In Isabel's mind to-day there
was nothing clear; there was a confusion of regrets, a complication of
fears. She felt helpless as she turned away from her friend, who had
just made the statements I have quoted: Madame Merle knew so little
what she was thinking of! She was herself moreover so unable to
explain. jealous of her-jealous of her with Gilbert? The idea just
then suggested no near reality.
She almost wished jealousy had been possible; it would have made
in a manner for refreshment. Wasn't it in a manner one of the symptoms
of happiness? Madame Merle, however, was wise, so wise that she
might have been pretending 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.
Pages:
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708