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to me I do you an honour in speaking so. I don’t know an-
other 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 sup-
positions. 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, watch-
ing 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 an-
swered.

730 The Portrait of a Lady