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diff --git a/2833.txt b/2833.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9405932 --- /dev/null +++ b/2833.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13244 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Portrait of a Lady, by Henry James + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Portrait of a Lady + Volume 1 (of 2) + +Author: Henry James + +Posting Date: December 1, 2008 [EBook #2833] +Release Date: September, 2001 +[Last updated: May 1, 2015] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY *** + + + + +Produced by Eve Sobol + + + + + +THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY + +VOLUME I + + +By Henry James + + + + +PREFACE + +"The Portrait of a Lady" was, like "Roderick Hudson," begun in Florence, +during three months spent there in the spring of 1879. Like "Roderick" +and like "The American," it had been designed for publication in "The +Atlantic Monthly," where it began to appear in 1880. It differed from +its two predecessors, however, in finding a course also open to it, from +month to month, in "Macmillan's Magazine"; which was to be for me one of +the last occasions of simultaneous "serialisation" in the two countries +that the changing conditions of literary intercourse between England and +the United States had up to then left unaltered. It is a long novel, and +I was long in writing it; I remember being again much occupied with it, +the following year, during a stay of several weeks made in Venice. I had +rooms on Riva Schiavoni, at the top of a house near the passage leading +off to San Zaccaria; the waterside life, the wondrous lagoon spread +before me, and the ceaseless human chatter of Venice came in at my +windows, to which I seem to myself to have been constantly driven, in +the fruitless fidget of composition, as if to see whether, out in the +blue channel, the ship of some right suggestion, of some better phrase, +of the next happy twist of my subject, the next true touch for my +canvas, mightn't come into sight. But I recall vividly enough that the +response most elicited, in general, to these restless appeals was the +rather grim admonition that romantic and historic sites, such as +the land of Italy abounds in, offer the artist a questionable aid to +concentration when they themselves are not to be the subject of it. They +are too rich in their own life and too charged with their own meanings +merely to help him out with a lame phrase; they draw him away from his +small question to their own greater ones; so that, after a little, he +feels, while thus yearning toward them in his difficulty, as if he were +asking an army of glorious veterans to help him to arrest a peddler who +has given him the wrong change. + +There are pages of the book which, in the reading over, have seemed +to make me see again the bristling curve of the wide Riva, the large +colour-spots of the balconied houses and the repeated undulation of the +little hunchbacked bridges, marked by the rise and drop again, with the +wave, of foreshortened clicking pedestrians. The Venetian footfall and +the Venetian cry--all talk there, wherever uttered, having the pitch of +a call across the water--come in once more at the window, renewing one's +old impression of the delighted senses and the divided, frustrated mind. +How can places that speak IN GENERAL so to the imagination not give +it, at the moment, the particular thing it wants? I recollect again +and again, in beautiful places, dropping into that wonderment. The +real truth is, I think, that they express, under this appeal, only too +much--more than, in the given case, one has use for; so that one +finds one's self working less congruously, after all, so far as the +surrounding picture is concerned, than in presence of the moderate and +the neutral, to which we may lend something of the light of our vision. +Such a place as Venice is too proud for such charities; Venice doesn't +borrow, she but all magnificently gives. We profit by that enormously, +but to do so we must either be quite off duty or be on it in her service +alone. Such, and so rueful, are these reminiscences; though on the +whole, no doubt, one's book, and one's "literary effort" at large, were +to be the better for them. Strangely fertilising, in the long run, does +a wasted effort of attention often prove. It all depends on HOW the +attention has been cheated, has been squandered. There are high-handed +insolent frauds, and there are insidious sneaking ones. And there is, +I fear, even on the most designing artist's part, always witless enough +good faith, always anxious enough desire, to fail to guard him against +their deceits. + +Trying to recover here, for recognition, the germ of my idea, I see that +it must have consisted not at all in any conceit of a "plot," nefarious +name, in any flash, upon the fancy, of a set of relations, or in any one +of those situations that, by a logic of their own, immediately fall, for +the fabulist, into movement, into a march or a rush, a patter of quick +steps; but altogether in the sense of a single character, the character +and aspect of a particular engaging young woman, to which all the usual +elements of a "subject," certainly of a setting, were to need to be +super added. Quite as interesting as the young woman herself at her +best, do I find, I must again repeat, this projection of memory upon the +whole matter of the growth, in one's imagination, of some such apology +for a motive. These are the fascinations of the fabulist's art, these +lurking forces of expansion, these necessities of upspringing in +the seed, these beautiful determinations, on the part of the idea +entertained, to grow as tall as possible, to push into the light and +the air and thickly flower there; and, quite as much, these fine +possibilities of recovering, from some good standpoint on the ground +gained, the intimate history of the business--of retracing and +reconstructing its steps and stages. I have always fondly remembered a +remark that I heard fall years ago from the lips of Ivan Turgenieff in +regard to his own experience of the usual origin of the fictive picture. +It began for him almost always with the vision of some person or +persons, who hovered before him, soliciting him, as the active or +passive figure, interesting him and appealing to him just as they were +and by what they were. He saw them, in that fashion, as disponibles, +saw them subject to the chances, the complications of existence, and saw +them vividly, but then had to find for them the right relations, those +that would most bring them out; to imagine, to invent and select and +piece together the situations most useful and favourable to the sense of +the creatures themselves, the complications they would be most likely to +produce and to feel. + +"To arrive at these things is to arrive at my story," he said, "and +that's the way I look for it. The result is that I'm often accused +of not having 'story' enough. I seem to myself to have as much as I +need--to show my people, to exhibit their relations with each other; +for that is all my measure. If I watch them long enough I see them come +together, I see them PLACED, I see them engaged in this or that act and +in this or that difficulty. How they look and move and speak and behave, +always in the setting I have found for them, is my account of them--of +which I dare say, alas, que cela manque souvent d'architecture. But I +would rather, I think, have too little architecture than too much--when +there's danger of its interfering with my measure of the truth. The +French of course like more of it than I give--having by their own genius +such a hand for it; and indeed one must give all one can. As for the +origin of one's wind-blown germs themselves, who shall say, as you ask, +where THEY come from? We have to go too far back, too far behind, +to say. Isn't it all we can say that they come from every quarter +of heaven, that they are THERE at almost any turn of the road? They +accumulate, and we are always picking them over, selecting among them. +They are the breath of life--by which I mean that life, in its own +way, breathes them upon us. They are so, in a manner prescribed and +imposed--floated into our minds by the current of life. That reduces to +imbecility the vain critic's quarrel, so often, with one's subject, when +he hasn't the wit to accept it. Will he point out then which other it +should properly have been?--his office being, essentially to point out. +Il en serait bien embarrasse. Ah, when he points out what I've done or +failed to do with it, that's another matter: there he's on his ground. I +give him up my 'sarchitecture,'" my distinguished friend concluded, "as +much as he will." + +So this beautiful genius, and I recall with comfort the gratitude I drew +from his reference to the intensity of suggestion that may reside in the +stray figure, the unattached character, the image en disponibilite. +It gave me higher warrant than I seemed then to have met for just +that blest habit of one's own imagination, the trick of investing some +conceived or encountered individual, some brace or group of individuals, +with the germinal property and authority. I was myself so much more +antecedently conscious of my figures than of their setting--a too +preliminary, a preferential interest in which struck me as in general +such a putting of the cart before the horse. I might envy, though I +couldn't emulate, the imaginative writer so constituted as to see his +fable first and to make out its agents afterwards. I could think so +little of any fable that didn't need its agents positively to launch +it; I could think so little of any situation that didn't depend for its +interest on the nature of the persons situated, and thereby on their +way of taking it. There are methods of so-called presentation, I believe +among novelists who have appeared to flourish--that offer the situation +as indifferent to that support; but I have not lost the sense of the +value for me, at the time, of the admirable Russian's testimony to my +not needing, all superstitiously, to try and perform any such gymnastic. +Other echoes from the same source linger with me, I confess, as +unfadingly--if it be not all indeed one much-embracing echo. It was +impossible after that not to read, for one's uses, high lucidity into +the tormented and disfigured and bemuddled question of the objective +value, and even quite into that of the critical appreciation, of +"subject" in the novel. + +One had had from an early time, for that matter, the instinct of the +right estimate of such values and of its reducing to the inane the +dull dispute over the "immoral" subject and the moral. Recognising so +promptly the one measure of the worth of a given subject, the question +about it that, rightly answered, disposes of all others--is it valid, +in a word, is it genuine, is it sincere, the result of some direct +impression or perception of life?--I had found small edification, +mostly, in a critical pretension that had neglected from the first +all delimitation of ground and all definition of terms. The air of +my earlier time shows, to memory, as darkened, all round, with that +vanity--unless the difference to-day be just in one's own final +impatience, the lapse of one's attention. There is, I think, no more +nutritive or suggestive truth in this connexion than that of the perfect +dependence of the "moral" sense of a work of art on the amount of felt +life concerned in producing it. The question comes back thus, obviously, +to the kind and the degree of the artist's prime sensibility, which is +the soil out of which his subject springs. The quality and capacity of +that soil, its ability to "grow" with due freshness and straightness any +vision of life, represents, strongly or weakly, the projected morality. +That element is but another name for the more or less close connexion of +the subject with some mark made on the intelligence, with some sincere +experience. By which, at the same time, of course, one is far from +contending that this enveloping air of the artist's humanity--which +gives the last touch to the worth of the work--is not a widely and +wondrously varying element; being on one occasion a rich and magnificent +medium and on another a comparatively poor and ungenerous one. Here we +get exactly the high price of the novel as a literary form--its power +not only, while preserving that form with closeness, to range +through all the differences of the individual relation to its general +subject-matter, all the varieties of outlook on life, of disposition to +reflect and project, created by conditions that are never the same from +man to man (or, so far as that goes, from man to woman), but positively +to appear more true to its character in proportion as it strains, or +tends to burst, with a latent extravagance, its mould. + +The house of fiction has in short not one window, but a million--a +number of possible windows not to be reckoned, rather; every one of +which has been pierced, or is still pierceable, in its vast front, by +the need of the individual vision and by the pressure of the individual +will. These apertures, of dissimilar shape and size, hang so, all +together, over the human scene that we might have expected of them a +greater sameness of report than we find. They are but windows at the +best, mere holes in a dead wall, disconnected, perched aloft; they are +not hinged doors opening straight upon life. But they have this mark of +their own that at each of them stands a figure with a pair of eyes, +or at least with a field-glass, which forms, again and again, for +observation, a unique instrument, insuring to the person making use of +it an impression distinct from every other. He and his neighbours are +watching the same show, but one seeing more where the other sees less, +one seeing black where the other sees white, one seeing big where the +other sees small, one seeing coarse where the other sees fine. And +so on, and so on; there is fortunately no saying on what, for the +particular pair of eyes, the window may NOT open; "fortunately" by +reason, precisely, of this incalculability of range. The spreading +field, the human scene, is the "choice of subject"; the pierced +aperture, either broad or balconied or slit-like and low-browed, is the +"literary form"; but they are, singly or together, as nothing without +the posted presence of the watcher--without, in other words, the +consciousness of the artist. Tell me what the artist is, and I will tell +you of what he has BEEN conscious. Thereby I shall express to you at +once his boundless freedom and his "moral" reference. + +All this is a long way round, however, for my word about my dim first +move toward "The Portrait," which was exactly my grasp of a single +character--an acquisition I had made, moreover, after a fashion not +here to be retraced. Enough that I was, as seemed to me, in complete +possession of it, that I had been so for a long time, that this had made +it familiar and yet had not blurred its charm, and that, all urgently, +all tormentingly, I saw it in motion and, so to speak, in transit. This +amounts to saying that I saw it as bent upon its fate--some fate or +other; which, among the possibilities, being precisely the question. +Thus I had my vivid individual--vivid, so strangely, in spite of being +still at large, not confined by the conditions, not engaged in the +tangle, to which we look for much of the impress that constitutes an +identity. If the apparition was still all to be placed how came it to +be vivid?--since we puzzle such quantities out, mostly, just by the +business of placing them. One could answer such a question beautifully, +doubtless, if one could do so subtle, if not so monstrous, a thing as to +write the history of the growth of one's imagination. One would describe +then what, at a given time, had extraordinarily happened to it, and one +would so, for instance, be in a position to tell, with an approach to +clearness, how, under favour of occasion, it had been able to take over +(take over straight from life) such and such a constituted, animated +figure or form. The figure has to that extent, as you see, BEEN +placed--placed in the imagination that detains it, preserves, +protects, enjoys it, conscious of its presence in the dusky, crowded, +heterogeneous back-shop of the mind very much as a wary dealer in +precious odds and ends, competent to make an "advance" on rare objects +confided to him, is conscious of the rare little "piece" left in deposit +by the reduced, mysterious lady of title or the speculative amateur, +and which is already there to disclose its merit afresh as soon as a key +shall have clicked in a cupboard-door. + +That may he, I recognise, a somewhat superfine analogy for the +particular "value" I here speak of, the image of the young feminine +nature that I had had for so considerable a time all curiously at my +disposal; but it appears to fond memory quite to fit the fact--with the +recall, in addition, of my pious desire but to place my treasure right. +I quite remind myself thus of the dealer resigned not to "realise," +resigned to keeping the precious object locked up indefinitely rather +than commit it, at no matter what price, to vulgar hands. For there +ARE dealers in these forms and figures and treasures capable of that +refinement. The point is, however, that this single small corner-stone, +the conception of a certain young woman affronting her destiny, had +begun with being all my outfit for the large building of "The Portrait +of a Lady." It came to be a square and spacious house--or has at least +seemed so to me in this going over it again; but, such as it is, it +had to be put up round my young woman while she stood there in perfect +isolation. That is to me, artistically speaking, the circumstance of +interest; for I have lost myself once more, I confess, in the curiosity +of analysing the structure. By what process of logical accretion was +this slight "personality," the mere slim shade of an intelligent but +presumptuous girl, to find itself endowed with the high attributes of a +Subject?--and indeed by what thinness, at the best, would such a subject +not be vitiated? Millions of presumptuous girls, intelligent or not +intelligent, daily affront their destiny, and what is it open to their +destiny to be, at the most, that we should make an ado about it? The +novel is of its very nature an "ado," an ado about something, and the +larger the form it takes the greater of course the ado. Therefore, +consciously, that was what one was in for--for positively organising an +ado about Isabel Archer. + +One looked it well in the face, I seem to remember, this extravagance; +and with the effect precisely of recognising the charm of the problem. +Challenge any such problem with any intelligence, and you immediately +see how full it is of substance; the wonder being, all the while, as we +look at the world, how absolutely, how inordinately, the Isabel Archers, +and even much smaller female fry, insist on mattering. George Eliot has +admirably noted it--"In these frail vessels is borne onward through the +ages the treasure of human affection." In "Romeo and Juliet" Juliet has +to be important, just as, in "Adam Bede" and "The Mill on the Floss" and +"Middlemarch" and "Daniel Deronda," Hetty Sorrel and Maggie Tulliver and +Rosamond Vincy and Gwendolen Harleth have to be; with that much of firm +ground, that much of bracing air, at the disposal all the while of +their feet and their lungs. They are typical, none the less, of a class +difficult, in the individual case, to make a centre of interest; so +difficult in fact that many an expert painter, as for instance Dickens +and Walter Scott, as for instance even, in the main, so subtle a hand +as that of R. L. Stevenson, has preferred to leave the task unattempted. +There are in fact writers as to whom we make out that their refuge +from this is to assume it to be not worth their attempting; by which +pusillanimity in truth their honour is scantly saved. It is never an +attestation of a value, or even of our imperfect sense of one, it is +never a tribute to any truth at all, that we shall represent that value +badly. It never makes up, artistically, for an artist's dim feeling +about a thing that he shall "do" the thing as ill as possible. There are +better ways than that, the best of all of which is to begin with less +stupidity. + +It may be answered meanwhile, in regard to Shakespeare's and to George +Eliot's testimony, that their concession to the "importance" of their +Juliets and Cleopatras and Portias (even with Portia as the very type +and model of the young person intelligent and presumptuous) and to that +of their Hettys and Maggies and Rosamonds and Gwendolens, suffers the +abatement that these slimnesses are, when figuring as the main props of +the theme, never suffered to be sole ministers of its appeal, but have +their inadequacy eked out with comic relief and underplots, as the +playwrights say, when not with murders and battles and the great +mutations of the world. If they are shown as "mattering" as much as +they could possibly pretend to, the proof of it is in a hundred other +persons, made of much stouter stuff; and each involved moreover in a +hundred relations which matter to THEM concomitantly with that one. +Cleopatra matters, beyond bounds, to Antony, but his colleagues, +his antagonists, the state of Rome and the impending battle also +prodigiously matter; Portia matters to Antonio, and to Shylock, and +to the Prince of Morocco, to the fifty aspiring princes, but for these +gentry there are other lively concerns; for Antonio, notably, there +are Shylock and Bassanio and his lost ventures and the extremity of +his predicament. This extremity indeed, by the same token, matters to +Portia--though its doing so becomes of interest all by the fact that +Portia matters to US. That she does so, at any rate, and that almost +everything comes round to it again, supports my contention as to this +fine example of the value recognised in the mere young thing. (I say +"mere" young thing because I guess that even Shakespeare, preoccupied +mainly though he may have been with the passions of princes, would +scarce have pretended to found the best of his appeal for her on her +high social position.) It is an example exactly of the deep difficulty +braved--the difficulty of making George Eliot's "frail vessel," if not +the all-in-all for our attention, at least the clearest of the call. + +Now to see deep difficulty braved is at any time, for the really +addicted artist, to feel almost even as a pang the beautiful incentive, +and to feel it verily in such sort as to wish the danger intensified. +The difficulty most worth tackling can only be for him, in these +conditions, the greatest the case permits of. So I remember feeling +here (in presence, always, that is, of the particular uncertainty of my +ground), that there would be one way better than another--oh, ever so +much better than any other!--of making it fight out its battle. The +frail vessel, that charged with George Eliot's "treasure," and thereby +of such importance to those who curiously approach it, has likewise +possibilities of importance to itself, possibilities which permit of +treatment and in fact peculiarly require it from the moment they are +considered at all. There is always the escape from any close account +of the weak agent of such spells by using as a bridge for evasion, for +retreat and flight, the view of her relation to those surrounding her. +Make it predominantly a view of THEIR relation and the trick is played: +you give the general sense of her effect, and you give it, so far as the +raising on it of a superstructure goes, with the maximum of ease. Well, +I recall perfectly how little, in my now quite established connexion, +the maximum of ease appealed to me, and how I seemed to get rid of it +by an honest transposition of the weights in the two scales. "Place the +centre of the subject in the young woman's own consciousness," I said to +myself, "and you get as interesting and as beautiful a difficulty as you +could wish. Stick to THAT--for the centre; put the heaviest weight +into THAT scale, which will be so largely the scale of her relation +to herself. Make her only interested enough, at the same time, in the +things that are not herself, and this relation needn't fear to be too +limited. Place meanwhile in the other scale the lighter weight (which is +usually the one that tips the balance of interest): press least hard, in +short, on the consciousness of your heroine's satellites, especially the +male; make it an interest contributive only to the greater one. See, at +all events, what can be done in this way. What better field could there +be for a due ingenuity? The girl hovers, inextinguishable, as a charming +creature, and the job will be to translate her into the highest terms +of that formula, and as nearly as possible moreover into ALL of them. To +depend upon her and her little concerns wholly to see you through will +necessitate, remember, your really 'doing' her." + +So far I reasoned, and it took nothing less than that technical rigour, +I now easily see, to inspire me with the right confidence for erecting +on such a plot of ground the neat and careful and proportioned pile of +bricks that arches over it and that was thus to form, constructionally +speaking, a literary monument. Such is the aspect that to-day "The +Portrait" wears for me: a structure reared with an "architectural" +competence, as Turgenieff would have said, that makes it, to the +author's own sense, the most proportioned of his productions after "The +Ambassadors" which was to follow it so many years later and which has, +no doubt, a superior roundness. On one thing I was determined; that, +though I should clearly have to pile brick upon brick for the creation +of an interest, I would leave no pretext for saying that anything is +out of line, scale or perspective. I would build large--in fine embossed +vaults and painted arches, as who should say, and yet never let it +appear that the chequered pavement, the ground under the reader's +feet, fails to stretch at every point to the base of the walls. That +precautionary spirit, on re-perusal of the book, is the old note that +most touches me: it testifies so, for my own ear, to the anxiety of my +provision for the reader's amusement. I felt, in view of the possible +limitations of my subject, that no such provision could be excessive, +and the development of the latter was simply the general form of that +earnest quest. And I find indeed that this is the only account I can +give myself of the evolution of the fable it is all under the head thus +named that I conceive the needful accretion as having taken place, the +right complications as having started. It was naturally of the essence +that the young woman should be herself complex; that was rudimentary--or +was at any rate the light in which Isabel Archer had originally dawned. +It went, however, but a certain way, and other lights, contending, +conflicting lights, and of as many different colours, if possible, as +the rockets, the Roman candles and Catherine-wheels of a "pyrotechnic +display," would be employable to attest that she was. I had, no doubt, a +groping instinct for the right complications, since I am quite unable +to track the footsteps of those that constitute, as the case stands, the +general situation exhibited. They are there, for what they are worth, +and as numerous as might be; but my memory, I confess, is a blank as to +how and whence they came. + +I seem to myself to have waked up one morning in possession of them--of +Ralph Touchett and his parents, of Madame Merle, of Gilbert Osmond and +his daughter and his sister, of Lord Warburton, Caspar Goodwood and +Miss Stackpole, the definite array of contributions to Isabel Archer's +history. I recognised them, I knew them, they were the numbered pieces +of my puzzle, the concrete terms of my "plot." It was as if they had +simply, by an impulse of their own, floated into my ken, and all in +response to my primary question: "Well, what will she DO?" Their answer +seemed to be that if I would trust them they would show me; on which, +with an urgent appeal to them to make it at least as interesting as +they could, I trusted them. They were like the group of attendants and +entertainers who come down by train when people in the country give a +party; they represented the contract for carrying the party on. That was +an excellent relation with them--a possible one even with so broken a +reed (from her slightness of cohesion) as Henrietta Stackpole. It is a +familiar truth to the novelist, at the strenuous hour, that, as certain +elements in any work are of the essence, so others are only of the +form; that as this or that character, this or that disposition of the +material, belongs to the subject directly, so to speak, so this or that +other belongs to it but indirectly--belongs intimately to the treatment. +This is a truth, however, of which he rarely gets the benefit--since it +could be assured to him, really, but by criticism based upon perception, +criticism which is too little of this world. He must not think of +benefits, moreover, I freely recognise, for that way dishonour lies: +he has, that is, but one to think of--the benefit, whatever it may be, +involved in his having cast a spell upon the simpler, the very simplest, +forms of attention. This is all he is entitled to; he is entitled to +nothing, he is bound to admit, that can come to him, from the reader, as +a result on the latter's part of any act of reflexion or discrimination. +He may ENJOY this finer tribute--that is another affair, but on +condition only of taking it as a gratuity "thrown in," a mere miraculous +windfall, the fruit of a tree he may not pretend to have shaken. Against +reflexion, against discrimination, in his interest, all earth and air +conspire; wherefore it is that, as I say, he must in many a case have +schooled himself, from the first, to work but for a "living wage." The +living wage is the reader's grant of the least possible quantity of +attention required for consciousness of a "spell." The occasional +charming "tip" is an act of his intelligence over and beyond this, a +golden apple, for the writer's lap, straight from the wind-stirred tree. +The artist may of course, in wanton moods, dream of some Paradise (for +art) where the direct appeal to the intelligence might be legalised; for +to such extravagances as these his yearning mind can scarce hope ever +completely to close itself. The most he can do is to remember they ARE +extravagances. + +All of which is perhaps but a gracefully devious way of saying that +Henrietta Stackpole was a good example, in "The Portrait," of the truth +to which I just adverted--as good an example as I could name were it not +that Maria Gostrey, in "The Ambassadors," then in the bosom of time, +may be mentioned as a better. Each of these persons is but wheels to the +coach; neither belongs to the body of that vehicle, or is for a moment +accommodated with a seat inside. There the subject alone is ensconced, +in the form of its "hero and heroine," and of the privileged high +officials, say, who ride with the king and queen. There are reasons +why one would have liked this to be felt, as in general one would like +almost anything to be felt, in one's work, that one has one's self +contributively felt. We have seen, however, how idle is that pretension, +which I should be sorry to make too much of. Maria Gostrey and Miss +Stackpole then are cases, each, of the light ficelle, not of the true +agent; they may run beside the coach "for all they are worth," they may +cling to it till they are out of breath (as poor Miss Stackpole all so +visibly does), but neither, all the while, so much as gets her foot on +the step, neither ceases for a moment to tread the dusty road. Put it +even that they are like the fishwives who helped to bring back to Paris +from Versailles, on that most ominous day of the first half of the +French Revolution, the carriage of the royal family. The only thing +is that I may well be asked, I acknowledge, why then, in the present +fiction, I have suffered Henrietta (of whom we have indubitably too +much) so officiously, so strangely, so almost inexplicably, to pervade. +I will presently say what I can for that anomaly--and in the most +conciliatory fashion. + +A point I wish still more to make is that if my relation of confidence +with the actors in my drama who WERE, unlike Miss Stackpole, true +agents, was an excellent one to have arrived at, there still remained my +relation with the reader, which was another affair altogether and as to +which I felt no one to be trusted but myself. That solicitude was to be +accordingly expressed in the artful patience with which, as I have +said, I piled brick upon brick. The bricks, for the whole +counting-over--putting for bricks little touches and inventions and +enhancements by the way--affect me in truth as well-nigh innumerable and +as ever so scrupulously fitted together and packed-in. It is an effect +of detail, of the minutest; though, if one were in this connexion to say +all, one would express the hope that the general, the ampler air of the +modest monument still survives. I do at least seem to catch the key to +a part of this abundance of small anxious, ingenious illustration as I +recollect putting my finger, in my young woman's interest, on the most +obvious of her predicates. "What will she 'do'? Why, the first thing +she'll do will be to come to Europe; which in fact will form, and all +inevitably, no small part of her principal adventure. Coming to +Europe is even for the 'frail vessels,' in this wonderful age, a mild +adventure; but what is truer than that on one side--the side of their +independence of flood and field, of the moving accident, of battle and +murder and sudden death--her adventures are to be mild? Without her +sense of them, her sense FOR them, as one may say, they are next to +nothing at all; but isn't the beauty and the difficulty just in showing +their mystic conversion by that sense, conversion into the stuff of +drama or, even more delightful word still, of 'story'?" It was all +as clear, my contention, as a silver bell. Two very good instances, I +think, of this effect of conversion, two cases of the rare chemistry, +are the pages in which Isabel, coming into the drawing-room at +Gardencourt, coming in from a wet walk or whatever, that rainy +afternoon, finds Madame Merle in possession of the place, Madame +Merle seated, all absorbed but all serene, at the piano, and deeply +recognises, in the striking of such an hour, in the presence there, +among the gathering shades, of this personage, of whom a moment before +she had never so much as heard, a turning-point in her life. It is +dreadful to have too much, for any artistic demonstration, to dot one's +i's and insist on one's intentions, and I am not eager to do it now; but +the question here was that of producing the maximum of intensity with +the minimum of strain. + +The interest was to be raised to its pitch and yet the elements to be +kept in their key; so that, should the whole thing duly impress, I might +show what an "exciting" inward life may do for the person leading it +even while it remains perfectly normal. And I cannot think of a more +consistent application of that ideal unless it be in the long statement, +just beyond the middle of the book, of my young woman's extraordinary +meditative vigil on the occasion that was to become for her such a +landmark. Reduced to its essence, it is but the vigil of searching +criticism; but it throws the action further forward that twenty +"incidents" might have done. It was designed to have all the vivacity +of incidents and all the economy of picture. She sits up, by her dying +fire, far into the night, under the spell of recognitions on which she +finds the last sharpness suddenly wait. It is a representation simply +of her motionlessly SEEING, and an attempt withal to make the mere still +lucidity of her act as "interesting" as the surprise of a caravan or the +identification of a pirate. It represents, for that matter, one of the +identifications dear to the novelist, and even indispensable to him; +but it all goes on without her being approached by another person and +without her leaving her chair. It is obviously the best thing in the +book, but it is only a supreme illustration of the general plan. As to +Henrietta, my apology for whom I just left incomplete, she exemplifies, +I fear, in her superabundance, not an element of my plan, but only +an excess of my zeal. So early was to begin my tendency to OVERTREAT, +rather than undertreat (when there was choice or danger) my subject. +(Many members of my craft, I gather, are far from agreeing with me, but +I have always held overtreating the minor disservice.) "Treating" that +of "The Portrait" amounted to never forgetting, by any lapse, that the +thing was under a special obligation to be amusing. There was the danger +of the noted "thinness"--which was to be averted, tooth and nail, +by cultivation of the lively. That is at least how I see it to-day. +Henrietta must have been at that time a part of my wonderful notion of +the lively. And then there was another matter. I had, within the few +preceding years, come to live in London, and the "international" light +lay, in those days, to my sense, thick and rich upon the scene. It was +the light in which so much of the picture hung. But that IS another +matter. There is really too much to say. + +HENRY JAMES + + + + +THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY + + + +CHAPTER I + +Under certain circumstances there are few hours in life more agreeable +than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea. There +are circumstances in which, whether you partake of the tea or not--some +people of course never do,--the situation is in itself delightful. Those +that I have in mind in beginning to unfold this simple history offered +an admirable setting to an innocent pastime. The implements of +the little feast had been disposed upon the lawn of an old English +country-house, in what I should call the perfect middle of a splendid +summer afternoon. Part of the afternoon had waned, but much of it was +left, and what was left was of the finest and rarest quality. Real dusk +would not arrive for many hours; but the flood of summer light had begun +to ebb, the air had grown mellow, the shadows were long upon the smooth, +dense turf. They lengthened slowly, however, and the scene expressed +that sense of leisure still to come which is perhaps the chief source +of one's enjoyment of such a scene at such an hour. From five o'clock to +eight is on certain occasions a little eternity; but on such an occasion +as this the interval could be only an eternity of pleasure. The persons +concerned in it were taking their pleasure quietly, and they were not +of the sex which is supposed to furnish the regular votaries of the +ceremony I have mentioned. The shadows on the perfect lawn were straight +and angular; they were the shadows of an old man sitting in a deep +wicker-chair near the low table on which the tea had been served, and +of two younger men strolling to and fro, in desultory talk, in front of +him. The old man had his cup in his hand; it was an unusually large cup, +of a different pattern from the rest of the set and painted in brilliant +colours. He disposed of its contents with much circumspection, holding +it for a long time close to his chin, with his face turned to the house. +His companions had either finished their tea or were indifferent to +their privilege; they smoked cigarettes as they continued to stroll. +One of them, from time to time, as he passed, looked with a certain +attention at the elder man, who, unconscious of observation, rested his +eyes upon the rich red front of his dwelling. The house that rose beyond +the lawn was a structure to repay such consideration and was the most +characteristic object in the peculiarly English picture I have attempted +to sketch. + +It stood upon a low hill, above the river--the river being the Thames at +some forty miles from London. A long gabled front of red brick, with +the complexion of which time and the weather had played all sorts of +pictorial tricks, only, however, to improve and refine it, presented +to the lawn its patches of ivy, its clustered chimneys, its windows +smothered in creepers. The house had a name and a history; the old +gentleman taking his tea would have been delighted to tell you these +things: how it had been built under Edward the Sixth, had offered a +night's hospitality to the great Elizabeth (whose august person had +extended itself upon a huge, magnificent and terribly angular bed which +still formed the principal honour of the sleeping apartments), had been +a good deal bruised and defaced in Cromwell's wars, and then, under the +Restoration, repaired and much enlarged; and how, finally, after having +been remodelled and disfigured in the eighteenth century, it had passed +into the careful keeping of a shrewd American banker, who had bought it +originally because (owing to circumstances too complicated to set forth) +it was offered at a great bargain: bought it with much grumbling at its +ugliness, its antiquity, its incommodity, and who now, at the end of +twenty years, had become conscious of a real aesthetic passion for it, +so that he knew all its points and would tell you just where to stand +to see them in combination and just the hour when the shadows of +its various protuberances which fell so softly upon the warm, weary +brickwork--were of the right measure. Besides this, as I have said, +he could have counted off most of the successive owners and occupants, +several of whom were known to general fame; doing so, however, with an +undemonstrative conviction that the latest phase of its destiny was not +the least honourable. The front of the house overlooking that portion +of the lawn with which we are concerned was not the entrance-front; this +was in quite another quarter. Privacy here reigned supreme, and the wide +carpet of turf that covered the level hill-top seemed but the extension +of a luxurious interior. The great still oaks and beeches flung down a +shade as dense as that of velvet curtains; and the place was furnished, +like a room, with cushioned seats, with rich-coloured rugs, with +the books and papers that lay upon the grass. The river was at some +distance; where the ground began to slope the lawn, properly speaking, +ceased. But it was none the less a charming walk down to the water. + +The old gentleman at the tea-table, who had come from America thirty +years before, had brought with him, at the top of his baggage, his +American physiognomy; and he had not only brought it with him, but he +had kept it in the best order, so that, if necessary, he might have +taken it back to his own country with perfect confidence. At present, +obviously, nevertheless, he was not likely to displace himself; his +journeys were over and he was taking the rest that precedes the +great rest. He had a narrow, clean-shaven face, with features evenly +distributed and an expression of placid acuteness. It was evidently a +face in which the range of representation was not large, so that the air +of contented shrewdness was all the more of a merit. It seemed to tell +that he had been successful in life, yet it seemed to tell also that his +success had not been exclusive and invidious, but had had much of the +inoffensiveness of failure. He had certainly had a great experience of +men, but there was an almost rustic simplicity in the faint smile that +played upon his lean, spacious cheek and lighted up his humorous eye +as he at last slowly and carefully deposited his big tea-cup upon the +table. He was neatly dressed, in well-brushed black; but a shawl was +folded upon his knees, and his feet were encased in thick, embroidered +slippers. A beautiful collie dog lay upon the grass near his chair, +watching the master's face almost as tenderly as the master took in the +still more magisterial physiognomy of the house; and a little bristling, +bustling terrier bestowed a desultory attendance upon the other +gentlemen. + +One of these was a remarkably well-made man of five-and-thirty, with a +face as English as that of the old gentleman I have just sketched was +something else; a noticeably handsome face, fresh-coloured, fair and +frank, with firm, straight features, a lively grey eye and the rich +adornment of a chestnut beard. This person had a certain fortunate, +brilliant exceptional look--the air of a happy temperament fertilised by +a high civilisation--which would have made almost any observer envy him +at a venture. He was booted and spurred, as if he had dismounted from a +long ride; he wore a white hat, which looked too large for him; he +held his two hands behind him, and in one of them--a large, white, +well-shaped fist--was crumpled a pair of soiled dog-skin gloves. + +His companion, measuring the length of the lawn beside him, was a person +of quite a different pattern, who, although he might have excited +grave curiosity, would not, like the other, have provoked you to wish +yourself, almost blindly, in his place. Tall, lean, loosely and feebly +put together, he had an ugly, sickly, witty, charming face, furnished, +but by no means decorated, with a straggling moustache and whisker. He +looked clever and ill--a combination by no means felicitous; and he wore +a brown velvet jacket. He carried his hands in his pockets, and there +was something in the way he did it that showed the habit was inveterate. +His gait had a shambling, wandering quality; he was not very firm on +his legs. As I have said, whenever he passed the old man in the chair he +rested his eyes upon him; and at this moment, with their faces brought +into relation, you would easily have seen they were father and son. +The father caught his son's eye at last and gave him a mild, responsive +smile. + +"I'm getting on very well," he said. + +"Have you drunk your tea?" asked the son. + +"Yes, and enjoyed it." + +"Shall I give you some more?" + +The old man considered, placidly. "Well, I guess I'll wait and see." He +had, in speaking, the American tone. + +"Are you cold?" the son enquired. + +The father slowly rubbed his legs. "Well, I don't know. I can't tell +till I feel." + +"Perhaps some one might feel for you," said the younger man, laughing. + +"Oh, I hope some one will always feel for me! Don't you feel for me, +Lord Warburton?" + +"Oh yes, immensely," said the gentleman addressed as Lord Warburton, +promptly. "I'm bound to say you look wonderfully comfortable." + +"Well, I suppose I am, in most respects." And the old man looked down at +his green shawl and smoothed it over his knees. "The fact is I've been +comfortable so many years that I suppose I've got so used to it I don't +know it." + +"Yes, that's the bore of comfort," said Lord Warburton. "We only know +when we're uncomfortable." + +"It strikes me we're rather particular," his companion remarked. + +"Oh yes, there's no doubt we're particular," Lord Warburton murmured. +And then the three men remained silent a while; the two younger ones +standing looking down at the other, who presently asked for more tea. "I +should think you would be very unhappy with that shawl," Lord Warburton +resumed while his companion filled the old man's cup again. + +"Oh no, he must have the shawl!" cried the gentleman in the velvet coat. +"Don't put such ideas as that into his head." + +"It belongs to my wife," said the old man simply. + +"Oh, if it's for sentimental reasons--" And Lord Warburton made a +gesture of apology. + +"I suppose I must give it to her when she comes," the old man went on. + +"You'll please to do nothing of the kind. You'll keep it to cover your +poor old legs." + +"Well, you mustn't abuse my legs," said the old man. "I guess they are +as good as yours." + +"Oh, you're perfectly free to abuse mine," his son replied, giving him +his tea. + +"Well, we're two lame ducks; I don't think there's much difference." + +"I'm much obliged to you for calling me a duck. How's your tea?" + +"Well, it's rather hot." + +"That's intended to be a merit." + +"Ah, there's a great deal of merit," murmured the old man, kindly. "He's +a very good nurse, Lord Warburton." + +"Isn't he a bit clumsy?" asked his lordship. + +"Oh no, he's not clumsy--considering that he's an invalid himself. He's +a very good nurse--for a sick-nurse. I call him my sick-nurse because +he's sick himself." + +"Oh, come, daddy!" the ugly young man exclaimed. + +"Well, you are; I wish you weren't. But I suppose you can't help it." + +"I might try: that's an idea," said the young man. + +"Were you ever sick, Lord Warburton?" his father asked. + +Lord Warburton considered a moment. "Yes, sir, once, in the Persian +Gulf." + +"He's making light of you, daddy," said the other young man. "That's a +sort of joke." + +"Well, there seem to be so many sorts now," daddy replied, serenely. +"You don't look as if you had been sick, anyway, Lord Warburton." + +"He's sick of life; he was just telling me so; going on fearfully about +it," said Lord Warburton's friend. + +"Is that true, sir?" asked the old man gravely. + +"If it is, your son gave me no consolation. He's a wretched fellow to +talk to--a regular cynic. He doesn't seem to believe in anything." + +"That's another sort of joke," said the person accused of cynicism. + +"It's because his health is so poor," his father explained to Lord +Warburton. "It affects his mind and colours his way of looking at +things; he seems to feel as if he had never had a chance. But it's +almost entirely theoretical, you know; it doesn't seem to affect his +spirits. I've hardly ever seen him when he wasn't cheerful--about as he +is at present. He often cheers me up." + +The young man so described looked at Lord Warburton and laughed. "Is it +a glowing eulogy or an accusation of levity? Should you like me to carry +out my theories, daddy?" + +"By Jove, we should see some queer things!" cried Lord Warburton. + +"I hope you haven't taken up that sort of tone," said the old man. + +"Warburton's tone is worse than mine; he pretends to be bored. I'm not +in the least bored; I find life only too interesting." + +"Ah, too interesting; you shouldn't allow it to be that, you know!" + +"I'm never bored when I come here," said Lord Warburton. "One gets such +uncommonly good talk." + +"Is that another sort of joke?" asked the old man. "You've no excuse for +being bored anywhere. When I was your age I had never heard of such a +thing." + +"You must have developed very late." + +"No, I developed very quick; that was just the reason. When I was twenty +years old I was very highly developed indeed. I was working tooth and +nail. You wouldn't be bored if you had something to do; but all you +young men are too idle. You think too much of your pleasure. You're too +fastidious, and too indolent, and too rich." + +"Oh, I say," cried Lord Warburton, "you're hardly the person to accuse a +fellow-creature of being too rich!" + +"Do you mean because I'm a banker?" asked the old man. + +"Because of that, if you like; and because you have--haven't you?--such +unlimited means." + +"He isn't very rich," the other young man mercifully pleaded. "He has +given away an immense deal of money." + +"Well, I suppose it was his own," said Lord Warburton; "and in that case +could there be a better proof of wealth? Let not a public benefactor +talk of one's being too fond of pleasure." + +"Daddy's very fond of pleasure--of other people's." + +The old man shook his head. "I don't pretend to have contributed +anything to the amusement of my contemporaries." + +"My dear father, you're too modest!" + +"That's a kind of joke, sir," said Lord Warburton. + +"You young men have too many jokes. When there are no jokes you've +nothing left." + +"Fortunately there are always more jokes," the ugly young man remarked. + +"I don't believe it--I believe things are getting more serious. You +young men will find that out." + +"The increasing seriousness of things, then that's the great opportunity +of jokes." + +"They'll have to be grim jokes," said the old man. "I'm convinced there +will be great changes, and not all for the better." + +"I quite agree with you, sir," Lord Warburton declared. "I'm very sure +there will be great changes, and that all sorts of queer things will +happen. That's why I find so much difficulty in applying your advice; +you know you told me the other day that I ought to 'take hold' of +something. One hesitates to take hold of a thing that may the next +moment be knocked sky-high." + +"You ought to take hold of a pretty woman," said his companion. "He's +trying hard to fall in love," he added, by way of explanation, to his +father. + +"The pretty women themselves may be sent flying!" Lord Warburton +exclaimed. + +"No, no, they'll be firm," the old man rejoined; "they'll not be +affected by the social and political changes I just referred to." + +"You mean they won't be abolished? Very well, then, I'll lay hands on +one as soon as possible and tie her round my neck as a life-preserver." + +"The ladies will save us," said the old man; "that is the best of them +will--for I make a difference between them. Make up to a good one and +marry her, and your life will become much more interesting." + +A momentary silence marked perhaps on the part of his auditors a sense +of the magnanimity of this speech, for it was a secret neither for his +son nor for his visitor that his own experiment in matrimony had not +been a happy one. As he said, however, he made a difference; and these +words may have been intended as a confession of personal error; though +of course it was not in place for either of his companions to remark +that apparently the lady of his choice had not been one of the best. + +"If I marry an interesting woman I shall be interested: is that what you +say?" Lord Warburton asked. "I'm not at all keen about marrying--your +son misrepresented me; but there's no knowing what an interesting woman +might do with me." + +"I should like to see your idea of an interesting woman," said his +friend. + +"My dear fellow, you can't see ideas--especially such highly ethereal +ones as mine. If I could only see it myself--that would be a great step +in advance." + +"Well, you may fall in love with whomsoever you please; but you mustn't +fall in love with my niece," said the old man. + +His son broke into a laugh. "He'll think you mean that as a provocation! +My dear father, you've lived with the English for thirty years, and +you've picked up a good many of the things they say. But you've never +learned the things they don't say!" + +"I say what I please," the old man returned with all his serenity. + +"I haven't the honour of knowing your niece," Lord Warburton said. "I +think it's the first time I've heard of her." + +"She's a niece of my wife's; Mrs. Touchett brings her to England." + +Then young Mr. Touchett explained. "My mother, you know, has been +spending the winter in America, and we're expecting her back. She writes +that she has discovered a niece and that she has invited her to come out +with her." + +"I see,--very kind of her," said Lord Warburton. Is the young lady +interesting?" + +"We hardly know more about her than you; my mother has not gone into +details. She chiefly communicates with us by means of telegrams, and her +telegrams are rather inscrutable. They say women don't know how to write +them, but my mother has thoroughly mastered the art of condensation. +'Tired America, hot weather awful, return England with niece, first +steamer decent cabin.' That's the sort of message we get from her--that +was the last that came. But there had been another before, which I think +contained the first mention of the niece. 'Changed hotel, very bad, +impudent clerk, address here. Taken sister's girl, died last year, go to +Europe, two sisters, quite independent.' Over that my father and I +have scarcely stopped puzzling; it seems to admit of so many +interpretations." + +"There's one thing very clear in it," said the old man; "she has given +the hotel-clerk a dressing." + +"I'm not sure even of that, since he has driven her from the field. We +thought at first that the sister mentioned might be the sister of the +clerk; but the subsequent mention of a niece seems to prove that the +allusion is to one of my aunts. Then there was a question as to whose +the two other sisters were; they are probably two of my late aunt's +daughters. But who's 'quite independent,' and in what sense is the term +used?--that point's not yet settled. Does the expression apply more +particularly to the young lady my mother has adopted, or does it +characterise her sisters equally?