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Updated: June 23, 2025
Jean Merle's face, on which there was stamped an expression of intense but patient suffering, steadfastly met Phebe's aching eyes. "She is dead!" she murmured. "I knew it," he answered. "I did not know what to do," she went on after a slight pause, and speaking in a pitiful and deprecating tone.
After breakfast she wrote a succession of letters, as those arriving for her appeared innumerable: her correspondence was a source of surprise to Isabel when they sometimes walked together to the village post-office to deposit Madame Merle's offering to the mail. She knew more people, as she told Isabel, than she knew what to do with, and something was always turning up to be written about.
An incessant fire was kept up, but just as Terence was about to order the whole corps to charge down and complete the work, a large body of cavalry, followed by a heavy body of infantry, appeared on the scene. This was Merle's division, that had hastened up from Valonga on hearing the firing.
Good gracious, how I wish you'd smile Instead of weeping all the while! "Cheer up, for goodness' sake, I pray, And treat me in your usual way. No more I'll call you hearts of leather, In spite of mumps we'll laugh together!" Perhaps the family thought they had not done enough to relieve the tedium of Merle's banishment; at any rate they set to work and made great efforts to amuse her.
Merle's hair would lie politely as combed, but his own hair owned no master but soap. Lacking this, it stood out and up in wicked disorder like the hair of a rowdy, Winona said.
I am so glad Merle's eyes kept him out of it. He would have been ill fitted for this turmoil. Wilbur was the one for it. I saw him a few minutes the other day, on his way to some place I mustn't write down. He said: "Do you know what I wish?" I said: "No; what do you wish?"
"It's precisely to fit her for the world," she murmured, glancing at Pansy, who stood, at a little distance, attentive to Madame Merle's elegant apparel. "Do you hear that, Pansy? You're very naturally meant for the world," said Pansy's father. The child fixed him an instant with her pure young eyes. "Am I not meant for you, papa?" Papa gave a quick, light laugh. "That doesn't prevent it!
There was a certain cynicism in these mute comments which demands an explanation; the more so as they are not in accord either with the view somewhat superficial perhaps that we have hitherto enjoyed of Madame Merle's character or with the literal facts of Mrs.
"We are always happy when we can see far enough," says Emerson; but Phebe's horizon was all dim and overcast. She could see no distant and clear sky-line. The sight of Jean Merle's figure coming towards her through the dull haziness brought a quick throb to her pulse, and she ran down the rough wagon track to meet him. "A letter from Felix," he called out before she reached him.
A dissatisfied mind, whatever else it may miss, is rarely in want of reasons; they bloom as thick as buttercups in June. The fact of Madame Merle's having had a hand in Gilbert Osmond's marriage ceased to be one of her titles to consideration; it might have been written, after all, that there was not so much to thank her for.
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