Page 790 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

‘He has done me many services.’
‘Yes; but one was much above the rest. He made you a
rich woman.’
‘He made me? Madame Merle appearing to see herself
successful, she went on more triumphantly: ‘He imparted
to you that extra lustre which was required to make you
a brilliant match. At bottom it’s him you’ve to thank.’ She
stopped; there was something in Isabel’s eyes.
‘I don’t understand you. It was my uncle’s money.’
‘Yes; it was your uncle’s money, but it was your cousin’s
idea. He brought his father over to it. Ah, my dear, the sum
was large!’
Isabel stood staring; she seemed to-day to live in a world
illumined by lurid flashes. ‘I don’t know why you say such
things. I don’t know what you know.’
‘I know nothing but what I’ve guessed. But I’ve guessed
that.’
Isabel went to the door and, when she had opened it,
stood a moment with her hand on the latch. Then she said-it
was her only revenge: ‘I believed it was you I had to thank!’
Madame Merle dropped her eyes; she stood there in a
kind of proud penance. ‘You’re very unhappy, I know. But
I’m more so.’
‘Yes; I can believe that. I think I should like never to see
you again.’
Madame Merle raised her eyes. ‘I shall go to America,’
she quietly remarked while Isabel passed out.

790 The Portrait of a Lady