Touchett came
into the drawing-room before the mid-day breakfast, and then she
began. "Aunt Lydia, I've something to tell you."
Mrs. Touchett gave a little jump and looked at her almost
fiercely: "You needn't tell me; I know what it is."
"I don't know how you know."
"The same way that I know when the window's open-by feeling a
draught. You're going to marry that man."
"What man do you mean?" Isabel enquired with great dignity.
"Madame Merle's friend-Mr. Osmond."
"I don't know why you call him Madame Merle's friend. Is that the
principal thing he's known by?"
"If he's not her friend he ought to after what she has done for him!
cried Mrs. Touchett. "I shouldn't have expected it of her; I'm
disappointed."
"If you mean that Madame Merle has had anything to do with my
engagement you're greatly mistaken," Isabel declared with a sort of
ardent coldness.
"You mean that your attractions were sufficient, without the
gentleman having had to be lashed up? You're quite right. They're
immense, your attractions, and he would never have presumed to think
of you if she hadn't put him up to it. He has a very good opinion of
himself, but he was not a man to take trouble.
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