--and is it used in a moral or in a +financial sense? Does it mean that they've been left well off, or +that they wish to be under no obligations? or does it simply mean that +they're fond of their own way?" + +"Whatever else it means, it's pretty sure to mean that," Mr. Touchett +remarked. + +"You'll see for yourself," said Lord Warburton. "When does Mrs. Touchett +arrive?" + +"We're quite in the dark; as soon as she can find a decent cabin. +She may be waiting for it yet; on the other hand she may already have +disembarked in England." + +"In that case she would probably have telegraphed to you." + +"She never telegraphs when you would expect it--only when you don't," +said the old man. "She likes to drop on me suddenly; she thinks she'll +find me doing something wrong. She has never done so yet, but she's not +discouraged." + +"It's her share in the family trait, the independence she speaks of." +Her son's appreciation of the matter was more favourable. "Whatever the +high spirit of those young ladies may be, her own is a match for it. She +likes to do everything for herself and has no belief in any one's power +to help her. She thinks me of no more use than a postage-stamp without +gum, and she would never forgive me if I should presume to go to +Liverpool to meet her." + +"Will you at least let me know when your cousin arrives?" Lord Warburton +asked. + +"Only on the condition I've mentioned--that you don't fall in love with +her!" Mr. Touchett replied. + +"That strikes me as hard, don't you think me good enough?" + +"I think you too good--because I shouldn't like her to marry you. She +hasn't come here to look for a husband, I hope; so many young ladies are +doing that, as if there were no good ones at home. Then she's probably +engaged; American girls are usually engaged, I believe. Moreover I'm not +sure, after all, that you'd be a remarkable husband." + +"Very likely she's engaged; I've known a good many American girls, and +they always were; but I could never see that it made any difference, +upon my word! As for my being a good husband," Mr. Touchett's visitor +pursued, "I'm not sure of that either. One can but try!" + +"Try as much as you please, but don't try on my niece," smiled the old +man, whose opposition to the idea was broadly humorous. + +"Ah, well," said Lord Warburton with a humour broader still, "perhaps, +after all, she's not worth trying on!" + + + +CHAPTER II + +While this exchange of pleasantries took place between the two Ralph +Touchett wandered away a little, with his usual slouching gait, his +hands in his pockets and his little rowdyish terrier at his heels. His +face was turned toward the house, but his eyes were bent musingly on the +lawn; so that he had been an object of observation to a person who had +just made her appearance in the ample doorway for some moments before +he perceived her. His attention was called to her by the conduct of +his dog, who had suddenly darted forward with a little volley of shrill +barks, in which the note of welcome, however, was more sensible than +that of defiance. The person in question was a young lady, who seemed +immediately to interpret the greeting of the small beast. He advanced +with great rapidity and stood at her feet, looking up and barking hard; +whereupon, without hesitation, she stooped and caught him in her hands, +holding him face to face while he continued his quick chatter. His +master now had had time to follow and to see that Bunchie's new friend +was a tall girl in a black dress, who at first sight looked pretty. +She was bareheaded, as if she were staying in the house--a fact which +conveyed perplexity to the son of its master, conscious of that immunity +from visitors which had for some time been rendered necessary by the +latter's ill-health. Meantime the two other gentlemen had also taken +note of the new-comer. + +"Dear me, who's that strange woman?" Mr. Touchett had asked. + +"Perhaps it's Mrs. Touchett's niece--the independent young lady," Lord +Warburton suggested. "I think she must be, from the way she handles the +dog." + +The collie, too, had now allowed his attention to be diverted, and he +trotted toward the young lady in the doorway, slowly setting his tail in +motion as he went. + +"But where's my wife then?" murmured the old man. + +"I suppose the young lady has left her somewhere: that's a part of the +independence." + +The girl spoke to Ralph, smiling, while she still held up the terrier. +"Is this your little dog, sir?" + +"He was mine a moment ago; but you've suddenly acquired a remarkable air +of property in him." + +"Couldn't we share him?" asked the girl. "He's such a perfect little +darling." + +Ralph looked at her a moment; she was unexpectedly pretty. "You may have +him altogether," he then replied. + +The young lady seemed to have a great deal of confidence, both in +herself and in others; but this abrupt generosity made her blush. "I +ought to tell you that I'm probably your cousin," she brought out, +putting down the dog. "And here's another!" she added quickly, as the +collie came up. + +"Probably?" the young man exclaimed, laughing. "I supposed it was quite +settled! Have you arrived with my mother?" + +"Yes, half an hour ago." + +"And has she deposited you and departed again?" + +"No, she went straight to her room, and she told me that, if I should +see you, I was to say to you that you must come to her there at a +quarter to seven." + +The young man looked at his watch. "Thank you very much; I shall be +punctual." And then he looked at his cousin. "You're very welcome here. +I'm delighted to see you." + +She was looking at everything, with an eye that denoted clear +perception--at her companion, at the two dogs, at the two gentlemen +under the trees, at the beautiful scene that surrounded her. "I've never +seen anything so lovely as this place. I've been all over the house; +it's too enchanting." + +"I'm sorry you should have been here so long without our knowing it." + +"Your mother told me that in England people arrived very quietly; so I +thought it was all right. Is one of those gentlemen your father?" + +"Yes, the elder one--the one sitting down," said Ralph. + +The girl gave a laugh. "I don't suppose it's the other. Who's the +other?" + +"He's a friend of ours--Lord Warburton." + +"Oh, I hoped there would be a lord; it's just like a novel!" And then, +"Oh you adorable creature!" she suddenly cried, stooping down and +picking up the small dog again. + +She remained standing where they had met, making no offer to advance or +to speak to Mr. Touchett, and while she lingered so near the threshold, +slim and charming, her interlocutor wondered if she expected the old man +to come and pay her his respects. American girls were used to a great +deal of deference, and it had been intimated that this one had a high +spirit. Indeed Ralph could see that in her face. + +"Won't you come and make acquaintance with my father?" he nevertheless +ventured to ask. "He's old and infirm--he doesn't leave his chair." + +"Ah, poor man, I'm very sorry!" the girl exclaimed, immediately moving +forward. "I got the impression from your mother that he was rather +intensely active." + +Ralph Touchett was silent a moment. "She hasn't seen him for a year." + +"Well, he has a lovely place to sit. Come along, little hound." + +"It's a dear old place," said the young man, looking sidewise at his +neighbour. + +"What's his name?" she asked, her attention having again reverted to the +terrier. + +"My father's name?" + +"Yes," said the young lady with amusement; "but don't tell him I asked +you." + +They had come by this time to where old Mr. Touchett was sitting, and he +slowly got up from his chair to introduce himself. + +"My mother has arrived," said Ralph, "and this is Miss Archer." + +The old man placed his two hands on her shoulders, looked at her a +moment with extreme benevolence and then gallantly kissed her. "It's +a great pleasure to me to see you here; but I wish you had given us a +chance to receive you." + +"Oh, we were received," said the girl. "There were about a dozen +servants in the hall. And there was an old woman curtseying at the +gate." + +"We can do better than that--if we have notice!" And the old man stood +there smiling, rubbing his hands and slowly shaking his head at her. +"But Mrs. Touchett doesn't like receptions." + +"She went straight to her room." + +"Yes--and locked herself in. She always does that. Well, I suppose I +shall see her next week." And Mrs. Touchett's husband slowly resumed his +former posture. + +"Before that," said Miss Archer. "She's coming down to dinner--at eight +o'clock. Don't you forget a quarter to seven," she added, turning with a +smile to Ralph. + +"What's to happen at a quarter to seven?" + +"I'm to see my mother," said Ralph. + +"Ah, happy boy!" the old man commented. "You must sit down--you must +have some tea," he observed to his wife's niece. + +"They gave me some tea in my room the moment I got there," this young +lady answered. "I'm sorry you're out of health," she added, resting her +eyes upon her venerable host. + +"Oh, I'm an old man, my dear; it's time for me to be old. But I shall be +the better for having you here." + +She had been looking all round her again--at the lawn, the great trees, +the reedy, silvery Thames, the beautiful old house; and while engaged +in this survey she had made room in it for her companions; a +comprehensiveness of observation easily conceivable on the part of a +young woman who was evidently both intelligent and excited. She had +seated herself and had put away the little dog; her white hands, in +her lap, were folded upon her black dress; her head was erect, her eye +lighted, her flexible figure turned itself easily this way and that, in +sympathy with the alertness with which she evidently caught impressions. +Her impressions were numerous, and they were all reflected in a clear, +still smile. "I've never seen anything so beautiful as this." + +"It's looking very well," said Mr. Touchett. "I know the way it strikes +you. I've been through all that. But you're very beautiful yourself," he +added with a politeness by no means crudely jocular and with the happy +consciousness that his advanced age gave him the privilege of saying +such things--even to young persons who might possibly take alarm at +them. + +What degree of alarm this young person took need not be exactly +measured; she instantly rose, however, with a blush which was not a +refutation. "Oh yes, of course I'm lovely!" she returned with a quick +laugh. "How old is your house? Is it Elizabethan?" + +"It's early Tudor," said Ralph Touchett. + +She turned toward him, watching his face. "Early Tudor? How very +delightful! And I suppose there are a great many others." + +"There are many much better ones." + +"Don't say that, my son!" the old man protested. "There's nothing better +than this." + +"I've got a very good one; I think in some respects it's rather better," +said Lord Warburton, who as yet had not spoken, but who had kept an +attentive eye upon Miss Archer. He slightly inclined himself, smiling; +he had an excellent manner with women. The girl appreciated it in an +instant; she had not forgotten that this was Lord Warburton. "I should +like very much to show it to you," he added. + +"Don't believe him," cried the old man; "don't look at it! It's a +wretched old barrack--not to be compared with this." + +"I don't know--I can't judge," said the girl, smiling at Lord Warburton. + +In this discussion Ralph Touchett took no interest whatever; he stood +with his hands in his pockets, looking greatly as if he should like to +renew his conversation with his new-found cousin. + +"Are you very fond of dogs?" he enquired by way of beginning. He seemed +to recognise that it was an awkward beginning for a clever man. + +"Very fond of them indeed." + +"You must keep the terrier, you know," he went on, still awkwardly. + +"I'll keep him while I'm here, with pleasure." + +"That will be for a long time, I hope." + +"You're very kind. I hardly know. My aunt must settle that." + +"I'll settle it with her--at a quarter to seven." And Ralph looked at +his watch again. + +"I'm glad to be here at all," said the girl. + +"I don't believe you allow things to be settled for you." + +"Oh yes; if they're settled as I like them." + +"I shall settle this as I like it," said Ralph. "It's most unaccountable +that we should never have known you." + +"I was there--you had only to come and see me." + +"There? Where do you mean?" + +"In the United States: in New York and Albany and other American +places." + +"I've been there--all over, but I never saw you. I can't make it out." + +Miss Archer just hesitated. "It was because there had been some +disagreement between your mother and my father, after my mother's death, +which took place when I was a child. In consequence of it we never +expected to see you." + +"Ah, but I don't embrace all my mother's quarrels--heaven forbid!" +the young man cried. "You've lately lost your father?" he went on more +gravely. + +"Yes; more than a year ago. After that my aunt was very kind to me; she +came to see me and proposed that I should come with her to Europe." + +"I see," said Ralph. "She has adopted you." + +"Adopted me?" The girl stared, and her blush came back to her, together +with a momentary look of pain which gave her interlocutor some alarm. He +had underestimated the effect of his words. Lord Warburton, who appeared +constantly desirous of a nearer view of Miss Archer, strolled toward the +two cousins at the moment, and as he did so she rested her wider eyes on +him. + +"Oh no; she has not adopted me. I'm not a candidate for adoption." + +"I beg a thousand pardons," Ralph murmured. "I meant--I meant--" He +hardly knew what he meant. + +"You meant she has taken me up. Yes; she likes to take people up. +She has been very kind to me; but," she added with a certain visible +eagerness of desire to be explicit, "I'm very fond of my liberty." + +"Are you talking about Mrs. Touchett?" the old man called out from his +chair. "Come here, my dear, and tell me about her. I'm always thankful +for information." + +The girl hesitated again, smiling. "She's really very benevolent," +she answered; after which she went over to her uncle, whose mirth was +excited by her words. + +Lord Warburton was left standing with Ralph Touchett, to whom in a +moment he said: "You wished a while ago to see my idea of an interesting +woman. There it is!" + + + +CHAPTER III + +Mrs. Touchett was certainly a person of many oddities, of which her +behaviour on returning to her husband's house after many months was a +noticeable specimen. She had her own way of doing all that she did, and +this is the simplest description of a character which, although by no +means without liberal motions, rarely succeeded in giving an impression +of suavity. Mrs. Touchett might do a great deal of good, but she +never pleased. This way of her own, of which she was so fond, was not +intrinsically offensive--it was just unmistakeably distinguished from +the ways of others. The edges of her conduct were so very clear-cut that +for susceptible persons it sometimes had a knife-like effect. That hard +fineness came out in her deportment during the first hours of her return +from America, under circumstances in which it might have seemed that +her first act would have been to exchange greetings with her husband +and son. Mrs. Touchett, for reasons which she deemed excellent, always +retired on such occasions into impenetrable seclusion, postponing the +more sentimental ceremony until she had repaired the disorder of dress +with a completeness which had the less reason to be of high importance +as neither beauty nor vanity were concerned in it. She was a plain-faced +old woman, without graces and without any great elegance, but with an +extreme respect for her own motives. She was usually prepared to explain +these--when the explanation was asked as a favour; and in such a case +they proved totally different from those that had been attributed to +her. She was virtually separated from her husband, but she appeared to +perceive nothing irregular in the situation. It had become clear, at an +early stage of their community, that they should never desire the same +thing at the same moment, and this appearance had prompted her to rescue +disagreement from the vulgar realm of accident. She did what she could +to erect it into a law--a much more edifying aspect of it--by going to +live in Florence, where she bought a house and established herself; and +by leaving her husband to take care of the English branch of his bank. +This arrangement greatly pleased her; it was so felicitously definite. +It struck her husband in the same light, in a foggy square in London, +where it was at times the most definite fact he discerned; but he +would have preferred that such unnatural things should have a greater +vagueness. To agree to disagree had cost him an effort; he was ready to +agree to almost anything but that, and saw no reason why either assent +or dissent should be so terribly consistent. Mrs. Touchett indulged in +no regrets nor speculations, and usually came once a year to spend a +month with her husband, a period during which she apparently took pains +to convince him that she had adopted the right system. She was not fond +of the English style of life, and had three or four reasons for it to +which she currently alluded; they bore upon minor points of that ancient +order, but for Mrs. Touchett they amply justified non-residence. She +detested bread-sauce, which, as she said, looked like a poultice +and tasted like soap; she objected to the consumption of beer by +her maid-servants; and she affirmed that the British laundress (Mrs. +Touchett was very particular about the appearance of her linen) was not +a mistress of her art. At fixed intervals she paid a visit to her own +country; but this last had been longer than any of its predecessors. + +She had taken up her niece--there was little doubt of that. One wet +afternoon, some four months earlier than the occurrence lately narrated, +this young lady had been seated alone with a book. To say she was so +occupied is to say that her solitude did not press upon her; for her +love of knowledge had a fertilising quality and her imagination was +strong. There was at this time, however, a want of fresh taste in +her situation which the arrival of an unexpected visitor did much to +correct. The visitor had not been announced; the girl heard her at last +walking about the adjoining room. It was in an old house at Albany, a +large, square, double house, with a notice of sale in the windows of one +of the lower apartments. There were two entrances, one of which had +long been out of use but had never been removed. They were exactly +alike--large white doors, with an arched frame and wide side-lights, +perched upon little "stoops" of red stone, which descended sidewise +to the brick pavement of the street. The two houses together formed a +single dwelling, the party-wall having been removed and the rooms placed +in communication. These rooms, above-stairs, were extremely numerous, +and were painted all over exactly alike, in a yellowish white which had +grown sallow with time. On the third floor there was a sort of arched +passage, connecting the two sides of the house, which Isabel and her +sisters used in their childhood to call the tunnel and which, though it +was short and well lighted, always seemed to the girl to be strange and +lonely, especially on winter afternoons. She had been in the house, +at different periods, as a child; in those days her grandmother lived +there. Then there had been an absence of ten years, followed by a return +to Albany before her father's death. Her grandmother, old Mrs. Archer, +had exercised, chiefly within the limits of the family, a large +hospitality in the early period, and the little girls often spent weeks +under her roof--weeks of which Isabel had the happiest memory. The +manner of life was different from that of her own home--larger, more +plentiful, practically more festal; the discipline of the nursery was +delightfully vague and the opportunity of listening to the conversation +of one's elders (which with Isabel was a highly-valued pleasure) almost +unbounded. There was a constant coming and going; her grandmother's +sons and daughters and their children appeared to be in the enjoyment of +standing invitations to arrive and remain, so that the house offered to +a certain extent the appearance of a bustling provincial inn kept by a +gentle old landlady who sighed a great deal and never presented a bill. +Isabel of course knew nothing about bills; but even as a child she +thought her grandmother's home romantic. There was a covered piazza +behind it, furnished with a swing which was a source of tremulous +interest; and beyond this was a long garden, sloping down to the stable +and containing peach-trees of barely credible familiarity. Isabel had +stayed with her grandmother at various seasons, but somehow all her +visits had a flavour of peaches. On the other side, across the street, +was an old house that was called the Dutch House--a peculiar structure +dating from the earliest colonial time, composed of bricks that had been +painted yellow, crowned with a gable that was pointed out to strangers, +defended by a rickety wooden paling and standing sidewise to the street. +It was occupied by a primary school for children of both sexes, kept +or rather let go, by a demonstrative lady of whom Isabel's chief +recollection was that her hair was fastened with strange bedroomy combs +at the temples and that she was the widow of some one of consequence. +The little girl had been offered the opportunity of laying a foundation +of knowledge in this establishment; but having spent a single day in it, +she had protested against its laws and had been allowed to stay at home, +where, in the September days, when the windows of the Dutch House +were open, she used to hear the hum of childish voices repeating the +multiplication table--an incident in which the elation of liberty and +the pain of exclusion were indistinguishably mingled. The foundation +of her knowledge was really laid in the idleness of her grandmother's +house, where, as most of the other inmates were not reading people, +she had uncontrolled use of a library full of books with frontispieces, +which she used to climb upon a chair to take down. When she had found +one to her taste--she was guided in the selection chiefly by the +frontispiece--she carried it into a mysterious apartment which lay +beyond the library and which was called, traditionally, no one knew +why, the office. Whose office it had been and at what period it had +flourished, she never learned; it was enough for her that it contained +an echo and a pleasant musty smell and that it was a chamber of disgrace +for old pieces of furniture whose infirmities were not always apparent +(so that the disgrace seemed unmerited and rendered them victims +of injustice) and with which, in the manner of children, she had +established relations almost human, certainly dramatic. There was an old +haircloth sofa in especial, to which she had confided a hundred childish +sorrows. The place owed much of its mysterious melancholy to the fact +that it was properly entered from the second door of the house, the +door that had been condemned, and that it was secured by bolts which a +particularly slender little girl found it impossible to slide. She +knew that this silent, motionless portal opened into the street; if the +sidelights had not been filled with green paper she might have looked +out upon the little brown stoop and the well-worn brick pavement. But +she had no wish to look out, for this would have interfered with her +theory that there was a strange, unseen place on the other side--a place +which became to the child's imagination, according to its different +moods, a region of delight or of terror. + +It was in the "office" still that Isabel was sitting on that melancholy +afternoon of early spring which I have just mentioned. At this time +she might have had the whole house to choose from, and the room she had +selected was the most depressed of its scenes. She had never opened the +bolted door nor removed the green paper (renewed by other hands) from +its sidelights; she had never assured herself that the vulgar street lay +beyond. A crude, cold rain fell heavily; the spring-time was indeed an +appeal--and it seemed a cynical, insincere appeal--to patience. Isabel, +however, gave as little heed as possible to cosmic treacheries; she kept +her eyes on her book and tried to fix her mind. It had lately occurred +to her that her mind was a good deal of a vagabond, and she had spent +much ingenuity in training it to a military step and teaching it +to advance, to halt, to retreat, to perform even more complicated +manoeuvres, at the word of command. Just now she had given it marching +orders and it had been trudging over the sandy plains of a history of +German Thought. Suddenly she became aware of a step very different from +her own intellectual pace; she listened a little and perceived that some +one was moving in the library, which communicated with the office. It +struck her first as the step of a person from whom she was looking for a +visit, then almost immediately announced itself as the tread of a +woman and a stranger--her possible visitor being neither. It had an +inquisitive, experimental quality which suggested that it would not stop +short of the threshold of the office; and in fact the doorway of this +apartment was presently occupied by a lady who paused there and looked +very hard at our heroine. She was a plain, elderly woman, dressed in +a comprehensive waterproof mantle; she had a face with a good deal of +rather violent point. + +"Oh," she began, "is that where you usually sit?" She looked about at +the heterogeneous chairs and tables. + +"Not when I have visitors," said Isabel, getting up to receive the +intruder. + +She directed their course back to the library while the visitor +continued to look about her. "You seem to have plenty of other rooms; +they're in rather better condition. But everything's immensely worn." + +"Have you come to look at the house?" Isabel asked. "The servant will +show it to you." + +"Send her away; I don't want to buy it. She has probably gone to +look for you and is wandering about upstairs; she didn't seem at all +intelligent. You had better tell her it's no matter." And then, since +the girl stood there hesitating and wondering, this unexpected critic +said to her abruptly: "I suppose you're one of the daughters?" + +Isabel thought she had very strange manners. "It depends upon whose +daughters you mean." + +"The late Mr. Archer's--and my poor sister's." + +"Ah," said Isabel slowly, "you must be our crazy Aunt Lydia!" + +"Is that what your father told you to call me? I'm your Aunt Lydia, but +I'm not at all crazy: I haven't a delusion! And which of the daughters +are you?" + +"I'm the youngest of the three, and my name's Isabel." + +"Yes; the others are Lilian and Edith. And are you the prettiest?" + +"I haven't the least idea," said the girl. + +"I think you must be." And in this way the aunt and the niece made +friends. The aunt had quarrelled years before with her brother-in-law, +after the death of her sister, taking him to task for the manner in +which he brought up his three girls. Being a high-tempered man he had +requested her to mind her own business, and she had taken him at his +word. For many years she held no communication with him and after his +death had addressed not a word to his daughters, who had been bred in +that disrespectful view of her which we have just seen Isabel betray. +Mrs. Touchett's behaviour was, as usual, perfectly deliberate. She +intended to go to America to look after her investments (with which her +husband, in spite of his great financial position, had nothing to +do) and would take advantage of this opportunity to enquire into the +condition of her nieces. There was no need of writing, for she should +attach no importance to any account of them she should elicit by letter; +she believed, always, in seeing for one's self. Isabel found, however, +that she knew a good deal about them, and knew about the marriage of the +two elder girls; knew that their poor father had left very little money, +but that the house in Albany, which had passed into his hands, was to +be sold for their benefit; knew, finally, that Edmund Ludlow, +Lilian's husband, had taken upon himself to attend to this matter, in +consideration of which the young couple, who had come to Albany during +Mr. Archer's illness, were remaining there for the present and, as well +as Isabel herself, occupying the old place. + +"How much money do you expect for it?" Mrs. Touchett asked of her +companion, who had brought her to sit in the front parlour, which she +had inspected without enthusiasm. + +"I haven't the least idea," said the girl. + +"That's the second time you have said that to me," her aunt rejoined. +"And yet you don't look at all stupid." + +"I'm not stupid; but I don't know anything about money." + +"Yes, that's the way you were brought up--as if you were to inherit a +million. What have you in point of fact inherited?" + +"I really can't tell you. You must ask Edmund and Lilian; they'll be +back in half an hour." + +"In Florence we should call it a very bad house," said Mrs. Touchett; +"but here, I dare say, it will bring a high price. It ought to make +a considerable sum for each of you. In addition to that you must have +something else; it's most extraordinary your not knowing. The position's +of value, and they'll probably pull it down and make a row of shops. +I wonder you don't do that yourself; you might let the shops to great +advantage." + +Isabel stared; the idea of letting shops was new to her. "I hope they +won't pull it down," she said; "I'm extremely fond of it." + +"I don't see what makes you fond of it; your father died here." + +"Yes; but I don't dislike it for that," the girl rather strangely +returned. "I like places in which things have happened--even if they're +sad things. A great many people have died here; the place has been full +of life." + +"Is that what you call being full of life?" + +"I mean full of experience--of people's feelings and sorrows. And not of +their sorrows only, for I've been very happy here as a child." + +"You should go to Florence if you like houses in which things have +happened--especially deaths. I live in an old palace in which three +people have been murdered; three that were known and I don't know how +many more besides." + +"In an old palace?" Isabel repeated. + +"Yes, my dear; a very different affair from this. This is very +bourgeois." + +Isabel felt some emotion, for she had always thought highly of her +grandmother's house. But the emotion was of a kind which led her to say: +"I should like very much to go to Florence." + +"Well, if you'll be very good, and do everything I tell you I'll take +you there," Mrs. Touchett declared. + +Our young woman's emotion deepened; she flushed a little and smiled at +her aunt in silence. "Do everything you tell me? I don't think I can +promise that." + +"No, you don't look like a person of that sort. You're fond of your own +way; but it's not for me to blame you." + +"And yet, to go to Florence," the girl exclaimed in a moment, "I'd +promise almost anything!" + +Edmund and Lilian were slow to return, and Mrs. Touchett had an +hour's uninterrupted talk with her niece, who found her a strange and +interesting figure: a figure essentially--almost the first she had ever +met. She was as eccentric as Isabel had always supposed; and hitherto, +whenever the girl had heard people described as eccentric, she had +thought of them as offensive or alarming. The term had always suggested +to her something grotesque and even sinister. But her aunt made it a +matter of high but easy irony, or comedy, and led her to ask herself +if the common tone, which was all she had known, had ever been as +interesting. No one certainly had on any occasion so held her as this +little thin-lipped, bright-eyed, foreign-looking woman, who retrieved an +insignificant appearance by a distinguished manner and, sitting there in +a well-worn waterproof, talked with striking familiarity of the courts +of Europe. There was nothing flighty about Mrs. Touchett, but she +recognised no social superiors, and, judging the great ones of the earth +in a way that spoke of this, enjoyed the consciousness of making +an impression on a candid and susceptible mind. Isabel at first had +answered a good many questions, and it was from her answers apparently +that Mrs. Touchett derived a high opinion of her intelligence. But after +this she had asked a good many, and her aunt's answers, whatever turn +they took, struck her as food for deep reflexion. Mrs. Touchett waited +for the return of her other niece as long as she thought reasonable, but +as at six o'clock Mrs. Ludlow had not come in she prepared to take her +departure. + +"Your sister must be a great gossip. Is she accustomed to staying out so +many hours?" + +"You've been out almost as long as she," Isabel replied; "she can have +left the house but a short time before you came in." + +Mrs. Touchett looked at the girl without resentment; she appeared to +enjoy a bold retort and to be disposed to be gracious. "Perhaps she +hasn't had so good an excuse as I. Tell her at any rate that she must +come and see me this evening at that horrid hotel. She may bring her +husband if she likes, but she needn't bring you. I shall see plenty of +you later." + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Mrs. Ludlow was the eldest of the three sisters, and was usually thought +the most sensible; the classification being in general that Lilian +was the practical one, Edith the beauty and Isabel the "intellectual" +superior. Mrs. Keyes, the second of the group, was the wife of an +officer of the United States Engineers, and as our history is not +further concerned with her it will suffice that she was indeed very +pretty and that she formed the ornament of those various military +stations, chiefly in the unfashionable West, to which, to her deep +chagrin, her husband was successively relegated. Lilian had married a +New York lawyer, a young man with a loud voice and an enthusiasm for +his profession; the match was not brilliant, any more than Edith's, but +Lilian had occasionally been spoken of as a young woman who might be +thankful to marry at all--she was so much plainer than her sisters. +She was, however, very happy, and now, as the mother of two peremptory +little boys and the mistress of a wedge of brown stone violently driven +into Fifty-third Street, seemed to exult in her condition as in a bold +escape. She was short and solid, and her claim to figure was questioned, +but she was conceded presence, though not majesty; she had moreover, as +people said, improved since her marriage, and the two things in life +of which she was most distinctly conscious were her husband's force in +argument and her sister Isabel's originality. "I've never kept up with +Isabel--it would have taken all my time," she had often remarked; +in spite of which, however, she held her rather wistfully in sight; +watching her as a motherly spaniel might watch a free greyhound. "I want +to see her safely married--that's what I want to see," she frequently +noted to her husband. + +"Well, I must say I should have no particular desire to marry her," +Edmund Ludlow was accustomed to answer in an extremely audible tone. + +"I know you say that for argument; you always take the opposite ground. +I don't see what you've against her except that she's so original." + +"Well, I don't like originals; I like translations," Mr. Ludlow had more +than once replied. "Isabel's written in a foreign tongue. I can't make +her out. She ought to marry an Armenian or a Portuguese." + +"That's just what I'm afraid she'll do!" cried Lilian, who thought +Isabel capable of anything. + +She listened with great interest to the girl's account of Mrs. +Touchett's appearance and in the evening prepared to comply with their +aunt's commands. Of what Isabel then said no report has remained, but +her sister's words had doubtless prompted a word spoken to her husband +as the two were making ready for their visit. "I do hope immensely +she'll do something handsome for Isabel; she has evidently taken a great +fancy to her." + +"What is it you wish her to do?" Edmund Ludlow asked. "Make her a big +present?" + +"No indeed; nothing of the sort. But take an interest in her--sympathise +with her. She's evidently just the sort of person to appreciate her. She +has lived so much in foreign society; she told Isabel all about it. You +know you've always thought Isabel rather foreign." + +"You want her to give her a little foreign sympathy, eh? Don't you think +she gets enough at home?" + +"Well, she ought to go abroad," said Mrs. Ludlow. "She's just the person +to go abroad." + +"And you want the old lady to take her, is that it?" + +"She has offered to take her--she's dying to have Isabel go. But what +I want her to do when she gets her there is to give her all the +advantages. I'm sure all we've got to do," said Mrs. Ludlow, "is to give +her a chance." + +"A chance for what?" + +"A chance to develop." + +"Oh Moses!" Edmund Ludlow exclaimed. "I hope she isn't going to develop +any more!" + +"If I were not sure you only said that for argument I should feel very +badly," his wife replied. "But you know you love her." + +"Do you know I love you?" the young man said, jocosely, to Isabel a +little later, while he brushed his hat. + +"I'm sure I don't care whether you do or not!" exclaimed the girl; whose +voice and smile, however, were less haughty than her words. + +"Oh, she feels so grand since Mrs. Touchett's visit," said her sister. + +But Isabel challenged this assertion with a good deal of seriousness. +"You must not say that, Lily. I don't feel grand at all." + +"I'm sure there's no harm," said the conciliatory Lily. + +"Ah, but there's nothing in Mrs. Touchett's visit to make one feel +grand." + +"Oh," exclaimed Ludlow, "she's grander than ever!" + +"Whenever I feel grand," said the girl, "it will be for a better +reason." + +Whether she felt grand or no, she at any rate felt different, as if +something had happened to her. Left to herself for the evening she sat +a while under the lamp, her hands empty, her usual avocations unheeded. +Then she rose and moved about the room, and from one room to another, +preferring the places where the vague lamplight expired. She was +restless and even agitated; at moments she trembled a little. The +importance of what had happened was out of proportion to its appearance; +there had really been a change in her life. What it would bring with it +was as yet extremely indefinite; but Isabel was in a situation that gave +a value to any change. She had a desire to leave the past behind her +and, as she said to herself, to begin afresh. This desire indeed was not +a birth of the present occasion; it was as familiar as the sound of the +rain upon the window and it had led to her beginning afresh a great many +times. She closed her eyes as she sat in one of the dusky corners of the +quiet parlour; but it was not with a desire for dozing forgetfulness. It +was on the contrary because she felt too wide-eyed and wished to check +the sense of seeing too many things at once. Her imagination was by +habit ridiculously active; when the door was not open it jumped out of +the window. She was not accustomed indeed to keep it behind bolts; and +at important moments, when she would have been thankful to make use +of her judgement alone, she paid the penalty of having given undue +encouragement to the faculty of seeing without judging. At present, with +her sense that the note of change had been struck, came gradually a host +of images of the things she was leaving behind her. The years and hours +of her life came back to her, and for a long time, in a stillness broken +only by the ticking of the big bronze clock, she passed them in +review. It had been a very happy life and she had been a very fortunate +person--this was the truth that seemed to emerge most vividly. She had +had the best of everything, and in a world in which the circumstances +of so many people made them unenviable it was an advantage never to have +known anything particularly unpleasant. It appeared to Isabel that the +unpleasant had been even too absent from her knowledge, for she had +gathered from her acquaintance with literature that it was often a +source of interest and even of instruction. Her father had kept it +away from her--her handsome, much loved father, who always had such +an aversion to it. It was a great felicity to have been his daughter; +Isabel rose even to pride in her parentage. Since his death she had +seemed to see him as turning his braver side to his children and as +not having managed to ignore the ugly quite so much in practice as in +aspiration. But this only made her tenderness for him greater; it +was scarcely even painful to have to suppose him too generous, too +good-natured, too indifferent to sordid considerations. Many persons +had held that he carried this indifference too far, especially the large +number of those to whom he owed money. Of their opinions Isabel was +never very definitely informed; but it may interest the reader to know +that, while they had recognised in the late Mr. Archer a remarkably +handsome head and a very taking manner (indeed, as one of them had said, +he was always taking something), they had declared that he was making a +very poor use of his life. He had squandered a substantial fortune, he +had been deplorably convivial, he was known to have gambled freely. +A few very harsh critics went so far as to say that he had not even +brought up his daughters. They had had no regular education and no +permanent home; they had been at once spoiled and neglected; they had +lived with nursemaids and governesses (usually very bad ones) or had +been sent to superficial schools, kept by the French, from which, at the +end of a month, they had been removed in tears. This view of the matter +would have excited Isabel's indignation, for to her own sense her +opportunities had been large. Even when her father had left his +daughters for three months at Neufchatel with a French bonne who had +eloped with a Russian nobleman staying at the same hotel--even in this +irregular situation (an incident of the girl's eleventh year) she had +been neither frightened nor ashamed, but had thought it a romantic +episode in a liberal education. Her father had a large way of looking at +life, of which his restlessness and even his occasional incoherency +of conduct had been only a proof. He wished his daughters, even as +children, to see as much of the world as possible; and it was for this +purpose that, before Isabel was fourteen, he had transported them three +times across the Atlantic, giving them on each occasion, however, but a +few months' view of the subject proposed: a course which had whetted +our heroine's curiosity without enabling her to satisfy it. She ought to +have been a partisan of her father, for she was the member of his trio +who most "made up" to him for the disagreeables he didn't mention. In +his last days his general willingness to take leave of a world in which +the difficulty of doing as one liked appeared to increase as one grew +older had been sensibly modified by the pain of separation from his +clever, his superior, his remarkable girl. Later, when the journeys to +Europe ceased, he still had shown his children all sorts of indulgence, +and if he had been troubled about money-matters nothing ever disturbed +their irreflective consciousness of many possessions. Isabel, though she +danced very well, had not the recollection of having been in New York a +successful member of the choreographic circle; her sister Edith was, +as every one said, so very much more fetching. Edith was so striking +an example of success that Isabel could have no illusions as to what +constituted this advantage, or as to the limits of her own power to +frisk and jump and shriek--above all with rightness of effect. Nineteen +persons out of twenty (including the younger sister herself) pronounced +Edith infinitely the prettier of the two; but the twentieth, besides +reversing this judgement, had the entertainment of thinking all the +others aesthetic vulgarians. Isabel had in the depths of her nature an +even more unquenchable desire to please than Edith; but the depths of +this young lady's nature were a very out-of-the-way place, between which +and the surface communication was interrupted by a dozen capricious +forces. She saw the young men who came in large numbers to see her +sister; but as a general thing they were afraid of her; they had a +belief that some special preparation was required for talking with her. +Her reputation of reading a great deal hung about her like the cloudy +envelope of a goddess in an epic; it was supposed to engender difficult +questions and to keep the conversation at a low temperature. The poor +girl liked to be thought clever, but she hated to be thought bookish; +she used to read in secret and, though her memory was excellent, to +abstain from showy reference. She had a great desire for knowledge, but +she really preferred almost any source of information to the printed +page; she had an immense curiosity about life and was constantly staring +and wondering. She carried within herself a great fund of life, and her +deepest enjoyment was to feel the continuity between the movements of +her own soul and the agitations of the world. For this reason she was +fond of seeing great crowds and large stretches of country, of reading +about revolutions and wars, of looking at historical pictures--a class +of efforts as to which she had often committed the conscious solecism of +forgiving them much bad painting for the sake of the subject. While the +Civil War went on she was still a very young girl; but she passed months +of this long period in a state of almost passionate excitement, in which +she felt herself at times (to her extreme confusion) stirred +almost indiscriminately by the valour of either army. Of course the +circumspection of suspicious swains had never gone the length of making +her a social proscript; for the number of those whose hearts, as they +approached her, beat only just fast enough to remind them they had heads +as well, had kept her unacquainted with the supreme disciplines of +her sex and age. She had had everything a girl could have: kindness, +admiration, bonbons, bouquets, the sense of exclusion from none of the +privileges of the world she lived in, abundant opportunity for dancing, +plenty of new dresses, the London Spectator, the latest publications, +the music of Gounod, the poetry of Browning, the prose of George Eliot. + +These things now, as memory played over them, resolved themselves into a +multitude of scenes and figures. Forgotten things came back to her; many +others, which she had lately thought of great moment, dropped out of +sight. The result was kaleidoscopic, but the movement of the instrument +was checked at last by the servant's coming in with the name of a +gentleman. The name of the gentleman was Caspar Goodwood; he was a +straight young man from Boston, who had known Miss Archer for the last +twelvemonth and who, thinking her the most beautiful young woman of her +time, had pronounced the time, according to the rule I have hinted at, +a foolish period of history. He sometimes wrote to her and had within a +week or two written from New York. She had thought it very possible he +would come in--had indeed all the rainy day been vaguely expecting him. +Now that she learned he was there, nevertheless, she felt no eagerness +to receive him. He was the finest young man she had ever seen, was +indeed quite a splendid young man; he inspired her with a sentiment of +high, of rare respect. She had never felt equally moved to it by any +other person. He was supposed by the world in general to wish to marry +her, but this of course was between themselves. It at least may be +affirmed that he had travelled from New York to Albany expressly to see +her; having learned in the former city, where he was spending a few +days and where he had hoped to find her, that she was still at the State +capital. Isabel delayed for some minutes to go to him; she moved about +the room with a new sense of complications. But at last she presented +herself and found him standing near the lamp. He was tall, strong and +somewhat stiff; he was also lean and brown. He was not romantically, he +was much rather obscurely, handsome; but his physiognomy had an air of +requesting your attention, which it rewarded according to the charm you +found in blue eyes of remarkable fixedness, the eyes of a complexion +other than his own, and a jaw of the somewhat angular mould which is +supposed to bespeak resolution. Isabel said to herself that it bespoke +resolution to-night; in spite of which, in half an hour, Caspar +Goodwood, who had arrived hopeful as well as resolute, took his way back +to his lodging with the feeling of a man defeated. He was not, it may be +added, a man weakly to accept defeat. + + + +CHAPTER V + +Ralph Touchett was a philosopher, but nevertheless he knocked at his +mother's door (at a quarter to seven) with a good deal of eagerness. +Even philosophers have their preferences, and it must be admitted +that of his progenitors his father ministered most to his sense of the +sweetness of filial dependence. His father, as he had often said to +himself, was the more motherly; his mother, on the other hand, was +paternal, and even, according to the slang of the day, gubernatorial. +She was nevertheless very fond of her only child and had always insisted +on his spending three months of the year with her. Ralph rendered +perfect justice to her affection and knew that in her thoughts and her +thoroughly arranged and servanted life his turn always came after the +other nearest subjects of her solicitude, the various punctualities of +performance of the workers of her will. He found her completely dressed +for dinner, but she embraced her boy with her gloved hands and made +him sit on the sofa beside her. She enquired scrupulously about her +husband's health and about the young man's own, and, receiving no +very brilliant account of either, remarked that she was more than ever +convinced of her wisdom in not exposing herself to the English climate. +In this case she also might have given way. Ralph smiled at the idea of +his mother's giving way, but made no point of reminding her that his +own infirmity was not the result of the English climate, from which he +absented himself for a considerable part of each year. + +He had been a very small boy when his father, Daniel Tracy Touchett, +a native of Rutland, in the State of Vermont, came to England as +subordinate partner in a banking-house where some ten years later he +gained preponderant control. Daniel Touchett saw before him a life-long +residence in his adopted country, of which, from the first, he took a +simple, sane and accommodating view. But, as he said to himself, he had +no intention of disamericanising, nor had he a desire to teach his +only son any such subtle art. It had been for himself so very soluble a +problem to live in England assimilated yet unconverted that it seemed to +him equally simple his lawful heir should after his death carry on the +grey old bank in the white American light. He was at pains to intensify +this light, however, by sending the boy home for his education. Ralph +spent several terms at an American school and took a degree at an +American university, after which, as he struck his father on his return +as even redundantly native, he was placed for some three years in +residence at Oxford. Oxford swallowed up Harvard, and Ralph became +at last English enough. His outward conformity to the manners that +surrounded him was none the less the mask of a mind that greatly enjoyed +its independence, on which nothing long imposed itself, and which, +naturally inclined to adventure and irony, indulged in a boundless +liberty of appreciation. He began with being a young man of promise; at +Oxford he distinguished himself, to his father's ineffable satisfaction, +and the people about him said it was a thousand pities so clever a +fellow should be shut out from a career. He might have had a career +by returning to his own country (though this point is shrouded in +uncertainty) and even if Mr. Touchett had been willing to part with +him (which was not the case) it would have gone hard with him to put +a watery waste permanently between himself and the old man whom he +regarded as his best friend. Ralph was not only fond of his father, +he admired him--he enjoyed the opportunity of observing him. Daniel +Touchett, to his perception, was a man of genius, and though he himself +had no aptitude for the banking mystery he made a point of learning +enough of it to measure the great figure his father had played. It was +not this, however, he mainly relished; it was the fine ivory surface, +polished as by the English air, that the old man had opposed to +possibilities of penetration. Daniel Touchett had been neither at +Harvard nor at Oxford, and it was his own fault if he had placed in his +son's hands the key to modern criticism. Ralph, whose head was full +of ideas which his father had never guessed, had a high esteem for the +latter's originality. Americans, rightly or wrongly, are commended for +the ease with which they adapt themselves to foreign conditions; but Mr. +Touchett had made of the very limits of his pliancy half the ground +of his general success. He had retained in their freshness most of +his marks of primary pressure; his tone, as his son always noted with +pleasure, was that of the more luxuriant parts of New England. At the +end of his life he had become, on his own ground, as mellow as he +was rich; he combined consummate shrewdness with the disposition +superficially to fraternise, and his "social position," on which he had +never wasted a care, had the firm perfection of an unthumbed fruit. It +was perhaps his want of imagination and of what is called the historic +consciousness; but to many of the impressions usually made by English +life upon the cultivated stranger his sense was completely closed. There +were certain differences he had never perceived, certain habits he had +never formed, certain obscurities he had never sounded. As regards these +latter, on the day he had sounded them his son would have thought less +well of him. + +Ralph, on leaving Oxford, had spent a couple of years in travelling; +after which he had found himself perched on a high stool in his father's +bank. The responsibility and honour of such positions is not, I +believe, measured by the height of the stool, which depends upon other +considerations: Ralph, indeed, who had very long legs, was fond of +standing, and even of walking about, at his work. To this exercise, +however, he was obliged to devote but a limited period, for at the end +of some eighteen months he had become aware of his being seriously out +of health. He had caught a violent cold, which fixed itself on his lungs +and threw them into dire confusion. He had to give up work and apply, +to the letter, the sorry injunction to take care of himself. At first he +slighted the task; it appeared to him it was not himself in the least +he was taking care of, but an uninteresting and uninterested person +with whom he had nothing in common. This person, however, improved +on acquaintance, and Ralph grew at last to have a certain grudging +tolerance, even an undemonstrative respect, for him. Misfortune makes +strange bedfellows, and our young man, feeling that he had something +at stake in the matter--it usually struck him as his reputation for +ordinary wit--devoted to his graceless charge an amount of attention of +which note was duly taken and which had at least the effect of keeping +the poor fellow alive. One of his lungs began to heal, the other +promised to follow its example, and he was assured he might outweather +a dozen winters if he would betake himself to those climates in which +consumptives chiefly congregate. As he had grown extremely fond of +London, he cursed the flatness of exile: but at the same time that he +cursed he conformed, and gradually, when he found his sensitive organ +grateful even for grim favours, he conferred them with a lighter hand. +He wintered abroad, as the phrase is; basked in the sun, stopped at home +when the wind blew, went to bed when it rained, and once or twice, when +it had snowed overnight, almost never got up again. + +A secret hoard of indifference--like a thick cake a fond old nurse might +have slipped into his first school outfit--came to his aid and helped to +reconcile him to sacrifice; since at the best he was too ill for aught +but that arduous game. As he said to himself, there was really nothing +he had wanted very much to do, so that he had at least not renounced the +field of valour. At present, however, the fragrance of forbidden fruit +seemed occasionally to float past him and remind him that the finest of +pleasures is the rush of action. Living as he now lived was like reading +a good book in a poor translation--a meagre entertainment for a young +man who felt that he might have been an excellent linguist. He had good +winters and poor winters, and while the former lasted he was sometimes +the sport of a vision of virtual recovery. But this vision was dispelled +some three years before the occurrence of the incidents with which this +history opens: he had on that occasion remained later than usual in +England and had been overtaken by bad weather before reaching Algiers. +He arrived more dead than alive and lay there for several weeks between +life and death. His convalescence was a miracle, but the first use he +made of it was to assure himself that such miracles happen but once. He +said to himself that his hour was in sight and that it behoved him to +keep his eyes upon it, yet that it was also open to him to spend the +interval as agreeably as might be consistent with such a preoccupation. +With the prospect of losing them the simple use of his faculties became +an exquisite pleasure; it seemed to him the joys of