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‘You may see her; but you’ll not be struck with her being
happy. She has looked as solemn, these three days, as a Ci-
mabue Madonna!’ And Mrs. Touchett rang for a servant.
Isabel came in shortly after the footman had been sent to
call her; and Madame Merle thought, as she appeared, that
Mrs. Touchett’s comparison had its force. The girl was pale
and grave—an effect not mitigated by her deeper mourn-
ing; but the smile of her brightest moments came into her
face as she saw Madame Merle, who went forward, laid her
hand on our heroine’s shoulder and, after looking at her a
moment, kissed her as if she were returning the kiss she had
received from her at Gardencourt. This was the only allu-
sion the visitor, in her great good taste, made for the present
to her young friend’s inheritance.
Mrs. Touchett had no purpose of awaiting in London the
sale of her house. After selecting from among its furniture
the objects she wished to transport to her other abode, she
left the rest of its contents to be disposed of by the auction-
eer and took her departure for the Continent. She was of
course accompanied on this journey by her niece, who now
had plenty of leisure to measure and weigh and otherwise
handle the windfall on which Madame Merle had covertly
congratulated her. Isabel thought very often of the fact of
her accession of means, looking at it in a dozen different
lights; but we shall not now attempt to follow her train of
thought or to explain exactly why her new consciousness
was at first oppressive. This failure to rise to immediate joy
was indeed but brief; the girl presently made up her mind
that to be rich was a virtue because it was to be able to

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