Page 729 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

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 pain-
ful 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 Pan-
sy 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 con-
fidence 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

729