contemplation had +never been sounded. He was far from the time when he had found it hard +that he should be obliged to give up the idea of distinguishing himself; +an idea none the less importunate for being vague and none the less +delightful for having had to struggle in the same breast with bursts +of inspiring self-criticism. His friends at present judged him more +cheerful, and attributed it to a theory, over which they shook their +heads knowingly, that he would recover his health. His serenity was but +the array of wild flowers niched in his ruin. + +It was very probably this sweet-tasting property of the observed thing +in itself that was mainly concerned in Ralph's quickly-stirred interest +in the advent of a young lady who was evidently not insipid. If he was +consideringly disposed, something told him, here was occupation enough +for a succession of days. It may be added, in summary fashion, that the +imagination of loving--as distinguished from that of being loved--had +still a place in his reduced sketch. He had only forbidden himself the +riot of expression. However, he shouldn't inspire his cousin with a +passion, nor would she be able, even should she try, to help him to one. +"And now tell me about the young lady," he said to his mother. "What do +you mean to do with her?" + +Mrs. Touchett was prompt. "I mean to ask your father to invite her to +stay three or four weeks at Gardencourt." + +"You needn't stand on any such ceremony as that," said Ralph. "My father +will ask her as a matter of course." + +"I don't know about that. She's my niece; she's not his." + +"Good Lord, dear mother; what a sense of property! That's all the more +reason for his asking her. But after that--I mean after three months +(for its absurd asking the poor girl to remain but for three or four +paltry weeks)--what do you mean to do with her?" + +"I mean to take her to Paris. I mean to get her clothing." + +"Ah yes, that's of course. But independently of that?" + +"I shall invite her to spend the autumn with me in Florence." + +"You don't rise above detail, dear mother," said Ralph. "I should like +to know what you mean to do with her in a general way." + +"My duty!" Mrs. Touchett declared. "I suppose you pity her very much," +she added. + +"No, I don't think I pity her. She doesn't strike me as inviting +compassion. I think I envy her. Before being sure, however, give me a +hint of where you see your duty." + +"In showing her four European countries--I shall leave her the choice of +two of them--and in giving her the opportunity of perfecting herself in +French, which she already knows very well." + +Ralph frowned a little. "That sounds rather dry--even allowing her the +choice of two of the countries." + +"If it's dry," said his mother with a laugh, "you can leave Isabel alone +to water it! She is as good as a summer rain, any day." + +"Do you mean she's a gifted being?" + +"I don't know whether she's a gifted being, but she's a clever +girl--with a strong will and a high temper. She has no idea of being +bored." + +"I can imagine that," said Ralph; and then he added abruptly: "How do +you two get on?" + +"Do you mean by that that I'm a bore? I don't think she finds me one. +Some girls might, I know; but Isabel's too clever for that. I think I +greatly amuse her. We get on because I understand her, I know the sort +of girl she is. She's very frank, and I'm very frank: we know just what +to expect of each other." + +"Ah, dear mother," Ralph exclaimed, "one always knows what to expect +of you! You've never surprised me but once, and that's to-day--in +presenting me with a pretty cousin whose existence I had never +suspected." + +"Do you think her so very pretty?" + +"Very pretty indeed; but I don't insist upon that. It's her general +air of being some one in particular that strikes me. Who is this rare +creature, and what is she? Where did you find her, and how did you make +her acquaintance?" + +"I found her in an old house at Albany, sitting in a dreary room on a +rainy day, reading a heavy book and boring herself to death. She didn't +know she was bored, but when I left her no doubt of it she seemed very +grateful for the service. You may say I shouldn't have enlightened he--I +should have let her alone. There's a good deal in that, but I acted +conscientiously; I thought she was meant for something better. It +occurred to me that it would be a kindness to take her about and +introduce her to the world. She thinks she knows a great deal of +it--like most American girls; but like most American girls she's +ridiculously mistaken. If you want to know, I thought she would do me +credit. I like to be well thought of, and for a woman of my age there's +no greater convenience, in some ways, than an attractive niece. You +know I had seen nothing of my sister's children for years; I disapproved +entirely of the father. But I always meant to do something for them when +he should have gone to his reward. I ascertained where they were to be +found and, without any preliminaries, went and introduced myself. There +are two others of them, both of whom are married; but I saw only the +elder, who has, by the way, a very uncivil husband. The wife, whose name +is Lily, jumped at the idea of my taking an interest in Isabel; she +said it was just what her sister needed--that some one should take +an interest in her. She spoke of her as you might speak of some young +person of genius--in want of encouragement and patronage. It may be that +Isabel's a genius; but in that case I've not yet learned her special +line. Mrs. Ludlow was especially keen about my taking her to Europe; +they all regard Europe over there as a land of emigration, of rescue, a +refuge for their superfluous population. Isabel herself seemed very +glad to come, and the thing was easily arranged. There was a little +difficulty about the money-question, as she seemed averse to being +under pecuniary obligations. But she has a small income and she supposes +herself to be travelling at her own expense." + +Ralph had listened attentively to this judicious report, by which his +interest in the subject of it was not impaired. "Ah, if she's a genius," +he said, "we must find out her special line. Is it by chance for +flirting?" + +"I don't think so. You may suspect that at first, but you'll be wrong. +You won't, I think, in any way, be easily right about her." + +"Warburton's wrong then!" Ralph rejoicingly exclaimed. "He flatters +himself he has made that discovery." + +His mother shook her head. "Lord Warburton won't understand her. He +needn't try." + +"He's very intelligent," said Ralph; "but it's right he should be +puzzled once in a while." + +"Isabel will enjoy puzzling a lord," Mrs. Touchett remarked. + +Her son frowned a little. "What does she know about lords?" + +"Nothing at all: that will puzzle him all the more." + +Ralph greeted these words with a laugh and looked out of the window. +Then, "Are you not going down to see my father?" he asked. + +"At a quarter to eight," said Mrs. Touchett. + +Her son looked at his watch. "You've another quarter of an hour then. +Tell me some more about Isabel." After which, as Mrs. Touchett declined +his invitation, declaring that he must find out for himself, "Well," he +pursued, "she'll certainly do you credit. But won't she also give you +trouble?" + +"I hope not; but if she does I shall not shrink from it. I never do +that." + +"She strikes me as very natural," said Ralph. + +"Natural people are not the most trouble." + +"No," said Ralph; "you yourself are a proof of that. You're extremely +natural, and I'm sure you have never troubled any one. It takes trouble +to do that. But tell me this; it just occurs to me. Is Isabel capable of +making herself disagreeable?" + +"Ah," cried his mother, "you ask too many questions! Find that out for +yourself." + +His questions, however, were not exhausted. "All this time," he said, +"you've not told me what you intend to do with her." + +"Do with her? You talk as if she were a yard of calico. I shall do +absolutely nothing with her, and she herself will do everything she +chooses. She gave me notice of that." + +"What you meant then, in your telegram, was that her character's +independent." + +"I never know what I mean in my telegrams--especially those I send from +America. Clearness is too expensive. Come down to your father." + +"It's not yet a quarter to eight," said Ralph. + +"I must allow for his impatience," Mrs. Touchett answered. Ralph knew +what to think of his father's impatience; but, making no rejoinder, he +offered his mother his arm. This put it in his power, as they +descended together, to stop her a moment on the middle landing of the +staircase--the broad, low, wide-armed staircase of time-blackened oak +which was one of the most striking features of Gardencourt. "You've no +plan of marrying her?" he smiled. + +"Marrying her? I should be sorry to play her such a trick! But apart +from that, she's perfectly able to marry herself. She has every +facility." + +"Do you mean to say she has a husband picked out?" + +"I don't know about a husband, but there's a young man in Boston--!" + +Ralph went on; he had no desire to hear about the young man in Boston. +"As my father says, they're always engaged!" + +His mother had told him that he must satisfy his curiosity at the +source, and it soon became evident he should not want for occasion. He +had a good deal of talk with his young kinswoman when the two had been +left together in the drawing-room. Lord Warburton, who had ridden over +from his own house, some ten miles distant, remounted and took his +departure before dinner; and an hour after this meal was ended Mr. and +Mrs. Touchett, who appeared to have quite emptied the measure of their +forms, withdrew, under the valid pretext of fatigue, to their respective +apartments. The young man spent an hour with his cousin; though she had +been travelling half the day she appeared in no degree spent. She was +really tired; she knew it, and knew she should pay for it on the morrow; +but it was her habit at this period to carry exhaustion to the furthest +point and confess to it only when dissimulation broke down. A fine +hypocrisy was for the present possible; she was interested; she was, as +she said to herself, floated. She asked Ralph to show her the pictures; +there were a great many in the house, most of them of his own choosing. +The best were arranged in an oaken gallery, of charming proportions, +which had a sitting-room at either end of it and which in the evening +was usually lighted. The light was insufficient to show the pictures +to advantage, and the visit might have stood over to the morrow. +This suggestion Ralph had ventured to make; but Isabel looked +disappointed--smiling still, however--and said: "If you please I should +like to see them just a little." She was eager, she knew she was eager +and now seemed so; she couldn't help it. "She doesn't take suggestions," +Ralph said to himself; but he said it without irritation; her pressure +amused and even pleased him. The lamps were on brackets, at intervals, +and if the light was imperfect it was genial. It fell upon the vague +squares of rich colour and on the faded gilding of heavy frames; it made +a sheen on the polished floor of the gallery. Ralph took a candlestick +and moved about, pointing out the things he liked; Isabel, inclining to +one picture after another, indulged in little exclamations and murmurs. +She was evidently a judge; she had a natural taste; he was struck with +that. She took a candlestick herself and held it slowly here and there; +she lifted it high, and as she did so he found himself pausing in the +middle of the place and bending his eyes much less upon the pictures +than on her presence. He lost nothing, in truth, by these wandering +glances, for she was better worth looking at than most works of art. +She was undeniably spare, and ponderably light, and proveably tall; when +people had wished to distinguish her from the other two Miss Archers +they had always called her the willowy one. Her hair, which was dark +even to blackness, had been an object of envy to many women; her light +grey eyes, a little too firm perhaps in her graver moments, had an +enchanting range of concession. They walked slowly up one side of the +gallery and down the other, and then she said: "Well, now I know more +than I did when I began!" + +"You apparently have a great passion for knowledge," her cousin +returned. + +"I think I have; most girls are horridly ignorant." + +"You strike me as different from most girls." + +"Ah, some of them would--but the way they're talked to!" murmured +Isabel, who preferred not to dilate just yet on herself. Then in a +moment, to change the subject, "Please tell me--isn't there a ghost?" +she went on. + +"A ghost?" + +"A castle-spectre, a thing that appears. We call them ghosts in +America." + +"So we do here, when we see them." + +"You do see them then? You ought to, in this romantic old house." + +"It's not a romantic old house," said Ralph. "You'll be disappointed if +you count on that. It's a dismally prosaic one; there's no romance here +but what you may have brought with you." + +"I've brought a great deal; but it seems to me I've brought it to the +right place." + +"To keep it out of harm, certainly; nothing will ever happen to it here, +between my father and me." + +Isabel looked at him a moment. "Is there never any one here but your +father and you?" + +"My mother, of course." + +"Oh, I know your mother; she's not romantic. Haven't you other people?" + +"Very few." + +"I'm sorry for that; I like so much to see people." + +"Oh, we'll invite all the county to amuse you," said Ralph. + +"Now you're making fun of me," the girl answered rather gravely. "Who +was the gentleman on the lawn when I arrived?" + +"A county neighbour; he doesn't come very often." + +"I'm sorry for that; I liked him," said Isabel. + +"Why, it seemed to me that you barely spoke to him," Ralph objected. + +"Never mind, I like him all the same. I like your father too, +immensely." + +"You can't do better than that. He's the dearest of the dear." + +"I'm so sorry he is ill," said Isabel. + +"You must help me to nurse him; you ought to be a good nurse." + +"I don't think I am; I've been told I'm not; I'm said to have too many +theories. But you haven't told me about the ghost," she added. + +Ralph, however, gave no heed to this observation. "You like my father +and you like Lord Warburton. I infer also that you like my mother." + +"I like your mother very much, because--because--" And Isabel found +herself attempting to assign a reason for her affection for Mrs. +Touchett. + +"Ah, we never know why!" said her companion, laughing. + +"I always know why," the girl answered. "It's because she doesn't expect +one to like her. She doesn't care whether one does or not." + +"So you adore her--out of perversity? Well, I take greatly after my +mother," said Ralph. + +"I don't believe you do at all. You wish people to like you, and you try +to make them do it." + +"Good heavens, how you see through one!" he cried with a dismay that was +not altogether jocular. + +"But I like you all the same," his cousin went on. "The way to clinch +the matter will be to show me the ghost." + +Ralph shook his head sadly. "I might show it to you, but you'd never see +it. The privilege isn't given to every one; it's not enviable. It has +never been seen by a young, happy, innocent person like you. You must +have suffered first, have suffered greatly, have gained some miserable +knowledge. In that way your eyes are opened to it. I saw it long ago," +said Ralph. + +"I told you just now I'm very fond of knowledge," Isabel answered. + +"Yes, of happy knowledge--of pleasant knowledge. But you haven't +suffered, and you're not made to suffer. I hope you'll never see the +ghost!" + +She had listened to him attentively, with a smile on her lips, but with +a certain gravity in her eyes. Charming as he found her, she had struck +him as rather presumptuous--indeed it was a part of her charm; and he +wondered what she would say. "I'm not afraid, you know," she said: which +seemed quite presumptuous enough. + +"You're not afraid of suffering?" + +"Yes, I'm afraid of suffering. But I'm not afraid of ghosts. And I think +people suffer too easily," she added. + +"I don't believe you do," said Ralph, looking at her with his hands in +his pockets. + +"I don't think that's a fault," she answered. "It's not absolutely +necessary to suffer; we were not made for that." + +"You were not, certainly." + +"I'm not speaking of myself." And she wandered off a little. + +"No, it isn't a fault," said her cousin. "It's a merit to be strong." + +"Only, if you don't suffer they call you hard," Isabel remarked. + +They passed out of the smaller drawing-room, into which they had +returned from the gallery, and paused in the hall, at the foot of the +staircase. Here Ralph presented his companion with her bedroom candle, +which he had taken from a niche. "Never mind what they call you. When +you do suffer they call you an idiot. The great point's to be as happy +as possible." + +She looked at him a little; she had taken her candle and placed her foot +on the oaken stair. "Well," she said, "that's what I came to Europe for, +to be as happy as possible. Good-night." + +"Good-night! I wish you all success, and shall be very glad to +contribute to it!" + +She turned away, and he watched her as she slowly ascended. Then, with +his hands always in his pockets, he went back to the empty drawing-room. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Isabel Archer was a young person of many theories; her imagination was +remarkably active. It had been her fortune to possess a finer mind +than most of the persons among whom her lot was cast; to have a larger +perception of surrounding facts and to care for knowledge that was +tinged with the unfamiliar. It is true that among her contemporaries +she passed for a young woman of extraordinary profundity; for these +excellent people never withheld their admiration from a reach of +intellect of which they themselves were not conscious, and spoke of +Isabel as a prodigy of learning, a creature reported to have read the +classic authors--in translations. Her paternal aunt, Mrs. Varian, once +spread the rumour that Isabel was writing a book--Mrs. Varian having a +reverence for books, and averred that the girl would distinguish herself +in print. Mrs. Varian thought highly of literature, for which she +entertained that esteem that is connected with a sense of privation. +Her own large house, remarkable for its assortment of mosaic tables and +decorated ceilings, was unfurnished with a library, and in the way of +printed volumes contained nothing but half a dozen novels in paper on +a shelf in the apartment of one of the Miss Varians. Practically, Mrs. +Varian's acquaintance with literature was confined to The New York +Interviewer; as she very justly said, after you had read the Interviewer +you had lost all faith in culture. Her tendency, with this, was rather +to keep the Interviewer out of the way of her daughters; she was +determined to bring them up properly, and they read nothing at all. Her +impression with regard to Isabel's labours was quite illusory; the girl +had never attempted to write a book and had no desire for the laurels +of authorship. She had no talent for expression and too little of the +consciousness of genius; she only had a general idea that people were +right when they treated her as if she were rather superior. Whether or +no she were superior, people were right in admiring her if they thought +her so; for it seemed to her often that her mind moved more quickly +than theirs, and this encouraged an impatience that might easily be +confounded with superiority. It may be affirmed without delay that +Isabel was probably very liable to the sin of self-esteem; she often +surveyed with complacency the field of her own nature; she was in the +habit of taking for granted, on scanty evidence, that she was right; +she treated herself to occasions of homage. Meanwhile her errors and +delusions were frequently such as a biographer interested in preserving +the dignity of his subject must shrink from specifying. Her thoughts +were a tangle of vague outlines which had never been corrected by the +judgement of people speaking with authority. In matters of opinion +she had had her own way, and it had led her into a thousand ridiculous +zigzags. At moments she discovered she was grotesquely wrong, and then +she treated herself to a week of passionate humility. After this she +held her head higher than ever again; for it was of no use, she had an +unquenchable desire to think well of herself. She had a theory that it +was only under this provision life was worth living; that one should +be one of the best, should be conscious of a fine organisation (she +couldn't help knowing her organisation was fine), should move in a realm +of light, of natural wisdom, of happy impulse, of inspiration gracefully +chronic. It was almost as unnecessary to cultivate doubt of one's self +as to cultivate doubt of one's best friend: one should try to be one's +own best friend and to give one's self, in this manner, distinguished +company. The girl had a certain nobleness of imagination which rendered +her a good many services and played her a great many tricks. She spent +half her time in thinking of beauty and bravery and magnanimity; she had +a fixed determination to regard the world as a place of brightness, of +free expansion, of irresistible action: she held it must be detestable +to be afraid or ashamed. She had an infinite hope that she should never +do anything wrong. She had resented so strongly, after discovering them, +her mere errors of feeling (the discovery always made her tremble as if +she had escaped from a trap which might have caught her and smothered +her) that the chance of inflicting a sensible injury upon another +person, presented only as a contingency, caused her at moments to hold +her breath. That always struck her as the worst thing that could happen +to her. On the whole, reflectively, she was in no uncertainty about +the things that were wrong. She had no love of their look, but when +she fixed them hard she recognised them. It was wrong to be mean, to be +jealous, to be false, to be cruel; she had seen very little of the evil +of the world, but she had seen women who lied and who tried to hurt +each other. Seeing such things had quickened her high spirit; it seemed +indecent not to scorn them. Of course the danger of a high spirit was +the danger of inconsistency--the danger of keeping up the flag after the +place has surrendered; a sort of behaviour so crooked as to be almost +a dishonour to the flag. But Isabel, who knew little of the sorts of +artillery to which young women are exposed, flattered herself that such +contradictions would never be noted in her own conduct. Her life should +always be in harmony with the most pleasing impression she should +produce; she would be what she appeared, and she would appear what she +was. Sometimes she went so far as to wish that she might find herself +some day in a difficult position, so that she should have the pleasure +of being as heroic as the occasion demanded. Altogether, with her meagre +knowledge, her inflated ideals, her confidence at once innocent and +dogmatic, her temper at once exacting and indulgent, her mixture of +curiosity and fastidiousness, of vivacity and indifference, her desire +to look very well and to be if possible even better, her determination +to see, to try, to know, her combination of the delicate, desultory, +flame-like spirit and the eager and personal creature of conditions: she +would be an easy victim of scientific criticism if she were not intended +to awaken on the reader's part an impulse more tender and more purely +expectant. + +It was one of her theories that Isabel Archer was very fortunate in +being independent, and that she ought to make some very enlightened use +of that state. She never called it the state of solitude, much less of +singleness; she thought such descriptions weak, and, besides, her sister +Lily constantly urged her to come and abide. She had a friend whose +acquaintance she had made shortly before her father's death, who offered +so high an example of useful activity that Isabel always thought of her +as a model. Henrietta Stackpole had the advantage of an admired ability; +she was thoroughly launched in journalism, and her letters to the +Interviewer, from Washington, Newport, the White Mountains and other +places, were universally quoted. Isabel pronounced them with confidence +"ephemeral," but she esteemed the courage, energy and good-humour of the +writer, who, without parents and without property, had adopted three +of the children of an infirm and widowed sister and was paying their +school-bills out of the proceeds of her literary labour. Henrietta was +in the van of progress and had clear-cut views on most subjects; her +cherished desire had long been to come to Europe and write a series of +letters to the Interviewer from the radical point of view--an enterprise +the less difficult as she knew perfectly in advance what her opinions +would be and to how many objections most European institutions lay +open. When she heard that Isabel was coming she wished to start at once; +thinking, naturally, that it would be delightful the two should travel +together. She had been obliged, however, to postpone this enterprise. +She thought Isabel a glorious creature, and had spoken of her covertly +in some of her letters, though she never mentioned the fact to her +friend, who would not have taken pleasure in it and was not a regular +student of the Interviewer. Henrietta, for Isabel, was chiefly a proof +that a woman might suffice to herself and be happy. Her resources were +of the obvious kind; but even if one had not the journalistic talent and +a genius for guessing, as Henrietta said, what the public was going to +want, one was not therefore to conclude that one had no vocation, +no beneficent aptitude of any sort, and resign one's self to being +frivolous and hollow. Isabel was stoutly determined not to be hollow. If +one should wait with the right patience one would find some happy work +to one's hand. Of course, among her theories, this young lady was not +without a collection of views on the subject of marriage. The first on +the list was a conviction of the vulgarity of thinking too much of it. +From lapsing into eagerness on this point she earnestly prayed she might +be delivered; she held that a woman ought to be able to live to herself, +in the absence of exceptional flimsiness, and that it was perfectly +possible to be happy without the society of a more or less coarse-minded +person of another sex. The girl's prayer was very sufficiently answered; +something pure and proud that there was in her--something cold and dry +an unappreciated suitor with a taste for analysis might have called +it--had hitherto kept her from any great vanity of conjecture on the +article of possible husbands. Few of the men she saw seemed worth a +ruinous expenditure, and it made her smile to think that one of them +should present himself as an incentive to hope and a reward of patience. +Deep in her soul--it was the deepest thing there--lay a belief that if +a certain light should dawn she could give herself completely; but +this image, on the whole, was too formidable to be attractive. Isabel's +thoughts hovered about it, but they seldom rested on it long; after a +little it ended in alarms. It often seemed to her that she thought too +much about herself; you could have made her colour, any day in the +year, by calling her a rank egoist. She was always planning out her +development, desiring her perfection, observing her progress. Her nature +had, in her conceit, a certain garden-like quality, a suggestion of +perfume and murmuring boughs, of shady bowers and lengthening vistas, +which made her feel that introspection was, after all, an exercise +in the open air, and that a visit to the recesses of one's spirit was +harmless when one returned from it with a lapful of roses. But she was +often reminded that there were other gardens in the world than those of +her remarkable soul, and that there were moreover a great many places +which were not gardens at all--only dusky pestiferous tracts, planted +thick with ugliness and misery. In the current of that repaid curiosity +on which she had lately been floating, which had conveyed her to this +beautiful old England and might carry her much further still, she often +checked herself with the thought of the thousands of people who were +less happy than herself--a thought which for the moment made her fine, +full consciousness appear a kind of immodesty. What should one do with +the misery of the world in a scheme of the agreeable for one's self? It +must be confessed that this question never held her long. She was too +young, too impatient to live, too unacquainted with pain. She always +returned to her theory that a young woman whom after all every one +thought clever should begin by getting a general impression of life. +This impression was necessary to prevent mistakes, and after it should +be secured she might make the unfortunate condition of others a subject +of special attention. + +England was a revelation to her, and she found herself as diverted as a +child at a pantomime. In her infantine excursions to Europe she had +seen only the Continent, and seen it from the nursery window; Paris, not +London, was her father's Mecca, and into many of his interests there his +children had naturally not entered. The images of that time moreover had +grown faint and remote, and the old-world quality in everything that +she now saw had all the charm of strangeness. Her uncle's house seemed a +picture made real; no refinement of the agreeable was lost upon +Isabel; the rich perfection of Gardencourt at once revealed a world and +gratified a need. The large, low rooms, with brown ceilings and dusky +corners, the deep embrasures and curious casements, the quiet light on +dark, polished panels, the deep greenness outside, that seemed always +peeping in, the sense of well-ordered privacy in the centre of a +"property"--a place where sounds were felicitously accidental, where +the tread was muffed by the earth itself and in the thick mild air all +friction dropped out of contact and all shrillness out of talk--these +things were much to the taste of our young lady, whose taste played a +considerable part in her emotions. She formed a fast friendship with her +uncle, and often sat by his chair when he had had it moved out to the +lawn. He passed hours in the open air, sitting with folded hands like +a placid, homely household god, a god of service, who had done his work +and received his wages and was trying to grow used to weeks and months +made up only of off-days. Isabel amused him more than she suspected--the +effect she produced upon people was often different from what she +supposed--and he frequently gave himself the pleasure of making her +chatter. It was by this term that he qualified her conversation, which +had much of the "point" observable in that of the young ladies of her +country, to whom the ear of the world is more directly presented than to +their sisters in other lands. Like the mass of American girls Isabel had +been encouraged to express herself; her remarks had been attended +to; she had been expected to have emotions and opinions. Many of her +opinions had doubtless but a slender value, many of her emotions passed +away in the utterance; but they had left a trace in giving her the habit +of seeming at least to feel and think, and in imparting moreover to +her words when she was really moved that prompt vividness which so many +people had regarded as a sign of superiority. Mr. Touchett used to think +that she reminded him of his wife when his wife was in her teens. It was +because she was fresh and natural and quick to understand, to speak--so +many characteristics of her niece--that he had fallen in love with Mrs. +Touchett. He never expressed this analogy to the girl herself, however; +for if Mrs. Touchett had once been like Isabel, Isabel was not at all +like Mrs. Touchett. The old man was full of kindness for her; it was a +long time, as he said, since they had had any young life in the house; +and our rustling, quickly-moving, clear-voiced heroine was as agreeable +to his sense as the sound of flowing water. He wanted to do something +for her and wished she would ask it of him. She would ask nothing but +questions; it is true that of these she asked a quantity. Her uncle had +a great fund of answers, though her pressure sometimes came in forms +that puzzled him. She questioned him immensely about England, about the +British constitution, the English character, the state of politics, +the manners and customs of the royal family, the peculiarities of the +aristocracy, the way of living and thinking of his neighbours; and in +begging to be enlightened on these points she usually enquired whether +they corresponded with the descriptions in the books. The old man always +looked at her a little with his fine dry smile while he smoothed down +the shawl spread across his legs. + +"The books?" he once said; "well, I don't know much about the books. You +must ask Ralph about that. I've always ascertained for myself--got my +information in the natural form. I never asked many questions even; +I just kept quiet and took notice. Of course I've had very good +opportunities--better than what a young lady would naturally have. I'm +of an inquisitive disposition, though you mightn't think it if you were +to watch me: however much you might watch me I should be watching you +more. I've been watching these people for upwards of thirty-five years, +and I don't hesitate to say that I've acquired considerable information. +It's a very fine country on the whole--finer perhaps than what we give +it credit for on the other side. Several improvements I should like to +see introduced; but the necessity of them doesn't seem to be generally +felt as yet. When the necessity of a thing is generally felt they +usually manage to accomplish it; but they seem to feel pretty +comfortable about waiting till then. I certainly feel more at home among +them than I expected to when I first came over; I suppose it's because +I've had a considerable degree of success. When you're successful you +naturally feel more at home." + +"Do you suppose that if I'm successful I shall feel at home?" Isabel +asked. + +"I should think it very probable, and you certainly will be successful. +They like American young ladies very much over here; they show them +a great deal of kindness. But you mustn't feel too much at home, you +know." + +"Oh, I'm by no means sure it will satisfy me," Isabel judicially +emphasised. "I like the place very much, but I'm not sure I shall like +the people." + +"The people are very good people; especially if you like them." + +"I've no doubt they're good," Isabel rejoined; "but are they pleasant +in society? They won't rob me nor beat me; but will they make themselves +agreeable to me? That's what I like people to do. I don't hesitate to +say so, because I always appreciate it. I don't believe they're very +nice to girls; they're not nice to them in the novels." + +"I don't know about the novels," said Mr. Touchett. "I believe the +novels have a great deal but I don't suppose they're very accurate. +We once had a lady who wrote novels staying here; she was a friend +of Ralph's and he asked her down. She was very positive, quite up to +everything; but she was not the sort of person you could depend on +for evidence. Too free a fancy--I suppose that was it. She afterwards +published a work of fiction in which she was understood to have given +a representation--something in the nature of a caricature, as you might +say--of my unworthy self. I didn't read it, but Ralph just handed me +the book with the principal passages marked. It was understood to be +a description of my conversation; American peculiarities, nasal twang, +Yankee notions, stars and stripes. Well, it was not at all accurate; +she couldn't have listened very attentively. I had no objection to her +giving a report of my conversation, if she liked but I didn't like the +idea that she hadn't taken the trouble to listen to it. Of course I talk +like an American--I can't talk like a Hottentot. However I talk, I've +made them understand me pretty well over here. But I don't talk like the +old gentleman in that lady's novel. He wasn't an American; we wouldn't +have him over there at any price. I just mention that fact to show you +that they're not always accurate. Of course, as I've no daughters, +and as Mrs. Touchett resides in Florence, I haven't had much chance +to notice about the young ladies. It sometimes appears as if the young +women in the lower class were not very well treated; but I guess their +position is better in the upper and even to some extent in the middle." + +"Gracious," Isabel exclaimed; "how many classes have they? About fifty, +I suppose." + +"Well, I don't know that I ever counted them. I never took much notice +of the classes. That's the advantage of being an American here; you +don't belong to any class." + +"I hope so," said Isabel. "Imagine one's belonging to an English class!" + +"Well, I guess some of them are pretty comfortable--especially towards +the top. But for me there are only two classes: the people I trust and +the people I don't. Of those two, my dear Isabel, you belong to the +first." + +"I'm much obliged to you," said the girl quickly. Her way of taking +compliments seemed sometimes rather dry; she got rid of them as rapidly +as possible. But as regards this she was sometimes misjudged; she was +thought insensible to them, whereas in fact she was simply unwilling to +show how infinitely they pleased her. To show that was to show too much. +"I'm sure the English are very conventional," she added. + +"They've got everything pretty well fixed," Mr. Touchett admitted. "It's +all settled beforehand--they don't leave it to the last moment." + +"I don't like to have everything settled beforehand," said the girl. "I +like more unexpectedness." + +Her uncle seemed amused at her distinctness of preference. "Well, it's +settled beforehand that you'll have great success," he rejoined. "I +suppose you'll like that." + +"I shall not have success if they're too stupidly conventional. I'm not +in the least stupidly conventional. I'm just the contrary. That's what +they won't like." + +"No, no, you're all wrong," said the old man. "You can't tell what +they'll like. They're very inconsistent; that's their principal +interest." + +"Ah well," said Isabel, standing before her uncle with her hands +clasped about the belt of her black dress and looking up and down the +lawn--"that will suit me perfectly!" + + + +CHAPTER VII + +The two amused themselves, time and again, with talking of the attitude +of the British public as if the young lady had been in a position to +appeal to it; but in fact the British public remained for the present +profoundly indifferent to Miss Isabel Archer, whose fortune had dropped +her, as her cousin said, into the dullest house in England. Her gouty +uncle received very little company, and Mrs. Touchett, not having +cultivated relations with her husband's neighbours, was not warranted +in expecting visits from them. She had, however, a peculiar taste; she +liked to receive cards. For what is usually called social intercourse +she had very little relish; but nothing pleased her more than to find +her hall-table whitened with oblong morsels of symbolic pasteboard. She +flattered herself that she was a very just woman, and had mastered the +sovereign truth that nothing in this world is got for nothing. She had +played no social part as mistress of Gardencourt, and it was not to be +supposed that, in the surrounding country, a minute account should be +kept of her comings and goings. But it is by no means certain that she +did not feel it to be wrong that so little notice was taken of them and +that her failure (really very gratuitous) to make herself important in +the neighbourhood had not much to do with the acrimony of her allusions +to her husband's adopted country. Isabel presently found herself in the +singular situation of defending the British constitution against her +aunt; Mrs. Touchett having formed the habit of sticking pins into this +venerable instrument. Isabel always felt an impulse to pull out the +pins; not that she imagined they inflicted any damage on the tough old +parchment, but because it seemed to her her aunt might make better use +of her sharpness. She was very critical herself--it was incidental to +her age, her sex and her nationality; but she was very sentimental as +well, and there was something in Mrs. Touchett's dryness that set her +own moral fountains flowing. + +"Now what's your point of view?" she asked of her aunt. "When you +criticise everything here you should have a point of view. Yours doesn't +seem to be American--you thought everything over there so disagreeable. +When I criticise I have mine; it's thoroughly American!" + +"My dear young lady," said Mrs. Touchett, "there are as many points of +view in the world as there are people of sense to take them. You may +say that doesn't make them very numerous! American? Never in the world; +that's shockingly narrow. My point of view, thank God, is personal!" + +Isabel thought this a better answer than she admitted; it was a +tolerable description of her own manner of judging, but it would not +have sounded well for her to say so. On the lips of a person less +advanced in life and less enlightened by experience than Mrs. Touchett +such a declaration would savour of immodesty, even of arrogance. She +risked it nevertheless in talking with Ralph, with whom she talked a +great deal and with whom her conversation was of a sort that gave a +large licence to extravagance. Her cousin used, as the phrase is, to +chaff her; he very soon established with her a reputation for treating +everything as a joke, and he was not a man to neglect the privileges +such a reputation conferred. She accused him of an odious want of +seriousness, of laughing at all things, beginning with himself. Such +slender faculty of reverence as he possessed centred wholly upon his +father; for the rest, he exercised his wit indifferently upon his +father's son, this gentleman's weak lungs, his useless life, his +fantastic mother, his friends (Lord Warburton in especial), his adopted, +and his native country, his charming new-found cousin. "I keep a band +of music in my ante-room," he said once to her. "It has orders to play +without stopping; it renders me two excellent services. It keeps the +sounds of the world from reaching the private apartments, and it makes +the world think that dancing's going on within." It was dance-music +indeed that you usually heard when you came within ear-shot of Ralph's +band; the liveliest waltzes seemed to float upon the air. Isabel often +found herself irritated by this perpetual fiddling; she would have liked +to pass through the ante-room, as her cousin called it, and enter the +private apartments. It mattered little that he had assured her they were +a very dismal place; she would have been glad to undertake to sweep them +and set them in order. It was but half-hospitality to let her remain +outside; to punish him for which Isabel administered innumerable taps +with the ferule of her straight young wit. It must be said that her wit +was exercised to a large extent in self-defence, for her cousin amused +himself with calling her "Columbia" and accusing her of a patriotism so +heated that it scorched. He drew a caricature of her in which she was +represented as a very pretty young woman dressed, on the lines of the +prevailing fashion, in the folds of the national banner. Isabel's chief +dread in life at this period of her development was that she should +appear narrow-minded; what she feared next afterwards was that she +should really be so. But she nevertheless made no scruple of abounding +in her cousin's sense and pretending to sigh for the charms of her +native land. She would be as American as it pleased him to regard her, +and if he chose to laugh at her she would give him plenty of occupation. +She defended England against his mother, but when Ralph sang its praises +on purpose, as she said, to work her up, she found herself able to +differ from him on a variety of points. In fact, the quality of this +small ripe country seemed as sweet to her as the taste of an October +pear; and her satisfaction was at the root of the good spirits which +enabled her to take her cousin's chaff and return it in kind. If her +good-humour flagged at moments it was not because she thought herself +ill-used, but because she suddenly felt sorry for Ralph. It seemed to +her he was talking as a blind and had little heart in what he said. "I +don't know what's the matter with you," she observed to him once; "but I +suspect you're a great humbug." + +"That's your privilege," Ralph answered, who had not been used to being +so crudely addressed. + +"I don't know what you care for; I don't think you care for anything. +You don't really care for England when you praise it; you don't care for +America even when you pretend to abuse it." + +"I care for nothing but you, dear cousin," said Ralph. + +"If I could believe even that, I should be very glad." + +"Ah well, I should hope so!" the young man exclaimed. + +Isabel might have believed it and not have been far from the truth. He +thought a great deal about her; she was constantly present to his mind. +At a time when his thoughts had been a good deal of a burden to him her +sudden arrival, which promised nothing and was an open-handed gift of +fate, had refreshed and quickened them, given them wings and something +to fly for. Poor Ralph had been for many weeks steeped in melancholy; +his outlook, habitually sombre, lay under the shadow of a deeper cloud. +He had grown anxious about his father, whose gout, hitherto confined to +his legs, had begun to ascend into regions more vital. The old man had +been gravely ill in the spring, and the doctors had whispered to +Ralph that another attack would be less easy to deal with. Just now +he appeared disburdened of pain, but Ralph could not rid himself of a +suspicion that this was a subterfuge of the enemy, who was waiting to +take him off his guard. If the manoeuvre should succeed there would be +little hope of any great resistance. Ralph had always taken for granted +that his father would survive him--that his own name would be the first +grimly called. The father and son had been close companions, and the +idea of being left alone with the remnant of a tasteless life on his +hands was not gratifying to the young man, who had always and tacitly +counted upon his elder's help in making the best of a poor business. +At the prospect of losing his great motive Ralph lost indeed his one +inspiration. If they might die at the same time it would be all very +well; but without the encouragement of his father's society he should +barely have patience to await his own turn. He had not the incentive of +feeling that he was indispensable to his mother; it was a rule with his +mother to have no regrets. He bethought himself of course that it had +been a small kindness to his father to wish that, of the two, the active +rather than the passive party should know the felt wound; he remembered +that the old man had always treated his own forecast of an early end as +a clever fallacy, which he should be delighted to discredit so far as +he might by dying first. But of the two triumphs, that of refuting a +sophistical son and that of holding on a while longer to a state of +being which, with all abatements, he enjoyed, Ralph deemed it no sin to +hope the latter might be vouchsafed to Mr. Touchett. + +These were nice questions, but Isabel's arrival put a stop to his +puzzling over them. It even suggested there might be a compensation for +the intolerable ennui of surviving his genial sire. He wondered whether +he were harbouring "love" for this spontaneous young woman from Albany; +but he judged that on the whole he was not. After he had known her for +a week he quite made up his mind to this, and every day he felt a little +more sure. Lord Warburton had been right about her; she was a really +interesting little figure. Ralph wondered how their neighbour had +found it out so soon; and then he said it was only another proof of his +friend's high abilities, which he had always greatly admired. If his +cousin were to be nothing more than an entertainment to him, Ralph was +conscious she was an entertainment of a high order. "A character like +that," he said to himself--"a real little passionate force to see at +play is the finest thing in nature. It's finer than the finest work +of art--than a Greek bas-relief, than a great Titian, than a Gothic +cathedral. It's very pleasant to be so well treated where one had least +looked for it. I had never been more blue, more bored, than for a week +before she came; I had never expected less that anything pleasant would +happen. Suddenly I receive a Titian, by the post, to hang on my wall--a +Greek bas-relief to stick over my chimney-piece. The key of a beautiful +edifice is thrust into my hand, and I'm told to walk in and admire. My +poor boy, you've been sadly ungrateful, and now you had better keep very +quiet and never grumble again." The sentiment of these reflexions was +very just; but it was not exactly true that Ralph Touchett had had a key +put into his hand. His cousin was a very brilliant girl, who would take, +as he said, a good deal of knowing; but she needed the knowing, and his +attitude with regard to her, though it was contemplative and critical, +was not judicial. He surveyed the edifice from the outside and admired +it greatly; he looked in at the windows and received an impression of +proportions equally fair. But he felt that he saw it only by glimpses +and that he had not yet stood under the roof. The door was fastened, and +though he had keys in his pocket he had a conviction that none of them +would fit. She was intelligent and generous; it was a fine free nature; +but what was she going to do with herself? This question was irregular, +for with most women one had no occasion to ask it. Most women did +with themselves nothing at all; they waited, in attitudes more or less +gracefully passive, for a man to come that way and furnish them with +a destiny. Isabel's originality was that she gave one an impression of +having intentions of her own. "Whenever she executes them," said Ralph, +"may I be there to see!" + +It devolved upon him of course to do the honours of the place. Mr. +Touchett was confined to his chair, and his wife's position was that of +rather a grim visitor; so that in the line of conduct that opened itself +to Ralph duty and inclination were harmoniously mixed. He was not a +great walker, but he strolled about the grounds with his cousin--a +pastime for which the weather remained favourable with a persistency not +allowed for in Isabel's somewhat lugubrious prevision of the climate; +and in the long afternoons, of which the length was but the measure of +her gratified eagerness, they took a boat on the river, the dear little +river, as Isabel called it, where the opposite shore seemed still a +part of the foreground of the landscape; or drove over the country in a +phaeton--a low, capacious, thick-wheeled phaeton formerly much used by +Mr. Touchett, but which he had now ceased to enjoy. Isabel enjoyed it +largely and, handling the reins in a manner which approved itself to +the groom as "knowing," was never weary of driving her uncle's capital +horses through winding lanes and byways full of the rural incidents she +had confidently expected to find; past cottages thatched and timbered, +past ale-houses latticed and sanded, past patches of ancient common and +glimpses of empty parks, between hedgerows made thick by midsummer. When +they reached home they usually found tea had been served on the lawn +and that Mrs. Touchett had not shrunk from the extremity of handing her +husband his cup. But the two for the most part sat silent; the old +man with his head back and his eyes closed, his wife occupied with her +knitting and wearing that appearance of rare profundity with which some +ladies consider the movement of their needles. + +One day, however, a visitor had arrived. The two young persons, after +spending an hour on the river, strolled back to the house and perceived +Lord Warburton sitting under the trees and engaged in conversation, of +which even at a distance the desultory character was appreciable, with +Mrs. Touchett. He had driven over from his own place with a portmanteau +and had asked, as the father and son often invited him to do, for a +dinner and a lodging. Isabel, seeing him for half an hour on the day of +her arrival, had discovered in this brief space that she liked him; he +had indeed rather sharply registered himself on her fine sense and +she had thought of him several times. She had hoped she should see him +again--hoped too that she should see a few others. Gardencourt was not +dull; the place itself was sovereign, her uncle was more and more a +sort of golden grandfather, and Ralph was unlike any cousin she had +ever encountered--her idea of cousins having tended to gloom. Then her +impressions were still so fresh and so quickly renewed that there was as +yet hardly a hint of vacancy in the view. But Isabel had need to remind +herself that she was interested in human nature and that her foremost +hope in coming abroad had been that she should see a great many people. +When Ralph said to her, as he had done several times, "I wonder you find +this endurable; you ought to see some of the neighbours and some of +our friends, because we have really got a few, though you would never +suppose it"--when he offered to invite what he called a "lot of people" +and make her acquainted with English society, she encouraged the +hospitable impulse and promised in advance to hurl herself into the +fray. Little, however, for the present, had come of his offers, and it +may be confided to the reader that if the young man delayed to carry +them out it was because he found the labour of providing for his +companion by no means so severe as to require extraneous help. Isabel +had spoken to him very often about "specimens;" it was a word that +played a considerable part in her vocabulary; she had given him to +understand that she wished to see English society illustrated by eminent +cases. + +"Well now, there's a specimen," he said to her as they walked up from +the riverside and he recognised Lord Warburton. + +"A specimen of what?" asked the girl. + +"A specimen of an English gentleman." + +"Do you mean they're all like him?" + +"Oh no; they're not all like him." + +"He's a favourable specimen then," said Isabel; "because I'm sure he's +nice." + +"Yes, he's very nice. And he's very fortunate." + +The fortunate Lord Warburton exchanged a handshake with our heroine +and hoped she was very well. "But I needn't ask that," he said, "since +you've been handling the oars." + +"I've been rowing a little," Isabel answered; "but how should you know +it?" + +"Oh, I know he doesn't row; he's too lazy," said his lordship, +indicating Ralph Touchett with a laugh. + +"He has a good excuse for his laziness," Isabel rejoined, lowering her +voice a little. + +"Ah, he has a good excuse for everything!" cried Lord Warburton, still +with his sonorous mirth. + +"My excuse for not rowing is that my cousin rows so well," said Ralph. +"She does everything well. She touches nothing that she doesn't adorn!" + +"It makes one want to be touched, Miss Archer," Lord Warburton declared. + +"Be touched in the right sense and you'll never look the worse for +it," said Isabel, who, if it pleased her to hear it said that her +accomplishments were numerous, was happily able to reflect that such +complacency was not the indication of a feeble mind, inasmuch as there +were several things in which she excelled. Her desire to think well of +herself had at least the element of humility that it always needed to be +supported by proof. + +Lord Warburton not only spent the night at Gardencourt, but he was +persuaded to remain over the second day; and when the second day was +ended he determined to postpone his departure till the morrow. During +this period he addressed many of his remarks to Isabel, who accepted +this evidence of his esteem with a very good grace. She found herself +liking him extremely; the first impression he had made on her had had +weight, but at the end of an evening spent in his society she scarce +fell short of seeing him--though quite without luridity--as a hero +of romance. She retired to rest with a sense of good fortune, with a +quickened consciousness of possible felicities. "It's very nice to know +two such charming people as those," she said, meaning by "those" her +cousin and her cousin's friend. It must be added moreover that an +incident had occurred which might have seemed to put her good-humour to +the test. Mr. Touchett went to bed at half-past nine o'clock, but his +wife remained in the drawing-room with the other members of the party. +She prolonged her vigil for something less than an hour, and then, +rising, observed to Isabel that it was time they should bid the +gentlemen good-night. Isabel had as yet no desire to go to bed; the +occasion wore, to her sense, a festive character, and feasts were not +in the habit of terminating so early. So, without further thought, she +replied, very simply-- + +"Need I go, dear aunt? I'll come up in half an hour." + +"It's impossible I should wait for you," Mrs. Touchett answered. + +"Ah, you needn't wait! Ralph will light my candle," Isabel gaily +engaged. + +"I'll light your candle; do let me light your candle, Miss Archer!" Lord +Warburton exclaimed. "Only I beg it shall not be before midnight." + +Mrs. Touchett fixed her bright little eyes upon him a moment and +transferred them coldly to her niece. "You can't stay alone with the +gentlemen. You're not--you're not at your blest Albany, my dear." + +Isabel rose, blushing. "I wish I were," she said. + +"Oh, I say, mother!" Ralph broke out. + +"My dear Mrs. Touchett!" Lord Warburton murmured. + +"I didn't make your country, my lord," Mrs. Touchett said majestically. +"I must take it as I find it." + +"Can't I stay with my own cousin?" Isabel enquired. + +"I'm not aware that Lord Warburton is your cousin." + +"Perhaps I had better go to bed!" the visitor suggested. "That will +arrange it." + +Mrs. Touchett gave a little look of despair and sat down again. "Oh, if +it's necessary I'll stay up till midnight." + +Ralph meanwhile handed Isabel her candlestick. He had been watching her; +it had seemed to him her temper was involved--an accident that might +be interesting. But if he had expected anything of a flare he was +disappointed, for the girl simply laughed a little, nodded good-night +and withdrew accompanied by her aunt. For himself he was annoyed at his +mother, though he thought she was right. Above-stairs the two ladies +separated at Mrs. Touchett's door. Isabel had said nothing on her way +up. + +"Of course you're vexed at my interfering with you," said Mrs. Touchett. + +Isabel considered. "I'm not vexed, but I'm surprised--and a good deal +mystified. Wasn't it proper I should remain in the drawing-room?" + +"Not in the least. Young girls here--in decent houses--don't sit alone +with the gentlemen late at night." + +"You were very right to tell me then," said Isabel. "I don't understand +it, but I'm very glad to know it. + +"I shall always tell you," her aunt answered, "whenever I see you taking +what seems to me too much liberty." + +"Pray do; but I don't say I shall always think your remonstrance just." + +"Very likely not. You're too fond of your own ways." + +"Yes, I think I'm very fond of them. But I always want to know the +things one shouldn't do." + +"So as to do them?" asked her aunt. + +"So as to choose," said Isabel. