Just
now, it is true, there was not much to do- once she had sent off a
cheque to Lily, and another to poor Edith; but she was thankful for
the quiet months which her mourning robes and her aunt's fresh
widowhood compelled them to spend together. The acquisition of power
made her serious; she scrutinized her power with a kind of tender
ferocity, but was not eager to exercise it. She began to do so
during a stay of some weeks which she eventually made with her aunt in
Paris, though in ways that will inevitably present themselves as
trivial. They were the ways most naturally imposed in a city in
which the shops are the admiration of the world, and that were
prescribed unreservedly by the guidance of Mrs. Touchett, who took a
rigidly practical view of the transformation of her niece from a
poor girl to a rich one. "Now that you're a young woman of fortune you
must know how to play the part- I mean to play it well," she said to
Isabel once for all; and she added that the girl's first duty was to
have everything handsome. "You don't know how to take care of your
things, but you must learn," she went on; this was Isabel's second
duty. Isabel submitted, but for the present her imagination was not
kindled; she longed for opportunities, but these were not the
opportunities she meant.
Pages:
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369