Chapter 20 - Page 2

The idea of a distribution of property--she would almost have
said of spoils--just now pressed upon her senses and irritated
her with a sense of exclusion. I am far from wishing to picture
her as one of the hungry mouths or envious hearts of the general
herd, but we have already learned of her having desires that had
never been satisfied. If she had been questioned, she would of
course have admitted--with a fine proud smile--that she had not
the faintest claim to a share in Mr. Touchett's relics. "There
was never anything in the world between us," she would have said.
"There was never that, poor man!"--with a fillip of her thumb and
her third finger. I hasten to add, moreover, that if she couldn't
at the present moment keep from quite perversely yearning she was
careful not to betray herself. She had after all as much sympathy
for Mrs. Touchett's gains as for her losses.

"He has left me this house," the newly-made widow said; "but of
course I shall not live in it; I've a much better one in
Florence. The will was opened only three days since, but I've
already offered the house for sale. I've also a share in the
bank; but I don't yet understand if I'm obliged to leave it
there. If not I shall certainly take it out. Ralph, of course,
has Gardencourt; but I'm not sure that he'll have means to keep
up the place. He's naturally left very well off, but his father
has given away an immense deal of money; there are bequests to a
string of third cousins in Vermont. Ralph, however, is very fond
of Gardencourt and would be quite capable of living there--in
summer--with a maid-of-all-work and a gardener's boy. There's one
remarkable clause in my husband's will," Mrs. Touchett added. "He
has left my niece a fortune."

"A fortune!" Madame Merle softly repeated.

"Isabel steps into something like seventy thousand pounds."
Madame Merle's hands were clasped in her lap; at this she raised
them, still clasped, and held them a moment against her bosom
while her eyes, a little dilated, fixed themselves on those of
her friend. "Ah," she cried, "the clever creature!"

Mrs. Touchett gave her a quick look. "What do you mean by that?"

For an instant Madame Merle's colour rose and she dropped her
eyes. "It certainly is clever to achieve such results--without an
effort!"

"There assuredly was no effort. Don't call it an achievement."

Madame Merle was seldom guilty of the awkwardness of retracting
what she had said; her wisdom was shown rather in maintaining it
and placing it in a favourable light. "My dear friend, Isabel
would certainly not have had seventy thousand pounds left her if
she had not been the most charming girl in the world. Her charm
includes great cleverness."