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it, and I’ve nothing more to say or to hear. I’ve no doubt,’
Isabel added, ‘that he’ll be very happy to discuss the subject
with you.’
‘I know what he thinks; he came to see me last evening.’
‘As soon as you had arrived? Then you know all about it
and you needn’t apply to me for information.’
‘It isn’t information I want. At bottom it’s sympathy. I
had set my heart on that marriage; the idea did what so few
things do-it satisfied the imagination.’
‘Your imagination, yes. But not that of the persons con-
cerned.’
‘You mean by that of course that I’m not concerned. Of
course not directly. But when one’s such an old friend one
can’t help having something at stake. You forget how long
I’ve known Pansy. You mean, of course,’ Madame Merle
added, ‘that you are one of the persons concerned.’
‘No; that’s the last thing I mean. I’m very weary of it all.’
Madame Merle hesitated a little. ‘Ah yes, your work’s
done.’
‘Take care what you say,’ said Isabel very gravely.
‘Oh, I take care; never perhaps more than when it ap-
pears least. Your husband judges you severely.’
Isabel made for a moment no answer to this; she felt
choked with bitterness. It was not the insolence of Ma-
dame 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

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