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +As she was devoted to romantic effects Lord Warburton ventured to +express a hope that she would come some day and see his house, a very +curious old place. He extracted from Mrs. Touchett a promise that she +would bring her niece to Lockleigh, and Ralph signified his willingness +to attend the ladies if his father should be able to spare him. Lord +Warburton assured our heroine that in the mean time his sisters would +come and see her. She knew something about his sisters, having sounded +him, during the hours they spent together while he was at Gardencourt, +on many points connected with his family. When Isabel was interested she +asked a great many questions, and as her companion was a copious talker +she urged him on this occasion by no means in vain. He told her he +had four sisters and two brothers and had lost both his parents. The +brothers and sisters were very good people--"not particularly clever, +you know," he said, "but very decent and pleasant;" and he was so good +as to hope Miss Archer might know them well. One of the brothers was in +the Church, settled in the family living, that of Lockleigh, which was +a heavy, sprawling parish, and was an excellent fellow in spite of his +thinking differently from himself on every conceivable topic. And then +Lord Warburton mentioned some of the opinions held by his brother, which +were opinions Isabel had often heard expressed and that she supposed to +be entertained by a considerable portion of the human family. Many of +them indeed she supposed she had held herself, till he assured her +she was quite mistaken, that it was really impossible, that she had +doubtless imagined she entertained them, but that she might depend that, +if she thought them over a little, she would find there was nothing +in them. When she answered that she had already thought several of the +questions involved over very attentively he declared that she was only +another example of what he had often been struck with--the fact that, +of all the people in the world, the Americans were the most grossly +superstitious. They were rank Tories and bigots, every one of them; +there were no conservatives like American conservatives. Her uncle and +her cousin were there to prove it; nothing could be more medieval than +many of their views; they had ideas that people in England nowadays were +ashamed to confess to; and they had the impudence moreover, said his +lordship, laughing, to pretend they knew more about the needs and +dangers of this poor dear stupid old England than he who was born in it +and owned a considerable slice of it--the more shame to him! From all of +which Isabel gathered that Lord Warburton was a nobleman of the newest +pattern, a reformer, a radical, a contemner of ancient ways. His other +brother, who was in the army in India, was rather wild and pig-headed +and had not been of much use as yet but to make debts for Warburton to +pay--one of the most precious privileges of an elder brother. "I don't +think I shall pay any more," said her friend; "he lives a monstrous deal +better than I do, enjoys unheard-of luxuries and thinks himself a much +finer gentleman than I. As I'm a consistent radical I go in only for +equality; I don't go in for the superiority of the younger brothers." +Two of his four sisters, the second and fourth, were married, one of +them having done very well, as they said, the other only so-so. +The husband of the elder, Lord Haycock, was a very good fellow, but +unfortunately a horrid Tory; and his wife, like all good English wives, +was worse than her husband. The other had espoused a smallish squire +in Norfolk and, though married but the other day, had already five +children. This information and much more Lord Warburton imparted to his +young American listener, taking pains to make many things clear and to +lay bare to her apprehension the peculiarities of English life. Isabel +was often amused at his explicitness and at the small allowance he +seemed to make either for her own experience or for her imagination. "He +thinks I'm a barbarian," she said, "and that I've never seen forks and +spoons;" and she used to ask him artless questions for the pleasure of +hearing him answer seriously. Then when he had fallen into the trap, +"It's a pity you can't see me in my war-paint and feathers," she +remarked; "if I had known how kind you are to the poor savages I would +have brought over my native costume!" Lord Warburton had travelled +through the United States and knew much more about them than Isabel; he +was so good as to say that America was the most charming country in the +world, but his recollections of it appeared to encourage the idea that +Americans in England would need to have a great many things explained +to them. "If I had only had you to explain things to me in America!" +he said. "I was rather puzzled in your country; in fact I was quite +bewildered, and the trouble was that the explanations only puzzled me +more. You know I think they often gave me the wrong ones on purpose; +they're rather clever about that over there. But when I explain you +can trust me; about what I tell you there's no mistake." There was no +mistake at least about his being very intelligent and cultivated and +knowing almost everything in the world. Although he gave the most +interesting and thrilling glimpses Isabel felt he never did it to +exhibit himself, and though he had had rare chances and had tumbled in, +as she put it, for high prizes, he was as far as possible from making +a merit of it. He had enjoyed the best things of life, but they had not +spoiled his sense of proportion. His quality was a mixture of the effect +of rich experience--oh, so easily come by!--with a modesty at times +almost boyish; the sweet and wholesome savour of which--it was as +agreeable as something tasted--lost nothing from the addition of a tone +of responsible kindness. + +"I like your specimen English gentleman very much," Isabel said to Ralph +after Lord Warburton had gone. + +"I like him too--I love him well," Ralph returned. "But I pity him +more." + +Isabel looked at him askance. "Why, that seems to me his only +fault--that one can't pity him a little. He appears to have everything, +to know everything, to be everything." + +"Oh, he's in a bad way!" Ralph insisted. + +"I suppose you don't mean in health?" + +"No, as to that he's detestably sound. What I mean is that he's a man +with a great position who's playing all sorts of tricks with it. He +doesn't take himself seriously." + +"Does he regard himself as a joke?" + +"Much worse; he regards himself as an imposition--as an abuse." + +"Well, perhaps he is," said Isabel. + +"Perhaps he is--though on the whole I don't think so. But in that case +what's more pitiable than a sentient, self-conscious abuse planted by +other hands, deeply rooted but aching with a sense of its injustice? +For me, in his place, I could be as solemn as a statue of Buddha. +He occupies a position that appeals to my imagination. Great +responsibilities, great opportunities, great consideration, great +wealth, great power, a natural share in the public affairs of a great +country. But he's all in a muddle about himself, his position, his +power, and indeed about everything in the world. He's the victim of a +critical age; he has ceased to believe in himself and he doesn't know +what to believe in. When I attempt to tell him (because if I were he I +know very well what I should believe in) he calls me a pampered bigot. +I believe he seriously thinks me an awful Philistine; he says I don't +understand my time. I understand it certainly better than he, who +can neither abolish himself as a nuisance nor maintain himself as an +institution." + +"He doesn't look very wretched," Isabel observed. + +"Possibly not; though, being a man of a good deal of charming taste, I +think he often has uncomfortable hours. But what is it to say of a being +of his opportunities that he's not miserable? Besides, I believe he is." + +"I don't," said Isabel. + +"Well," her cousin rejoined, "if he isn't he ought to be!" + +In the afternoon she spent an hour with her uncle on the lawn, where the +old man sat, as usual, with his shawl over his legs and his large cup +of diluted tea in his hands. In the course of conversation he asked her +what she thought of their late visitor. + +Isabel was prompt. "I think he's charming." + +"He's a nice person," said Mr. Touchett, "but I don't recommend you to +fall in love with him." + +"I shall not do it then; I shall never fall in love but on your +recommendation. Moreover," Isabel added, "my cousin gives me rather a +sad account of Lord Warburton." + +"Oh, indeed? I don't know what there may be to say, but you must +remember that Ralph must talk." + +"He thinks your friend's too subversive--or not subversive enough! I +don't quite understand which," said Isabel. + +The old man shook his head slowly, smiled and put down his cup. "I don't +know which either. He goes very far, but it's quite possible he doesn't +go far enough. He seems to want to do away with a good many things, but +he seems to want to remain himself. I suppose that's natural, but it's +rather inconsistent." + +"Oh, I hope he'll remain himself," said Isabel. "If he were to be done +away with his friends would miss him sadly." + +"Well," said the old man, "I guess he'll stay and amuse his friends. +I should certainly miss him very much here at Gardencourt. He always +amuses me when he comes over, and I think he amuses himself as well. +There's a considerable number like him, round in society; they're very +fashionable just now. I don't know what they're trying to do--whether +they're trying to get up a revolution. I hope at any rate they'll put it +off till after I'm gone. You see they want to disestablish everything; +but I'm a pretty big landowner here, and I don't want to be +disestablished. I wouldn't have come over if I had thought they +were going to behave like that," Mr. Touchett went on with expanding +hilarity. "I came over because I thought England was a safe country. I +call it a regular fraud if they are going to introduce any considerable +changes; there'll be a large number disappointed in that case." + +"Oh, I do hope they'll make a revolution!" Isabel exclaimed. "I should +delight in seeing a revolution." + +"Let me see," said her uncle, with a humorous intention; "I forget +whether you're on the side of the old or on the side of the new. I've +heard you take such opposite views." + +"I'm on the side of both. I guess I'm a little on the side of +everything. In a revolution--after it was well begun--I think I should +be a high, proud loyalist. One sympathises more with them, and they've a +chance to behave so exquisitely. I mean so picturesquely." + +"I don't know that I understand what you mean by behaving picturesquely, +but it seems to me that you do that always, my dear." + +"Oh, you lovely man, if I could believe that!" the girl interrupted. + +"I'm afraid, after all, you won't have the pleasure of going gracefully +to the guillotine here just now," Mr. Touchett went on. "If you want to +see a big outbreak you must pay us a long visit. You see, when you come +to the point it wouldn't suit them to be taken at their word." + +"Of whom are you speaking?" + +"Well, I mean Lord Warburton and his friends--the radicals of the upper +class. Of course I only know the way it strikes me. They talk about the +changes, but I don't think they quite realise. You and I, you know, we +know what it is to have lived under democratic institutions: I always +thought them very comfortable, but I was used to them from the first. +And then I ain't a lord; you're a lady, my dear, but I ain't a lord. Now +over here I don't think it quite comes home to them. It's a matter of +every day and every hour, and I don't think many of them would find it +as pleasant as what they've got. Of course if they want to try, it's +their own business; but I expect they won't try very hard." + +"Don't you think they're sincere?" Isabel asked. + +"Well, they want to FEEL earnest," Mr. Touchett allowed; "but it seems +as if they took it out in theories mostly. Their radical views are a +kind of amusement; they've got to have some amusement, and they might +have coarser tastes than that. You see they're very luxurious, and these +progressive ideas are about their biggest luxury. They make them feel +moral and yet don't damage their position. They think a great deal of +their position; don't let one of them ever persuade you he doesn't, for +if you were to proceed on that basis you'd be pulled up very short." + +Isabel followed her uncle's argument, which he unfolded with his quaint +distinctness, most attentively, and though she was unacquainted with the +British aristocracy she found it in harmony with her general impressions +of human nature. But she felt moved to put in a protest on Lord +Warburton's behalf. "I don't believe Lord Warburton's a humbug; I don't +care what the others are. I should like to see Lord Warburton put to the +test." + +"Heaven deliver me from my friends!" Mr. Touchett answered. "Lord +Warburton's a very amiable young man--a very fine young man. He has a +hundred thousand a year. He owns fifty thousand acres of the soil of +this little island and ever so many other things besides. He has half a +dozen houses to live in. He has a seat in Parliament as I have one at my +own dinner-table. He has elegant tastes--cares for literature, for art, +for science, for charming young ladies. The most elegant is his taste +for the new views. It affords him a great deal of pleasure--more +perhaps than anything else, except the young ladies. His old house over +there--what does he call it, Lockleigh?--is very attractive; but I don't +think it's as pleasant as this. That doesn't matter, however--he has +so many others. His views don't hurt any one as far as I can see; they +certainly don't hurt himself. And if there were to be a revolution he +would come off very easily. They wouldn't touch him, they'd leave him as +he is: he's too much liked." + +"Ah, he couldn't be a martyr even if he wished!" Isabel sighed. "That's +a very poor position." + +"He'll never be a martyr unless you make him one," said the old man. + +Isabel shook her head; there might have been something laughable in the +fact that she did it with a touch of melancholy. "I shall never make any +one a martyr." + +"You'll never be one, I hope." + +"I hope not. But you don't pity Lord Warburton then as Ralph does?" + +Her uncle looked at her a while with genial acuteness. "Yes, I do, after +all!" + + + +CHAPTER IX + +The two Misses Molyneux, this nobleman's sisters, came presently to call +upon her, and Isabel took a fancy to the young ladies, who appeared to +her to show a most original stamp. It is true that when she described +them to her cousin by that term he declared that no epithet could be +less applicable than this to the two Misses Molyneux, since there +were fifty thousand young women in England who exactly resembled them. +Deprived of this advantage, however, Isabel's visitors retained that +of an extreme sweetness and shyness of demeanour, and of having, as +she thought, eyes like the balanced basins, the circles of "ornamental +water," set, in parterres, among the geraniums. + +"They're not morbid, at any rate, whatever they are," our heroine said +to herself; and she deemed this a great charm, for two or three of the +friends of her girlhood had been regrettably open to the charge (they +would have been so nice without it), to say nothing of Isabel's having +occasionally suspected it as a tendency of her own. The Misses Molyneux +were not in their first youth, but they had bright, fresh complexions +and something of the smile of childhood. Yes, their eyes, which Isabel +admired, were round, quiet and contented, and their figures, also of a +generous roundness, were encased in sealskin jackets. Their friendliness +was great, so great that they were almost embarrassed to show it; they +seemed somewhat afraid of the young lady from the other side of the +world and rather looked than spoke their good wishes. But they made it +clear to her that they hoped she would come to luncheon at Lockleigh, +where they lived with their brother, and then they might see her very, +very often. They wondered if she wouldn't come over some day, and sleep: +they were expecting some people on the twenty-ninth, so perhaps she +would come while the people were there. + +"I'm afraid it isn't any one very remarkable," said the elder sister; +"but I dare say you'll take us as you find us." + +"I shall find you delightful; I think you're enchanting just as you +are," replied Isabel, who often praised profusely. + +Her visitors flushed, and her cousin told her, after they were gone, +that if she said such things to those poor girls they would think she +was in some wild, free manner practising on them: he was sure it was the +first time they had been called enchanting. + +"I can't help it," Isabel answered. "I think it's lovely to be so quiet +and reasonable and satisfied. I should like to be like that." + +"Heaven forbid!" cried Ralph with ardour. + +"I mean to try and imitate them," said Isabel. "I want very much to see +them at home." + +She had this pleasure a few days later, when, with Ralph and his mother, +she drove over to Lockleigh. She found the Misses Molyneux sitting in a +vast drawing-room (she perceived afterwards it was one of several) in a +wilderness of faded chintz; they were dressed on this occasion in black +velveteen. Isabel liked them even better at home than she had done at +Gardencourt, and was more than ever struck with the fact that they were +not morbid. It had seemed to her before that if they had a fault it was +a want of play of mind; but she presently saw they were capable of deep +emotion. Before luncheon she was alone with them for some time, on one +side of the room, while Lord Warburton, at a distance, talked to Mrs. +Touchett. + +"Is it true your brother's such a great radical?" Isabel asked. She +knew it was true, but we have seen that her interest in human nature was +keen, and she had a desire to draw the Misses Molyneux out. + +"Oh dear, yes; he's immensely advanced," said Mildred, the younger +sister. + +"At the same time Warburton's very reasonable," Miss Molyneux observed. + +Isabel watched him a moment at the other side of the room; he was +clearly trying hard to make himself agreeable to Mrs. Touchett. Ralph +had met the frank advances of one of the dogs before the fire that the +temperature of an English August, in the ancient expanses, had not +made an impertinence. "Do you suppose your brother's sincere?" Isabel +enquired with a smile. + +"Oh, he must be, you know!" Mildred exclaimed quickly, while the elder +sister gazed at our heroine in silence. + +"Do you think he would stand the test?" + +"The test?" + +"I mean for instance having to give up all this." + +"Having to give up Lockleigh?" said Miss Molyneux, finding her voice. + +"Yes, and the other places; what are they called?" + +The two sisters exchanged an almost frightened glance. "Do you mean--do +you mean on account of the expense?" the younger one asked. + +"I dare say he might let one or two of his houses," said the other. + +"Let them for nothing?" Isabel demanded. + +"I can't fancy his giving up his property," said Miss Molyneux. + +"Ah, I'm afraid he is an impostor!" Isabel returned. "Don't you think +it's a false position?" + +Her companions, evidently, had lost themselves. "My brother's position?" +Miss Molyneux enquired. + +"It's thought a very good position," said the younger sister. "It's the +first position in this part of the county." + +"I dare say you think me very irreverent," Isabel took occasion to +remark. "I suppose you revere your brother and are rather afraid of +him." + +"Of course one looks up to one's brother," said Miss Molyneux simply. + +"If you do that he must be very good--because you, evidently, are +beautifully good." + +"He's most kind. It will never be known, the good he does." + +"His ability is known," Mildred added; "every one thinks it's immense." + +"Oh, I can see that," said Isabel. "But if I were he I should wish to +fight to the death: I mean for the heritage of the past. I should hold +it tight." + +"I think one ought to be liberal," Mildred argued gently. "We've always +been so, even from the earliest times." + +"Ah well," said Isabel, "you've made a great success of it; I don't +wonder you like it. I see you're very fond of crewels." + +When Lord Warburton showed her the house, after luncheon, it seemed to +her a matter of course that it should be a noble picture. Within, it +had been a good deal modernised--some of its best points had lost their +purity; but as they saw it from the gardens, a stout grey pile, of the +softest, deepest, most weather-fretted hue, rising from a broad, still +moat, it affected the young visitor as a castle in a legend. The day was +cool and rather lustreless; the first note of autumn had been struck, +and the watery sunshine rested on the walls in blurred and desultory +gleams, washing them, as it were, in places tenderly chosen, where the +ache of antiquity was keenest. Her host's brother, the Vicar, had come +to luncheon, and Isabel had had five minutes' talk with him--time enough +to institute a search for a rich ecclesiasticism and give it up as +vain. The marks of the Vicar of Lockleigh were a big, athletic figure, +a candid, natural countenance, a capacious appetite and a tendency to +indiscriminate laughter. Isabel learned afterwards from her cousin +that before taking orders he had been a mighty wrestler and that he +was still, on occasion--in the privacy of the family circle as it +were--quite capable of flooring his man. Isabel liked him--she was in +the mood for liking everything; but her imagination was a good deal +taxed to think of him as a source of spiritual aid. The whole party, on +leaving lunch, went to walk in the grounds; but Lord Warburton exercised +some ingenuity in engaging his least familiar guest in a stroll apart +from the others. + +"I wish you to see the place properly, seriously," he said. "You can't +do so if your attention is distracted by irrelevant gossip." His own +conversation (though he told Isabel a good deal about the house, which +had a very curious history) was not purely archaeological; he reverted +at intervals to matters more personal--matters personal to the young +lady as well as to himself. But at last, after a pause of some duration, +returning for a moment to their ostensible theme, "Ah, well," he said, +"I'm very glad indeed you like the old barrack. I wish you could see +more of it--that you could stay here a while. My sisters have taken an +immense fancy to you--if that would be any inducement." + +"There's no want of inducements," Isabel answered; "but I'm afraid I +can't make engagements. I'm quite in my aunt's hands." + +"Ah, pardon me if I say I don't exactly believe that. I'm pretty sure +you can do whatever you want." + +"I'm sorry if I make that impression on you; I don't think it's a nice +impression to make." + +"It has the merit of permitting me to hope." And Lord Warburton paused a +moment. + +"To hope what?" + +"That in future I may see you often." + +"Ah," said Isabel, "to enjoy that pleasure I needn't be so terribly +emancipated." + +"Doubtless not; and yet, at the same time, I don't think your uncle +likes me." + +"You're very much mistaken. I've heard him speak very highly of you." + +"I'm glad you have talked about me," said Lord Warburton. "But, I +nevertheless don't think he'd like me to keep coming to Gardencourt." + +"I can't answer for my uncle's tastes," the girl rejoined, "though I +ought as far as possible to take them into account. But for myself I +shall be very glad to see you." + +"Now that's what I like to hear you say. I'm charmed when you say that." + +"You're easily charmed, my lord," said Isabel. + +"No, I'm not easily charmed!" And then he stopped a moment. "But you've +charmed me, Miss Archer." + +These words were uttered with an indefinable sound which startled the +girl; it struck her as the prelude to something grave: she had heard the +sound before and she recognised it. She had no wish, however, that for +the moment such a prelude should have a sequel, and she said as gaily +as possible and as quickly as an appreciable degree of agitation would +allow her: "I'm afraid there's no prospect of my being able to come here +again." + +"Never?" said Lord Warburton. + +"I won't say 'never'; I should feel very melodramatic." + +"May I come and see you then some day next week?" + +"Most assuredly. What is there to prevent it?" + +"Nothing tangible. But with you I never feel safe. I've a sort of sense +that you're always summing people up." + +"You don't of necessity lose by that." + +"It's very kind of you to say so; but, even if I gain, stern justice is +not what I most love. Is Mrs. Touchett going to take you abroad?" + +"I hope so." + +"Is England not good enough for you?" + +"That's a very Machiavellian speech; it doesn't deserve an answer. I +want to see as many countries as I can." + +"Then you'll go on judging, I suppose." + +"Enjoying, I hope, too." + +"Yes, that's what you enjoy most; I can't make out what you're up to," +said Lord Warburton. "You strike me as having mysterious purposes--vast +designs." + +"You're so good as to have a theory about me which I don't at all fill +out. Is there anything mysterious in a purpose entertained and +executed every year, in the most public manner, by fifty thousand of +my fellow-countrymen--the purpose of improving one's mind by foreign +travel?" + +"You can't improve your mind, Miss Archer," her companion declared. +"It's already a most formidable instrument. It looks down on us all; it +despises us." + +"Despises you? You're making fun of me," said Isabel seriously. + +"Well, you think us 'quaint'--that's the same thing. I won't be thought +'quaint,' to begin with; I'm not so in the least. I protest." + +"That protest is one of the quaintest things I've ever heard," Isabel +answered with a smile. + +Lord Warburton was briefly silent. "You judge only from the outside--you +don't care," he said presently. "You only care to amuse yourself." The +note she had heard in his voice a moment before reappeared, and mixed +with it now was an audible strain of bitterness--a bitterness so abrupt +and inconsequent that the girl was afraid she had hurt him. She had +often heard that the English are a highly eccentric people, and she +had even read in some ingenious author that they are at bottom the most +romantic of races. Was Lord Warburton suddenly turning romantic--was he +going to make her a scene, in his own house, only the third time they +had met? She was reassured quickly enough by her sense of his great good +manners, which was not impaired by the fact that he had already touched +the furthest limit of good taste in expressing his admiration of a young +lady who had confided in his hospitality. She was right in trusting +to his good manners, for he presently went on, laughing a little and +without a trace of the accent that had discomposed her: "I don't mean of +course that you amuse yourself with trifles. You select great materials; +the foibles, the afflictions of human nature, the peculiarities of +nations!" + +"As regards that," said Isabel, "I should find in my own nation +entertainment for a lifetime. But we've a long drive, and my aunt +will soon wish to start." She turned back toward the others and Lord +Warburton walked beside her in silence. But before they reached the +others, "I shall come and see you next week," he said. + +She had received an appreciable shock, but as it died away she felt that +she couldn't pretend to herself that it was altogether a painful one. +Nevertheless she made answer to his declaration, coldly enough, "Just as +you please." And her coldness was not the calculation of her effect--a +game she played in a much smaller degree than would have seemed probable +to many critics. It came from a certain fear. + + + +CHAPTER X + +The day after her visit to Lockleigh she received a note from her friend +Miss Stackpole--a note of which the envelope, exhibiting in conjunction +the postmark of Liverpool and the neat calligraphy of the quick-fingered +Henrietta, caused her some liveliness of emotion. "Here I am, my lovely +friend," Miss Stackpole wrote; "I managed to get off at last. I decided +only the night before I left New York--the Interviewer having come round +to my figure. I put a few things into a bag, like a veteran journalist, +and came down to the steamer in a street-car. Where are you and where +can we meet? I suppose you're visiting at some castle or other and have +already acquired the correct accent. Perhaps even you have married a +lord; I almost hope you have, for I want some introductions to the first +people and shall count on you for a few. The Interviewer wants some +light on the nobility. My first impressions (of the people at large) are +not rose-coloured; but I wish to talk them over with you, and you know +that, whatever I am, at least I'm not superficial. I've also something +very particular to tell you. Do appoint a meeting as quickly as you can; +come to London (I should like so much to visit the sights with you) or +else let me come to you, wherever you are. I will do so with pleasure; +for you know everything interests me and I wish to see as much as +possible of the inner life." + +Isabel judged best not to show this letter to her uncle; but she +acquainted him with its purport, and, as she expected, he begged her +instantly to assure Miss Stackpole, in his name, that he should be +delighted to receive her at Gardencourt. "Though she's a literary lady," +he said, "I suppose that, being an American, she won't show me up, as +that other one did. She has seen others like me." + +"She has seen no other so delightful!" Isabel answered; but she was +not altogether at ease about Henrietta's reproductive instincts, which +belonged to that side of her friend's character which she regarded with +least complacency. She wrote to Miss Stackpole, however, that she would +be very welcome under Mr. Touchett's roof; and this alert young woman +lost no time in announcing her prompt approach. She had gone up to +London, and it was from that centre that she took the train for the +station nearest to Gardencourt, where Isabel and Ralph were in waiting +to receive her. + +"Shall I love her or shall I hate her?" Ralph asked while they moved +along the platform. + +"Whichever you do will matter very little to her," said Isabel. "She +doesn't care a straw what men think of her." + +"As a man I'm bound to dislike her then. She must be a kind of monster. +Is she very ugly?" + +"No, she's decidedly pretty." + +"A female interviewer--a reporter in petticoats? I'm very curious to see +her," Ralph conceded. + +"It's very easy to laugh at her but it is not easy to be as brave as +she." + +"I should think not; crimes of violence and attacks on the person +require more or less pluck. Do you suppose she'll interview me?" + +"Never in the world. She'll not think you of enough importance." + +"You'll see," said Ralph. "She'll send a description of us all, +including Bunchie, to her newspaper." + +"I shall ask her not to," Isabel answered. + +"You think she's capable of it then?" + +"Perfectly." + +"And yet you've made her your bosom-friend?" + +"I've not made her my bosom-friend; but I like her in spite of her +faults." + +"Ah well," said Ralph, "I'm afraid I shall dislike her in spite of her +merits." + +"You'll probably fall in love with her at the end of three days." + +"And have my love-letters published in the Interviewer? Never!" cried +the young man. + +The train presently arrived, and Miss Stackpole, promptly descending, +proved, as Isabel had promised, quite delicately, even though rather +provincially, fair. She was a neat, plump person, of medium stature, +with a round face, a small mouth, a delicate complexion, a bunch of +light brown ringlets at the back of her head and a peculiarly open, +surprised-looking eye. The most striking point in her appearance was the +remarkable fixedness of this organ, which rested without impudence or +defiance, but as if in conscientious exercise of a natural right, upon +every object it happened to encounter. It rested in this manner upon +Ralph himself, a little arrested by Miss Stackpole's gracious and +comfortable aspect, which hinted that it wouldn't be so easy as he had +assumed to disapprove of her. She rustled, she shimmered, in fresh, +dove-coloured draperies, and Ralph saw at a glance that she was as crisp +and new and comprehensive as a first issue before the folding. From top +to toe she had probably no misprint. She spoke in a clear, high voice--a +voice not rich but loud; yet after she had taken her place with her +companions in Mr. Touchett's carriage she struck him as not all in the +large type, the type of horrid "headings," that he had expected. She +answered the enquiries made of her by Isabel, however, and in which the +young man ventured to join, with copious lucidity; and later, in the +library at Gardencourt, when she had made the acquaintance of Mr. +Touchett (his wife not having thought it necessary to appear) did more +to give the measure of her confidence in her powers. + +"Well, I should like to know whether you consider yourselves American +or English," she broke out. "If once I knew I could talk to you +accordingly." + +"Talk to us anyhow and we shall be thankful," Ralph liberally answered. + +She fixed her eyes on him, and there was something in their character +that reminded him of large polished buttons--buttons that might have +fixed the elastic loops of some tense receptacle: he seemed to see the +reflection of surrounding objects on the pupil. The expression of a +button is not usually deemed human, but there was something in Miss +Stackpole's gaze that made him, as a very modest man, feel vaguely +embarrassed--less inviolate, more dishonoured, than he liked. This +sensation, it must be added, after he had spent a day or two in her +company, sensibly diminished, though it never wholly lapsed. "I don't +suppose that you're going to undertake to persuade me that you're an +American," she said. + +"To please you I'll be an Englishman, I'll be a Turk!" + +"Well, if you can change about that way you're very welcome," Miss +Stackpole returned. + +"I'm sure you understand everything and that differences of nationality +are no barrier to you," Ralph went on. + +Miss Stackpole gazed at him still. "Do you mean the foreign languages?" + +"The languages are nothing. I mean the spirit--the genius." + +"I'm not sure that I understand you," said the correspondent of the +Interviewer; "but I expect I shall before I leave." + +"He's what's called a cosmopolite," Isabel suggested. + +"That means he's a little of everything and not much of any. I must say +I think patriotism is like charity--it begins at home." + +"Ah, but where does home begin, Miss Stackpole?" Ralph enquired. + +"I don't know where it begins, but I know where it ends. It ended a long +time before I got here." + +"Don't you like it over here?" asked Mr. Touchett with his aged, +innocent voice. + +"Well, sir, I haven't quite made up my mind what ground I shall take. +I feel a good deal cramped. I felt it on the journey from Liverpool to +London." + +"Perhaps you were in a crowded carriage," Ralph suggested. + +"Yes, but it was crowded with friends--party of Americans whose +acquaintance I had made upon the steamer; a lovely group from Little +Rock, Arkansas. In spite of that I felt cramped--I felt something +pressing upon me; I couldn't tell what it was. I felt at the very +commencement as if I were not going to accord with the atmosphere. But +I suppose I shall make my own atmosphere. That's the true way--then you +can breathe. Your surroundings seem very attractive." + +"Ah, we too are a lovely group!" said Ralph. "Wait a little and you'll +see." + +Miss Stackpole showed every disposition to wait and evidently was +prepared to make a considerable stay at Gardencourt. She occupied +herself in the mornings with literary labour; but in spite of this +Isabel spent many hours with her friend, who, once her daily task +performed, deprecated, in fact defied, isolation. Isabel speedily found +occasion to desire her to desist from celebrating the charms of their +common sojourn in print, having discovered, on the second morning +of Miss Stackpole's visit, that she was engaged on a letter to the +Interviewer, of which the title, in her exquisitely neat and legible +hand (exactly that of the copybooks which our heroine remembered at +school) was "Americans and Tudors--Glimpses of Gardencourt." Miss +Stackpole, with the best conscience in the world, offered to read her +letter to Isabel, who immediately put in her protest. + +"I don't think you ought to do that. I don't think you ought to describe +the place." + +Henrietta gazed at her as usual. "Why, it's just what the people want, +and it's a lovely place." + +"It's too lovely to be put in the newspapers, and it's not what my uncle +wants." + +"Don't you believe that!" cried Henrietta. "They're always delighted +afterwards." + +"My uncle won't be delighted--nor my cousin either. They'll consider it +a breach of hospitality." + +Miss Stackpole showed no sense of confusion; she simply wiped her pen, +very neatly, upon an elegant little implement which she kept for the +purpose, and put away her manuscript. "Of course if you don't approve I +won't do it; but I sacrifice a beautiful subject." + +"There are plenty of other subjects, there are subjects all round you. +We'll take some drives; I'll show you some charming scenery." + +"Scenery's not my department; I always need a human interest. You know +I'm deeply human, Isabel; I always was," Miss Stackpole rejoined. "I was +going to bring in your cousin--the alienated American. There's a +great demand just now for the alienated American, and your cousin's a +beautiful specimen. I should have handled him severely." + +"He would have died of it!" Isabel exclaimed. "Not of the severity, but +of the publicity." + +"Well, I should have liked to kill him a little. And I should have +delighted to do your uncle, who seems to me a much nobler type--the +American faithful still. He's a grand old man; I don't see how he can +object to my paying him honour." + +Isabel looked at her companion in much wonderment; it struck her as +strange that a nature in which she found so much to esteem should break +down so in spots. "My poor Henrietta," she said, "you've no sense of +privacy." + +Henrietta coloured deeply, and for a moment her brilliant eyes were +suffused, while Isabel found her more than ever inconsequent. "You do me +great injustice," said Miss Stackpole with dignity. "I've never written +a word about myself!" + +"I'm very sure of that; but it seems to me one should be modest for +others also!" + +"Ah, that's very good!" cried Henrietta, seizing her pen again. "Just +let me make a note of it and I'll put it in somewhere." she was a +thoroughly good-natured woman, and half an hour later she was in as +cheerful a mood as should have been looked for in a newspaper-lady +in want of matter. "I've promised to do the social side," she said to +Isabel; "and how can I do it unless I get ideas? If I can't describe +this place don't you know some place I can describe?" Isabel promised +she would bethink herself, and the next day, in conversation with her +friend, she happened to mention her visit to Lord Warburton's ancient +house. "Ah, you must take me there--that's just the place for me!" Miss +Stackpole cried. "I must get a glimpse of the nobility." + +"I can't take you," said Isabel; "but Lord Warburton's coming here, and +you'll have a chance to see him and observe him. Only if you intend to +repeat his conversation I shall certainly give him warning." + +"Don't do that," her companion pleaded; "I want him to be natural." + +"An Englishman's never so natural as when he's holding his tongue," +Isabel declared. + +It was not apparent, at the end of three days, that her cousin had, +according to her prophecy, lost his heart to their visitor, though he +had spent a good deal of time in her society. They strolled about the +park together and sat under the trees, and in the afternoon, when it was +delightful to float along the Thames, Miss Stackpole occupied a place +in the boat in which hitherto Ralph had had but a single companion. Her +presence proved somehow less irreducible to soft particles than Ralph +had expected in the natural perturbation of his sense of the perfect +solubility of that of his cousin; for the correspondent of the +Interviewer prompted mirth in him, and he had long since decided that +the crescendo of mirth should be the flower of his declining days. +Henrietta, on her side, failed a little to justify Isabel's declaration +with regard to her indifference to masculine opinion; for poor Ralph +appeared to have presented himself to her as an irritating problem, +which it would be almost immoral not to work out. + +"What does he do for a living?" she asked of Isabel the evening of her +arrival. "Does he go round all day with his hands in his pockets?" + +"He does nothing," smiled Isabel; "he's a gentleman of large leisure." + +"Well, I call that a shame--when I have to work like a car-conductor," +Miss Stackpole replied. "I should like to show him up." + +"He's in wretched health; he's quite unfit for work," Isabel urged. + +"Pshaw! don't you believe it. I work when I'm sick," cried her friend. +Later, when she stepped into the boat on joining the water-party, she +remarked to Ralph that she supposed he hated her and would like to drown +her. + +"Ah no," said Ralph, "I keep my victims for a slower torture. And you'd +be such an interesting one!" + +"Well, you do torture me; I may say that. But I shock all your +prejudices; that's one comfort." + +"My prejudices? I haven't a prejudice to bless myself with. There's +intellectual poverty for you." + +"The more shame to you; I've some delicious ones. Of course I spoil your +flirtation, or whatever it is you call it, with your cousin; but I don't +care for that, as I render her the service of drawing you out. She'll +see how thin you are." + +"Ah, do draw me out!" Ralph exclaimed. "So few people will take the +trouble." + +Miss Stackpole, in this undertaking, appeared to shrink from no effort; +resorting largely, whenever the opportunity offered, to the natural +expedient of interrogation. On the following day the weather was +bad, and in the afternoon the young man, by way of providing indoor +amusement, offered to show her the pictures. Henrietta strolled through +the long gallery in his society, while he pointed out its principal +ornaments and mentioned the painters and subjects. Miss Stackpole looked +at the pictures in perfect silence, committing herself to no opinion, +and Ralph was gratified by the fact that she delivered herself of none +of the little ready-made ejaculations of delight of which the visitors +to Gardencourt were so frequently lavish. This young lady indeed, to do +her justice, was but little addicted to the use of conventional terms; +there was something earnest and inventive in her tone, which at times, +in its strained deliberation, suggested a person of high culture +speaking a foreign language. Ralph Touchett subsequently learned that +she had at one time officiated as art critic to a journal of the other +world; but she appeared, in spite of this fact, to carry in her pocket +none of the small change of admiration. Suddenly, just after he had +called her attention to a charming Constable, she turned and looked at +him as if he himself had been a picture. + +"Do you always spend your time like this?" she demanded. + +"I seldom spend it so agreeably." + +"Well, you know what I mean--without any regular occupation." + +"Ah," said Ralph, "I'm the idlest man living." + +Miss Stackpole directed her gaze to the Constable again, and Ralph +bespoke her attention for a small Lancret hanging near it, which +represented a gentleman in a pink doublet and hose and a ruff, leaning +against the pedestal of the statue of a nymph in a garden and playing +the guitar to two ladies seated on the grass. "That's my ideal of a +regular occupation," he said. + +Miss Stackpole turned to him again, and, though her eyes had rested +upon the picture, he saw she had missed the subject. She was thinking +of something much more serious. "I don't see how you can reconcile it to +your conscience." + +"My dear lady, I have no conscience!" + +"Well, I advise you to cultivate one. You'll need it the next time you +go to America." + +"I shall probably never go again." + +"Are you ashamed to show yourself?" + +Ralph meditated with a mild smile. "I suppose that if one has no +conscience one has no shame." + +"Well, you've got plenty of assurance," Henrietta declared. "Do you +consider it right to give up your country?" + +"Ah, one doesn't give up one's country any more than one gives UP +one's grandmother. They're both antecedent to choice--elements of one's +composition that are not to be eliminated." + +"I suppose that means that you've tried and been worsted. What do they +think of you over here?" + +"They delight in me." + +"That's because you truckle to them." + +"Ah, set it down a little to my natural charm!" Ralph sighed. + +"I don't know anything about your natural charm. If you've got any charm +it's quite unnatural. It's wholly acquired--or at least you've tried +hard to acquire it, living over here. I don't say you've succeeded. It's +a charm that I don't appreciate, anyway. Make yourself useful in some +way, and then we'll talk about it." "Well, now, tell me what I shall +do," said Ralph. + +"Go right home, to begin with." + +"Yes, I see. And then?" + +"Take right hold of something." + +"Well, now, what sort of thing?" + +"Anything you please, so long as you take hold. Some new idea, some big +work." + +"Is it very difficult to take hold?" Ralph enquired. + +"Not if you put your heart into it." + +"Ah, my heart," said Ralph. "If it depends upon my heart--!" + +"Haven't you got a heart?" + +"I had one a few days ago, but I've lost it since." + +"You're not serious," Miss Stackpole remarked; "that's what's the matter +with you." But for all this, in a day or two, she again permitted him to +fix her attention and on the later occasion assigned a different cause +to her mysterious perversity. "I know what's the matter with you, Mr. +Touchett," she said. "You think you're too good to get married." + +"I thought so till I knew you, Miss Stackpole," Ralph answered; "and +then I suddenly changed my mind." + +"Oh pshaw!" Henrietta groaned. + +"Then it seemed to me," said Ralph, "that I was not good enough." + +"It would improve you. Besides, it's your duty." + +"Ah," cried the young man, "one has so many duties! Is that a duty too?" + +"Of course it is--did you never know that before? It's every one's duty +to get married." + +Ralph meditated a moment; he was disappointed. There was something in +Miss Stackpole he had begun to like; it seemed to him that if she +was not a charming woman she was at least a very good "sort." She was +wanting in distinction, but, as Isabel had said, she was brave: she went +into cages, she flourished lashes, like a spangled lion-tamer. He had +not supposed her to be capable of vulgar arts, but these last words +struck him as a false note. When a marriageable young woman urges +matrimony on an unencumbered young man the most obvious explanation of +her conduct is not the altruistic impulse. + +"Ah, well now, there's a good deal to be said about that," Ralph +rejoined. + +"There may be, but that's the principal thing. I must say I think it +looks very exclusive, going round all alone, as if you thought no woman +was good enough for you. Do you think you're better than any one else in +the world? In America it's usual for people to marry." + +"If it's my duty," Ralph asked, "is it not, by analogy, yours as well?" + +Miss Stackpole's ocular surfaces unwinkingly caught the sun. "Have you +the fond hope of finding a flaw in my reasoning? Of course I've as good +a right to marry as any one else." + +"Well then," said Ralph, "I won't say it vexes me to see you single. It +delights me rather." + +"You're not serious yet. You never will be." + +"Shall you not believe me to be so on the day I tell you I desire to +give up the practice of going round alone?" + +Miss Stackpole looked at him for a moment in a manner which seemed to +announce a reply that might technically be called encouraging. But to +his great surprise this expression suddenly resolved itself into an +appearance of alarm and even of resentment. "No, not even then," she +answered dryly. After which she walked away. + +"I've not conceived a passion for your friend," Ralph said that evening +to Isabel, "though we talked some time this morning about it." + +"And you said something she didn't like," the girl replied. + +Ralph stared. "Has she complained of me?" + +"She told me she thinks there's something very low in the tone of +Europeans towards women." + +"Does she call me a European?" + +"One of the worst. She told me you had said to her something that an +American never would have said. But she didn't repeat it." + +Ralph treated himself to a luxury of laughter. "She's an extraordinary +combination. Did she think I was making love to her?" + +"No; I believe even Americans do that. But she apparently thought you +mistook the intention of something she had said, and put an unkind +construction on it." + +"I thought she was proposing marriage to me and I accepted her. Was that +unkind?" + +Isabel smiled. "It was unkind to me. I don't want you to marry." + +"My dear cousin, what's one to do among you all?" Ralph demanded. "Miss +Stackpole tells me it's my bounden duty, and that it's hers, in general, +to see I do mine!" + +"She has a great sense of duty," said Isabel gravely. "She has indeed, +and it's the motive of everything she says. That's what I like her for. +She thinks it's unworthy of you to keep so many things to yourself. +That's what she wanted to express. If you thought she was trying to--to +attract you, you were very wrong." + +"It's true it was an odd way, but I did think she was trying to attract +me. Forgive my depravity." + +"You're very conceited. She had no interested views, and never supposed +you would think she had." + +"One must be very modest then to talk with such women," Ralph said +humbly. "But it's a very strange type. She's too personal--considering +that she expects other people not to be. She walks in without knocking +at the door." + +"Yes," Isabel admitted, "she doesn't sufficiently recognise the +existence of knockers; and indeed I'm not sure that she doesn't think +them rather a pretentious ornament. She thinks one's door should stand +ajar. But I persist in liking her." + +"I persist in thinking her too familiar," Ralph rejoined, naturally +somewhat uncomfortable under the sense of having been doubly deceived in +Miss Stackpole. + +"Well," said Isabel, smiling, "I'm afraid it's because she's rather +vulgar that I like her." + +"She would be flattered by your reason!" + +"If I should tell her I wouldn't express it in that way. I should say +it's because there's something of the 'people' in her." + +"What do you know about the people? and what does she, for that matter?" + +"She knows a great deal, and I know enough to feel that she's a kind +of emanation of the great democracy--of the continent, the country, the +nation. I don't say that she sums it all up, that would be too much to +ask of her. But she suggests it; she vividly figures it." + +"You like her then for patriotic reasons. I'm afraid it is on those very +grounds I object to her." + +"Ah," said Isabel with a kind of joyous sigh, "I like so many things! If +a thing strikes me with a certain intensity I accept it. I don't want to +swagger, but I suppose I'm rather versatile. I like people to be totally +different from Henrietta--in the style of Lord Warburton's sisters for +instance. So long as I look at the Misses Molyneux they seem to me +to answer a kind of ideal. Then Henrietta presents herself, and I'm +straightway convinced by her; not so much in respect to herself as in +respect to what masses behind her." + +"Ah, you mean the back view of her," Ralph suggested. + +"What she says is true," his cousin answered; "you'll never be serious. +I like the great country stretching away beyond the rivers and across +the prairies, blooming and smiling and spreading till it stops at the +green Pacific! A strong, sweet, fresh odour seems to rise from it, +and Henrietta--pardon my simile--has something of that odour in her +garments." + +Isabel blushed a little as she concluded this speech, and the blush, +together with the momentary ardour she had thrown into it, was so +becoming to her that Ralph stood smiling at her for a moment after she +had ceased speaking. "I'm not sure the Pacific's so green as that," he +said; "but you're a young woman of imagination. Henrietta, however, does +smell of the Future--it almost knocks one down!" + + + +CHAPTER XI + +He took a resolve after this not to misinterpret her words even when +Miss Stackpole appeared to strike the personal note most strongly. He +bethought himself that persons, in her view, were simple and homogeneous +organisms, and that he, for his own part, was too perverted a +representative of the nature of man to have a right to deal with her +in strict reciprocity. He carried out his resolve with a great deal of +tact, and the young lady found in renewed contact with him no obstacle +to the exercise of her genius for unshrinking enquiry, the general +application of her confidence. Her situation at Gardencourt therefore, +appreciated as we have seen her to be by Isabel and full of appreciation +herself of that free play of intelligence which, to her sense, rendered +Isabel's character a sister-spirit, and of the easy venerableness of Mr. +Touchett, whose noble tone, as she said, met with her full approval--her +situation at Gardencourt would have been perfectly comfortable had she +not conceived an irresistible mistrust of the little lady for whom she +had at first supposed herself obliged to "allow" as mistress of the +house. She presently discovered, in truth, that this obligation was of +the lightest and that Mrs. Touchett cared very little how Miss Stackpole +behaved. Mrs. Touchett had defined her to Isabel as both an adventuress +and a bore--adventuresses usually giving one more of a thrill; she had +expressed some surprise at her niece's having selected such a friend, +yet had immediately added that she knew Isabel's friends were her own +affair and that she had never undertaken to like them all or to restrict +the girl to those she liked. + +"If you could see none but the people I like, my dear, you'd have a very +small society," Mrs. Touchett frankly admitted; "and I don't think I +like any man or woman well enough to recommend them to you. When +it comes to recommending it's a serious affair. I don't like Miss +Stackpole--everything about