such a question as that!" She sat looking at her friend, to judge the effect of her words, and then went on: "Now don't be heroic, don't be unreasonable, don't take offence.It seems to me Ido you an honour in speaking so.I don't know another woman to whom I would do it.I haven't the least idea that any other woman would tell me the truth.And don't you see how well it is that your husband should know it? It's true that he doesn't appear to have had any tact whatever in trying to extract it; he has indulged in gratuitous suppositions.But that doesn't alter the fact that it would make a difference in his view of his daughter's prospects to know distinctly what really occurred.If Lord Warburton simply got tired of the poor child, that's one thing, and it's a pity.If he gave her up to please you it's another.That's a pity too, but in a different way.
Then, in the latter case, you'd perhaps resign yourself to not being pleased-to simply seeing your stepdaughter married.Let him off-let us have him!"Madame Merle had proceeded very deliberately, watching her companion and apparently thinking she could proceed safely.As she went on Isabel grew pale; she clasped her hands more tightly in her lap.It was not that her visitor had at last thought it the right time to be insolent; for this was not what was most apparent.It was a worse horror than that."Who are you-what are you?" Isabel murmured."What have you to do with my husband?" It was strange that for the moment she drew as near to him as if she had loved him.
"Ah then, you take it heroically! I'm very sorry.Don't think, however, that I shall do so.""What have you to do with me?" Isabel went on.
Madame Merle slowly got up, stroking her muff, but not removing her eyes from Isabel's face."Everything!" she answered.
Isabel sat there looking up at her, without rising; her face was almost a prayer to be enlightened.But the light of this woman's eyes seemed only a darkness."Oh misery!" she murmured at last; and she fell back, covering her face with her hands.It had come over her like a high-surging wave that Mrs.Touchett was right.Madame Merle had married her.Before she uncovered her face again that lady had left the room.
