VOLUME I
19. CHAPTER XIX
(continued)
"I wish I had!" said Isabel, simply, apparently forgetting for
the moment that her poverty had been a venial fault for two
gallant gentlemen.
In spite of Sir Matthew Hope's benevolent recommendation Madame
Merle did not remain to the end, as the issue of poor Mr.
Touchett's malady had now come frankly to be designated. She was
under pledges to other people which had at last to be redeemed,
and she left Gardencourt with the understanding that she should
in any event see Mrs. Touchett there again, or else in town,
before quitting England. Her parting with Isabel was even more
like the beginning of a friendship than their meeting had been.
"I'm going to six places in succession, but I shall see no one I
like so well as you. They'll all be old friends, however; one
doesn't make new friends at my age. I've made a great exception
for you. You must remember that and must think as well of me as
possible. You must reward me by believing in me."
By way of answer Isabel kissed her, and, though some women kiss
with facility, there are kisses and kisses, and this embrace was
satisfactory to Madame Merle. Our young lady, after this, was
much alone; she saw her aunt and cousin only at meals, and
discovered that of the hours during which Mrs. Touchett was
invisible only a minor portion was now devoted to nursing her
husband. She spent the rest in her own apartments, to which
access was not allowed even to her niece, apparently occupied
there with mysterious and inscrutable exercises. At table she was
grave and silent; but her solemnity was not an attitude--Isabel
could see it was a conviction. She wondered if her aunt repented
of having taken her own way so much; but there was no visible
evidence of this--no tears, no sighs, no exaggeration of a zeal
always to its own sense adequate. Mrs. Touchett seemed simply to
feel the need of thinking things over and summing them up; she
had a little moral account-book--with columns unerringly ruled and
a sharp steel clasp--which she kept with exemplary neatness.
Uttered reflection had with her ever, at any rate, a practical
ring. "If I had foreseen this I'd not have proposed your coming
abroad now," she said to Isabel after Madame Merle had left the
house. "I'd have waited and sent for you next year."
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