her displeases me; she talks so much +too loud and looks at one as if one wanted to look at her--which one +doesn't. I'm sure she has lived all her life in a boarding-house, and I +detest the manners and the liberties of such places. If you ask me if I +prefer my own manners, which you doubtless think very bad, I'll tell +you that I prefer them immensely. Miss Stackpole knows I detest +boarding-house civilisation, and she detests me for detesting it, +because she thinks it the highest in the world. She'd like Gardencourt a +great deal better if it were a boarding-house. For me, I find it almost +too much of one! We shall never get on together therefore, and there's +no use trying." + +Mrs. Touchett was right in guessing that Henrietta disapproved of her, +but she had not quite put her finger on the reason. A day or two after +Miss Stackpole's arrival she had made some invidious reflexions on +American hotels, which excited a vein of counter-argument on the part +of the correspondent of the Interviewer, who in the exercise of her +profession had acquainted herself, in the western world, with every form +of caravansary. Henrietta expressed the opinion that American hotels +were the best in the world, and Mrs. Touchett, fresh from a renewed +struggle with them, recorded a conviction that they were the worst. +Ralph, with his experimental geniality, suggested, by way of healing +the breach, that the truth lay between the two extremes and that the +establishments in question ought to be described as fair middling. This +contribution to the discussion, however, Miss Stackpole rejected with +scorn. Middling indeed! If they were not the best in the world they were +the worst, but there was nothing middling about an American hotel. + +"We judge from different points of view, evidently," said Mrs. Touchett. +"I like to be treated as an individual; you like to be treated as a +'party.'" + +"I don't know what you mean," Henrietta replied. "I like to be treated +as an American lady." + +"Poor American ladies!" cried Mrs. Touchett with a laugh. "They're the +slaves of slaves." + +"They're the companions of freemen," Henrietta retorted. + +"They're the companions of their servants--the Irish chambermaid and the +negro waiter. They share their work." + +"Do you call the domestics in an American household 'slaves'?" Miss +Stackpole enquired. "If that's the way you desire to treat them, no +wonder you don't like America." + +"If you've not good servants you're miserable," Mrs. Touchett serenely +said. "They're very bad in America, but I've five perfect ones in +Florence." + +"I don't see what you want with five," Henrietta couldn't help +observing. "I don't think I should like to see five persons surrounding +me in that menial position." + +"I like them in that position better than in some others," proclaimed +Mrs. Touchett with much meaning. + +"Should you like me better if I were your butler, dear?" her husband +asked. + +"I don't think I should: you wouldn't at all have the tenue." + +"The companions of freemen--I like that, Miss Stackpole," said Ralph. +"It's a beautiful description." + +"When I said freemen I didn't mean you, sir!" + +And this was the only reward that Ralph got for his compliment. Miss +Stackpole was baffled; she evidently thought there was something +treasonable in Mrs. Touchett's appreciation of a class which she +privately judged to be a mysterious survival of feudalism. It was +perhaps because her mind was oppressed with this image that she suffered +some days to elapse before she took occasion to say to Isabel: "My dear +friend, I wonder if you're growing faithless." + +"Faithless? Faithless to you, Henrietta?" + +"No, that would be a great pain; but it's not that." + +"Faithless to my country then?" + +"Ah, that I hope will never be. When I wrote to you from Liverpool I +said I had something particular to tell you. You've never asked me what +it is. Is it because you've suspected?" + +"Suspected what? As a rule I don't think I suspect," said Isabel. + +"I remember now that phrase in your letter, but I confess I had +forgotten it. What have you to tell me?" + +Henrietta looked disappointed, and her steady gaze betrayed it. +"You don't ask that right--as if you thought it important. You're +changed--you're thinking of other things." + +"Tell me what you mean, and I'll think of that." + +"Will you really think of it? That's what I wish to be sure of." + +"I've not much control of my thoughts, but I'll do my best," said +Isabel. Henrietta gazed at her, in silence, for a period which tried +Isabel's patience, so that our heroine added at last: "Do you mean that +you're going to be married?" + +"Not till I've seen Europe!" said Miss Stackpole. "What are you laughing +at?" she went on. "What I mean is that Mr. Goodwood came out in the +steamer with me." + +"Ah!" Isabel responded. + +"You say that right. I had a good deal of talk with him; he has come +after you." + +"Did he tell you so?" + +"No, he told me nothing; that's how I knew it," said Henrietta cleverly. +"He said very little about you, but I spoke of you a good deal." + +Isabel waited. At the mention of Mr. Goodwood's name she had turned a +little pale. "I'm very sorry you did that," she observed at last. + +"It was a pleasure to me, and I liked the way he listened. I could have +talked a long time to such a listener; he was so quiet, so intense; he +drank it all in." + +"What did you say about me?" Isabel asked. + +"I said you were on the whole the finest creature I know." + +"I'm very sorry for that. He thinks too well of me already; he oughtn't +to be encouraged." + +"He's dying for a little encouragement. I see his face now, and his +earnest absorbed look while I talked. I never saw an ugly man look so +handsome." + +"He's very simple-minded," said Isabel. "And he's not so ugly." + +"There's nothing so simplifying as a grand passion." + +"It's not a grand passion; I'm very sure it's not that." + +"You don't say that as if you were sure." + +Isabel gave rather a cold smile. "I shall say it better to Mr. Goodwood +himself." + +"He'll soon give you a chance," said Henrietta. Isabel offered no +answer to this assertion, which her companion made with an air of great +confidence. "He'll find you changed," the latter pursued. "You've been +affected by your new surroundings." + +"Very likely. I'm affected by everything." + +"By everything but Mr. Goodwood!" Miss Stackpole exclaimed with a +slightly harsh hilarity. + +Isabel failed even to smile back and in a moment she said: "Did he ask +you to speak to me?" + +"Not in so many words. But his eyes asked it--and his handshake, when he +bade me good-bye." + +"Thank you for doing so." And Isabel turned away. + +"Yes, you're changed; you've got new ideas over here," her friend +continued. + +"I hope so," said Isabel; "one should get as many new ideas as +possible." + +"Yes; but they shouldn't interfere with the old ones when the old ones +have been the right ones." + +Isabel turned about again. "If you mean that I had any idea with regard +to Mr. Goodwood--!" But she faltered before her friend's implacable +glitter. + +"My dear child, you certainly encouraged him." + +Isabel made for the moment as if to deny this charge; instead of which, +however, she presently answered: "It's very true. I did encourage him." +And then she asked if her companion had learned from Mr. Goodwood +what he intended to do. It was a concession to her curiosity, for she +disliked discussing the subject and found Henrietta wanting in delicacy. + +"I asked him, and he said he meant to do nothing," Miss Stackpole +answered. "But I don't believe that; he's not a man to do nothing. He +is a man of high, bold action. Whatever happens to him he'll always do +something, and whatever he does will always be right." + +"I quite believe that." Henrietta might be wanting in delicacy, but it +touched the girl, all the same, to hear this declaration. + +"Ah, you do care for him!" her visitor rang out. + +"Whatever he does will always be right," Isabel repeated. "When a man's +of that infallible mould what does it matter to him what one feels?" + +"It may not matter to him, but it matters to one's self." + +"Ah, what it matters to me--that's not what we're discussing," said +Isabel with a cold smile. + +This time her companion was grave. "Well, I don't care; you have +changed. You're not the girl you were a few short weeks ago, and Mr. +Goodwood will see it. I expect him here any day." + +"I hope he'll hate me then," said Isabel. + +"I believe you hope it about as much as I believe him capable of it." + +To this observation our heroine made no return; she was absorbed in the +alarm given her by Henrietta's intimation that Caspar Goodwood would +present himself at Gardencourt. She pretended to herself, however, +that she thought the event impossible, and, later, she communicated her +disbelief to her friend. For the next forty-eight hours, nevertheless, +she stood prepared to hear the young man's name announced. The feeling +pressed upon her; it made the air sultry, as if there were to be a +change of weather; and the weather, socially speaking, had been so +agreeable during Isabel's stay at Gardencourt that any change would be +for the worse. Her suspense indeed was dissipated the second day. She +had walked into the park in company with the sociable Bunchie, and +after strolling about for some time, in a manner at once listless and +restless, had seated herself on a garden-bench, within sight of the +house, beneath a spreading beech, where, in a white dress ornamented +with black ribbons, she formed among the flickering shadows a graceful +and harmonious image. She entertained herself for some moments with +talking to the little terrier, as to whom the proposal of an ownership +divided with her cousin had been applied as impartially as possible--as +impartially as Bunchie's own somewhat fickle and inconstant sympathies +would allow. But she was notified for the first time, on this occasion, +of the finite character of Bunchie's intellect; hitherto she had been +mainly struck with its extent. It seemed to her at last that she would +do well to take a book; formerly, when heavy-hearted, she had been +able, with the help of some well-chosen volume, to transfer the seat +of consciousness to the organ of pure reason. Of late, it was not to +be denied, literature had seemed a fading light, and even after she had +reminded herself that her uncle's library was provided with a complete +set of those authors which no gentleman's collection should be without, +she sat motionless and empty-handed, her eyes bent on the cool green +turf of the lawn. Her meditations were presently interrupted by the +arrival of a servant who handed her a letter. The letter bore the +London postmark and was addressed in a hand she knew--that came into her +vision, already so held by him, with the vividness of the writer's voice +or his face. This document proved short and may be given entire. + +MY DEAR MISS ARCHER--I don't know whether you will have heard of my +coming to England, but even if you have not it will scarcely be a +surprise to you. You will remember that when you gave me my dismissal at +Albany, three months ago, I did not accept it. I protested against it. +You in fact appeared to accept my protest and to admit that I had the +right on my side. I had come to see you with the hope that you would +let me bring you over to my conviction; my reasons for entertaining this +hope had been of the best. But you disappointed it; I found you changed, +and you were able to give me no reason for the change. You admitted that +you were unreasonable, and it was the only concession you would make; +but it was a very cheap one, because that's not your character. No, you +are not, and you never will be, arbitrary or capricious. Therefore it is +that I believe you will let me see you again. You told me that I'm not +disagreeable to you, and I believe it; for I don't see why that should +be. I shall always think of you; I shall never think of any one else. +I came to England simply because you are here; I couldn't stay at home +after you had gone: I hated the country because you were not in it. If +I like this country at present it is only because it holds you. I have +been to England before, but have never enjoyed it much. May I not come +and see you for half an hour? This at present is the dearest wish of +yours faithfully, + +CASPAR GOODWOOD. + + +Isabel read this missive with such deep attention that she had not +perceived an approaching tread on the soft grass. Looking up, however, +as she mechanically folded it she saw Lord Warburton standing before +her. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +She put the letter into her pocket and offered her visitor a smile of +welcome, exhibiting no trace of discomposure and half surprised at her +coolness. + +"They told me you were out here," said Lord Warburton; "and as there +was no one in the drawing-room and it's really you that I wish to see, I +came out with no more ado." + +Isabel had got up; she felt a wish, for the moment, that he should not +sit down beside her. "I was just going indoors." + +"Please don't do that; it's much jollier here; I've ridden over from +Lockleigh; it's a lovely day." His smile was peculiarly friendly +and pleasing, and his whole person seemed to emit that radiance of +good-feeling and good fare which had formed the charm of the girl's +first impression of him. It surrounded him like a zone of fine June +weather. + +"We'll walk about a little then," said Isabel, who could not divest +herself of the sense of an intention on the part of her visitor and who +wished both to elude the intention and to satisfy her curiosity about +it. It had flashed upon her vision once before, and it had given her on +that occasion, as we know, a certain alarm. This alarm was composed of +several elements, not all of which were disagreeable; she had indeed +spent some days in analysing them and had succeeded in separating the +pleasant part of the idea of Lord Warburton's "making up" to her from +the painful. It may appear to some readers that the young lady was both +precipitate and unduly fastidious; but the latter of these facts, if +the charge be true, may serve to exonerate her from the discredit of +the former. She was not eager to convince herself that a territorial +magnate, as she had heard Lord Warburton called, was smitten with her +charms; the fact of a declaration from such a source carrying with it +really more questions than it would answer. She had received a strong +impression of his being a "personage," and she had occupied herself in +examining the image so conveyed. At the risk of adding to the evidence +of her self-sufficiency it must be said that there had been moments +when this possibility of admiration by a personage represented to her an +aggression almost to the degree of an affront, quite to the degree of +an inconvenience. She had never yet known a personage; there had been no +personages, in this sense, in her life; there were probably none such at +all in her native land. When she had thought of individual eminence she +had thought of it on the basis of character and wit--of what one +might like in a gentleman's mind and in his talk. She herself was a +character--she couldn't help being aware of that; and hitherto her +visions of a completed consciousness had concerned themselves largely +with moral images--things as to which the question would be whether they +pleased her sublime soul. Lord Warburton loomed up before her, largely +and brightly, as a collection of attributes and powers which were not to +be measured by this simple rule, but which demanded a different sort of +appreciation--an appreciation that the girl, with her habit of judging +quickly and freely, felt she lacked patience to bestow. He appeared to +demand of her something that no one else, as it were, had presumed to +do. What she felt was that a territorial, a political, a social magnate +had conceived the design of drawing her into the system in which he +rather invidiously lived and moved. A certain instinct, not imperious, +but persuasive, told her to resist--murmured to her that virtually +she had a system and an orbit of her own. It told her other things +besides--things which both contradicted and confirmed each other; that +a girl might do much worse than trust herself to such a man and that it +would be very interesting to see something of his system from his own +point of view; that on the other hand, however, there was evidently a +great deal of it which she should regard only as a complication of every +hour, and that even in the whole there was something stiff and stupid +which would make it a burden. Furthermore there was a young man lately +come from America who had no system at all, but who had a character +of which it was useless for her to try to persuade herself that the +impression on her mind had been light. The letter she carried in +her pocket all sufficiently reminded her of the contrary. Smile not, +however, I venture to repeat, at this simple young woman from Albany who +debated whether she should accept an English peer before he had offered +himself and who was disposed to believe that on the whole she could do +better. She was a person of great good faith, and if there was a great +deal of folly in her wisdom those who judge her severely may have the +satisfaction of finding that, later, she became consistently wise only +at the cost of an amount of folly which will constitute almost a direct +appeal to charity. + +Lord Warburton seemed quite ready to walk, to sit or to do anything that +Isabel should propose, and he gave her this assurance with his usual air +of being particularly pleased to exercise a social virtue. But he was, +nevertheless, not in command of his emotions, and as he strolled beside +her for a moment, in silence, looking at her without letting her know +it, there was something embarrassed in his glance and his misdirected +laughter. Yes, assuredly--as we have touched on the point, we may return +to it for a moment again--the English are the most romantic people in +the world and Lord Warburton was about to give an example of it. He was +about to take a step which would astonish all his friends and displease +a great many of them, and which had superficially nothing to recommend +it. The young lady who trod the turf beside him had come from a queer +country across the sea which he knew a good deal about; her antecedents, +her associations were very vague to his mind except in so far as they +were generic, and in this sense they showed as distinct and unimportant. +Miss Archer had neither a fortune nor the sort of beauty that justifies +a man to the multitude, and he calculated that he had spent about +twenty-six hours in her company. He had summed up all this--the +perversity of the impulse, which had declined to avail itself of the +most liberal opportunities to subside, and the judgement of mankind, as +exemplified particularly in the more quickly-judging half of it: he had +looked these things well in the face and then had dismissed them from +his thoughts. He cared no more for them than for the rosebud in his +buttonhole. It is the good fortune of a man who for the greater part of +a lifetime has abstained without effort from making himself disagreeable +to his friends, that when the need comes for such a course it is not +discredited by irritating associations. + +"I hope you had a pleasant ride," said Isabel, who observed her +companion's hesitancy. + +"It would have been pleasant if for nothing else than that it brought me +here." + +"Are you so fond of Gardencourt?" the girl asked, more and more sure +that he meant to make some appeal to her; wishing not to challenge him +if he hesitated, and yet to keep all the quietness of her reason if he +proceeded. It suddenly came upon her that her situation was one which a +few weeks ago she would have deemed deeply romantic: the park of an old +English country-house, with the foreground embellished by a "great" (as +she supposed) nobleman in the act of making love to a young lady who, on +careful inspection, should be found to present remarkable analogies with +herself. But if she was now the heroine of the situation she succeeded +scarcely the less in looking at it from the outside. + +"I care nothing for Gardencourt," said her companion. "I care only for +you." + +"You've known me too short a time to have a right to say that, and I +can't believe you're serious." + +These words of Isabel's were not perfectly sincere, for she had no doubt +whatever that he himself was. They were simply a tribute to the fact, of +which she was perfectly aware, that those he had just uttered would +have excited surprise on the part of a vulgar world. And, moreover, if +anything beside the sense she had already acquired that Lord Warburton +was not a loose thinker had been needed to convince her, the tone in +which he replied would quite have served the purpose. + +"One's right in such a matter is not measured by the time, Miss Archer; +it's measured by the feeling itself. If I were to wait three months it +would make no difference; I shall not be more sure of what I mean than I +am to-day. Of course I've seen you very little, but my impression dates +from the very first hour we met. I lost no time, I fell in love with you +then. It was at first sight, as the novels say; I know now that's not a +fancy-phrase, and I shall think better of novels for evermore. Those two +days I spent here settled it; I don't know whether you suspected I was +doing so, but I paid-mentally speaking I mean--the greatest possible +attention to you. Nothing you said, nothing you did, was lost upon +me. When you came to Lockleigh the other day--or rather when you went +away--I was perfectly sure. Nevertheless I made up my mind to think it +over and to question myself narrowly. I've done so; all these days I've +done nothing else. I don't make mistakes about such things; I'm a very +judicious animal. I don't go off easily, but when I'm touched, it's +for life. It's for life, Miss Archer, it's for life," Lord Warburton +repeated in the kindest, tenderest, pleasantest voice Isabel had ever +heard, and looking at her with eyes charged with the light of a passion +that had sifted itself clear of the baser parts of emotion--the heat, +the violence, the unreason--and that burned as steadily as a lamp in a +windless place. + +By tacit consent, as he talked, they had walked more and more slowly, +and at last they stopped and he took her hand. "Ah, Lord Warburton, how +little you know me!" Isabel said very gently. Gently too she drew her +hand away. + +"Don't taunt me with that; that I don't know you better makes me unhappy +enough already; it's all my loss. But that's what I want, and it seems +to me I'm taking the best way. If you'll be my wife, then I shall know +you, and when I tell you all the good I think of you you'll not be able +to say it's from ignorance." + +"If you know me little I know you even less," said Isabel. + +"You mean that, unlike yourself, I may not improve on acquaintance? Ah, +of course that's very possible. But think, to speak to you as I do, +how determined I must be to try and give satisfaction! You do like me +rather, don't you?" + +"I like you very much, Lord Warburton," she answered; and at this moment +she liked him immensely. + +"I thank you for saying that; it shows you don't regard me as a +stranger. I really believe I've filled all the other relations of life +very creditably, and I don't see why I shouldn't fill this one--in which +I offer myself to you--seeing that I care so much more about it. Ask the +people who know me well; I've friends who'll speak for me." + +"I don't need the recommendation of your friends," said Isabel. + +"Ah now, that's delightful of you. You believe in me yourself." + +"Completely," Isabel declared. She quite glowed there, inwardly, with +the pleasure of feeling she did. + +The light in her companion's eyes turned into a smile, and he gave a +long exhalation of joy. "If you're mistaken, Miss Archer, let me lose +all I possess!" + +She wondered whether he meant this for a reminder that he was rich, and, +on the instant, felt sure that he didn't. He was thinking that, as he +would have said himself; and indeed he might safely leave it to the +memory of any interlocutor, especially of one to whom he was offering +his hand. Isabel had prayed that she might not be agitated, and her mind +was tranquil enough, even while she listened and asked herself what it +was best she should say, to indulge in this incidental criticism. What +she should say, had she asked herself? Her foremost wish was to say +something if possible not less kind than what he had said to her. His +words had carried perfect conviction with them; she felt she did, all so +mysteriously, matter to him. "I thank you more than I can say for your +offer," she returned at last. "It does me great honour." + +"Ah, don't say that!" he broke out. "I was afraid you'd say something +like that. I don't see what you've to do with that sort of thing. I +don't see why you should thank me--it's I who ought to thank you for +listening to me: a man you know so little coming down on you with such +a thumper! Of course it's a great question; I must tell you that +I'd rather ask it than have it to answer myself. But the way you've +listened--or at least your having listened at all--gives me some hope." + +"Don't hope too much," Isabel said. + +"Oh Miss Archer!" her companion murmured, smiling again, in his +seriousness, as if such a warning might perhaps be taken but as the play +of high spirits, the exuberance of elation. + +"Should you be greatly surprised if I were to beg you not to hope at +all?" Isabel asked. + +"Surprised? I don't know what you mean by surprise. It wouldn't be that; +it would be a feeling very much worse." + +Isabel walked on again; she was silent for some minutes. "I'm very sure +that, highly as I already think of you, my opinion of you, if I should +know you well, would only rise. But I'm by no means sure that you +wouldn't be disappointed. And I say that not in the least out of +conventional modesty; it's perfectly sincere." + +"I'm willing to risk it, Miss Archer," her companion replied. + +"It's a great question, as you say. It's a very difficult question." + +"I don't expect you of course to answer it outright. Think it over as +long as may be necessary. If I can gain by waiting I'll gladly wait a +long time. Only remember that in the end my dearest happiness depends on +your answer." + +"I should be very sorry to keep you in suspense," said Isabel. + +"Oh, don't mind. I'd much rather have a good answer six months hence +than a bad one to-day." + +"But it's very probable that even six months hence I shouldn't be able +to give you one that you'd think good." + +"Why not, since you really like me?" + +"Ah, you must never doubt that," said Isabel. + +"Well then, I don't see what more you ask!" + +"It's not what I ask; it's what I can give. I don't think I should suit +you; I really don't think I should." + +"You needn't worry about that. That's my affair. You needn't be a better +royalist than the king." + +"It's not only that," said Isabel; "but I'm not sure I wish to marry any +one." + +"Very likely you don't. I've no doubt a great many women begin that +way," said his lordship, who, be it averred, did not in the least +believe in the axiom he thus beguiled his anxiety by uttering. "But +they're frequently persuaded." + +"Ah, that's because they want to be!" And Isabel lightly laughed. Her +suitor's countenance fell, and he looked at her for a while in silence. +"I'm afraid it's my being an Englishman that makes you hesitate," he +said presently. "I know your uncle thinks you ought to marry in your own +country." + +Isabel listened to this assertion with some interest; it had never +occurred to her that Mr. Touchett was likely to discuss her matrimonial +prospects with Lord Warburton. "Has he told you that?" + +"I remember his making the remark. He spoke perhaps of Americans +generally." + +"He appears himself to have found it very pleasant to live in England." +Isabel spoke in a manner that might have seemed a little perverse, but +which expressed both her constant perception of her uncle's outward +felicity and her general disposition to elude any obligation to take a +restricted view. + +It gave her companion hope, and he immediately cried with warmth: "Ah, +my dear Miss Archer, old England's a very good sort of country, you +know! And it will be still better when we've furbished it up a little." + +"Oh, don't furbish it, Lord Warburton--, leave it alone. I like it this +way." + +"Well then, if you like it, I'm more and more unable to see your +objection to what I propose." + +"I'm afraid I can't make you understand." + +"You ought at least to try. I've a fair intelligence. Are you +afraid--afraid of the climate? We can easily live elsewhere, you know. +You can pick out your climate, the whole world over." + +These words were uttered with a breadth of candour that was like the +embrace of strong arms--that was like the fragrance straight in her +face, and by his clean, breathing lips, of she knew not what strange +gardens, what charged airs. She would have given her little finger at +that moment to feel strongly and simply the impulse to answer: "Lord +Warburton, it's impossible for me to do better in this wonderful world, +I think, than commit myself, very gratefully, to your loyalty." But +though she was lost in admiration of her opportunity she managed to move +back into the deepest shade of it, even as some wild, caught creature in +a vast cage. The "splendid" security so offered her was not the greatest +she could conceive. What she finally bethought herself of saying was +something very different--something that deferred the need of really +facing her crisis. "Don't think me unkind if I ask you to say no more +about this to-day." + +"Certainly, certainly!" her companion cried. "I wouldn't bore you for +the world." + +"You've given me a great deal to think about, and I promise you to do it +justice." + +"That's all I ask of you, of course--and that you'll remember how +absolutely my happiness is in your hands." + +Isabel listened with extreme respect to this admonition, but she said +after a minute: "I must tell you that what I shall think about is some +way of letting you know that what you ask is impossible--letting you +know it without making you miserable." + +"There's no way to do that, Miss Archer. I won't say that if you refuse +me you'll kill me; I shall not die of it. But I shall do worse; I shall +live to no purpose." + +"You'll live to marry a better woman than I." + +"Don't say that, please," said Lord Warburton very gravely. "That's fair +to neither of us." + +"To marry a worse one then." + +"If there are better women than you I prefer the bad ones. That's all I +can say," he went on with the same earnestness. "There's no accounting +for tastes." + +His gravity made her feel equally grave, and she showed it by again +requesting him to drop the subject for the present. "I'll speak to you +myself--very soon. Perhaps I shall write to you." + +"At your convenience, yes," he replied. "Whatever time you take, it must +seem to me long, and I suppose I must make the best of that." + +"I shall not keep you in suspense; I only want to collect my mind a +little." + +He gave a melancholy sigh and stood looking at her a moment, with his +hands behind him, giving short nervous shakes to his hunting-crop. "Do +you know I'm very much afraid of it--of that remarkable mind of yours?" + +Our heroine's biographer can scarcely tell why, but the question made +her start and brought a conscious blush to her cheek. She returned his +look a moment, and then with a note in her voice that might almost have +appealed to his compassion, "So am I, my lord!" she oddly exclaimed. + +His compassion was not stirred, however; all he possessed of the faculty +of pity was needed at home. "Ah! be merciful, be merciful," he murmured. + +"I think you had better go," said Isabel. "I'll write to you." + +"Very good; but whatever you write I'll come and see you, you know." And +then he stood reflecting, his eyes fixed on the observant countenance of +Bunchie, who had the air of having understood all that had been said +and of pretending to carry off the indiscretion by a simulated fit of +curiosity as to the roots of an ancient oak. "There's one thing more," +he went on. "You know, if you don't like Lockleigh--if you think it's +damp or anything of that sort--you need never go within fifty miles of +it. It's not damp, by the way; I've had the house thoroughly examined; +it's perfectly safe and right. But if you shouldn't fancy it you needn't +dream of living in it. There's no difficulty whatever about that; there +are plenty of houses. I thought I'd just mention it; some people don't +like a moat, you know. Good-bye." + +"I adore a moat," said Isabel. "Good-bye." + +He held out his hand, and she gave him hers a moment--a moment long +enough for him to bend his handsome bared head and kiss it. Then, still +agitating, in his mastered emotion, his implement of the chase, he +walked rapidly away. He was evidently much upset. + +Isabel herself was upset, but she had not been affected as she would +have imagined. What she felt was not a great responsibility, a great +difficulty of choice; it appeared to her there had been no choice in the +question. She couldn't marry Lord Warburton; the idea failed to support +any enlightened prejudice in favour of the free exploration of life that +she had hitherto entertained or was now capable of entertaining. +She must write this to him, she must convince him, and that duty was +comparatively simple. But what disturbed her, in the sense that it +struck her with wonderment, was this very fact that it cost her so +little to refuse a magnificent "chance." With whatever qualifications +one would, Lord Warburton had offered her a great opportunity; the +situation might have discomforts, might contain oppressive, might +contain narrowing elements, might prove really but a stupefying anodyne; +but she did her sex no injustice in believing that nineteen women out of +twenty would have accommodated themselves to it without a pang. Why then +upon her also should it not irresistibly impose itself? Who was she, +what was she, that she should hold herself superior? What view of +life, what design upon fate, what conception of happiness, had she that +pretended to be larger than these large these fabulous occasions? If she +wouldn't do such a thing as that then she must do great things, she must +do something greater. Poor Isabel found ground to remind herself from +time to time that she must not be too proud, and nothing could be +more sincere than her prayer to be delivered from such a danger: the +isolation and loneliness of pride had for her mind the horror of a +desert place. If it had been pride that interfered with her accepting +Lord Warburton such a betise was singularly misplaced; and she was so +conscious of liking him that she ventured to assure herself it was the +very softness, and the fine intelligence, of sympathy. She liked him too +much to marry him, that was the truth; something assured her there was +a fallacy somewhere in the glowing logic of the proposition--as he saw +it--even though she mightn't put her very finest finger-point on it; +and to inflict upon a man who offered so much a wife with a tendency to +criticise would be a peculiarly discreditable act. She had promised him +she would consider his question, and when, after he had left her, she +wandered back to the bench where he had found her and lost herself in +meditation, it might have seemed that she was keeping her vow. But +this was not the case; she was wondering if she were not a cold, hard, +priggish person, and, on her at last getting up and going rather +quickly back to the house, felt, as she had said to her friend, really +frightened at herself. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +It was this feeling and not the wish to ask advice--she had no desire +whatever for that--that led her to speak to her uncle of what had taken +place. She wished to speak to some one; she should feel more natural, +more human, and her uncle, for this purpose, presented himself in a +more attractive light than either her aunt or her friend Henrietta. Her +cousin of course was a possible confidant; but she would have had to do +herself violence to air this special secret to Ralph. So the next day, +after breakfast, she sought her occasion. Her uncle never left his +apartment till the afternoon, but he received his cronies, as he said, +in his dressing-room. Isabel had quite taken her place in the class +so designated, which, for the rest, included the old man's son, his +physician, his personal servant, and even Miss Stackpole. Mrs. Touchett +did not figure in the list, and this was an obstacle the less to +Isabel's finding her host alone. He sat in a complicated mechanical +chair, at the open window of his room, looking westward over the park +and the river, with his newspapers and letters piled up beside him, +his toilet freshly and minutely made, and his smooth, speculative face +composed to benevolent expectation. + +She approached her point directly. "I think I ought to let you know that +Lord Warburton has asked me to marry him. I suppose I ought to tell my +aunt; but it seems best to tell you first." + +The old man expressed no surprise, but thanked her for the confidence +she showed him. "Do you mind telling me whether you accepted him?" he +then enquired. + +"I've not answered him definitely yet; I've taken a little time to think +of it, because that seems more respectful. But I shall not accept him." + +Mr. Touchett made no comment upon this; he had the air of thinking that, +whatever interest he might take in the matter from the point of view of +sociability, he had no active voice in it. "Well, I told you you'd be a +success over here. Americans are highly appreciated." + +"Very highly indeed," said Isabel. "But at the cost of seeming both +tasteless and ungrateful, I don't think I can marry Lord Warburton." + +"Well," her uncle went on, "of course an old man can't judge for a young +lady. I'm glad you didn't ask me before you made up your mind. I suppose +I ought to tell you," he added slowly, but as if it were not of much +consequence, "that I've known all about it these three days." + +"About Lord Warburton's state of mind?" + +"About his intentions, as they say here. He wrote me a very pleasant +letter, telling me all about them. Should you like to see his letter?" +the old man obligingly asked. + +"Thank you; I don't think I care about that. But I'm glad he wrote to +you; it was right that he should, and he would be certain to do what was +right." + +"Ah well, I guess you do like him!" Mr. Touchett declared. "You needn't +pretend you don't." + +"I like him extremely; I'm very free to admit that. But I don't wish to +marry any one just now." + +"You think some one may come along whom you may like better. Well, +that's very likely," said Mr. Touchett, who appeared to wish to show his +kindness to the girl by easing off her decision, as it were, and finding +cheerful reasons for it. + +"I don't care if I don't meet any one else. I like Lord Warburton quite +well enough." she fell into that appearance of a sudden change of +point of view with which she sometimes startled and even displeased her +interlocutors. + +Her uncle, however, seemed proof against either of these impressions. +"He's a very fine man," he resumed in a tone which might have passed +for that of encouragement. "His letter was one of the pleasantest I've +received for some weeks. I suppose one of the reasons I liked it was +that it was all about you; that is all except the part that was about +himself. I suppose he told you all that." + +"He would have told me everything I wished to ask him," Isabel said. + +"But you didn't feel curious?" + +"My curiosity would have been idle--once I had determined to decline his +offer." + +"You didn't find it sufficiently attractive?" Mr. Touchett enquired. + +She was silent a little. "I suppose it was that," she presently +admitted. "But I don't know why." + +"Fortunately ladies are not obliged to give reasons," said her uncle. +"There's a great deal that's attractive about such an idea; but I don't +see why the English should want to entice us away from our native land. +I know that we try to attract them over there, but that's because our +population is insufficient. Here, you know, they're rather crowded. +However, I presume there's room for charming young ladies everywhere." + +"There seems to have been room here for you," said Isabel, whose eyes +had been wandering over the large pleasure-spaces of the park. + +Mr. Touchett gave a shrewd, conscious smile. "There's room everywhere, +my dear, if you'll pay for it. I sometimes think I've paid too much for +this. Perhaps you also might have to pay too much." + +"Perhaps I might," the girl replied. + +That suggestion gave her something more definite to rest on than she +had found in her own thoughts, and the fact of this association of her +uncle's mild acuteness with her dilemma seemed to prove that she was +concerned with the natural and reasonable emotions of life and +not altogether a victim to intellectual eagerness and vague +ambitions--ambitions reaching beyond Lord Warburton's beautiful appeal, +reaching to something indefinable and possibly not commendable. In so +far as the indefinable had an influence upon Isabel's behaviour at this +juncture, it was not the conception, even unformulated, of a union with +Caspar Goodwood; for however she might have resisted conquest at her +English suitor's large quiet hands she was at least as far removed +from the disposition to let the young man from Boston take positive +possession of her. The sentiment in which She sought refuge after +reading his letter was a critical view of his having come abroad; for it +was part of the influence he had upon her that he seemed to deprive her +of the sense of freedom. There was a disagreeably strong push, a kind +of hardness of presence, in his way of rising before her. She had been +haunted at moments by the image, by the danger, of his disapproval and +had wondered--a consideration she had never paid in equal degree to any +one else--whether he would like what she did. The difficulty was that +more than any man she had ever known, more than poor Lord Warburton (she +had begun now to give his lordship the benefit of this epithet), Caspar +Goodwood expressed for her an energy--and she had already felt it as a +power that was of his very nature. It was in no degree a matter of +his "advantages"--it was a matter of the spirit that sat in his +clear-burning eyes like some tireless watcher at a window. She might +like it or not, but he insisted, ever, with his whole weight and force: +even in one's usual contact with him one had to reckon with that. The +idea of a diminished liberty was particularly disagreeable to her at +present, since she had just given a sort of personal accent to her +independence by looking so straight at Lord Warburton's big bribe and +yet turning away from it. Sometimes Caspar Goodwood had seemed to range +himself on the side of her destiny, to be the stubbornest fact she knew; +she said to herself at such moments that she might evade him for a time, +but that she must make terms with him at last--terms which would be +certain to be favourable to himself. Her impulse had been to avail +herself of the things that helped her to resist such an obligation; +and this impulse had been much concerned in her eager acceptance of her +aunt's invitation, which had come to her at an hour when she expected +from day to day to see Mr. Goodwood and when she was glad to have an +answer ready for something she was sure he would say to her. When she +had told him at Albany, on the evening of Mrs. Touchett's visit, that +she couldn't then discuss difficult questions, dazzled as she was by +the great immediate opening of her aunt's offer of "Europe," he declared +that this was no answer at all; and it was now to obtain a better one +that he was following her across the sea. To say to herself that he was +a kind of grim fate was well enough for a fanciful young woman who was +able to take much for granted in him; but the reader has a right to a +nearer and a clearer view. + +He was the son of a proprietor of well-known cotton-mills in +Massachusetts--a gentleman who had accumulated a considerable fortune in +the exercise of this industry. Caspar at present managed the works, and +with a judgement and a temper which, in spite of keen competition and +languid years, had kept their prosperity from dwindling. He had received +the better part of his education at Harvard College, where, however, he +had gained renown rather as a gymnast and an oarsman than as a gleaner +of more dispersed knowledge. Later on he had learned that the finer +intelligence too could vault and pull and strain--might even, breaking +the record, treat itself to rare exploits. He had thus discovered in +himself a sharp eye for the mystery of mechanics, and had invented an +improvement in the cotton-spinning process which was now largely used +and was known by his name. You might have seen it in the newspapers in +connection with this fruitful contrivance; assurance of which he +had given to Isabel by showing her in the columns of the New York +Interviewer an exhaustive article on the Goodwood patent--an article not +prepared by Miss Stackpole, friendly as she had proved herself to his +more sentimental interests. There were intricate, bristling things he +rejoiced in; he liked to organise, to contend, to administer; he could +make people work his will, believe in him, march before him and justify +him. This was the art, as they said, of managing men--which rested, in +him, further, on a bold though brooding ambition. It struck those +who knew him well that he might do greater things than carry on a +cotton-factory; there was nothing cottony about Caspar Goodwood, and +his friends took for granted that he would somehow and somewhere +write himself in bigger letters. But it was as if something large and +confused, something dark and ugly, would have to call upon him: he was +not after all in harmony with mere smug peace and greed and gain, an +order of things of which the vital breath was ubiquitous advertisement. +It pleased Isabel to believe that he might have ridden, on a plunging +steed, the whirlwind of a great war--a war like the Civil strife that +had overdarkened her conscious childhood and his ripening youth. + +She liked at any rate this idea of his being by character and in fact a +mover of men--liked it much better than some other points in his nature +and aspect. She cared nothing for his cotton-mill--the Goodwood patent +left her imagination absolutely cold. She wished him no ounce less of +his manhood, but she sometimes thought he would be rather nicer if he +looked, for instance, a little differently. His jaw was too square and +set and his figure too straight and stiff: these things suggested a want +of easy consonance with the deeper rhythms of life. Then she viewed with +reserve a habit he had of dressing always in the same manner; it was +not apparently that he wore the same clothes continually, for, on the +contrary, his garments had a way of looking rather too new. But they all +seemed of the same piece; the figure, the stuff, was so drearily usual. +She had reminded herself more than once that this was a frivolous +objection to a person of his importance; and then she had amended the +rebuke by saying that it would be a frivolous objection only if she +were in love with him. She was not in love with him and therefore might +criticise his small defects as well as his great--which latter consisted +in the collective reproach of his being too serious, or, rather, not of +his being so, since one could never be, but certainly of his seeming so. +He showed his appetites and designs too simply and artlessly; when one +was alone with him he talked too much about the same subject, and when +other people were present he talked too little about anything. And yet +he was of supremely strong, clean make--which was so much she saw the +different fitted parts of him as she had seen, in museums and portraits, +the different fitted parts of armoured warriors--in plates of steel +handsomely inlaid with gold. It was very strange: where, ever, was any +tangible link between her impression and her act? Caspar Goodwood had +never corresponded to her idea of a delightful person, and she supposed +that this was why he left her so harshly critical. When, however, Lord +Warburton, who not only did correspond with it, but gave an extension to +the term, appealed to her approval, she found herself still unsatisfied. +It was certainly strange. + +The sense of her incoherence was not a help to answering Mr. Goodwood's +letter, and Isabel determined to leave it a while unhonoured. If he +had determined to persecute her he must take the consequences; foremost +among which was his being left to perceive how little it charmed her +that he should come down to Gardencourt. She was already liable to the +incursions of one suitor at this place, and though it might be pleasant +to be appreciated in opposite quarters there was a kind of grossness in +entertaining two such passionate pleaders at once, even in a case where +the entertainment should consist of dismissing them. She made no +reply to Mr. Goodwood; but at the end of three days she wrote to Lord +Warburton, and the letter belongs to our history. + +DEAR LORD WARBURTON--A great deal of earnest thought has not led me to +change my mind about the suggestion you were so kind as to make me the +other day. I am not, I am really and truly not, able to regard you +in the light of a companion for life; or to think of your home--your +various homes--as the settled seat of my existence. These things cannot +be reasoned about, and I very earnestly entreat you not to return to +the subject we discussed so exhaustively. We see our lives from our own +point of view; that is the privilege of the weakest and humblest of us; +and I shall never be able to see mine in the manner you proposed. Kindly +let this suffice you, and do me the justice to believe that I have given +your proposal the deeply respectful consideration it deserves. It is +with this very great regard that I remain sincerely yours, + +ISABEL ARCHER. + +While the author of this missive was making up her mind to dispatch it +Henrietta Stackpole formed a resolve which was accompanied by no demur. +She invited Ralph Touchett to take a walk with her in the garden, and +when he had assented with that alacrity which seemed constantly to +testify to his high expectations, she informed him that she had a favour +to ask of him. It may be admitted that at this information the young man +flinched; for we know that Miss Stackpole had struck him as apt to push +an advantage. The alarm was unreasoned, however; for he was clear about +the area of her indiscretion as little as advised of its vertical depth, +and he made a very civil profession of the desire to serve her. He +was afraid of her and presently told her so. "When you look at me in a +certain way my knees knock together, my faculties desert me; I'm filled +with trepidation and I ask only for strength to execute your commands. +You've an address that I've never encountered in any woman." + +"Well," Henrietta replied good-humouredly, "if I had not known before +that you were trying somehow to abash me I should know it now. Of course +I'm easy game--I was brought up with such different customs and ideas. +I'm not used to your arbitrary standards, and I've never been spoken to +in America as you have spoken to me. If a gentleman conversing with me +over there were to speak to me like that I shouldn't know what to make +of it. We take everything more naturally over there, and, after all, +we're a great deal more simple. I admit that; I'm very simple myself. +Of course if you choose to laugh at me for it you're very welcome; but I +think on the whole I would rather be myself than you. I'm quite content +to be myself; I don't want to change. There are plenty of people that +appreciate me just as I am. It's true they're nice fresh free-born +Americans!" Henrietta had lately taken up the tone of helpless innocence +and large concession. "I want you to assist me a little," she went on. +"I don't care in the least whether I amuse you while you do so; or, +rather, I'm perfectly willing your amusement should be your reward. I +want you to help me about Isabel." + +"Has she injured you?" Ralph asked. + +"If she had I shouldn't mind, and I should never tell you. What I'm +afraid of is that she'll injure herself." + +"I think that's very possible," said Ralph. + +His companion stopped in the garden-walk, fixing on him perhaps the very +gaze that unnerved him. "That too would amuse you, I suppose. The way +you do say things! I never heard any one so indifferent." + +"To Isabel? Ah, not that!" + +"Well, you're not in love with her, I hope." + +"How can that be, when I'm in love with Another?" + +"You're in love with yourself, that's the Other!" Miss Stackpole +declared. "Much good may it do you! But if you wish to be serious once +in your life here's a chance; and if you really care for your cousin +here's an opportunity to prove it. I don't expect you to understand her; +that's too much to ask. But you needn't do that to grant my favour. I'll +supply the necessary intelligence." + +"I shall enjoy that immensely!" Ralph exclaimed. "I'll be Caliban and +you shall be Ariel." + +"You're not at all like Caliban, because you're sophisticated, and +Caliban was not. But I'm not talking about imaginary characters; I'm +talking about Isabel. Isabel's intensely real. What I wish to tell you +is that I find her fearfully changed." + +"Since you came, do you mean?" + +"Since I came and before I came. She's not the same as she once so +beautifully was." + +"As she was in America?" + +"Yes, in America. I suppose you know she comes from there. She can't +help it, but she does." + +"Do you want to change her back again?" + +"Of course I do, and I want you to help me." + +"Ah," said Ralph, "I'm only Caliban; I'm not Prospero." + +"You were Prospero enough to make her what she has become. You've acted +on Isabel Archer since she came here, Mr. Touchett." + +"I, my dear Miss Stackpole? Never in the world. Isabel Archer has acted +on me--yes; she acts on every one. But I've been absolutely passive." + +"You're too passive then. You had better stir yourself and be careful. +Isabel's changing every day; she's drifting away--right out to sea. I've +watched her and I can see it. She's not the bright American girl she +was. She's taking different views, a different colour, and turning away +from her old ideals. I want to save those ideals, Mr. Touchett, and +that's where you come in." + +"Not surely as an ideal?" + +"Well, I hope not," Henrietta replied promptly. "I've got a fear in my +heart that she's going to marry one of these fell Europeans, and I want +to prevent it. + +"Ah, I see," cried Ralph; "and to prevent it you want me to step in and +marry her?" + +"Not quite; that remedy would be as bad as the disease, for you're the +typical, the fell European from whom I wish to rescue her. No; I wish +you to take an interest in another person--a young man to whom she once +gave great encouragement and whom she now doesn't seem to think good +enough. He's a thoroughly grand man and a very dear friend of mine, and +I wish very much you would invite him to pay a visit here." + +Ralph was much puzzled by this appeal, and it is perhaps not to the +credit of his purity of mind that he failed to look at it at first in +the simplest light. It wore, to his eyes, a tortuous air, and his fault +was that he was not quite sure that anything in the world could really +be as candid as this request of Miss Stackpole's appeared. That a young +woman should demand that a gentleman whom she described as her very dear +friend should be furnished with an opportunity to make himself agreeable +to another young woman, a young woman whose attention had wandered and +whose charms were greater--this was an anomaly which for the moment +challenged all his ingenuity of interpretation. To read between the +lines was easier than to follow the text, and to suppose that Miss +Stackpole wished the gentleman invited to Gardencourt on her own account +was the sign not so much of a vulgar as of an embarrassed mind. Even +from this venial act of vulgarity, however, Ralph was saved, and saved +by a force that I can only speak of as inspiration. With no more outward +light on the subject than he already possessed he suddenly acquired the +conviction that it would be a sovereign injustice to the correspondent +of the Interviewer to assign a dishonourable motive to any act of hers. +This conviction passed into his mind with extreme rapidity; it was +perhaps kindled by the pure radiance of the young lady's imperturbable +gaze. He returned this challenge a moment, consciously, resisting an +inclination to frown as one frowns in the presence of larger luminaries. +"Who's the gentleman you speak of?" + +"Mr. Caspar Goodwood--of Boston. He has been extremely attentive to +Isabel--just as devoted to her as he can live. He has followed her out +here and he's at present in London. I don't know his address, but I +guess I can obtain it." + +"I've never heard of him," said Ralph. + +"Well, I suppose you haven't heard of every one. I don't believe he has +ever heard of you; but that's no reason why Isabel shouldn't marry him." + +Ralph gave a mild ambiguous laugh. "What a rage you have for marrying +people! Do you remember how you wanted to marry me the other day?" + +"I've got over that. You don't know how to take such ideas. Mr. Goodwood +does, however; and that's what I like about him. He's a splendid man and +a perfect gentleman, and Isabel knows it." + +"Is she very fond of him?" + +"If she isn't she ought to be. He's simply wrapped up in her." + +"And you wish me to ask him here," said Ralph reflectively. + +"It would be an act of true hospitality." + +"Caspar Goodwood," Ralph continued--"it's rather a striking name." + +"I don't care anything about his name. It might be Ezekiel Jenkins, and +I should say the same. He's the only man I have ever seen whom I think +worthy of Isabel." + +"You're a very devoted friend," said Ralph. + +"Of course I am. If you say that to pour scorn on me I don't care." + +"I don't say it to pour scorn on you; I'm very much struck with it." + +"You're more satiric than ever, but I advise you not to laugh at Mr. +Goodwood." + +"I assure you I'm very serious; you ought to understand that," said +Ralph. + +In a moment his companion understood it. "I believe you are; now you're +too serious." + +"You're difficult to please." + +"Oh, you're very serious indeed. You won't invite Mr. Goodwood." + +"I don't know," said Ralph. "I'm capable of strange things. Tell me a +little about Mr. Goodwood. What's he like?" + +"He's just the opposite of you. He's at the head of a cotton-factory; a +very fine one." + +"Has he pleasant manners?" asked Ralph. + +"Splendid manners--in the American style." + +"Would he be an agreeable member of our little circle?" + +"I don't think he'd care much about our little circle. He'd concentrate +on Isabel." + +"And how would my cousin like that?" + +"Very possibly not at all. But it will be good for her. It will call +back her thoughts." + +"Call them back--from where?" + +"From foreign parts and other unnatural places. Three months ago she +gave Mr. Goodwood every reason to suppose he was acceptable to her, and +it's not worthy of Isabel to go back on a real friend simply because she +has changed the scene. I've changed the scene too, and the effect of it +has been to make me care more for my old associations than ever. It's my +belief that the sooner Isabel changes it back again the better. I know +her well enough to know that she would never be truly happy over here, +and I wish her to form some strong American tie that will act as a +preservative." + +"Aren't you perhaps a little too much in a hurry?" Ralph enquired. +"Don't you think you ought to give her more of a chance in poor old +England?" + +"A chance to ruin her bright young life? One's never too much in a hurry +to save a precious human creature from drowning." + +"As I understand it then," said Ralph, "you wish me to push Mr. Goodwood +overboard after her. Do you know," he added, "that I've never heard her +mention his name?" + +Henrietta gave a brilliant smile. "I'm delighted to hear that; it proves +how much she thinks of him." + +Ralph appeared to allow that there was a good deal in this, and he +surrendered to thought while his companion watched him askance. "If I +should invite Mr. Goodwood," he finally said, "it would be to quarrel +with him." + +"Don't do that; he'd prove the better man." + +"You certainly are doing your best to make me hate him! I really don't +think I can ask him. I should be afraid of being rude to him." + +"It's just as you please," Henrietta returned. "I had no idea you were +in love with her yourself." + +"Do you really believe that?" the young man asked with lifted eyebrows. + +"That's the most natural speech I've ever heard you make! Of course I +believe it," Miss Stackpole ingeniously said. + +"Well," Ralph concluded, "to prove to you that you're wrong I'll invite +him. It must be of course as a friend of yours." + +"It will not be as a friend of mine that he'll come; and it will not be +to prove to me that I'm wrong that you'll ask him--but to prove it to +yourself!" + +These last words of Miss Stackpole's (on which the two presently +separated) contained an amount of truth which Ralph Touchett was obliged +to recognise; but it so far took the edge from too sharp a recognition +that, in spite of his suspecting it would be rather more indiscreet +to keep than to break his promise, he wrote Mr. Goodwood a note of six +lines, expressing the pleasure it would give Mr. Touchett the elder that +he should join a little party at Gardencourt, of which Miss Stackpole +was a valued member. Having sent his letter (to the care of a banker +whom Henrietta suggested) he waited in some suspense. He had heard this +fresh formidable figure named for the first time; for when his mother +had mentioned on her arrival that there was a story about the girl's +having an "admirer" at home, the idea had seemed deficient in reality +and he had taken no pains to ask questions the answers to which would +involve only the vague or the disagreeable. Now, however, the native +admiration of which his cousin was the object had become more concrete; +it took the form of a young man who had followed her to London, who was +interested in a cotton-mill and had manners in the most splendid of the +American styles. Ralph had two theories about this intervenes. Either +his passion was a sentimental fiction of Miss Stackpole's (there was +always a sort of tacit understanding among women, born of the solidarity +of the sex, that they should discover or invent lovers for each other), +in which case he was not to be feared and would probably not accept the +invitation; or else he would accept the invitation and in this event +prove himself a creature too irrational to demand further consideration. +The latter clause of Ralph's argument might have seemed incoherent; +but it embodied his conviction that if Mr. Goodwood were interested in +Isabel in the serious manner described by Miss Stackpole he would not +care to present himself at Gardencourt on a summons from the latter +lady. "On this supposition," said Ralph, "he must regard her as a thorn +on the stem of his rose; as an intercessor he must find her wanting in +tact." + +Two days after he had sent his invitation he received a very short +note from Caspar Goodwood, thanking him for it, regretting that other +engagements made a visit to Gardencourt impossible and presenting many +compliments to Miss Stackpole. Ralph handed the note to Henrietta, who, +when she had read it, exclaimed: "Well, I never have heard of anything +so stiff!" + +"I'm afraid he doesn't care so much about my cousin as you suppose," +Ralph observed. + +"No, it's not that; it's some subtler motive. His nature's very deep. +But I'm determined to fathom it, and I shall write to him to know what +he means." + +His refusal of Ralph's overtures was vaguely disconcerting; from the +moment he declined to come to Gardencourt our friend began to think +him of importance. He asked himself what it signified to him whether +Isabel's admirers should be desperadoes or laggards; they were not +rivals of his and were perfectly welcome to act out their genius. +Nevertheless he felt much curiosity as to the result of Miss Stackpole's +promised enquiry into the causes of Mr. Goodwood's stiffness--a +curiosity for the present ungratified, inasmuch as when he asked her +three days later if she had written to London she was obliged to confess +she had written in vain. Mr. Goodwood had not replied. + +"I suppose he's thinking it over," she said; "he thinks everything +over; he's not really at all impetuous. But I'm accustomed to having my +letters answered the same day." She presently proposed to Isabel, at +all events, that they should make an excursion to London together. "If I +must tell the truth," she observed, "I'm not seeing much at this +place, and I shouldn't think you were either. I've not even seen that +aristocrat--what's his name?