"I won't go in," said the good sister. "Madame Merle is waiting for you."
At this announcement Isabel gave a start, and she was on the point of asking if there were no other egress from the convent. But a moment's reflection assured her that she would do well not to betray to the worthy nun her desire to avoid Pansy's other visitor. Her companion laid her hand very gently on her arm, and fixing her a moment with a wise, benevolent eye, said to her, speaking French, almost familiarly—
"Eh bien, chère Madame, qu'en pensez-vous?"
"About my step-daughter? Oh, it would take long to tell you."
"We think it's enough," said Madame Catherine, significantly. And she pushed open the door of the parlour.
Madame Merle was sitting just as Isabel had left her, like a woman so absorbed in thought that she had not? moved a little-finger. As Madame Catherine closed the door behind Isabel, she got up, and Isabel saw that she had been thinking to some purpose. She had recovered her balance; she was in full possession of her resources.
"I found that I wished to wait for you," she said, urbanely. "But it's not to talk about Pansy."
Isabel wondered what it could be to talk about, and in spite of Madame Merle's declaration she answered after a moment—
"Madame Catherine says it's enough."
"Yes; it also seems to me enough. I wanted to ask you another word about poor Mr. Touchett," Madame Merle added. "Have you reason to believe that he is really at his last?"
"I have no information but a telegram. Unfortunately it only confirms a probability."
"I am going to ask you a strange question," said Madame
