As time went on there was less and less, and Isabel once said to herself that perhaps without her these things would not have been.

That reflection indeed was instantly stifled; she knew an immediate horror at having made it.

"Whatever happens to me let me not be unjust," she said; "let me bear my burdens myself and not shift them upon others!" This disposition was tested, eventually, by that ingenious apology for her present conduct which Madame Merle saw fit to make and of which I have given a sketch; for there was something irritating--there was almost an air of mockery--in her neat discriminations and clear convictions.

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.