--Lord Washburton. He seems to let you +severely alone." + +"Lord Warburton's coming to-morrow, I happen to know," replied her +friend, who had received a note from the master of Lockleigh in answer +to her own letter. "You'll have every opportunity of turning him inside +out." + +"Well, he may do for one letter, but what's one letter when you want to +write fifty? I've described all the scenery in this vicinity and raved +about all the old women and donkeys. You may say what you please, +scenery doesn't make a vital letter. I must go back to London and get +some impressions of real life. I was there but three days before I came +away, and that's hardly time to get in touch." + +As Isabel, on her journey from New York to Gardencourt, had seen even +less of the British capital than this, it appeared a happy suggestion of +Henrietta's that the two should go thither on a visit of pleasure. The +idea struck Isabel as charming; he was curious of the thick detail of +London, which had always loomed large and rich to her. They turned over +their schemes together and indulged in visions of romantic hours. They +would stay at some picturesque old inn--one of the inns described by +Dickens--and drive over the town in those delightful hansoms. Henrietta +was a literary woman, and the great advantage of being a literary woman +was that you could go everywhere and do everything. They would dine at +a coffee-house and go afterwards to the play; they would frequent the +Abbey and the British Museum and find out where Doctor Johnson had +lived, and Goldsmith and Addison. Isabel grew eager and presently +unveiled the bright vision to Ralph, who burst into a fit of laughter +which scarce expressed the sympathy she had desired. + +"It's a delightful plan," he said. "I advise you to go to the Duke's +Head in Covent Garden, an easy, informal, old-fashioned place, and I'll +have you put down at my club." + +"Do you mean it's improper?" Isabel asked. "Dear me, isn't anything +proper here? With Henrietta surely I may go anywhere; she isn't hampered +in that way. She has travelled over the whole American continent and can +at least find her way about this minute island." + +"Ah then," said Ralph, "let me take advantage of her protection to go up +to town as well. I may never have a chance to travel so safely!" + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +Miss Stackpole would have prepared to start immediately; but Isabel, as +we have seen, had been notified that Lord Warburton would come again to +Gardencourt, and she believed it her duty to remain there and see him. +For four or five days he had made no response to her letter; then he had +written, very briefly, to say he would come to luncheon two days later. +There was something in these delays and postponements that touched the +girl and renewed her sense of his desire to be considerate and patient, +not to appear to urge her too grossly; a consideration the more studied +that she was so sure he "really liked" her. Isabel told her uncle she +had written to him, mentioning also his intention of coming; and the +old man, in consequence, left his room earlier than usual and made his +appearance at the two o'clock repast. This was by no means an act of +vigilance on his part, but the fruit of a benevolent belief that his +being of the company might help to cover any conjoined straying away +in case Isabel should give their noble visitor another hearing. That +personage drove over from Lockleigh and brought the elder of his sisters +with him, a measure presumably dictated by reflexions of the same order +as Mr. Touchett's. The two visitors were introduced to Miss Stackpole, +who, at luncheon, occupied a seat adjoining Lord Warburton's. Isabel, +who was nervous and had no relish for the prospect of again arguing +the question he had so prematurely opened, could not help admiring his +good-humoured self-possession, which quite disguised the symptoms of +that preoccupation with her presence it was natural she should suppose +him to feel. He neither looked at her nor spoke to her, and the only +sign of his emotion was that he avoided meeting her eyes. He had plenty +of talk for the others, however, and he appeared to eat his luncheon +with discrimination and appetite. Miss Molyneux, who had a smooth, +nun-like forehead and wore a large silver cross suspended from her neck, +was evidently preoccupied with Henrietta Stackpole, upon whom her +eyes constantly rested in a manner suggesting a conflict between deep +alienation and yearning wonder. Of the two ladies from Lockleigh she +was the one Isabel had liked best; there was such a world of hereditary +quiet in her. Isabel was sure moreover that her mild forehead and +silver cross referred to some weird Anglican mystery--some delightful +reinstitution perhaps of the quaint office of the canoness. She wondered +what Miss Molyneux would think of her if she knew Miss Archer had +refused her brother; and then she felt sure that Miss Molyneux would +never know--that Lord Warburton never told her such things. He was fond +of her and kind to her, but on the whole he told her little. Such, at +least, was Isabel's theory; when, at table, she was not occupied in +conversation she was usually occupied in forming theories about her +neighbours. According to Isabel, if Miss Molyneux should ever learn what +had passed between Miss Archer and Lord Warburton she would probably be +shocked at such a girl's failure to rise; or no, rather (this was our +heroine's last position) she would impute to the young American but a +due consciousness of inequality. + +Whatever Isabel might have made of her opportunities, at all events, +Henrietta Stackpole was by no means disposed to neglect those in which +she now found herself immersed. "Do you know you're the first lord I've +ever seen?" she said very promptly to her neighbour. "I suppose you +think I'm awfully benighted." + +"You've escaped seeing some very ugly men," Lord Warburton answered, +looking a trifle absently about the table. + +"Are they very ugly? They try to make us believe in America that they're +all handsome and magnificent and that they wear wonderful robes and +crowns." + +"Ah, the robes and crowns are gone out of fashion," said Lord Warburton, +"like your tomahawks and revolvers." + +"I'm sorry for that; I think an aristocracy ought to be splendid," +Henrietta declared. "If it's not that, what is it?" + +"Oh, you know, it isn't much, at the best," her neighbour allowed. +"Won't you have a potato?" + +"I don't care much for these European potatoes. I shouldn't know you +from an ordinary American gentleman." + +"Do talk to me as if I were one," said Lord Warburton. "I don't see how +you manage to get on without potatoes; you must find so few things to +eat over here." + +Henrietta was silent a little; there was a chance he was not sincere. +"I've had hardly any appetite since I've been here," she went on at +last; "so it doesn't much matter. I don't approve of you, you know; I +feel as if I ought to tell you that." + +"Don't approve of me?" + +"Yes; I don't suppose any one ever said such a thing to you before, did +they? I don't approve of lords as an institution. I think the world has +got beyond them--far beyond." + +"Oh, so do I. I don't approve of myself in the least. Sometimes it comes +over me--how I should object to myself if I were not myself, don't you +know? But that's rather good, by the way--not to be vainglorious." + +"Why don't you give it up then?" Miss Stackpole enquired. + +"Give up--a--?" asked Lord Warburton, meeting her harsh inflexion with a +very mellow one. + +"Give up being a lord." + +"Oh, I'm so little of one! One would really forget all about it if you +wretched Americans were not constantly reminding one. However, I do +think of giving it up, the little there is left of it, one of these +days." + +"I should like to see you do it!" Henrietta exclaimed rather grimly. + +"I'll invite you to the ceremony; we'll have a supper and a dance." + +"Well," said Miss Stackpole, "I like to see all sides. I don't approve +of a privileged class, but I like to hear what they have to say for +themselves." + +"Mighty little, as you see!" + +"I should like to draw you out a little more," Henrietta continued. "But +you're always looking away. You're afraid of meeting my eye. I see you +want to escape me." + +"No, I'm only looking for those despised potatoes." + +"Please explain about that young lady--your sister--then. I don't +understand about her. Is she a Lady?" + +"She's a capital good girl." + +"I don't like the way you say that--as if you wanted to change the +subject. Is her position inferior to yours?" + +"We neither of us have any position to speak of; but she's better off +than I, because she has none of the bother." + +"Yes, she doesn't look as if she had much bother. I wish I had as little +bother as that. You do produce quiet people over here, whatever else you +may do." + +"Ah, you see one takes life easily, on the whole," said Lord Warburton. +"And then you know we're very dull. Ah, we can be dull when we try!" + +"I should advise you to try something else. I shouldn't know what to +talk to your sister about; she looks so different. Is that silver cross +a badge?" + +"A badge?" + +"A sign of rank." + +Lord Warburton's glance had wandered a good deal, but at this it met the +gaze of his neighbour. "Oh yes," he answered in a moment; "the women go +in for those things. The silver cross is worn by the eldest daughters of +Viscounts." Which was his harmless revenge for having occasionally had +his credulity too easily engaged in America. After luncheon he proposed +to Isabel to come into the gallery and look at the pictures; and though +she knew he had seen the pictures twenty times she complied without +criticising this pretext. Her conscience now was very easy; ever since +she sent him her letter she had felt particularly light of spirit. He +walked slowly to the end of the gallery, staring at its contents and +saying nothing; and then he suddenly broke out: "I hoped you wouldn't +write to me that way." + +"It was the only way, Lord Warburton," said the girl. "Do try and +believe that." + +"If I could believe it of course I should let you alone. But we can't +believe by willing it; and I confess I don't understand. I could +understand your disliking me; that I could understand well. But that you +should admit you do--" + +"What have I admitted?" Isabel interrupted, turning slightly pale. + +"That you think me a good fellow; isn't that it?" She said nothing, +and he went on: "You don't seem to have any reason, and that gives me a +sense of injustice." + +"I have a reason, Lord Warburton." She said it in a tone that made his +heart contract. + +"I should like very much to know it." + +"I'll tell you some day when there's more to show for it." + +"Excuse my saying that in the mean time I must doubt of it." + +"You make me very unhappy," said Isabel. + +"I'm not sorry for that; it may help you to know how I feel. Will you +kindly answer me a question?" Isabel made no audible assent, but he +apparently saw in her eyes something that gave him courage to go on. "Do +you prefer some one else?" + +"That's a question I'd rather not answer." + +"Ah, you do then!" her suitor murmured with bitterness. + +The bitterness touched her, and she cried out: "You're mistaken! I +don't." + +He sat down on a bench, unceremoniously, doggedly, like a man in +trouble; leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at the floor. "I +can't even be glad of that," he said at last, throwing himself back +against the wall; "for that would be an excuse." + +She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "An excuse? Must I excuse myself?" + +He paid, however, no answer to the question. Another idea had come into +his head. "Is it my political opinions? Do you think I go too far?" + +"I can't object to your political opinions, because I don't understand +them." + +"You don't care what I think!" he cried, getting up. "It's all the same +to you." + +Isabel walked to the other side of the gallery and stood there showing +him her charming back, her light slim figure, the length of her white +neck as she bent her head, and the density of her dark braids. She +stopped in front of a small picture as if for the purpose of examining +it; and there was something so young and free in her movement that her +very pliancy seemed to mock at him. Her eyes, however, saw nothing; they +had suddenly been suffused with tears. In a moment he followed her, and +by this time she had brushed her tears away; but when she turned round +her face was pale and the expression of her eyes strange. "That reason +that I wouldn't tell you--I'll tell it you after all. It's that I can't +escape my fate." + +"Your fate?" + +"I should try to escape it if I were to marry you." + +"I don't understand. Why should not that be your fate as well as +anything else?" + +"Because it's not," said Isabel femininely. "I know it's not. It's not +my fate to give up--I know it can't be." + +Poor Lord Warburton stared, an interrogative point in either eye. "Do +you call marrying me giving up?" + +"Not in the usual sense. It's getting--getting--getting a great deal. +But it's giving up other chances." + +"Other chances for what?" + +"I don't mean chances to marry," said Isabel, her colour quickly coming +back to her. And then she stopped, looking down with a deep frown, as if +it were hopeless to attempt to make her meaning clear. + +"I don't think it presumptuous in me to suggest that you'll gain more +than you'll lose," her companion observed. + +"I can't escape unhappiness," said Isabel. "In marrying you I shall be +trying to." + +"I don't know whether you'd try to, but you certainly would: that I must +in candour admit!" he exclaimed with an anxious laugh. + +"I mustn't--I can't!" cried the girl. + +"Well, if you're bent on being miserable I don't see why you should make +me so. Whatever charms a life of misery may have for you, it has none +for me." + +"I'm not bent on a life of misery," said Isabel. "I've always been +intensely determined to be happy, and I've often believed I should be. +I've told people that; you can ask them. But it comes over me every +now and then that I can never be happy in any extraordinary way; not by +turning away, by separating myself." + +"By separating yourself from what?" + +"From life. From the usual chances and dangers, from what most people +know and suffer." + +Lord Warburton broke into a smile that almost denoted hope. "Why, +my dear Miss Archer," he began to explain with the most considerate +eagerness, "I don't offer you any exoneration from life or from any +chances or dangers whatever. I wish I could; depend upon it I would! For +what do you take me, pray? Heaven help me, I'm not the Emperor of China! +All I offer you is the chance of taking the common lot in a comfortable +sort of way. The common lot? Why, I'm devoted to the common lot! Strike +an alliance with me, and I promise you that you shall have plenty of it. +You shall separate from nothing whatever--not even from your friend Miss +Stackpole." + +"She'd never approve of it," said Isabel, trying to smile and take +advantage of this side-issue; despising herself too, not a little, for +doing so. + +"Are we speaking of Miss Stackpole?" his lordship asked impatiently. "I +never saw a person judge things on such theoretic grounds." + +"Now I suppose you're speaking of me," said Isabel with humility; and +she turned away again, for she saw Miss Molyneux enter the gallery, +accompanied by Henrietta and by Ralph. + +Lord Warburton's sister addressed him with a certain timidity and +reminded him she ought to return home in time for tea, as she was +expecting company to partake of it. He made no answer--apparently +not having heard her; he was preoccupied, and with good reason. Miss +Molyneux--as if he had been Royalty--stood like a lady-in-waiting. + +"Well, I never, Miss Molyneux!" said Henrietta Stackpole. "If I wanted +to go he'd have to go. If I wanted my brother to do a thing he'd have to +do it." + +"Oh, Warburton does everything one wants," Miss Molyneux answered with +a quick, shy laugh. "How very many pictures you have!" she went on, +turning to Ralph. + +"They look a good many, because they're all put together," said Ralph. +"But it's really a bad way." + +"Oh, I think it's so nice. I wish we had a gallery at Lockleigh. I'm so +very fond of pictures," Miss Molyneux went on, persistently, to Ralph, +as if she were afraid Miss Stackpole would address her again. Henrietta +appeared at once to fascinate and to frighten her. + +"Ah yes, pictures are very convenient," said Ralph, who appeared to know +better what style of reflexion was acceptable to her. + +"They're so very pleasant when it rains," the young lady continued. "It +has rained of late so very often." + +"I'm sorry you're going away, Lord Warburton," said Henrietta. "I wanted +to get a great deal more out of you." + +"I'm not going away," Lord Warburton answered. + +"Your sister says you must. In America the gentlemen obey the ladies." + +"I'm afraid we have some people to tea," said Miss Molyneux, looking at +her brother. + +"Very good, my dear. We'll go." + +"I hoped you would resist!" Henrietta exclaimed. "I wanted to see what +Miss Molyneux would do." + +"I never do anything," said this young lady. + +"I suppose in your position it's sufficient for you to exist!" Miss +Stackpole returned. "I should like very much to see you at home." + +"You must come to Lockleigh again," said Miss Molyneux, very sweetly, to +Isabel, ignoring this remark of Isabel's friend. Isabel looked into her +quiet eyes a moment, and for that moment seemed to see in their grey +depths the reflexion of everything she had rejected in rejecting Lord +Warburton--the peace, the kindness, the honour, the possessions, a deep +security and a great exclusion. She kissed Miss Molyneux and then she +said: "I'm afraid I can never come again." + +"Never again?" + +"I'm afraid I'm going away." + +"Oh, I'm so very sorry," said Miss Molyneux. "I think that's so very +wrong of you." + +Lord Warburton watched this little passage; then he turned away and +stared at a picture. Ralph, leaning against the rail before the picture +with his hands in his pockets, had for the moment been watching him. + +"I should like to see you at home," said Henrietta, whom Lord Warburton +found beside him. "I should like an hour's talk with you; there are a +great many questions I wish to ask you." + +"I shall be delighted to see you," the proprietor of Lockleigh answered; +"but I'm certain not to be able to answer many of your questions. When +will you come?" + +"Whenever Miss Archer will take me. We're thinking of going to London, +but we'll go and see you first. I'm determined to get some satisfaction +out of you." + +"If it depends upon Miss Archer I'm afraid you won't get much. She won't +come to Lockleigh; she doesn't like the place." + +"She told me it was lovely!" said Henrietta. + +Lord Warburton hesitated. "She won't come, all the same. You had better +come alone," he added. + +Henrietta straightened herself, and her large eyes expanded. "Would you +make that remark to an English lady?" she enquired with soft asperity. + +Lord Warburton stared. "Yes, if I liked her enough." + +"You'd be careful not to like her enough. If Miss Archer won't visit +your place again it's because she doesn't want to take me. I know what +she thinks of me, and I suppose you think the same--that I oughtn't to +bring in individuals." Lord Warburton was at a loss; he had not been +made acquainted with Miss Stackpole's professional character and failed +to catch her allusion. "Miss Archer has been warning you!" she therefore +went on. + +"Warning me?" + +"Isn't that why she came off alone with you here--to put you on your +guard?" + +"Oh dear, no," said Lord Warburton brazenly; "our talk had no such +solemn character as that." + +"Well, you've been on your guard--intensely. I suppose it's natural +to you; that's just what I wanted to observe. And so, too, Miss +Molyneux--she wouldn't commit herself. You have been warned, anyway," +Henrietta continued, addressing this young lady; "but for you it wasn't +necessary." + +"I hope not," said Miss Molyneux vaguely. + +"Miss Stackpole takes notes," Ralph soothingly explained. "She's a great +satirist; she sees through us all and she works us up." + +"Well, I must say I never have had such a collection of bad material!" +Henrietta declared, looking from Isabel to Lord Warburton and from this +nobleman to his sister and to Ralph. "There's something the matter with +you all; you're as dismal as if you had got a bad cable." + +"You do see through us, Miss Stackpole," said Ralph in a low tone, +giving her a little intelligent nod as he led the party out of the +gallery. "There's something the matter with us all." + +Isabel came behind these two; Miss Molyneux, who decidedly liked her +immensely, had taken her arm, to walk beside her over the polished +floor. Lord Warburton strolled on the other side with his hands behind +him and his eyes lowered. For some moments he said nothing; and then, +"Is it true you're going to London?" he asked. + +"I believe it has been arranged." + +"And when shall you come back?" + +"In a few days; but probably for a very short time. I'm going to Paris +with my aunt." + +"When, then, shall I see you again?" + +"Not for a good while," said Isabel. "But some day or other, I hope." + +"Do you really hope it?" + +"Very much." + +He went a few steps in silence; then he stopped and put out his hand. +"Good-bye." + +"Good-bye," said Isabel. + +Miss Molyneux kissed her again, and she let the two depart. After it, +without rejoining Henrietta and Ralph, she retreated to her own room; in +which apartment, before dinner, she was found by Mrs. Touchett, who had +stopped on her way to the salon. "I may as well tell you," said that +lady, "that your uncle has informed me of your relations with Lord +Warburton." + +Isabel considered. "Relations? They're hardly relations. That's the +strange part of it: he has seen me but three or four times." + +"Why did you tell your uncle rather than me?" Mrs. Touchett +dispassionately asked. + +Again the girl hesitated. "Because he knows Lord Warburton better." + +"Yes, but I know you better." + +"I'm not sure of that," said Isabel, smiling. + +"Neither am I, after all; especially when you give me that rather +conceited look. One would think you were awfully pleased with yourself +and had carried off a prize! I suppose that when you refuse an offer +like Lord Warburton's it's because you expect to do something better." + +"Ah, my uncle didn't say that!" cried Isabel, smiling still. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +It had been arranged that the two young ladies should proceed to London +under Ralph's escort, though Mrs. Touchett looked with little favour on +the plan. It was just the sort of plan, she said, that Miss Stackpole +would be sure to suggest, and she enquired if the correspondent of +the Interviewer was to take the party to stay at her favourite +boarding-house. + +"I don't care where she takes us to stay, so long as there's local +colour," said Isabel. "That's what we're going to London for." + +"I suppose that after a girl has refused an English lord she may do +anything," her aunt rejoined. "After that one needn't stand on trifles." + +"Should you have liked me to marry Lord Warburton?" Isabel enquired. + +"Of course I should." + +"I thought you disliked the English so much." + +"So I do; but it's all the greater reason for making use of them." + +"Is that your idea of marriage?" And Isabel ventured to add that her +aunt appeared to her to have made very little use of Mr. Touchett. + +"Your uncle's not an English nobleman," said Mrs. Touchett, "though even +if he had been I should still probably have taken up my residence in +Florence." + +"Do you think Lord Warburton could make me any better than I am?" the +girl asked with some animation. "I don't mean I'm too good to improve. I +mean that I don't love Lord Warburton enough to marry him." + +"You did right to refuse him then," said Mrs. Touchett in her smallest, +sparest voice. "Only, the next great offer you get, I hope you'll manage +to come up to your standard." + +"We had better wait till the offer comes before we talk about it. I +hope very much I may have no more offers for the present. They upset me +completely." + +"You probably won't be troubled with them if you adopt permanently the +Bohemian manner of life. However, I've promised Ralph not to criticise." + +"I'll do whatever Ralph says is right," Isabel returned. "I've unbounded +confidence in Ralph." + +"His mother's much obliged to you!" this lady dryly laughed. + +"It seems to me indeed she ought to feel it!" Isabel irrepressibly +answered. + +Ralph had assured her that there would be no violation of decency in +their paying a visit--the little party of three--to the sights of the +metropolis; but Mrs. Touchett took a different view. Like many ladies of +her country who had lived a long time in Europe, she had completely +lost her native tact on such points, and in her reaction, not in itself +deplorable, against the liberty allowed to young persons beyond the +seas, had fallen into gratuitous and exaggerated scruples. Ralph +accompanied their visitors to town and established them at a quiet inn +in a street that ran at right angles to Piccadilly. His first idea had +been to take them to his father's house in Winchester Square, a large, +dull mansion which at this period of the year was shrouded in silence +and brown holland; but he bethought himself that, the cook being at +Gardencourt, there was no one in the house to get them their meals, +and Pratt's Hotel accordingly became their resting-place. Ralph, on his +side, found quarters in Winchester Square, having a "den" there of which +he was very fond and being familiar with deeper fears than that of a +cold kitchen. He availed himself largely indeed of the resources of +Pratt's Hotel, beginning his day with an early visit to his fellow +travellers, who had Mr. Pratt in person, in a large bulging white +waistcoat, to remove their dish-covers. Ralph turned up, as he said, +after breakfast, and the little party made out a scheme of entertainment +for the day. As London wears in the month of September a face blank but +for its smears of prior service, the young man, who occasionally took +an apologetic tone, was obliged to remind his companion, to Miss +Stackpole's high derision, that there wasn't a creature in town. + +"I suppose you mean the aristocracy are absent," Henrietta answered; +"but I don't think you could have a better proof that if they were +absent altogether they wouldn't be missed. It seems to me the place is +about as full as it can be. There's no one here, of course, but three +or four millions of people. What is it you call them--the lower-middle +class? They're only the population of London, and that's of no +consequence." + +Ralph declared that for him the aristocracy left no void that Miss +Stackpole herself didn't fill, and that a more contented man was nowhere +at that moment to be found. In this he spoke the truth, for the stale +September days, in the huge half-empty town, had a charm wrapped in them +as a coloured gem might be wrapped in a dusty cloth. When he went home +at night to the empty house in Winchester Square, after a chain of hours +with his comparatively ardent friends, he wandered into the big dusky +dining-room, where the candle he took from the hall-table, after letting +himself in, constituted the only illumination. The square was still, the +house was still; when he raised one of the windows of the dining-room to +let in the air he heard the slow creak of the boots of a lone constable. +His own step, in the empty place, seemed loud and sonorous; some of the +carpets had been raised, and whenever he moved he roused a melancholy +echo. He sat down in one of the armchairs; the big dark dining table +twinkled here and there in the small candle-light; the pictures on the +wall, all of them very brown, looked vague and incoherent. There was a +ghostly presence as of dinners long since digested, of table-talk +that had lost its actuality. This hint of the supernatural perhaps had +something to do with the fact that his imagination took a flight and +that he remained in his chair a long time beyond the hour at which he +should have been in bed; doing nothing, not even reading the evening +paper. I say he did nothing, and I maintain the phrase in the face of +the fact that he thought at these moments of Isabel. To think of Isabel +could only be for him an idle pursuit, leading to nothing and profiting +little to any one. His cousin had not yet seemed to him so charming +as during these days spent in sounding, tourist-fashion, the deeps +and shallows of the metropolitan element. Isabel was full of premises, +conclusions, emotions; if she had come in search of local colour she +found it everywhere. She asked more questions than he could answer, and +launched brave theories, as to historic cause and social effect, that he +was equally unable to accept or to refute. The party went more than once +to the British Museum and to that brighter palace of art which reclaims +for antique variety so large an area of a monotonous suburb; they spent +a morning in the Abbey and went on a penny-steamer to the Tower; they +looked at pictures both in public and private collections and sat +on various occasions beneath the great trees in Kensington Gardens. +Henrietta proved an indestructible sight-seer and a more lenient judge +than Ralph had ventured to hope. She had indeed many disappointments, +and London at large suffered from her vivid remembrance of the strong +points of the American civic idea; but she made the best of its dingy +dignities and only heaved an occasional sigh and uttered a desultory +"Well!" which led no further and lost itself in retrospect. The truth +was that, as she said herself, she was not in her element. "I've not a +sympathy with inanimate objects," she remarked to Isabel at the National +Gallery; and she continued to suffer from the meagreness of the glimpse +that had as yet been vouchsafed to her of the inner life. Landscapes +by Turner and Assyrian bulls were a poor substitute for the literary +dinner-parties at which she had hoped to meet the genius and renown of +Great Britain. + +"Where are your public men, where are your men and women of intellect?" +she enquired of Ralph, standing in the middle of Trafalgar Square as +if she had supposed this to be a place where she would naturally meet a +few. "That's one of them on the top of the column, you say--Lord Nelson. +Was he a lord too? Wasn't he high enough, that they had to stick him a +hundred feet in the air? That's the past--I don't care about the past; I +want to see some of the leading minds of the present. I won't say of the +future, because I don't believe much in your future." Poor Ralph had few +leading minds among his acquaintance and rarely enjoyed the pleasure +of buttonholing a celebrity; a state of things which appeared to Miss +Stackpole to indicate a deplorable want of enterprise. "If I were on the +other side I should call," she said, "and tell the gentleman, whoever +he might be, that I had heard a great deal about him and had come to see +for myself. But I gather from what you say that this is not the custom +here. You seem to have plenty of meaningless customs, but none of those +that would help along. We are in advance, certainly. I suppose I shall +have to give up the social side altogether;" and Henrietta, though +she went about with her guidebook and pencil and wrote a letter to the +Interviewer about the Tower (in which she described the execution of +Lady Jane Grey), had a sad sense of falling below her mission. + +The incident that had preceded Isabel's departure from Gardencourt left +a painful trace in our young woman's mind: when she felt again in her +face, as from a recurrent wave, the cold breath of her last suitor's +surprise, she could only muffle her head till the air cleared. She could +not have done less than what she did; this was certainly true. But her +necessity, all the same, had been as graceless as some physical act in +a strained attitude, and she felt no desire to take credit for her +conduct. Mixed with this imperfect pride, nevertheless, was a feeling of +freedom which in itself was sweet and which, as she wandered through the +great city with her ill-matched companions, occasionally throbbed into +odd demonstrations. When she walked in Kensington Gardens she stopped +the children (mainly of the poorer sort) whom she saw playing on the +grass; she asked them their names and gave them sixpence and, when +they were pretty, kissed them. Ralph noticed these quaint charities; +he noticed everything she did. One afternoon, that his companions might +pass the time, he invited them to tea in Winchester Square, and he had +the house set in order as much as possible for their visit. There +was another guest to meet them, an amiable bachelor, an old friend of +Ralph's who happened to be in town and for whom prompt commerce with +Miss Stackpole appeared to have neither difficulty nor dread. Mr. +Bantling, a stout, sleek, smiling man of forty, wonderfully dressed, +universally informed and incoherently amused, laughed immoderately at +everything Henrietta said, gave her several cups of tea, examined in her +society the bric-a-brac, of which Ralph had a considerable collection, +and afterwards, when the host proposed they should go out into the +square and pretend it was a fete-champetre, walked round the limited +enclosure several times with her and, at a dozen turns of their talk, +bounded responsive--as with a positive passion for argument--to her +remarks upon the inner life. + +"Oh, I see; I dare say you found it very quiet at Gardencourt. Naturally +there's not much going on there when there's such a lot of illness +about. Touchett's very bad, you know; the doctors have forbidden his +being in England at all, and he has only come back to take care of his +father. The old man, I believe, has half a dozen things the matter +with him. They call it gout, but to my certain knowledge he has organic +disease so developed that you may depend upon it he'll go, some day +soon, quite quickly. Of course that sort of thing makes a dreadfully +dull house; I wonder they have people when they can do so little for +them. Then I believe Mr. Touchett's always squabbling with his wife; she +lives away from her husband, you know, in that extraordinary American +way of yours. If you want a house where there's always something going +on, I recommend you to go down and stay with my sister, Lady Pensil, +in Bedfordshire. I'll write to her to-morrow and I'm sure she'll be +delighted to ask you. I know just what you want--you want a house +where they go in for theatricals and picnics and that sort of thing. My +sister's just that sort of woman; she's always getting up something or +other and she's always glad to have the sort of people who help her. I'm +sure she'll ask you down by return of post: she's tremendously fond of +distinguished people and writers. She writes herself, you know; but +I haven't read everything she has written. It's usually poetry, and I +don't go in much for poetry--unless it's Byron. I suppose you think a +great deal of Byron in America," Mr. Bantling continued, expanding +in the stimulating air of Miss Stackpole's attention, bringing up his +sequences promptly and changing his topic with an easy turn of hand. +Yet he none the less gracefully kept in sight of the idea, dazzling to +Henrietta, of her going to stay with Lady Pensil in Bedfordshire. "I +understand what you want; you want to see some genuine English sport. +The Touchetts aren't English at all, you know; they have their own +habits, their own language, their own food--some odd religion even, I +believe, of their own. The old man thinks it's wicked to hunt, I'm told. +You must get down to my sister's in time for the theatricals, and I'm +sure she'll be glad to give you a part. I'm sure you act well; I know +you're very clever. My sister's forty years old and has seven children, +but she's going to play the principal part. Plain as she is she makes up +awfully well--I will say for her. Of course you needn't act if you don't +want to." + +In this manner Mr. Bantling delivered himself while they strolled over +the grass in Winchester Square, which, although it had been peppered +by the London soot, invited the tread to linger. Henrietta thought her +blooming, easy-voiced bachelor, with his impressibility to feminine +merit and his splendid range of suggestion, a very agreeable man, and +she valued the opportunity he offered her. "I don't know but I would go, +if your sister should ask me. I think it would be my duty. What do you +call her name?" + +"Pensil. It's an odd name, but it isn't a bad one." + +"I think one name's as good as another. But what's her rank?". + +"Oh, she's a baron's wife; a convenient sort of rank. You're fine enough +and you're not too fine." + +"I don't know but what she'd be too fine for me. What do you call the +place she lives in--Bedfordshire?" + +"She lives away in the northern corner of it. It's a tiresome country, +but I dare say you won't mind it. I'll try and run down while you're +there." + +All this was very pleasant to Miss Stackpole, and she was sorry to be +obliged to separate from Lady Pensil's obliging brother. But it happened +that she had met the day before, in Piccadilly, some friends whom she +had not seen for a year: the Miss Climbers, two ladies from Wilmington, +Delaware, who had been travelling on the Continent and were now +preparing to re-embark. Henrietta had had a long interview with them on +the Piccadilly pavement, and though the three ladies all talked at once +they had not exhausted their store. It had been agreed therefore that +Henrietta should come and dine with them in their lodgings in Jermyn +Street at six o'clock on the morrow, and she now bethought herself of +this engagement. She prepared to start for Jermyn Street, taking leave +first of Ralph Touchett and Isabel, who, seated on garden chairs +in another part of the enclosure, were occupied--if the term may be +used--with an exchange of amenities less pointed than the practical +colloquy of Miss Stackpole and Mr. Bantling. When it had been settled +between Isabel and her friend that they should be reunited at some +reputable hour at Pratt's Hotel, Ralph remarked that the latter must +have a cab. She couldn't walk all the way to Jermyn Street. + +"I suppose you mean it's improper for me to walk alone!" Henrietta +exclaimed. "Merciful powers, have I come to this?" + +"There's not the slightest need of your walking alone," Mr. Bantling +gaily interposed. "I should be greatly pleased to go with you." + +"I simply meant that you'd be late for dinner," Ralph returned. "Those +poor ladies may easily believe that we refuse, at the last, to spare +you." + +"You had better have a hansom, Henrietta," said Isabel. + +"I'll get you a hansom if you'll trust me," Mr. Bantling went on. + +"We might walk a little till we meet one." + +"I don't see why I shouldn't trust him, do you?" Henrietta enquired of +Isabel. + +"I don't see what Mr. Bantling could do to you," Isabel obligingly +answered; "but, if you like, we'll walk with you till you find your +cab." + +"Never mind; we'll go alone. Come on, Mr. Bantling, and take care you +get me a good one." + +Mr. Bantling promised to do his best, and the two took their departure, +leaving the girl and her cousin together in the square, over which +a clear September twilight had now begun to gather. It was perfectly +still; the wide quadrangle of dusky houses showed lights in none of the +windows, where the shutters and blinds were closed; the pavements were +a vacant expanse, and, putting aside two small children from a +neighbouring slum, who, attracted by symptoms of abnormal animation +in the interior, poked their faces between the rusty rails of +the enclosure, the most vivid object within sight was the big red +pillar-post on the southeast corner. + +"Henrietta will ask him to get into the cab and go with her to Jermyn +Street," Ralph observed. He always spoke of Miss Stackpole as Henrietta. + +"Very possibly," said his companion. + +"Or rather, no, she won't," he went on. "But Bantling will ask leave to +get in." + +"Very likely again. I'm glad very they're such good friends." + +"She has made a conquest. He thinks her a brilliant woman. It may go +far," said Ralph. + +Isabel was briefly silent. "I call Henrietta a very brilliant woman, but +I don't think it will go far. They would never really know each other. +He has not the least idea what she really is, and she has no just +comprehension of Mr. Bantling." + +"There's no more usual basis of union than a mutual misunderstanding. +But it ought not to be so difficult to understand Bob Bantling," Ralph +added. "He is a very simple organism." + +"Yes, but Henrietta's a simpler one still. And, pray, what am I to do?" +Isabel asked, looking about her through the fading light, in which the +limited landscape-gardening of the square took on a large and effective +appearance. "I don't imagine that you'll propose that you and I, for our +amusement, shall drive about London in a hansom." + +"There's no reason we shouldn't stay here--if you don't dislike it. It's +very warm; there will be half an hour yet before dark; and if you permit +it I'll light a cigarette." + +"You may do what you please," said Isabel, "if you'll amuse me till +seven o'clock. I propose at that hour to go back and partake of a simple +and solitary repast--two poached eggs and a muffin--at Pratt's Hotel." + +"Mayn't I dine with you?" Ralph asked. + +"No, you'll dine at your club." + +They had wandered back to their chairs in the centre of the square +again, and Ralph had lighted his cigarette. It would have given him +extreme pleasure to be present in person at the modest little feast she +had sketched; but in default of this he liked even being forbidden. For +the moment, however, he liked immensely being alone with her, in the +thickening dusk, in the centre of the multitudinous town; it made her +seem to depend upon him and to be in his power. This power he could +exert but vaguely; the best exercise of it was to accept her decisions +submissively which indeed there was already an emotion in doing. "Why +won't you let me dine with you?" he demanded after a pause. + +"Because I don't care for it." + +"I suppose you're tired of me." + +"I shall be an hour hence. You see I have the gift of foreknowledge." + +"Oh, I shall be delightful meanwhile," said Ralph. + +But he said nothing more, and as she made no rejoinder they sat +some time in a stillness which seemed to contradict his promise of +entertainment. It seemed to him she was preoccupied, and he wondered +what she was thinking about; there were two or three very possible +subjects. At last he spoke again. "Is your objection to my society this +evening caused by your expectation of another visitor?" + +She turned her head with a glance of her clear, fair eyes. "Another +visitor? What visitor should I have?" + +He had none to suggest; which made his question seem to himself silly as +well as brutal. "You've a great many friends that I don't know. You've a +whole past from which I was perversely excluded." + +"You were reserved for my future. You must remember that my past is over +there across the water. There's none of it here in London." + +"Very good, then, since your future is seated beside you. Capital thing +to have your future so handy." And Ralph lighted another cigarette and +reflected that Isabel probably meant she had received news that Mr. +Caspar Goodwood had crossed to Paris. After he had lighted his cigarette +he puffed it a while, and then he resumed. "I promised just now to be +very amusing; but you see I don't come up to the mark, and the fact is +there's a good deal of temerity in one's undertaking to amuse a +person like you. What do you care for my feeble attempts? You've grand +ideas--you've a high standard in such matters. I ought at least to bring +in a band of music or a company of mountebanks." + +"One mountebank's enough, and you do very well. Pray go on, and in +another ten minutes I shall begin to laugh." + +"I assure you I'm very serious," said Ralph. "You do really ask a great +deal." + +"I don't know what you mean. I ask nothing." + +"You accept nothing," said Ralph. She coloured, and now suddenly it +seemed to her that she guessed his meaning. But why should he speak +to her of such things? He hesitated a little and then he continued: +"There's something I should like very much to say to you. It's a +question I wish to ask. It seems to me I've a right to ask it, because +I've a kind of interest in the answer." + +"Ask what you will," Isabel replied gently, "and I'll try to satisfy +you." + +"Well then, I hope you won't mind my saying that Warburton has told me +of something that has passed between you." + +Isabel suppressed a start; she sat looking at her open fan. "Very good; +I suppose it was natural he should tell you." + +"I have his leave to let you know he has done so. He has some hope +still," said Ralph. + +"Still?" + +"He had it a few days ago." + +"I don't believe he has any now," said the girl. + +"I'm very sorry for him then; he's such an honest man." + +"Pray, did he ask you to talk to me?" + +"No, not that. But he told me because he couldn't help it. We're old +friends, and he was greatly disappointed. He sent me a line asking me +to come and see him, and I drove over to Lockleigh the day before he and +his sister lunched with us. He was very heavy-hearted; he had just got a +letter from you." + +"Did he show you the letter?" asked Isabel with momentary loftiness. + +"By no means. But he told me it was a neat refusal. I was very sorry for +him," Ralph repeated. + +For some moments Isabel said nothing; then at last, "Do you know how +often he had seen me?" she enquired. "Five or six times." + +"That's to your glory." + +"It's not for that I say it." + +"What then do you say it for. Not to prove that poor Warburton's state +of mind's superficial, because I'm pretty sure you don't think that." + +Isabel certainly was unable to say she thought it; but presently she +said something else. "If you've not been requested by Lord Warburton to +argue with me, then you're doing it disinterestedly--or for the love of +argument." + +"I've no wish to argue with you at all. I only wish to leave you alone. +I'm simply greatly interested in your own sentiments." + +"I'm greatly obliged to you!" cried Isabel with a slightly nervous +laugh. + +"Of course you mean that I'm meddling in what doesn't concern me. But +why shouldn't I speak to you of this matter without annoying you or +embarrassing myself? What's the use of being your cousin if I can't have +a few privileges? What's the use of adoring you without hope of a reward +if I can't have a few compensations? What's the use of being ill and +disabled and restricted to mere spectatorship at the game of life if I +really can't see the show when I've paid so much for my ticket? Tell me +this," Ralph went on while she listened to him with quickened attention. +"What had you in mind when you refused Lord Warburton?" + +"What had I in mind?" + +"What was the logic--the view of your situation--that dictated so +remarkable an act?" + +"I didn't wish to marry him--if that's logic." + +"No, that's not logic--and I knew that before. It's really nothing, you +know. What was it you said to yourself? You certainly said more than +that." + +Isabel reflected a moment, then answered with a question of her own. +"Why do you call it a remarkable act? That's what your mother thinks +too." + +"Warburton's such a thorough good sort; as a man, I consider he has +hardly a fault. And then he's what they call here no end of a swell. He +has immense possessions, and his wife would be thought a superior being. +He unites the intrinsic and the extrinsic advantages." + +Isabel watched her cousin as to see how far he would go. "I refused him +because he was too perfect then. I'm not perfect myself, and he's too +good for me. Besides, his perfection would irritate me." + +"That's ingenious rather than candid," said Ralph. "As a fact you think +nothing in the world too perfect for you." + +"Do you think I'm so good?" + +"No, but you're exacting, all the same, without the excuse of thinking +yourself good. Nineteen women out of twenty, however, even of the most +exacting sort, would have managed to do with Warburton. Perhaps you +don't know how he has been stalked." + +"I don't wish to know. But it seems to me," said Isabel, "that one day +when we talked of him you mentioned odd things in him." Ralph smokingly +considered. "I hope that what I said then had no weight with you; +for they were not faults, the things I spoke of: they were simply +peculiarities of his position. If I had known he wished to marry you I'd +never have alluded to them. I think I said that as regards that position +he was rather a sceptic. It would have been in your power to make him a +believer." + +"I think not. I don't understand the matter, and I'm not conscious of +any mission of that sort. You're evidently disappointed," Isabel added, +looking at her cousin with rueful gentleness. "You'd have liked me to +make such a marriage." + +"Not in the least. I'm absolutely without a wish on the subject. I don't +pretend to advise you, and I content myself with watching you--with the +deepest interest." + +She gave rather a conscious sigh. "I wish I could be as interesting to +myself as I am to