Page 572 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

She almost wished jealousy had been possible; it would
have made in a manner for refreshment. Wasn’t it in a man-
ner one of the symptoms of happiness? Madame Merle,
however, was wise, so wise that she might have been pre-
tending to know Isabel better than Isabel knew herself. This
young woman had always been fertile in resolutions-many
of them of an elevated character; but at no period had they
flourished (in the privacy of her heart) more richly than to-
day. It is true that they all had a family likeness; they might
have been summed up in the determination that if she was to
be unhappy it should not be by a fault of her own. Her poor
winged spirit had always had a great desire to do its best,
and it had not as yet been seriously discouraged. It wished,
therefore, to hold fast to justice-not to pay itself by petty re-
venges. To associate Madame Merle with its disappointment
would be a petty revenge-especially as the pleasure to be de-
rived from that would be perfectly insincere. It might feed
her sense of bitterness, but it would not loosen her bonds. It
was impossible to pretend that she had not acted with her
eyes open; if ever a girl was a free agent she had been. A girl
in love was doubtless not a free agent; but the sole source of
her mistake had been within herself. There had been no plot,
no snare; she had looked and considered and chosen. When
a woman had made such a mistake, there was only one way
to repair it-just immensely (oh, with the highest grandeur!
to accept it. One folly was enough, especially when it was to
last for ever; a second one would not much set it off. In this
vow of reticence there was a certain nobleness which kept
Isabel going; but Madame Merle had been right, for all that,

572 The Portrait of a Lady