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‘What have you done to him?’
‘Nothing whatever. But one has no need of a reason for
that.’
‘For not liking you? I think one has need of a very good
reason.’
‘You’re very kind. Be sure you have one ready for the day
you begin.’
‘Begin to dislike you? I shall never begin.’
‘I hope not; because if you do you’ll never end. That’s the
way with your cousin; he doesn’t get over it. It’s an antipathy
of nature—if I can call it that when it’s all on his side. I’ve
nothing whatever against him and don’t bear him the least
little grudge for not doing me justice. Justice is all I want.
However, one feels that he’s a gentleman and would never
say anything underhand about one. Cartes sur table,’ Ma-
dame Merle subjoined in a moment, ‘I’m not afraid of him.’
‘I hope not indeed,’ said Isabel, who added something
about his being the kindest creature living. She remem-
bered, however, that on her first asking him about Madame
Merle he had answered her in a manner which this lady
might have thought injurious without being explicit. There
was something between them, Isabel said to herself, but she
said nothing more than this. If it were something of im-
portance it should inspire respect; if it were not it was not
worth her curiosity. With all her love of knowledge she had
a natural shrinking from raising curtains and looking into
unlighted corners. The love of knowledge coexisted in her
mind with the finest capacity for ignorance.
But Madame Merle sometimes said things that startled

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