you!" + +"There you're not candid again; you're extremely interesting to +yourself. Do you know, however," said Ralph, "that if you've really +given Warburton his final answer I'm rather glad it has been what it +was. I don't mean I'm glad for you, and still less of course for him. +I'm glad for myself." + +"Are you thinking of proposing to me?" + +"By no means. From the point of view I speak of that would be fatal; +I should kill the goose that supplies me with the material of my +inimitable omelettes. I use that animal as the symbol of my insane +illusions. What I mean is that I shall have the thrill of seeing what a +young lady does who won't marry Lord Warburton." + +"That's what your mother counts upon too," said Isabel. + +"Ah, there will be plenty of spectators! We shall hang on the rest of +your career. I shall not see all of it, but I shall probably see the +most interesting years. Of course if you were to marry our friend you'd +still have a career--a very decent, in fact a very brilliant one. But +relatively speaking it would be a little prosaic. It would be definitely +marked out in advance; it would be wanting in the unexpected. You know +I'm extremely fond of the unexpected, and now that you've kept the game +in your hands I depend on your giving us some grand example of it." + +"I don't understand you very well," said Isabel, "but I do so well +enough to be able to say that if you look for grand examples of anything +from me I shall disappoint you." + +"You'll do so only by disappointing yourself and that will go hard with +you!" + +To this she made no direct reply; there was an amount of truth in it +that would bear consideration. At last she said abruptly: "I don't see +what harm there is in my wishing not to tie myself. I don't want to +begin life by marrying. There are other things a woman can do." + +"There's nothing she can do so well. But you're of course so +many-sided." + +"If one's two-sided it's enough," said Isabel. + +"You're the most charming of polygons!" her companion broke out. At a +glance from his companion, however, he became grave, and to prove it +went on: "You want to see life--you'll be hanged if you don't, as the +young men say." + +"I don't think I want to see it as the young men want to see it. But I +do want to look about me." + +"You want to drain the cup of experience." + +"No, I don't wish to touch the cup of experience. It's a poisoned drink! +I only want to see for myself." + +"You want to see, but not to feel," Ralph remarked. + +"I don't think that if one's a sentient being one can make the +distinction. I'm a good deal like Henrietta. The other day when I asked +her if she wished to marry she said: 'Not till I've seen Europe!' I too +don't wish to marry till I've seen Europe." + +"You evidently expect a crowned head will be struck with you." + +"No, that would be worse than marrying Lord Warburton. But it's getting +very dark," Isabel continued, "and I must go home." She rose from her +place, but Ralph only sat still and looked at her. As he remained there +she stopped, and they exchanged a gaze that was full on either side, but +especially on Ralph's, of utterances too vague for words. + +"You've answered my question," he said at last. "You've told me what I +wanted. I'm greatly obliged to you." + +"It seems to me I've told you very little." + +"You've told me the great thing: that the world interests you and that +you want to throw yourself into it." + +Her silvery eyes shone a moment in the dusk. "I never said that." "I +think you meant it. Don't repudiate it. It's so fine!" + +"I don't know what you're trying to fasten upon me, for I'm not in the +least an adventurous spirit. Women are not like men." + +Ralph slowly rose from his seat and they walked together to the gate of +the square. "No," he said; "women rarely boast of their courage. Men do +so with a certain frequency." + +"Men have it to boast of!" + +"Women have it too. You've a great deal." + +"Enough to go home in a cab to Pratt's Hotel, but not more." + +Ralph unlocked the gate, and after they had passed out he fastened it. +"We'll find your cab," he said; and as they turned toward a neighbouring +street in which this quest might avail he asked her again if he mightn't +see her safely to the inn. + +"By no means," she answered; "you're very tired; you must go home and go +to bed." + +The cab was found, and he helped her into it, standing a moment at the +door. "When people forget I'm a poor creature I'm often incommoded," he +said. "But it's worse when they remember it!" + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +She had had no hidden motive in wishing him not to take her home; it +simply struck her that for some days past she had consumed an inordinate +quantity of his time, and the independent spirit of the American girl +whom extravagance of aid places in an attitude that she ends by finding +"affected" had made her decide that for these few hours she must suffice +to herself. She had moreover a great fondness for intervals of solitude, +which since her arrival in England had been but meagrely met. It was a +luxury she could always command at home and she had wittingly missed +it. That evening, however, an incident occurred which--had there been a +critic to note it--would have taken all colour from the theory that the +wish to be quite by herself had caused her to dispense with her cousin's +attendance. Seated toward nine o'clock in the dim illumination of +Pratt's Hotel and trying with the aid of two tall candles to lose +herself in a volume she had brought from Gardencourt, she succeeded +only to the extent of reading other words than those printed on the +page--words that Ralph had spoken to her that afternoon. Suddenly +the well-muffed knuckle of the waiter was applied to the door, which +presently gave way to his exhibition, even as a glorious trophy, of the +card of a visitor. When this memento had offered to her fixed sight the +name of Mr. Caspar Goodwood she let the man stand before her without +signifying her wishes. + +"Shall I show the gentleman up, ma'am?" he asked with a slightly +encouraging inflexion. + +Isabel hesitated still and while she hesitated glanced at the mirror. +"He may come in," she said at last; and waited for him not so much +smoothing her hair as girding her spirit. + +Caspar Goodwood was accordingly the next moment shaking hands with her, +but saying nothing till the servant had left the room. "Why didn't you +answer my letter?" he then asked in a quick, full, slightly peremptory +tone--the tone of a man whose questions were habitually pointed and who +was capable of much insistence. + +She answered by a ready question, "How did you know I was here?" + +"Miss Stackpole let me know," said Caspar Goodwood. "She told me you +would probably be at home alone this evening and would be willing to see +me." + +"Where did she see you--to tell you that?" + +"She didn't see me; she wrote to me." + +Isabel was silent; neither had sat down; they stood there with an air +of defiance, or at least of contention. "Henrietta never told me she was +writing to you," she said at last. "This is not kind of her." + +"Is it so disagreeable to you to see me?" asked the young man. + +"I didn't expect it. I don't like such surprises." + +"But you knew I was in town; it was natural we should meet." + +"Do you call this meeting? I hoped I shouldn't see you. In so big a +place as London it seemed very possible." + +"It was apparently repugnant to you even to write to me," her visitor +went on. + +Isabel made no reply; the sense of Henrietta Stackpole's treachery, +as she momentarily qualified it, was strong within her. "Henrietta's +certainly not a model of all the delicacies!" she exclaimed with +bitterness. "It was a great liberty to take." + +"I suppose I'm not a model either--of those virtues or of any others. +The fault's mine as much as hers." + +As Isabel looked at him it seemed to her that his jaw had never been +more square. This might have displeased her, but she took a different +turn. "No, it's not your fault so much as hers. What you've done was +inevitable, I suppose, for you." + +"It was indeed!" cried Caspar Goodwood with a voluntary laugh. + +"And now that I've come, at any rate, mayn't I stay?" + +"You may sit down, certainly." + +She went back to her chair again, while her visitor took the first place +that offered, in the manner of a man accustomed to pay little thought to +that sort of furtherance. "I've been hoping every day for an answer to +my letter. You might have written me a few lines." + +"It wasn't the trouble of writing that prevented me; I could as easily +have written you four pages as one. But my silence was an intention," +Isabel said. "I thought it the best thing." + +He sat with his eyes fixed on hers while she spoke; then he lowered them +and attached them to a spot in the carpet as if he were making a strong +effort to say nothing but what he ought. He was a strong man in the +wrong, and he was acute enough to see that an uncompromising exhibition +of his strength would only throw the falsity of his position into +relief. Isabel was not incapable of tasting any advantage of position +over a person of this quality, and though little desirous to flaunt it +in his face she could enjoy being able to say "You know you oughtn't to +have written to me yourself!" and to say it with an air of triumph. + +Caspar Goodwood raised his eyes to her own again; they seemed to shine +through the vizard of a helmet. He had a strong sense of justice and was +ready any day in the year--over and above this--to argue the question +of his rights. "You said you hoped never to hear from me again; I know +that. But I never accepted any such rule as my own. I warned you that +you should hear very soon." + +"I didn't say I hoped NEVER to hear from you," said Isabel. + +"Not for five years then; for ten years; twenty years. It's the same +thing." + +"Do you find it so? It seems to me there's a great difference. I can +imagine that at the end of ten years we might have a very pleasant +correspondence. I shall have matured my epistolary style." + +She looked away while she spoke these words, knowing them of so much +less earnest a cast than the countenance of her listener. Her eyes, +however, at last came back to him, just as he said very irrelevantly; +"Are you enjoying your visit to your uncle?" + +"Very much indeed." She dropped, but then she broke out. "What good do +you expect to get by insisting?" + +"The good of not losing you." + +"You've no right to talk of losing what's not yours. And even from your +own point of view," Isabel added, "you ought to know when to let one +alone." + +"I disgust you very much," said Caspar Goodwood gloomily; not as if to +provoke her to compassion for a man conscious of this blighting fact, +but as if to set it well before himself, so that he might endeavour to +act with his eyes on it. + +"Yes, you don't at all delight me, you don't fit in, not in any way, +just now, and the worst is that your putting it to the proof in this +manner is quite unnecessary." It wasn't certainly as if his nature had +been soft, so that pin-pricks would draw blood from it; and from the +first of her acquaintance with him, and of her having to defend herself +against a certain air that he had of knowing better what was good for +her than she knew herself, she had recognised the fact that perfect +frankness was her best weapon. To attempt to spare his sensibility or to +escape from him edgewise, as one might do from a man who had barred +the way less sturdily--this, in dealing with Caspar Goodwood, who would +grasp at everything of every sort that one might give him, was wasted +agility. It was not that he had not susceptibilities, but his passive +surface, as well as his active, was large and hard, and he might always +be trusted to dress his wounds, so far as they required it, himself. She +came back, even for her measure of possible pangs and aches in him, +to her old sense that he was naturally plated and steeled, armed +essentially for aggression. + +"I can't reconcile myself to that," he simply said. There was a +dangerous liberality about it; for she felt how open it was to him to +make the point that he had not always disgusted her. + +"I can't reconcile myself to it either, and it's not the state of things +that ought to exist between us. If you'd only try to banish me from your +mind for a few months we should be on good terms again." + +"I see. If I should cease to think of you at all for a prescribed time, +I should find I could keep it up indefinitely." + +"Indefinitely is more than I ask. It's more even than I should like." + +"You know that what you ask is impossible," said the young man, taking +his adjective for granted in a manner she found irritating. + +"Aren't you capable of making a calculated effort?" she demanded. +"You're strong for everything else; why shouldn't you be strong for +that?" + +"An effort calculated for what?" And then as she hung fire, "I'm +capable of nothing with regard to you," he went on, "but just of being +infernally in love with you. If one's strong one loves only the more +strongly." + +"There's a good deal in that;" and indeed our young lady felt the +force of it--felt it thrown off, into the vast of truth and poetry, +as practically a bait to her imagination. But she promptly came round. +"Think of me or not, as you find most possible; only leave me alone." + +"Until when?" + +"Well, for a year or two." + +"Which do you mean? Between one year and two there's all the difference +in the world." + +"Call it two then," said Isabel with a studied effect of eagerness. + +"And what shall I gain by that?" her friend asked with no sign of +wincing. + +"You'll have obliged me greatly." + +"And what will be my reward?" + +"Do you need a reward for an act of generosity?" + +"Yes, when it involves a great sacrifice." + +"There's no generosity without some sacrifice. Men don't understand such +things. If you make the sacrifice you'll have all my admiration." + +"I don't care a cent for your admiration--not one straw, with nothing to +show for it. When will you marry me? That's the only question." + +"Never--if you go on making me feel only as I feel at present." + +"What do I gain then by not trying to make you feel otherwise?" + +"You'll gain quite as much as by worrying me to death!" Caspar Goodwood +bent his eyes again and gazed a while into the crown of his hat. A +deep flush overspread his face; she could see her sharpness had at last +penetrated. This immediately had a value--classic, romantic, redeeming, +what did she know? for her; "the strong man in pain" was one of the +categories of the human appeal, little charm as he might exert in the +given case. "Why do you make me say such things to you?" she cried in a +trembling voice. "I only want to be gentle--to be thoroughly kind. It's +not delightful to me to feel people care for me and yet to have to try +and reason them out of it. I think others also ought to be considerate; +we have each to judge for ourselves. I know you're considerate, as much +as you can be; you've good reasons for what you do. But I really don't +want to marry, or to talk about it at all now. I shall probably never +do it--no, never. I've a perfect right to feel that way, and it's no +kindness to a woman to press her so hard, to urge her against her will. +If I give you pain I can only say I'm very sorry. It's not my fault; I +can't marry you simply to please you. I won't say that I shall always +remain your friend, because when women say that, in these situations, it +passes, I believe, for a sort of mockery. But try me some day." + +Caspar Goodwood, during this speech, had kept his eyes fixed upon the +name of his hatter, and it was not until some time after she had ceased +speaking that he raised them. When he did so the sight of a rosy, lovely +eagerness in Isabel's face threw some confusion into his attempt to +analyse her words. "I'll go home--I'll go to-morrow--I'll leave you +alone," he brought out at last. "Only," he heavily said, "I hate to lose +sight of you!" + +"Never fear. I shall do no harm." + +"You'll marry some one else, as sure as I sit here," Caspar Goodwood +declared. + +"Do you think that a generous charge?" + +"Why not? Plenty of men will try to make you." + +"I told you just now that I don't wish to marry and that I almost +certainly never shall." + +"I know you did, and I like your 'almost certainly'! I put no faith in +what you say." + +"Thank you very much. Do you accuse me of lying to shake you off? You +say very delicate things." + +"Why should I not say that? You've given me no pledge of anything at +all." + +"No, that's all that would be wanting!" + +"You may perhaps even believe you're safe--from wishing to be. But +you're not," the young man went on as if preparing himself for the +worst. + +"Very well then. We'll put it that I'm not safe. Have it as you please." + +"I don't know, however," said Caspar Goodwood, "that my keeping you in +sight would prevent it." + +"Don't you indeed? I'm after all very much afraid of you. Do you think +I'm so very easily pleased?" she asked suddenly, changing her tone. + +"No--I don't; I shall try to console myself with that. But there are a +certain number of very dazzling men in the world, no doubt; and if there +were only one it would be enough. The most dazzling of all will make +straight for you. You'll be sure to take no one who isn't dazzling." + +"If you mean by dazzling brilliantly clever," Isabel said--"and I can't +imagine what else you mean--I don't need the aid of a clever man to +teach me how to live. I can find it out for myself." + +"Find out how to live alone? I wish that, when you have, you'd teach +me!" + +She looked at him a moment; then with a quick smile, "Oh, you ought to +marry!" she said. + +He might be pardoned if for an instant this exclamation seemed to him +to sound the infernal note, and it is not on record that her motive for +discharging such a shaft had been of the clearest. He oughtn't to stride +about lean and hungry, however--she certainly felt THAT for him. "God +forgive you!" he murmured between his teeth as he turned away. + +Her accent had put her slightly in the wrong, and after a moment she +felt the need to right herself. The easiest way to do it was to place +him where she had been. "You do me great injustice--you say what you +don't know!" she broke out. "I shouldn't be an easy victim--I've proved +it." + +"Oh, to me, perfectly." + +"I've proved it to others as well." And she paused a moment. "I refused +a proposal of marriage last week; what they call--no doubt--a dazzling +one." + +"I'm very glad to hear it," said the young man gravely. + +"It was a proposal many girls would have accepted; it had everything to +recommend it." Isabel had not proposed to herself to tell this story, +but, now she had begun, the satisfaction of speaking it out and doing +herself justice took possession of her. "I was offered a great position +and a great fortune--by a person whom I like extremely." + +Caspar watched her with intense interest. "Is he an Englishman?" + +"He's an English nobleman," said Isabel. + +Her visitor received this announcement at first in silence, but at last +said: "I'm glad he's disappointed." + +"Well then, as you have companions in misfortune, make the best of it." + +"I don't call him a companion," said Casper grimly. + +"Why not--since I declined his offer absolutely?" + +"That doesn't make him my companion. Besides, he's an Englishman." + +"And pray isn't an Englishman a human being?" Isabel asked. + +"Oh, those people? They're not of my humanity, and I don't care what +becomes of them." + +"You're very angry," said the girl. "We've discussed this matter quite +enough." + +"Oh yes, I'm very angry. I plead guilty to that!" + +She turned away from him, walked to the open window and stood a moment +looking into the dusky void of the street, where a turbid gaslight +alone represented social animation. For some time neither of these young +persons spoke; Caspar lingered near the chimney-piece with eyes gloomily +attached. She had virtually requested him to go--he knew that; but at +the risk of making himself odious he kept his ground. She was far too +dear to him to be easily renounced, and he had crossed the sea all to +wring from her some scrap of a vow. Presently she left the window and +stood again before him. "You do me very little justice--after my telling +you what I told you just now. I'm sorry I told you--since it matters so +little to you." + +"Ah," cried the young man, "if you were thinking of ME when you did it!" +And then he paused with the fear that she might contradict so happy a +thought. + +"I was thinking of you a little," said Isabel. + +"A little? I don't understand. If the knowledge of what I feel for you +had any weight with you at all, calling it a 'little' is a poor account +of it." + +Isabel shook her head as if to carry off a blunder. "I've refused a most +kind, noble gentleman. Make the most of that." + +"I thank you then," said Caspar Goodwood gravely. "I thank you +immensely." + +"And now you had better go home." + +"May I not see you again?" he asked. + +"I think it's better not. You'll be sure to talk of this, and you see it +leads to nothing." + +"I promise you not to say a word that will annoy you." + +Isabel reflected and then answered: "I return in a day or two to my +uncle's, and I can't propose to you to come there. It would be too +inconsistent." + +Caspar Goodwood, on his side, considered. "You must do me justice too. +I received an invitation to your uncle's more than a week ago, and I +declined it." + +She betrayed surprise. "From whom was your invitation?" + +"From Mr. Ralph Touchett, whom I suppose to be your cousin. I declined +it because I had not your authorisation to accept it. The suggestion +that Mr. Touchett should invite me appeared to have come from Miss +Stackpole." + +"It certainly never did from me. Henrietta really goes very far," Isabel +added. + +"Don't be too hard on her--that touches ME." + +"No; if you declined you did quite right, and I thank you for it." And +she gave a little shudder of dismay at the thought that Lord Warburton +and Mr. Goodwood might have met at Gardencourt: it would have been so +awkward for Lord Warburton. + +"When you leave your uncle where do you go?" her companion asked. + +"I go abroad with my aunt--to Florence and other places." + +The serenity of this announcement struck a chill to the young man's +heart; he seemed to see her whirled away into circles from which he was +inexorably excluded. Nevertheless he went on quickly with his questions. +"And when shall you come back to America?" + +"Perhaps not for a long time. I'm very happy here." + +"Do you mean to give up your country?" + +"Don't be an infant!" + +"Well, you'll be out of my sight indeed!" said Caspar Goodwood. + +"I don't know," she answered rather grandly. "The world--with all these +places so arranged and so touching each other--comes to strike one as +rather small." + +"It's a sight too big for ME!" Caspar exclaimed with a simplicity +our young lady might have found touching if her face had not been set +against concessions. + +This attitude was part of a system, a theory, that she had lately +embraced, and to be thorough she said after a moment: "Don't think me +unkind if I say it's just THAT--being out of your sight--that I like. +If you were in the same place I should feel you were watching me, and I +don't like that--I like my liberty too much. If there's a thing in the +world I'm fond of," she went on with a slight recurrence of grandeur, +"it's my personal independence." + +But whatever there might be of the too superior in this speech moved +Caspar Goodwood's admiration; there was nothing he winced at in the +large air of it. He had never supposed she hadn't wings and the need of +beautiful free movements--he wasn't, with his own long arms and strides, +afraid of any force in her. Isabel's words, if they had been meant to +shock him, failed of the mark and only made him smile with the sense +that here was common ground. "Who would wish less to curtail your +liberty than I? What can give me greater pleasure than to see you +perfectly independent--doing whatever you like? It's to make you +independent that I want to marry you." + +"That's a beautiful sophism," said the girl with a smile more beautiful +still. + +"An unmarried woman--a girl of your age--isn't independent. There are +all sorts of things she can't do. She's hampered at every step." + +"That's as she looks at the question," Isabel answered with much spirit. +"I'm not in my first youth--I can do what I choose--I belong quite to +the independent class. I've neither father nor mother; I'm poor and of +a serious disposition; I'm not pretty. I therefore am not bound to be +timid and conventional; indeed I can't afford such luxuries. Besides, +I try to judge things for myself; to judge wrong, I think, is more +honourable than not to judge at all. I don't wish to be a mere sheep in +the flock; I wish to choose my fate and know something of human affairs +beyond what other people think it compatible with propriety to tell me." +She paused a moment, but not long enough for her companion to reply. He +was apparently on the point of doing so when she went on: "Let me say +this to you, Mr. Goodwood. You're so kind as to speak of being afraid of +my marrying. If you should hear a rumour that I'm on the point of doing +so--girls are liable to have such things said about them--remember what +I have told you about my love of liberty and venture to doubt it." + +There was something passionately positive in the tone in which she gave +him this advice, and he saw a shining candour in her eyes that helped +him to believe her. On the whole he felt reassured, and you might have +perceived it by the manner in which he said, quite eagerly: "You want +simply to travel for two years? I'm quite willing to wait two years, and +you may do what you like in the interval. If that's all you want, +pray say so. I don't want you to be conventional; do I strike you as +conventional myself? Do you want to improve your mind? Your mind's quite +good enough for me; but if it interests you to wander about a while and +see different countries I shall be delighted to help you in any way in +my power." + +"You're very generous; that's nothing new to me. The best way to help me +will be to put as many hundred miles of sea between us as possible." + +"One would think you were going to commit some atrocity!" said Caspar +Goodwood. + +"Perhaps I am. I wish to be free even to do that if the fancy takes me." + +"Well then," he said slowly, "I'll go home." And he put out his hand, +trying to look contented and confident. + +Isabel's confidence in him, however, was greater than any he could feel +in her. Not that he thought her capable of committing an atrocity; but, +turn it over as he would, there was something ominous in the way she +reserved her option. As she took his hand she felt a great respect for +him; she knew how much he cared for her and she thought him magnanimous. +They stood so for a moment, looking at each other, united by a +hand-clasp which was not merely passive on her side. "That's right," +she said very kindly, almost tenderly. "You'll lose nothing by being a +reasonable man." + +"But I'll come back, wherever you are, two years hence," he returned +with characteristic grimness. + +We have seen that our young lady was inconsequent, and at this she +suddenly changed her note. "Ah, remember, I promise nothing--absolutely +nothing!" Then more softly, as if to help him to leave her: "And +remember too that I shall not be an easy victim!" + +"You'll get very sick of your independence." + +"Perhaps I shall; it's even very probable. When that day comes I shall +be very glad to see you." + +She had laid her hand on the knob of the door that led into her room, +and she waited a moment to see whether her visitor would not take his +departure. But he appeared unable to move; there was still an immense +unwillingness in his attitude and a sore remonstrance in his eyes. "I +must leave you now," said Isabel; and she opened the door and passed +into the other room. + +This apartment was dark, but the darkness was tempered by a vague +radiance sent up through the window from the court of the hotel, and +Isabel could make out the masses of the furniture, the dim shining of +the mirror and the looming of the big four-posted bed. She stood still a +moment, listening, and at last she heard Caspar Goodwood walk out of +the sitting-room and close the door behind him. She stood still a little +longer, and then, by an irresistible impulse, dropped on her knees +before her bed and hid her face in her arms. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +She was not praying; she was trembling--trembling all over. Vibration +was easy to her, was in fact too constant with her, and she found +herself now humming like a smitten harp. She only asked, however, to put +on the cover, to case herself again in brown holland, but she wished to +resist her excitement, and the attitude of devotion, which she kept for +some time, seemed to help her to be still. She intensely rejoiced that +Caspar Goodwood was gone; there was something in having thus got rid of +him that was like the payment, for a stamped receipt, of some debt +too long on her mind. As she felt the glad relief she bowed her head a +little lower; the sense was there, throbbing in her heart; it was part +of her emotion, but it was a thing to be ashamed of--it was profane and +out of place. It was not for some ten minutes that she rose from her +knees, and even when she came back to the sitting-room her tremor had +not quite subsided. It had had, verily, two causes: part of it was to be +accounted for by her long discussion with Mr. Goodwood, but it might be +feared that the rest was simply the enjoyment she found in the exercise +of her power. She sat down in the same chair again and took up her book, +but without going through the form of opening the volume. She leaned +back, with that low, soft, aspiring murmur with which she often +uttered her response to accidents of which the brighter side was not +superficially obvious, and yielded to the satisfaction of having refused +two ardent suitors in a fortnight. That love of liberty of which she +had given Caspar Goodwood so bold a sketch was as yet almost exclusively +theoretic; she had not been able to indulge it on a large scale. But it +appeared to her she had done something; she had tasted of the delight, +if not of battle, at least of victory; she had done what was truest to +her plan. In the glow of this consciousness the image of Mr. Goodwood +taking his sad walk homeward through the dingy town presented itself +with a certain reproachful force; so that, as at the same moment the +door of the room was opened, she rose with an apprehension that he +had come back. But it was only Henrietta Stackpole returning from her +dinner. + +Miss Stackpole immediately saw that our young lady had been "through" +something, and indeed the discovery demanded no great penetration. She +went straight up to her friend, who received her without a greeting. +Isabel's elation in having sent Caspar Goodwood back to America +presupposed her being in a manner glad he had come to see her; but at +the same time she perfectly remembered Henrietta had had no right to set +a trap for her. "Has he been here, dear?" the latter yearningly asked. + +Isabel turned away and for some moments answered nothing. "You acted +very wrongly," she declared at last. + +"I acted for the best. I only hope you acted as well." + +"You're not the judge. I can't trust you," said Isabel. + +This declaration was unflattering, but Henrietta was much too unselfish +to heed the charge it conveyed; she cared only for what it intimated +with regard to her friend. "Isabel Archer," she observed with equal +abruptness and solemnity, "if you marry one of these people I'll never +speak to you again!" + +"Before making so terrible a threat you had better wait till I'm asked," +Isabel replied. Never having said a word to Miss Stackpole about Lord +Warburton's overtures, she had now no impulse whatever to justify +herself to Henrietta by telling her that she had refused that nobleman. + +"Oh, you'll be asked quick enough, once you get off on the Continent. +Annie Climber was asked three times in Italy--poor plain little Annie." + +"Well, if Annie Climber wasn't captured why should I be?" + +"I don't believe Annie was pressed; but you'll be." + +"That's a flattering conviction," said Isabel without alarm. + +"I don't flatter you, Isabel, I tell you the truth!" cried her friend. +"I hope you don't mean to tell me that you didn't give Mr. Goodwood some +hope." + +"I don't see why I should tell you anything; as I said to you just now, +I can't trust you. But since you're so much interested in Mr. Goodwood I +won't conceal from you that he returns immediately to America." + +"You don't mean to say you've sent him off?" Henrietta almost shrieked. + +"I asked him to leave me alone; and I ask you the same, Henrietta." Miss +Stackpole glittered for an instant with dismay, and then passed to the +mirror over the chimney-piece and took off her bonnet. "I hope you've +enjoyed your dinner," Isabel went on. + +But her companion was not to be diverted by frivolous propositions. "Do +you know where you're going, Isabel Archer?" + +"Just now I'm going to bed," said Isabel with persistent frivolity. + +"Do you know where you're drifting?" Henrietta pursued, holding out her +bonnet delicately. + +"No, I haven't the least idea, and I find it very pleasant not to know. +A swift carriage, of a dark night, rattling with four horses over roads +that one can't see--that's my idea of happiness." + +"Mr. Goodwood certainly didn't teach you to say such things as +that--like the heroine of an immoral novel," said Miss Stackpole. +"You're drifting to some great mistake." + +Isabel was irritated by her friend's interference, yet she still tried +to think what truth this declaration could represent. She could think +of nothing that diverted her from saying: "You must be very fond of me, +Henrietta, to be willing to be so aggressive." + +"I love you intensely, Isabel," said Miss Stackpole with feeling. + +"Well, if you love me intensely let me as intensely alone. I asked that +of Mr. Goodwood, and I must also ask it of you." + +"Take care you're not let alone too much." + +"That's what Mr. Goodwood said to me. I told him I must take the risks." + +"You're a creature of risks--you make me shudder!" cried Henrietta. +"When does Mr. Goodwood return to America?" + +"I don't know--he didn't tell me." + +"Perhaps you didn't enquire," said Henrietta with the note of righteous +irony. + +"I gave him too little satisfaction to have the right to ask questions +of him." + +This assertion seemed to Miss Stackpole for a moment to bid defiance to +comment; but at last she exclaimed: "Well, Isabel, if I didn't know you +I might think you were heartless!" + +"Take care," said Isabel; "you're spoiling me." + +"I'm afraid I've done that already. I hope, at least," Miss Stackpole +added, "that he may cross with Annie Climber!" + +Isabel learned from her the next morning that she had determined not to +return to Gardencourt (where old Mr. Touchett had promised her a renewed +welcome), but to await in London the arrival of the invitation that Mr. +Bantling had promised her from his sister Lady Pensil. Miss Stackpole +related very freely her conversation with Ralph Touchett's sociable +friend and declared to Isabel that she really believed she had now got +hold of something that would lead to something. On the receipt of Lady +Pensil's letter--Mr. Bantling had virtually guaranteed the arrival of +this document--she would immediately depart for Bedfordshire, and if +Isabel cared to look out for her impressions in the Interviewer +she would certainly find them. Henrietta was evidently going to see +something of the inner life this time. + +"Do you know where you're drifting, Henrietta Stackpole?" Isabel asked, +imitating the tone in which her friend had spoken the night before. + +"I'm drifting to a big position--that of the Queen of American +Journalism. If my next letter isn't copied all over the West I'll +swallow my penwiper!" + +She had arranged with her friend Miss Annie Climber, the young lady +of the continental offers, that they should go together to make +those purchases which were to constitute Miss Climber's farewell to a +hemisphere in which she at least had been appreciated; and she presently +repaired to Jermyn Street to pick up her companion. Shortly after her +departure Ralph Touchett was announced, and as soon as he came in Isabel +saw he had something on his mind. He very soon took his cousin into his +confidence. He had received from his mother a telegram to the effect +that his father had had a sharp attack of his old malady, that she +was much alarmed and that she begged he would instantly return to +Gardencourt. On this occasion at least Mrs. Touchett's devotion to the +electric wire was not open to criticism. + +"I've judged it best to see the great doctor, Sir Matthew Hope, +first," Ralph said; "by great good luck he's in town. He's to see me +at half-past twelve, and I shall make sure of his coming down to +Gardencourt--which he will do the more readily as he has already seen +my father several times, both there and in London. There's an express +at two-forty-five, which I shall take; and you'll come back with me or +remain here a few days longer, exactly as you prefer." + +"I shall certainly go with you," Isabel returned. "I don't suppose I can +be of any use to my uncle, but if he's ill I shall like to be near him." + +"I think you're fond of him," said Ralph with a certain shy pleasure +in his face. "You appreciate him, which all the world hasn't done. The +quality's too fine." + +"I quite adore him," Isabel after a moment said. + +"That's very well. After his son he's your greatest admirer." She +welcomed this assurance, but she gave secretly a small sigh of relief +at the thought that Mr. Touchett was one of those admirers who couldn't +propose to marry her. This, however, was not what she spoke; she went on +to inform Ralph that there were other reasons for her not remaining in +London. She was tired of it and wished to leave it; and then Henrietta +was going away--going to stay in Bedfordshire. + +"In Bedfordshire?" + +"With Lady Pensil, the sister of Mr. Bantling, who has answered for an +invitation." + +Ralph was feeling anxious, but at this he broke into a laugh. Suddenly, +none the less, his gravity returned. "Bantling's a man of courage. But +if the invitation should get lost on the way?" + +"I thought the British post-office was impeccable." + +"The good Homer sometimes nods," said Ralph. "However," he went on more +brightly, "the good Bantling never does, and, whatever happens, he'll +take care of Henrietta." + +Ralph went to keep his appointment with Sir Matthew Hope, and Isabel +made her arrangements for quitting Pratt's Hotel. Her uncle's danger +touched her nearly, and while she stood before her open trunk, looking +about her vaguely for what she should put into it, the tears suddenly +rose to her eyes. It was perhaps for this reason that when Ralph came +back at two o'clock to take her to the station she was not yet ready. He +found Miss Stackpole, however, in the sitting-room, where she had just +risen from her luncheon, and this lady immediately expressed her regret +at his father's illness. + +"He's a grand old man," she said; "he's faithful to the last. If it's +really to be the last--pardon my alluding to it, but you must often +have thought of the possibility--I'm sorry that I shall not be at +Gardencourt." + +"You'll amuse yourself much more in Bedfordshire." + +"I shall be sorry to amuse myself at such a time," said Henrietta +with much propriety. But she immediately added: "I should like so to +commemorate the closing scene." + +"My father may live a long time," said Ralph simply. Then, adverting +to topics more cheerful, he interrogated Miss Stackpole as to her own +future. + +Now that Ralph was in trouble she addressed him in a tone of larger +allowance and told him that she was much indebted to him for having made +her acquainted with Mr. Bantling. "He has told me just the things I +want to know," she said; "all the society items and all about the royal +family. I can't make out that what he tells me about the royal family is +much to their credit; but he says that's only my peculiar way of looking +at it. Well, all I want is that he should give me the facts; I can put +them together quick enough, once I've got them." And she added that Mr. +Bantling had been so good as to promise to come and take her out that +afternoon. + +"To take you where?" Ralph ventured to enquire. + +"To Buckingham Palace. He's going to show me over it, so that I may get +some idea how they live." + +"Ah," said Ralph, "we leave you in good hands. The first thing we shall +hear is that you're invited to Windsor Castle." + +"If they ask me, I shall certainly go. Once I get started I'm not +afraid. But for all that," Henrietta added in a moment, "I'm not +satisfied; I'm not at peace about Isabel." + +"What is her last misdemeanour?" + +"Well, I've told you before, and I suppose there's no harm in my going +on. I always finish a subject that I take up. Mr. Goodwood was here last +night." + +Ralph opened his eyes; he even blushed a little--his blush being +the sign of an emotion somewhat acute. He remembered that Isabel, in +separating from him in Winchester Square, had repudiated his suggestion +that her motive in doing so was the expectation of a visitor at Pratt's +Hotel, and it was a new pang to him to have to suspect her of duplicity. +On the other hand, he quickly said to himself, what concern was it of +his that she should have made an appointment with a lover? Had it not +been thought graceful in every age that young ladies should make a +mystery of such appointments? Ralph gave Miss Stackpole a diplomatic +answer. "I should have thought that, with the views you expressed to me +the other day, this would satisfy you perfectly." + +"That he should come to see her? That was very well, as far as it went. +It was a little plot of mine; I let him know that we were in London, and +when it had been arranged that I should spend the evening out I sent him +a word--the word we just utter to the 'wise.' I hoped he would find her +alone; I won't pretend I didn't hope that you'd be out of the way. He +came to see her, but he might as well have stayed away." + +"Isabel was cruel?"--and Ralph's face lighted with the relief of his +cousin's not having shown duplicity. + +"I don't exactly know what passed between them. But she gave him no +satisfaction--she sent him back to America." + +"Poor Mr. Goodwood!" Ralph sighed. + +"Her only idea seems to be to get rid of him," Henrietta went on. + +"Poor Mr. Goodwood!" Ralph repeated. The exclamation, it must be +confessed, was automatic; it failed exactly to express his thoughts, +which were taking another line. + +"You don't say that as if you felt it. I don't believe you care." + +"Ah," said Ralph, "you must remember that I don't know this interesting +young man--that I've never seen him." + +"Well, I shall see him, and I shall tell him not to give up. If I didn't +believe Isabel would come round," Miss Stackpole added--"well, I'd give +up myself. I mean I'd give HER up!" + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +It had occurred to Ralph that, in the conditions, Isabel's parting with +her friend might be of a slightly embarrassed nature, and he went down +to the door of the hotel in advance of his cousin, who, after a slight +delay, followed with the traces of an unaccepted remonstrance, as he +thought, in her eyes. The two made the journey to Gardencourt in almost +unbroken silence, and the servant who met them at the station had no +better news to give them of Mr. Touchett--a fact which caused Ralph to +congratulate himself afresh on Sir Matthew Hope's having promised to +come down in the five o'clock train and spend the night. Mrs. Touchett, +he learned, on reaching home, had been constantly with the old man and +was with him at that moment; and this fact made Ralph say to himself +that, after all, what his mother wanted was just easy occasion. The +finer natures were those that shone at the larger times. Isabel went to +her own room, noting throughout the house that perceptible hush which +precedes a crisis. At the end of an hour, however, she came downstairs +in search of her aunt, whom she wished to ask about Mr. Touchett. She +went into the library, but Mrs. Touchett was not there, and as the +weather, which had been damp and chill, was now altogether spoiled, it +was not probable she had gone for her usual walk in the grounds. Isabel +was on the point of ringing to send a question to her room, when this +purpose quickly yielded to an unexpected sound--the sound of low music +proceeding apparently from the saloon. She knew her aunt never touched +the piano, and the musician was therefore probably Ralph, who played for +his own amusement. That he should have resorted to this recreation at +the present time indicated apparently that his anxiety about his father +had been relieved; so that the girl took her way, almost with restored +cheer, toward the source of the harmony. The drawing-room at Gardencourt +was an apartment of great distances, and, as the piano was placed at +the end of it furthest removed from the door at which she entered, her +arrival was not noticed by the person seated before the instrument. +This person was neither Ralph nor his mother; it was a lady whom +Isabel immediately saw to be a stranger to herself, though her back was +presented to the door. This back--an ample and well-dressed one--Isabel +viewed for some moments with surprise. The lady was of course a visitor +who had arrived during her absence and who had not been mentioned by +either of the servants--one of them her aunt's maid--of whom she had had +speech since her return. Isabel had already learned, however, with +what treasures of reserve the function of receiving orders may be +accompanied, and she was particularly conscious of having been treated +with dryness by her aunt's maid, through whose hands she had slipped +perhaps a little too mistrustfully and with an effect of plumage but +the more lustrous. The advent of a guest was in itself far from +disconcerting; she had not yet divested herself of a young faith that +each new acquaintance would exert some momentous influence on her life. +By the time she had made these reflexions she became aware that the +lady at the piano played remarkably well. She was playing something +of Schubert's--Isabel knew not what, but recognised Schubert--and she +touched the piano with a discretion of her own. It showed skill, it +showed feeling; Isabel sat down noiselessly on the nearest chair and +waited till the end of the piece. When it was finished she felt a strong +desire to thank the player, and rose from her seat to do so, while at +the same time the stranger turned quickly round, as if but just aware of +her presence. + +"That's very beautiful, and your playing makes it more beautiful still," +said Isabel with all the young radiance with which she usually uttered a +truthful rapture. + +"You don't think I disturbed Mr. Touchett then?" the musician answered +as sweetly as this compliment deserved. "The house is so large and his +room so far away that I thought I might venture, especially as I played +just--just du bout des doigts." + +"She's a Frenchwoman," Isabel said to herself; "she says that as if she +were French." And this supposition made the visitor more interesting to +our speculative heroine. "I hope my uncle's doing well," Isabel added. +"I should think that to hear such lovely music as that would really make +him feel better." + +The lady smiled and discriminated. "I'm afraid there are moments in life +when even Schubert has nothing to say to us. We must admit, however, +that they are our worst." + +"I'm not in that state now then," said Isabel. "On the contrary I should +be so glad if you would play something more." + +"If it will give you pleasure--delighted." And this obliging person took +her place again and struck a few chords, while Isabel sat down nearer +the instrument. Suddenly the new-comer stopped with her hands on the +keys, half-turning and looking over her shoulder. She was forty years +old and not pretty, though her expression charmed. "Pardon me," she +said; "but are you the niece--the young American?" + +"I'm my aunt's niece," Isabel replied with simplicity. + +The lady at the piano sat still a moment longer, casting her air of +interest over her shoulder. "That's very well; we're compatriots." And +then she began to play. + +"Ah then she's not French," Isabel murmured; and as the opposite +supposition had made her romantic it might have seemed that this +revelation would have marked a drop. But such was not the fact; rarer +even than to be French seemed it to be American on such interesting +terms. + +The lady played in the same manner as before, softly and solemnly, and +while she played the shadows deepened in the room. The autumn twilight +gathered in, and from her place Isabel could see the rain, which had now +begun in earnest, washing the cold-looking lawn and the wind shaking the +great trees. At last, when the music had ceased, her companion got up +and, coming nearer with a smile, before Isabel had time to thank her +again, said: "I'm very glad you've come back; I've heard a great deal +about you." + +Isabel thought her a very attractive person, but nevertheless spoke with +a certain abruptness in reply to this speech. "From whom have you heard +about me?" + +The stranger hesitated a single moment and then, "From your uncle," she +answered. "I've been here three days, and the first day he let me come +and pay him a visit in his room. Then he talked constantly of you." + +"As you didn't know me that must rather have bored you." + +"It made me want to know you. All the more that since then--your aunt +being so much with Mr. Touchett--I've been quite alone and have got +rather tired of my own society. I've not chosen a good moment for my +visit." + +A servant had come in with lamps and was presently followed by another +bearing the tea-tray. On the appearance of this repast Mrs. Touchett had +apparently been notified, for she now arrived and addressed herself to +the tea-pot. Her greeting to her niece did not differ materially from +her manner of raising the lid of this receptacle in order to glance at +the contents: in neither act was it becoming to make a show of avidity. +Questioned about her husband she was unable to say he was better; but +the local doctor was with him, and much light was expected from this +gentleman's consultation with Sir Matthew Hope. + +"I suppose you two ladies have made acquaintance," she pursued. "If you +haven't I recommend you to do so; for so long as we continue--Ralph and +I--to cluster about Mr. Touchett's bed you're not likely to have much +society but each other." + +"I know nothing about you but that you're a great musician," Isabel said +to the visitor. + +"There's a good deal more than that to know," Mrs. Touchett affirmed in +her little dry tone. + +"A very little of it, I am sure, will content Miss Archer!" the lady +exclaimed with a light laugh. "I'm an old friend of your aunt's. +I've lived much in Florence. I'm Madame Merle." She made this last +announcement as if she were referring to a person of tolerably distinct +identity. For Isabel, however, it represented little; she could only +continue to feel that Madame Merle had as charming a manner as any she +had ever encountered. + +"She's not a foreigner in spite of her name," said Mrs. Touchett. + +"She was born--I always forget where you were born." + +"It's hardly worth while then I should tell you." + +"On the contrary," said Mrs. Touchett, who rarely missed a logical +point; "if I remembered your telling me would be quite superfluous." + +Madame Merle glanced at Isabel with a sort of world-wide smile, a +thing that over-reached frontiers. "I was born under the shadow of the +national banner." + +"She's too fond of mystery," said Mrs. Touchett; "that's her great +fault." + +"Ah," exclaimed Madame Merle, "I've great faults, but I don't think +that's one of then; it certainly isn't the greatest. I came into the +world in the Brooklyn navy-yard. My father was a high officer in the +United States Navy, and had a post--a post of responsibility--in that +establishment at the time. I suppose I ought to love the sea, but I hate +it. That's why I don't return to America. I love the land; the great +thing is to love something." + +Isabel, as a dispassionate witness, had not been struck with the +force of Mrs. Touchett's characterisation of her visitor, who had an +expressive, communicative, responsive face, by no means of the sort +which, to Isabel's mind, suggested a secretive disposition. It was a +face that told of an amplitude of nature and of quick and free motions +and, though it had no regular beauty, was in the highest degree engaging +and attaching. Madame Merle was a tall, fair, smooth woman; everything +in her person was round and replete, though without those accumulations +which suggest heaviness. Her features were thick but in perfect +proportion and harmony, and her complexion had a healthy clearness. +Her grey eyes were small but full of light and incapable of +stupidity--incapable, according to some people, even of tears; she had +a liberal, full-rimmed mouth which when she smiled drew itself upward to +the left side in a manner that most people thought very odd, some very +affected and a few very graceful. Isabel inclined to range herself in +the last category. Madame Merle had thick, fair hair, arranged somehow +"classically" and as if she were a Bust, Isabel judged--a Juno or a +Niobe; and large white hands, of a perfect shape, a shape so perfect +that their possessor, preferring to leave them unadorned, wore no +jewelled rings. Isabel had taken her at first, as we have seen, for +a Frenchwoman; but extended observation might have ranked her as a +German--a German of high degree, perhaps an Austrian, a baroness, a +countess, a princess. It would never have been supposed she had come +into the world in Brooklyn--though one could doubtless not have carried +through any argument that the air of distinction marking her in so +eminent a degree was inconsistent with such a birth. It was true that +the national banner had floated immediately over her cradle, and the +breezy freedom of the stars and stripes might have shed an influence +upon the attitude she there took towards life. And yet she had evidently +nothing of the fluttered, flapping quality of a morsel of bunting in the +wind; her manner expressed the repose and confidence which come from a +large experience. Experience, however, had not quenched her youth; it +had simply made her sympathetic and supple. She was in a word a woman of +strong impulses kept in admirable order. This commended itself to Isabel +as an ideal combination. + +The girl made these reflexions while the three ladies sat at their tea, +but that ceremony was interrupted before long by the arrival of the +great doctor from London, who had been immediately ushered into the +drawing-room. Mrs. Touchett took him off to the library for a private +talk; and then Madame Merle and Isabel parted, to meet again at dinner. +The idea of seeing more of this interesting woman did much to mitigate +Isabel's sense of the sadness now settling on Gardencourt. + +When she came into the drawing-room before dinner she found the place +empty; but in the course of a moment Ralph arrived. His anxiety about +his father had been lightened; Sir Matthew Hope's view of his condition +was less depressed than his own had been. The doctor recommended that +the nurse alone should remain with the old man for the next three or +four hours; so that Ralph, his mother and the great physician himself +were free to dine at table. Mrs. Touchett and Sir Matthew appeared; +Madame Merle was the last. + +Before she came Isabel spoke of her to Ralph, who was standing before +the fireplace. "Pray who is this Madame Merle?" + +"The cleverest woman I know, not excepting yourself," said Ralph. + +"I thought she seemed very pleasant." + +"I was sure you'd think her very pleasant." + +"Is that why you invited her?" + +"I didn't invite her, and when we came back from London I didn't know +she was here. No one invited her. She's a friend of my mother's, and +just after you and I went to town my mother got a note from her. She had +arrived in England (she usually lives abroad, though she has first and +last spent a good deal of time here), and asked leave to come down for +a few days. She's a woman who can make such proposals with perfect +confidence; she's so welcome wherever she goes. And with my mother there +could be no question of hesitating; she's the one person in the world +whom my mother very much admires. If she were not herself (which she +after all much prefers), she would like to be Madame Merle. It would +indeed be a great change." + +"Well, she's very charming," said Isabel. "And she plays beautifully." + +"She does everything beautifully. She's complete." + +Isabel looked at her cousin a moment. "You don't like her." + +"On the contrary, I was once in love with her." + +"And she didn't care for you, and that's why you don't like her." + +"How can we have discussed such things? Monsieur Merle was then living." + +"Is he dead now?" + +"So she says." + +"Don't you believe her?" + +"Yes, because the statement agrees with the probabilities. The husband +of Madame Merle would be likely to pass away." + +Isabel gazed at her cousin again. "I don't know what you mean. You mean +something--that you don't mean. What was Monsieur Merle?" + +"The husband of Madame." + +"You're very odious. Has she any children?" + +"Not the least little child--fortunately." + +"Fortunately?" + +"I mean fortunately for the child. She'd be sure to spoil it." + +Isabel was apparently on the point of assuring her cousin for the third +time that he was odious; but the discussion was interrupted by the +arrival of the lady who was the topic of it. She came rustling in +quickly, apologising for being late, fastening a bracelet, dressed in +dark blue satin, which exposed a white bosom that was ineffectually +covered by a curious silver necklace. Ralph offered her his arm with the +exaggerated alertness of a man who was no longer a lover. + +Even if this had still been his condition, however, Ralph had other +things to think about. The great doctor spent the night at Gardencourt +and, returning to London on the morrow, after another consultation with +Mr. Touchett's own medical adviser, concurred in Ralph's desire that he +should see the patient again on the day following. On the day following +Sir Matthew Hope reappeared at Gardencourt, and now took a less +encouraging view of the old man, who had grown worse in the twenty-four +hours. His feebleness was extreme, and to his son, who constantly sat +by his bedside, it often seemed that his end must be at hand. The local +doctor, a very sagacious man, in whom Ralph had secretly more confidence +than in his distinguished colleague, was constantly in attendance, and +Sir Matthew Hope came back several times. Mr. Touchett was much of the +time unconscious; he slept a great deal; he rarely spoke. Isabel had a +great desire to be useful to him and was allowed to watch with him at +hours when his other attendants (of whom Mrs. Touchett was not the least +regular) went to take rest. He never seemed to know her, and she always +said to herself "Suppose he should die while I'm sitting here;" an idea +which excited her and kept her awake. Once he opened his eyes for a +while and fixed them upon her intelligently, but when she went to him, +hoping he would recognise her, he closed them and relapsed into stupor. +The day after this, however, he revived for a longer time; but on this +occasion Ralph only was with him. The old man began to talk, much to his +son's satisfaction, who assured him that they should presently have him +sitting up. + +"No, my boy," said Mr. Touchett, "not unless you bury me in a sitting +posture, as some of the ancients--was it the ancients?