“She said that to please you,” the girl answered; conscious, however, of the inadequacy of the explanation.
“To please me by deceiving me? She knows me better. Am I pleased to-day?”
“I don’t think you’re ever much pleased,” Isabel was obliged to reply. “If Madame Merle knew you would learn the truth what had she to gain by insincerity?”
“She gained time, as you see. While I waited for her to interfere you were marching away, and she was really beating the drum.”
“That’s very well. But by your own admission you saw I was marching, and even if she had given the alarm you wouldn’t have tried to stop me.”
“No, but some one else would.”
“Whom do you mean?” Isabel asked, looking very hard at her aunt. Mrs. Touchett’s little bright eyes, active as they usually were, sustained her gaze rather than returned it. “Would you have listened to Ralph?”
“Not if he had abused Mr. Osmond.”
“Ralph doesn’t abuse people; you know that perfectly. He cares very much for you.”
“I know he does,” said Isabel; “and I shall feel the value of it now, for he knows that whatever I do I do with reason.”