All the bitterness of this
knowledge surged into her soul again; it was as if she felt on her
lips the taste of dishonour. There was a moment during which, if she
had turned and spoken, she would have said something that would hiss
like a lash. But she closed her eyes, and then the hideous vision
dropped. What remained was the cleverest woman in the world standing
there within a few feet of her and knowing as little what to think
as the meanest. Isabel's only revenge was to be silent still-to
leave Madame Merle in this unprecedented situation. She left her there
for a period that must have seemed long to this lady, who at last
seated herself with a movement which was in itself a confession of
helplessness. Then Isabel turned slow eyes, looking down at her.
Madame Merle was very pale; her own eyes covered Isabel's face. She
might see what she would, but her danger was over. Isabel would
never accuse her, never reproach her; perhaps because she never
would give her the opportunity to defend herself.
"I'm come to bid Pansy good-bye," our young woman said at last. "I
go to England to-night."
"Go to England to-night!" Madame Merle repeated sitting there and
looking up at her.
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