“You had better wait till he asks her.”
“If what you say’s true, he’ll ask her. Especially,” said Madame Merle in a moment, “if you make him.”
“If I make him?”
“It’s quite in your power. You’ve great influence with him.”
Isabel frowned a little. “Where did you learn that?”
“Mrs. Touchett told me. Not you—never!” said Madame Merle, smiling.
“I certainly never told you anything of the sort.”
“You might have done so—so far as opportunity went—when we were by way of being confidential with each other. But you really told me very little; I’ve often thought so since.”
Isabel had thought so too, and sometimes with a certain satisfaction. But she didn’t admit it now—perhaps because she wished not to appear to exult in it. “You seem to have had an excellent informant in my aunt,” she simply returned.
“She let me know you had declined an offer of marriage from Lord Warburton, because she was greatly vexed and was full of the subject. Of course I think you’ve done better in doing as you did. But if you wouldn’t marry Lord Warburton yourself, make him the reparation of helping him to marry some one else.”