--used to do." + +"Ah, daddy, don't talk about that," Ralph murmured. "You mustn't deny +that you're getting better." + +"There will be no need of my denying it if you don't say it," the old +man answered. "Why should we prevaricate just at the last? We never +prevaricated before. I've got to die some time, and it's better to die +when one's sick than when one's well. I'm very sick--as sick as I shall +ever be. I hope you don't want to prove that I shall ever be worse than +this? That would be too bad. You don't? Well then." + +Having made this excellent point he became quiet; but the next time that +Ralph was with him he again addressed himself to conversation. The +nurse had gone to her supper and Ralph was alone in charge, having just +relieved Mrs. Touchett, who had been on guard since dinner. The room was +lighted only by the flickering fire, which of late had become necessary, +and Ralph's tall shadow was projected over wall and ceiling with an +outline constantly varying but always grotesque. + +"Who's that with me--is it my son?" the old man asked. + +"Yes, it's your son, daddy." + +"And is there no one else?" + +"No one else." + +Mr. Touchett said nothing for a while; and then, "I want to talk a +little," he went on. + +"Won't it tire you?" Ralph demurred. + +"It won't matter if it does. I shall have a long rest. I want to talk +about YOU." + +Ralph had drawn nearer to the bed; he sat leaning forward with his hand +on his father's. "You had better select a brighter topic." + +"You were always bright; I used to be proud of your brightness. I should +like so much to think you'd do something." + +"If you leave us," said Ralph, "I shall do nothing but miss you." + +"That's just what I don't want; it's what I want to talk about. You must +get a new interest." + +"I don't want a new interest, daddy. I have more old ones than I know +what to do with." + +The old man lay there looking at his son; his face was the face of the +dying, but his eyes were the eyes of Daniel Touchett. He seemed to be +reckoning over Ralph's interests. "Of course you have your mother," he +said at last. "You'll take care of her." + +"My mother will always take care of herself," Ralph returned. + +"Well," said his father, "perhaps as she grows older she'll need a +little help." + +"I shall not see that. She'll outlive me." + +"Very likely she will; but that's no reason--!" Mr. Touchett let his +phrase die away in a helpless but not quite querulous sigh and remained +silent again. + +"Don't trouble yourself about us," said his son, "My mother and I get on +very well together, you know." + +"You get on by always being apart; that's not natural." + +"If you leave us we shall probably see more of each other." + +"Well," the old man observed with wandering irrelevance, "it can't be +said that my death will make much difference in your mother's life." + +"It will probably make more than you think." + +"Well, she'll have more money," said Mr. Touchett. "I've left her a good +wife's portion, just as if she had been a good wife." + +"She has been one, daddy, according to her own theory. She has never +troubled you." + +"Ah, some troubles are pleasant," Mr. Touchett murmured. "Those you've +given me for instance. But your mother has been less--less--what shall +I call it? less out of the way since I've been ill. I presume she knows +I've noticed it." + +"I shall certainly tell her so; I'm so glad you mention it." + +"It won't make any difference to her; she doesn't do it to please me. +She does it to please--to please--" And he lay a while trying to think +why she did it. "She does it because it suits her. But that's not what +I want to talk about," he added. "It's about you. You'll be very well +off." + +"Yes," said Ralph, "I know that. But I hope you've not forgotten the +talk we had a year ago--when I told you exactly what money I should need +and begged you to make some good use of the rest." + +"Yes, yes, I remember. I made a new will--in a few days. I suppose it +was the first time such a thing had happened--a young man trying to get +a will made against him." + +"It is not against me," said Ralph. "It would be against me to have a +large property to take care of. It's impossible for a man in my state of +health to spend much money, and enough is as good as a feast." + +"Well, you'll have enough--and something over. There will be more than +enough for one--there will be enough for two." + +"That's too much," said Ralph. + +"Ah, don't say that. The best thing you can do; when I'm gone, will be +to marry." + +Ralph had foreseen what his father was coming to, and this suggestion +was by no means fresh. It had long been Mr. Touchett's most ingenious +way of taking the cheerful view of his son's possible duration. Ralph +had usually treated it facetiously; but present circumstances proscribed +the facetious. He simply fell back in his chair and returned his +father's appealing gaze. + +"If I, with a wife who hasn't been very fond of me, have had a very +happy life," said the old man, carrying his ingenuity further still, +"what a life mightn't you have if you should marry a person different +from Mrs. Touchett. There are more different from her than there are +like her." Ralph still said nothing; and after a pause his father +resumed softly: "What do you think of your cousin?" + +At this Ralph started, meeting the question with a strained smile. "Do I +understand you to propose that I should marry Isabel?" + +"Well, that's what it comes to in the end. Don't you like Isabel?" + +"Yes, very much." And Ralph got up from his chair and wandered over to +the fire. He stood before it an instant and then he stooped and stirred +it mechanically. "I like Isabel very much," he repeated. + +"Well," said his father, "I know she likes you. She has told me how much +she likes you." + +"Did she remark that she would like to marry me?" + +"No, but she can't have anything against you. And she's the most +charming young lady I've ever seen. And she would be good to you. I have +thought a great deal about it." + +"So have I," said Ralph, coming back to the bedside again. "I don't mind +telling you that." + +"You ARE in love with her then? I should think you would be. It's as if +she came over on purpose." + +"No, I'm not in love with her; but I should be if--if certain things +were different." + +"Ah, things are always different from what they might be," said the old +man. "If you wait for them to change you'll never do anything. I don't +know whether you know," he went on; "but I suppose there's no harm in +my alluding to it at such an hour as this: there was some one wanted to +marry Isabel the other day, and she wouldn't have him." + +"I know she refused Warburton: he told me himself." + +"Well, that proves there's a chance for somebody else." + +"Somebody else took his chance the other day in London--and got nothing +by it." + +"Was it you?" Mr. Touchett eagerly asked. + +"No, it was an older friend; a poor gentleman who came over from America +to see about it." + +"Well, I'm sorry for him, whoever he was. But it only proves what I +say--that the way's open to you." + +"If it is, dear father, it's all the greater pity that I'm unable to +tread it. I haven't many convictions; but I have three or four that I +hold strongly. One is that people, on the whole, had better not marry +their cousins. Another is that people in an advanced stage of pulmonary +disorder had better not marry at all." + +The old man raised his weak hand and moved it to and fro before his +face. "What do you mean by that? You look at things in a way that would +make everything wrong. What sort of a cousin is a cousin that you +had never seen for more than twenty years of her life? We're all each +other's cousins, and if we stopped at that the human race would die out. +It's just the same with your bad lung. You're a great deal better than +you used to be. All you want is to lead a natural life. It is a great +deal more natural to marry a pretty young lady that you're in love with +than it is to remain single on false principles." + +"I'm not in love with Isabel," said Ralph. + +"You said just now that you would be if you didn't think it wrong. I +want to prove to you that it isn't wrong." + +"It will only tire you, dear daddy," said Ralph, who marvelled at his +father's tenacity and at his finding strength to insist. "Then where +shall we all be?" + +"Where shall you be if I don't provide for you? You won't have anything +to do with the bank, and you won't have me to take care of. You say +you've so many interests; but I can't make them out." + +Ralph leaned back in his chair with folded arms; his eyes were fixed for +some time in meditation. At last, with the air of a man fairly mustering +courage, "I take a great interest in my cousin," he said, "but not the +sort of interest you desire. I shall not live many years; but I hope I +shall live long enough to see what she does with herself. She's entirely +independent of me; I can exercise very little influence upon her life. +But I should like to do something for her." + +"What should you like to do?" + +"I should like to put a little wind in her sails." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"I should like to put it into her power to do some of the things she +wants. She wants to see the world for instance. I should like to put +money in her purse." + +"Ah, I'm glad you've thought of that," said the old man. "But I've +thought of it too. I've left her a legacy--five thousand pounds." + +"That's capital; it's very kind of you. But I should like to do a little +more." + +Something of that veiled acuteness with which it had been on Daniel +Touchett's part the habit of a lifetime to listen to a financial +proposition still lingered in the face in which the invalid had not +obliterated the man of business. "I shall be happy to consider it," he +said softly. + +"Isabel's poor then. My mother tells me that she has but a few hundred +dollars a year. I should like to make her rich." + +"What do you mean by rich?" + +"I call people rich when they're able to meet the requirements of their +imagination. Isabel has a great deal of imagination." + +"So have you, my son," said Mr. Touchett, listening very attentively but +a little confusedly. + +"You tell me I shall have money enough for two. What I want is that you +should kindly relieve me of my superfluity and make it over to Isabel. +Divide my inheritance into two equal halves and give her the second." + +"To do what she likes with?" + +"Absolutely what she likes." + +"And without an equivalent?" + +"What equivalent could there be?" + +"The one I've already mentioned." + +"Her marrying--some one or other? It's just to do away with anything of +that sort that I make my suggestion. If she has an easy income she'll +never have to marry for a support. That's what I want cannily to +prevent. She wishes to be free, and your bequest will make her free." + +"Well, you seem to have thought it out," said Mr. Touchett. "But I don't +see why you appeal to me. The money will be yours, and you can easily +give it to her yourself." + +Ralph openly stared. "Ah, dear father, I can't offer Isabel money!" + +The old man gave a groan. "Don't tell me you're not in love with her! Do +you want me to have the credit of it?" + +"Entirely. I should like it simply to be a clause in your will, without +the slightest reference to me." + +"Do you want me to make a new will then?" + +"A few words will do it; you can attend to it the next time you feel a +little lively." + +"You must telegraph to Mr. Hilary then. I'll do nothing without my +solicitor." + +"You shall see Mr. Hilary to-morrow." + +"He'll think we've quarrelled, you and I," said the old man. + +"Very probably; I shall like him to think it," said Ralph, smiling; +"and, to carry out the idea, I give you notice that I shall be very +sharp, quite horrid and strange, with you." + +The humour of this appeared to touch his father, who lay a little while +taking it in. "I'll do anything you like," Mr. Touchett said at last; +"but I'm not sure it's right. You say you want to put wind in her sails; +but aren't you afraid of putting too much?" + +"I should like to see her going before the breeze!" Ralph answered. + +"You speak as if it were for your mere amusement." + +"So it is, a good deal." + +"Well, I don't think I understand," said Mr. Touchett with a sigh. +"Young men are very different from what I was. When I cared for a +girl--when I was young--I wanted to do more than look at her." + +"You've scruples that I shouldn't have had, and you've ideas that I +shouldn't have had either. You say Isabel wants to be free, and that +her being rich will keep her from marrying for money. Do you think that +she's a girl to do that?" + +"By no means. But she has less money than she has ever had before. Her +father then gave her everything, because he used to spend his capital. +She has nothing but the crumbs of that feast to live on, and she doesn't +really know how meagre they are--she has yet to learn it. My mother has +told me all about it. Isabel will learn it when she's really thrown upon +the world, and it would be very painful to me to think of her coming to +the consciousness of a lot of wants she should be unable to satisfy." + +"I've left her five thousand pounds. She can satisfy a good many wants +with that." + +"She can indeed. But she would probably spend it in two or three years." + +"You think she'd be extravagant then?" + +"Most certainly," said Ralph, smiling serenely. + +Poor Mr. Touchett's acuteness was rapidly giving place to pure +confusion. "It would merely be a question of time then, her spending the +larger sum?" + +"No--though at first I think she'd plunge into that pretty freely: she'd +probably make over a part of it to each of her sisters. But after that +she'd come to her senses, remember she has still a lifetime before her, +and live within her means." + +"Well, you HAVE worked it out," said the old man helplessly. "You do +take an interest in her, certainly." + +"You can't consistently say I go too far. You wished me to go further." + +"Well, I don't know," Mr. Touchett answered. "I don't think I enter into +your spirit. It seems to me immoral." + +"Immoral, dear daddy?" + +"Well, I don't know that it's right to make everything so easy for a +person." + +"It surely depends upon the person. When the person's good, your making +things easy is all to the credit of virtue. To facilitate the execution +of good impulses, what can be a nobler act?" + +This was a little difficult to follow, and Mr. Touchett considered it +for a while. At last he said: "Isabel's a sweet young thing; but do you +think she's so good as that?" + +"She's as good as her best opportunities," Ralph returned. + +"Well," Mr. Touchett declared, "she ought to get a great many +opportunities for sixty thousand pounds." + +"I've no doubt she will." + +"Of course I'll do what you want," said the old man. "I only want to +understand it a little." + +"Well, dear daddy, don't you understand it now?" his son caressingly +asked. "If you don't we won't take any more trouble about it. We'll +leave it alone." + +Mr. Touchett lay a long time still. Ralph supposed he had given up the +attempt to follow. But at last, quite lucidly, he began again. "Tell +me this first. Doesn't it occur to you that a young lady with sixty +thousand pounds may fall a victim to the fortune-hunters?" + +"She'll hardly fall a victim to more than one." + +"Well, one's too many." + +"Decidedly. That's a risk, and it has entered into my calculation. I +think it's appreciable, but I think it's small, and I'm prepared to take +it." + +Poor Mr. Touchett's acuteness had passed into perplexity, and his +perplexity now passed into admiration. "Well, you have gone into it!" he +repeated. "But I don't see what good you're to get of it." + +Ralph leaned over his father's pillows and gently smoothed them; he was +aware their talk had been unduly prolonged. "I shall get just the good +I said a few moments ago I wished to put into Isabel's reach--that of +having met the requirements of my imagination. But it's scandalous, the +way I've taken advantage of you!" + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +As Mrs. Touchett had foretold, Isabel and Madame Merle were thrown +much together during the illness of their host, so that if they had +not become intimate it would have been almost a breach of good manners. +Their manners were of the best, but in addition to this they happened +to please each other. It is perhaps too much to say that they swore +an eternal friendship, but tacitly at least they called the future to +witness. Isabel did so with a perfectly good conscience, though she +would have hesitated to admit she was intimate with her new friend in +the high sense she privately attached to this term. She often wondered +indeed if she ever had been, or ever could be, intimate with any one. +She had an ideal of friendship as well as of several other sentiments, +which it failed to seem to her in this case--it had not seemed to her +in other cases--that the actual completely expressed. But she often +reminded herself that there were essential reasons why one's ideal +could never become concrete. It was a thing to believe in, not to see--a +matter of faith, not of experience. Experience, however, might supply +us with very creditable imitations of it, and the part of wisdom was +to make the best of these. Certainly, on the whole, Isabel had never +encountered a more agreeable and interesting figure than Madame Merle; +she had never met a person having less of that fault which is the +principal obstacle to friendship--the air of reproducing the more +tiresome, the stale, the too-familiar parts of one's own character. +The gates of the girl's confidence were opened wider than they had ever +been; she said things to this amiable auditress that she had not yet +said to any one. Sometimes she took alarm at her candour: it was as +if she had given to a comparative stranger the key to her cabinet of +jewels. These spiritual gems were the only ones of any magnitude that +Isabel possessed, but there was all the greater reason for their being +carefully guarded. Afterwards, however, she always remembered that one +should never regret a generous error and that if Madame Merle had not +the merits she attributed to her, so much the worse for Madame Merle. +There was no doubt she had great merits--she was charming, sympathetic, +intelligent, cultivated. More than this (for it had not been Isabel's +ill-fortune to go through life without meeting in her own sex several +persons of whom no less could fairly be said), she was rare, superior +and preeminent. There are many amiable people in the world, and Madame +Merle was far from being vulgarly good-natured and restlessly witty. She +knew how to think--an accomplishment rare in women; and she had thought +to very good purpose. Of course, too, she knew how to feel; Isabel +couldn't have spent a week with her without being sure of that. This was +indeed Madame Merle's great talent, her most perfect gift. Life had told +upon her; she had felt it strongly, and it was part of the satisfaction +to be taken in her society that when the girl talked of what she was +pleased to call serious matters this lady understood her so easily and +quickly. Emotion, it is true, had become with her rather historic; she +made no secret of the fact that the fount of passion, thanks to having +been rather violently tapped at one period, didn't flow quite so +freely as of yore. She proposed moreover, as well as expected, to cease +feeling; she freely admitted that of old she had been a little mad, and +now she pretended to be perfectly sane. + +"I judge more than I used to," she said to Isabel, "but it seems to me +one has earned the right. One can't judge till one's forty; before that +we're too eager, too hard, too cruel, and in addition much too ignorant. +I'm sorry for you; it will be a long time before you're forty. But every +gain's a loss of some kind; I often think that after forty one can't +really feel. The freshness, the quickness have certainly gone. You'll +keep them longer than most people; it will be a great satisfaction to me +to see you some years hence. I want to see what life makes of you. One +thing's certain--it can't spoil you. It may pull you about horribly, but +I defy it to break you up." + +Isabel received this assurance as a young soldier, still panting from +a slight skirmish in which he has come off with honour, might receive a +pat on the shoulder from his colonel. Like such a recognition of merit +it seemed to come with authority. How could the lightest word do less +on the part of a person who was prepared to say, of almost everything +Isabel told her, "Oh, I've been in that, my dear; it passes, like +everything else." On many of her interlocutors Madame Merle might have +produced an irritating effect; it was disconcertingly difficult to +surprise her. But Isabel, though by no means incapable of desiring to +be effective, had not at present this impulse. She was too sincere, too +interested in her judicious companion. And then moreover Madame Merle +never said such things in the tone of triumph or of boastfulness; they +dropped from her like cold confessions. + +A period of bad weather had settled upon Gardencourt; the days grew +shorter and there was an end to the pretty tea-parties on the lawn. But +our young woman had long indoor conversations with her fellow visitor, +and in spite of the rain the two ladies often sallied forth for a walk, +equipped with the defensive apparatus which the English climate and +the English genius have between them brought to such perfection. Madame +Merle liked almost everything, including the English rain. "There's +always a little of it and never too much at once," she said; "and it +never wets you and it always smells good." She declared that in England +the pleasures of smell were great--that in this inimitable island there +was a certain mixture of fog and beer and soot which, however odd it +might sound, was the national aroma, and was most agreeable to the +nostril; and she used to lift the sleeve of her British overcoat and +bury her nose in it, inhaling the clear, fine scent of the wool. Poor +Ralph Touchett, as soon as the autumn had begun to define itself, became +almost a prisoner; in bad weather he was unable to step out of the +house, and he used sometimes to stand at one of the windows with his +hands in his pockets and, from a countenance half-rueful, half-critical, +watch Isabel and Madame Merle as they walked down the avenue under a +pair of umbrellas. The roads about Gardencourt were so firm, even in the +worst weather, that the two ladies always came back with a healthy glow +in their cheeks, looking at the soles of their neat, stout boots and +declaring that their walk had done them inexpressible good. Before +luncheon, always, Madame Merle was engaged; Isabel admired and envied +her rigid possession of her morning. Our heroine had always passed for a +person of resources and had taken a certain pride in being one; but she +wandered, as by the wrong side of the wall of a private garden, round +the enclosed talents, accomplishments, aptitudes of Madame Merle. She +found herself desiring to emulate them, and in twenty such ways this +lady presented herself as a model. "I should like awfully to be so!" +Isabel secretly exclaimed, more than once, as one after another of her +friend's fine aspects caught the light, and before long she knew that +she had learned a lesson from a high authority. It took no great time +indeed for her to feel herself, as the phrase is, under an influence. +"What's the harm," she wondered, "so long as it's a good one? The more +one's under a good influence the better. The only thing is to see our +steps as we take them--to understand them as we go. That, no doubt, I +shall always do. I needn't be afraid of becoming too pliable; isn't it +my fault that I'm not pliable enough?" It is said that imitation is the +sincerest flattery; and if Isabel was sometimes moved to gape at her +friend aspiringly and despairingly it was not so much because she +desired herself to shine as because she wished to hold up the lamp for +Madame Merle. She liked her extremely, but was even more dazzled than +attracted. She sometimes asked herself what Henrietta Stackpole would +say to her thinking so much of this perverted product of their common +soil, and had a conviction that it would be severely judged. Henrietta +would not at all subscribe to Madame Merle; for reasons she could not +have defined this truth came home to the girl. On the other hand she +was equally sure that, should the occasion offer, her new friend would +strike off some happy view of her old: Madame Merle was too humorous, +too observant, not to do justice to Henrietta, and on becoming +acquainted with her would probably give the measure of a tact which +Miss Stackpole couldn't hope to emulate. She appeared to have in her +experience a touchstone for everything, and somewhere in the capacious +pocket of her genial memory she would find the key to Henrietta's value. +"That's the great thing," Isabel solemnly pondered; "that's the supreme +good fortune: to be in a better position for appreciating people than +they are for appreciating you." And she added that such, when one +considered it, was simply the essence of the aristocratic situation. +In this light, if in none other, one should aim at the aristocratic +situation. + +I may not count over all the links in the chain which led Isabel to +think of Madame Merle's situation as aristocratic--a view of it never +expressed in any reference made to it by that lady herself. She had +known great things and great people, but she had never played a great +part. She was one of the small ones of the earth; she had not been born +to honours; she knew the world too well to nourish fatuous illusions +on the article of her own place in it. She had encountered many of the +fortunate few and was perfectly aware of those points at which their +fortune differed from hers. But if by her informed measure she was no +figure for a high scene, she had yet to Isabel's imagination a sort of +greatness. To be so cultivated and civilised, so wise and so easy, +and still make so light of it--that was really to be a great lady, +especially when one so carried and presented one's self. It was as if +somehow she had all society under contribution, and all the arts and +graces it practised--or was the effect rather that of charming uses +found for her, even from a distance, subtle service rendered by her to +a clamorous world wherever she might be? 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. Of painting she was devotedly fond, and made no more of +brushing in a sketch than of pulling off her gloves. At Gardencourt she +was perpetually taking advantage of an hour's sunshine to go out with a +camp-stool and a box of water-colours. That she was a brave musician we +have already perceived, and it was evidence of the fact that when she +seated herself at the piano, as she always did in the evening, her +listeners resigned themselves without a murmur to losing the grace +of her talk. Isabel, since she had known her, felt ashamed of her own +facility, which she now looked upon as basely inferior; and indeed, +though she had been thought rather a prodigy at home, the loss to +society when, in taking her place upon the music-stool, she turned her +back to the room, was usually deemed greater than the gain. When Madame +Merle was neither writing, nor painting, nor touching the piano, she +was usually employed upon wonderful tasks of rich embroidery, cushions, +curtains, decorations for the chimneypiece; an art in which her bold, +free invention was as noted as the agility of her needle. She was never +idle, for when engaged in none of the ways I have mentioned she was +either reading (she appeared to Isabel to read "everything important"), +or walking out, or playing patience with the cards, or talking with her +fellow inmates. And with all this she had always the social quality, was +never rudely absent and yet never too seated. She laid down her pastimes +as easily as she took them up; she worked and talked at the same time, +and appeared to impute scant worth to anything she did. She gave away +her sketches and tapestries; she rose from the piano or remained +there, according to the convenience of her auditors, which she always +unerringly divined. She was in short the most comfortable, profitable, +amenable person to live with. If for Isabel she had a fault it was that +she was not natural; by which the girl meant, not that she was either +affected or pretentious, since from these vulgar vices no woman could +have been more exempt, but that her nature had been too much overlaid by +custom and her angles too much rubbed away. She had become too flexible, +too useful, was too ripe and too final. She was in a word too perfectly +the social animal that man and woman are supposed to have been intended +to be; and she had rid herself of every remnant of that tonic wildness +which we may assume to have belonged even to the most amiable persons +in the ages before country-house life was the fashion. Isabel found it +difficult to think of her in any detachment or privacy, she existed only +in her relations, direct or indirect, with her fellow mortals. One might +wonder what commerce she could possibly hold with her own spirit. +One always ended, however, by feeling that a charming surface doesn't +necessarily prove one superficial; this was an illusion in which, in +one's youth, one had but just escaped being nourished. Madame Merle was +not superficial--not she. She was deep, and her nature spoke none the +less in her behaviour because it spoke a conventional tongue. "What's +language at all but a convention?" said Isabel. "She has the good +taste not to pretend, like some people I've met, to express herself by +original signs." + +"I'm afraid you've suffered much," she once found occasion to say to her +friend in response to some allusion that had appeared to reach far. + +"What makes you think that?" Madame Merle asked with the amused smile +of a person seated at a game of guesses. "I hope I haven't too much the +droop of the misunderstood." + +"No; but you sometimes say things that I think people who have always +been happy wouldn't have found out." + +"I haven't always been happy," said Madame Merle, smiling still, but +with a mock gravity, as if she were telling a child a secret. "Such a +wonderful thing!" + +But Isabel rose to the irony. "A great many people give me the +impression of never having for a moment felt anything." + +"It's very true; there are many more iron pots certainly than porcelain. +But you may depend on it that every one bears some mark; even the +hardest iron pots have a little bruise, a little hole somewhere. I +flatter myself that I'm rather stout, but if I must tell you the truth +I've been shockingly chipped and cracked. I do very well for service +yet, because I've been cleverly mended; and I try to remain in the +cupboard--the quiet, dusky cupboard where there's an odour of stale +spices--as much as I can. But when I've to come out and into a strong +light--then, my dear, I'm a horror!" + +I know not whether it was on this occasion or on some other that the +conversation had taken the turn I have just indicated she said to Isabel +that she would some day a tale unfold. Isabel assured her she should +delight to listen to one, and reminded her more than once of this +engagement. Madame Merle, however, begged repeatedly for a respite, and +at last frankly told her young companion that they must wait till they +knew each other better. This would be sure to happen, a long friendship +so visibly lay before them. Isabel assented, but at the same time +enquired if she mightn't be trusted--if she appeared capable of a +betrayal of confidence. + +"It's not that I'm afraid of your repeating what I say," her fellow +visitor answered; "I'm afraid, on the contrary, of your taking it too +much to yourself. You'd judge me too harshly; you're of the cruel age." +She preferred for the present to talk to Isabel of Isabel, and exhibited +the greatest interest in our heroine's history, sentiments, opinions, +prospects. She made her chatter and listened to her chatter with +infinite good nature. This flattered and quickened the girl, who was +struck with all the distinguished people her friend had known and with +her having lived, as Mrs. Touchett said, in the best company in Europe. +Isabel thought the better of herself for enjoying the favour of a person +who had so large a field of comparison; and it was perhaps partly to +gratify the sense of profiting by comparison that she often appealed to +these stores of reminiscence. Madame Merle had been a dweller in many +lands and had social ties in a dozen different countries. "I don't +pretend to be educated," she would say, "but I think I know my Europe;" +and she spoke one day of going to Sweden to stay with an old friend, +and another of proceeding to Malta to follow up a new acquaintance. With +England, where she had often dwelt, she was thoroughly familiar, and +for Isabel's benefit threw a great deal of light upon the customs of +the country and the character of the people, who "after all," as she was +fond of saying, were the most convenient in the world to live with. + +"You mustn't think it strange her remaining here at such a time as this, +when Mr. Touchett's passing away," that gentleman's wife remarked to her +niece. "She is incapable of a mistake; she's the most tactful woman I +know. It's a favour to me that she stays; she's putting off a lot of +visits at great houses," said Mrs. Touchett, who never forgot that when +she herself was in England her social value sank two or three degrees in +the scale. "She has her pick of places; she's not in want of a shelter. +But I've asked her to put in this time because I wish you to know her. I +think it will be a good thing for you. Serena Merle hasn't a fault." + +"If I didn't already like her very much that description might alarm +me," Isabel returned. + +"She's never the least little bit 'off.' I've brought you out here and I +wish to do the best for you. Your sister Lily told me she hoped I would +give you plenty of opportunities. I give you one in putting you in +relation with Madame Merle. She's one of the most brilliant women in +Europe." + +"I like her better than I like your description of her," Isabel +persisted in saying. + +"Do you flatter yourself that you'll ever feel her open to criticism? I +hope you'll let me know when you do." + +"That will be cruel--to you," said Isabel. + +"You needn't mind me. You won't discover a fault in her." + +"Perhaps not. But I dare say I shan't miss it." + +"She knows absolutely everything on earth there is to know," said Mrs. +Touchett. + +Isabel after this observed to their companion that she hoped she knew +Mrs. Touchett considered she hadn't a speck on her perfection. On which +"I'm obliged to you," Madame Merle replied, "but I'm afraid your aunt +imagines, or at least alludes to, no aberrations that the clock-face +doesn't register." + +"So that you mean you've a wild side that's unknown to her?" + +"Ah no, I fear my darkest sides are my tamest. I mean that having no +faults, for your aunt, means that one's never late for dinner--that is +for her dinner. I was not late, by the way, the other day, when you +came back from London; the clock was just at eight when I came into the +drawing-room: it was the rest of you that were before the time. It means +that one answers a letter the day one gets it and that when one comes to +stay with her one doesn't bring too much luggage and is careful not to +be taken ill. For Mrs. Touchett those things constitute virtue; it's a +blessing to be able to reduce it to its elements." + +Madame Merle's own conversation, it will be perceived, was enriched with +bold, free touches of criticism, which, even when they had a restrictive +effect, never struck Isabel as ill-natured. It couldn't occur to the +girl for instance that Mrs. Touchett's accomplished guest was abusing +her; and this for very good reasons. In the first place Isabel rose +eagerly to the sense of her shades; in the second Madame Merle implied +that there was a great deal more to say; and it was clear in the +third that for a person to speak to one without ceremony of one's near +relations was an agreeable sign of that person's intimacy with one's +self. These signs of deep communion multiplied as the days elapsed, and +there was none of which Isabel was more sensible than of her companion's +preference for making Miss Archer herself a topic. Though she referred +frequently to the incidents of her own career she never lingered upon +them; she was as little of a gross egotist as she was of a flat gossip. + +"I'm old and stale and faded," she said more than once; "I'm of no +more interest than last week's newspaper. You're young and fresh and of +to-day; you've the great thing--you've actuality. I once had it--we all +have it for an hour. You, however, will have it for longer. Let us talk +about you then; you can say nothing I shall not care to hear. It's a +sign that I'm growing old--that I like to talk with younger people. I +think it's a very pretty compensation. If we can't have youth within us +we can have it outside, and I really think we see it and feel it better +that way. Of course we must be in sympathy with it--that I shall always +be. I don't know that I shall ever be ill-natured with old people--I +hope not; there are certainly some old people I adore. But I shall never +be anything but abject with the young; they touch me and appeal to me +too much. I give you carte blanche then; you can even be impertinent if +you like; I shall let it pass and horribly spoil you. I speak as if I +were a hundred years old, you say? Well, I am, if you please; I was born +before the French Revolution. Ah, my dear, je viens de loin; I belong to +the old, old world. But it's not of that I want to talk; I want to talk +about the new. You must tell me more about America; you never tell me +enough. Here I've been since I was brought here as a helpless child, and +it's ridiculous, or rather it's scandalous, how little I know about that +splendid, dreadful, funny country--surely the greatest and drollest of +them all. There are a great many of us like that in these parts, and I +must say I think we're a wretched set of people. You should live in your +own land; whatever it may be you have your natural place there. If we're +not good Americans we're certainly poor Europeans; we've no natural +place here. We're mere parasites, crawling over the surface; we haven't +our feet in the soil. At least one can know it and not have illusions. A +woman perhaps can get on; a woman, it seems to me, has no natural place +anywhere; wherever she finds herself she has to remain on the surface +and, more or less, to crawl. You protest, my dear? you're horrified? +you declare you'll never crawl? It's very true that I don't see you +crawling; you stand more upright than a good many poor creatures. +Very good; on the whole, I don't think you'll crawl. But the men, the +Americans; je vous demande un peu, what do they make of it over here? +I don't envy them trying to arrange themselves. Look at poor Ralph +Touchett: what sort of a figure do you call that? Fortunately he has a +consumption; I say fortunately, because it gives him something to do. +His consumption's his carriere it's a kind of position. You can say: +'Oh, Mr. Touchett, he takes care of his lungs, he knows a great deal +about climates.' But without that who would he be, what would he +represent? 'Mr. Ralph Touchett: an American who lives in Europe.' That +signifies absolutely nothing--it's impossible anything should signify +less. 'He's very cultivated,' they say: 'he has a very pretty collection +of old snuff-boxes.' The collection is all that's wanted to make it +pitiful. I'm tired of the sound of the word; I think it's grotesque. +With the poor old father it's different; he has his identity, and it's +rather a massive one. He represents a great financial house, and that, +in our day, is as good as anything else. For an American, at any rate, +that will do very well. But I persist in thinking your cousin very lucky +to have a chronic malady so long as he doesn't die of it. It's much +better than the snuffboxes. If he weren't ill, you say, he'd do +something?--he'd take his father's place in the house. My poor child, I +doubt it; I don't think he's at all fond of the house. However, you know +him better than I, though I used to know him rather well, and he may +have the benefit of the doubt. The worst case, I think, is a friend +of mine, a countryman of ours, who lives in Italy (where he also was +brought before he knew better), and who is one of the most delightful +men I know. Some day you must know him. I'll bring you together and then +you'll see what I mean. He's Gilbert Osmond--he lives in Italy; that's +all one can say about him or make of him. He's exceedingly clever, a +man made to be distinguished; but, as I tell you, you exhaust the +description when you say he's Mr. Osmond who lives tout betement in +Italy. No career, no name, no position, no fortune, no past, no future, +no anything. Oh yes, he paints, if you please--paints in water-colours; +like me, only better than I. His painting's pretty bad; on the whole I'm +rather glad of that. Fortunately he's very indolent, so indolent that +it amounts to a sort of position. He can say, 'Oh, I do nothing; I'm too +deadly lazy. You can do nothing to-day unless you get up at five o'clock +in the morning.' In that way he becomes a sort of exception; you feel +he might do something if he'd only rise early. He never speaks of his +painting to people at large; he's too clever for that. But he has a +little girl--a dear little girl; he does speak of her. He's devoted +to her, and if it were a career to be an excellent father he'd be very +distinguished. But I'm afraid that's no better than the snuff-boxes; +perhaps not even so good. Tell me what they do in America," pursued +Madame Merle, who, it must be observed parenthetically, did not deliver +herself all at once of these reflexions, which are presented in a +cluster for the convenience of the reader. She talked of Florence, where +Mr. Osmond lived and where Mrs. Touchett occupied a medieval palace; she +talked of Rome, where she herself had a little pied-a-terre with some +rather good old damask. She talked of places, of people and even, as the +phrase is, of "subjects"; and from time to time she talked of their kind +old host and of the prospect of his recovery. From the first she +had thought this prospect small, and Isabel had been struck with the +positive, discriminating, competent way in which she took the measure +of his remainder of life. One evening she announced definitely that he +wouldn't live. + +"Sir Matthew Hope told me so as plainly as was proper," she said; +"standing there, near the fire, before dinner. He makes himself very +agreeable, the great doctor. I don't mean his saying that has anything +to do with it. But he says such things with great tact. I had told him +I felt ill at my ease, staying here at such a time; it seemed to me so +indiscreet--it wasn't as if I could nurse. 'You must remain, you must +remain,' he answered; 'your office will come later.' Wasn't that a very +delicate way of saying both that poor Mr. Touchett would go and that I +might be of some use as a consoler? In fact, however, I shall not be of +the slightest use. Your aunt will console herself; she, and she alone, +knows just how much consolation she'll require. It would be a very +delicate matter for another person to undertake to administer the dose. +With your cousin it will be different; he'll miss his father immensely. +But I should never presume to condole with Mr. Ralph; we're not on +those terms." Madame Merle had alluded more than once to some undefined +incongruity in her relations with Ralph Touchett; so Isabel took this +occasion of asking her if they were not good friends. + +"Perfectly, but he doesn't like me." + +"What have you done to him?" + +"Nothing whatever. But one has no need of a reason for that." + +"For not liking you? I think one has need of a very good reason." + +"You're very kind. Be sure you have one ready for the day you begin." + +"Begin to dislike you? I shall never begin." + +"I hope not; because if you do you'll never end. That's the way with +your cousin; he doesn't get over it. It's an antipathy of nature--if +I can call it that when it's all on his side. I've nothing whatever +against him and don't bear him the least little grudge for not doing me +justice. Justice is all I want. However, one feels that he's a gentleman +and would never say anything underhand about one. Cartes sur table," +Madame Merle subjoined in a moment, "I'm not afraid of him." + +"I hope not indeed," said Isabel, who added something about his being +the kindest creature living. She remembered, however, that on her first +asking him about Madame Merle he had answered her in a manner which +this lady might have thought injurious without being explicit. There +was something between them, Isabel said to herself, but she said nothing +more than this. If it were something of importance it should inspire +respect; if it were not it was not worth her curiosity. With all her +love of knowledge she had a natural shrinking from raising curtains and +looking into unlighted corners. The love of knowledge coexisted in her +mind with the finest capacity for ignorance. + +But Madame Merle sometimes said things that startled her, made her raise +her clear eyebrows at the time and think of the words afterwards. "I'd +give a great deal to be your age again," she broke out once with a +bitterness which, though diluted in her customary amplitude of ease, was +imperfectly disguised by it. "If I could only begin again--if I could +have my life before me!" + +"Your life's before you yet," Isabel answered gently, for she was +vaguely awe-struck. + +"No; the best part's gone, and gone for nothing." + +"Surely not for nothing," said Isabel. + +"Why not--what have I got? Neither husband, nor child, nor fortune, nor +position, nor the traces of a beauty that I never had." + +"You have many friends, dear lady." + +"I'm not so sure!" cried Madame Merle. + +"Ah, you're wrong. You have memories, graces, talents--" + +But Madame Merle interrupted her. "What have my talents brought me? +Nothing but the need of using them still, to get through the hours, +the years, to cheat myself with some pretence of movement, of +unconsciousness. As for my graces and memories the less said about them +the better. You'll be my friend till you find a better use for your +friendship." + +"It will be for you to see that I don't then," said Isabel. + +"Yes; I would make an effort to keep you." And her companion looked at +her gravely. "When I say I should like to be your age I mean with your +qualities--frank, generous, sincere like you. In that case I should have +made something better of my life." + +"What should you have liked to do that you've not done?" + +Madame Merle took a sheet of music--she was seated at the piano and +had abruptly wheeled about on the stool when she first spoke--and +mechanically turned the leaves. "I'm very ambitious!" she at last +replied. + +"And your ambitions have not been satisfied? They must have been great." + +"They WERE great. I should make myself ridiculous by talking of them." + +Isabel wondered what they could have been--whether Madame Merle had +aspired to wear a crown. "I don't know what your idea of success may be, +but you seem to me to have been successful. To me indeed you're a vivid +image of success." + +Madame Merle tossed away the music with a smile. "What's YOUR idea of +success?" + +"You evidently think it must be a very tame one. It's to see some dream +of one's youth come true." + +"Ah," Madame Merle exclaimed, "that I've never seen! But my dreams were +so great--so preposterous. Heaven forgive me, I'm dreaming now!" And she +turned back to the piano and began grandly to play. On the morrow she +said to Isabel that her definition of success had been very pretty, +yet frightfully sad. Measured in that way, who had ever succeeded? The +dreams of one's youth, why they were enchanting, they were divine! Who +had ever seen such things come to pass? + +"I myself--a few of them," Isabel ventured to answer. + +"Already? They must have been dreams of yesterday." + +"I began to dream very young," Isabel smiled. + +"Ah, if you mean the aspirations of your childhood--that of having a +pink sash and a doll that could close her eyes." + +"No, I don't mean that." + +"Or a young man with a fine moustache going down on his knees to you." + +"No, nor that either," Isabel declared with still more emphasis. + +Madame Merle appeared to note this eagerness. "I suspect that's what +you do mean. We've all had the young man with the moustache. He's the +inevitable young man; he doesn't count." + +Isabel was silent a little but then spoke with extreme and +characteristic inconsequence. "Why shouldn't he count? There are young +men and young men." + +"And yours was a paragon--is that what you mean?" asked her friend with +a laugh. "If you've had the identical young man you dreamed of, then +that was success, and I congratulate you with all my heart. Only in that +case why didn't you fly with him to his castle in the Apennines?" + +"He has no castle in the Apennines." + +"What has he? An ugly brick house in Fortieth Street? Don't tell me +that; I refuse to recognise that as an ideal." + +"I don't care anything about his house," said Isabel. + +"That's very crude of you. When you've lived as long as I you'll see +that every human being has his shell and that you must take the shell +into account. By the shell I mean the whole envelope of circumstances. +There's no such thing as an isolated man or woman; we're each of us +made up of some cluster of appurtenances. What shall we call our 'self'? +Where does it begin? where does it end? It overflows into everything +that belongs to us--and then it flows back again. I know a large part +of myself is in the clothes I choose to wear. I've a great respect for +THINGS! One's self--for other people--is one's expression of one's self; +and one's house, one's furniture, one's garments, the books one reads, +the company one keeps--these things are all expressive." + +This was very metaphysical; not more so, however, than several +observations Madame Merle had already made. Isabel was fond of +metaphysics, but was unable to accompany her friend into this bold +analysis of the human personality. "I don't agree with you. I think just +the other way. I don't know whether I succeed in expressing myself, but +I know that nothing else expresses me. Nothing that belongs to me is any +measure of me; everything's on the contrary a limit, a barrier, and +a perfectly arbitrary one. Certainly the clothes which, as you say, I +choose to wear, don't express me; and heaven forbid they should!" + +"You dress very well," Madame Merle lightly interposed. + +"Possibly; but I don't care to be judged by that. My clothes may express +the dressmaker, but they don't express me. To begin with it's not my own +choice that I wear them; they're imposed upon me by society." + +"Should you prefer to go without them?" Madame Merle enquired in a tone +which virtually terminated the discussion. + +I am bound to confess, though it may cast some discredit on the sketch I +have given of the youthful loyalty practised by our heroine toward this +accomplished woman, that Isabel had said nothing whatever to her about +Lord Warburton and had been equally reticent on the subject of Caspar +Goodwood. She had not, however, concealed the fact that she had had +opportunities of marrying and had even let her friend know of how +advantageous a kind they had been. Lord Warburton had left Lockleigh +and was gone to Scotland, taking his sisters with him; and though he had +written to Ralph more than once to ask about Mr. Touchett's health the +girl was not liable to the embarrassment of such enquiries as, had he +still been in the neighbourhood, he would probably have felt bound to +make in person. He had excellent ways, but she felt sure that if he had +come to Gardencourt he would have seen Madame Merle, and that if he had +seen her he would have liked her and betrayed to her that he was in love +with her young friend. It so happened that during this lady's previous +visits to Gardencourt--each of them much shorter than the present--he +had either not been at Lockleigh or had not called at Mr. Touchett's. +Therefore, though she knew him by name as the great man of that +county, she had no cause to suspect him as a suitor of Mrs. Touchett's +freshly-imported niece. + +"You've plenty of time," she had said to Isabel in return for the +mutilated confidences which our young woman made her and which didn't +pretend to be perfect, though we have seen that at moments the girl +had compunctions at having said so much. "I'm glad you've done nothing +yet--that you have it still to do. It's a very good thing for a girl to +have refused a few good offers--so long of course as they are not the +best she's likely to have. Pardon me if my tone seems horribly corrupt; +one must take the worldly view sometimes. Only don't keep on refusing +for the sake of refusing. It's a pleasant exercise of power; but +accepting's after all an exercise of power as well. There's always the +danger of refusing once too often. It was not the one I fell into--I +didn't refuse often enough. You're an exquisite creature, and I should +like to see you married to a prime minister. But speaking strictly, you +know, you're not what is technically called a parti. You're extremely +good-looking and extremely clever; in yourself you're quite exceptional. +You appear to have the vaguest ideas about your earthly possessions; but +from what I can make out you're not embarrassed with an income. I wish +you had a little money." + +"I wish I had!" said Isabel, simply, apparently forgetting for the +moment that her poverty had been a venial fault for two gallant +gentlemen. + +In spite of Sir Matthew Hope's benevolent recommendation Madame Merle +did not remain to the end, as the issue of poor Mr. Touchett's malady +had now come frankly to be designated. She was under pledges to other +people which had at last to be redeemed, and she left Gardencourt with +the understanding that she should in any event see Mrs. Touchett there +again, or else in town, before quitting England. Her parting with Isabel +was even more like the beginning of a friendship than their meeting had +been. "I'm going to six places in succession, but I shall see no one I +like so well as you. They'll all be old friends, however; one doesn't +make new friends at my age. I've made a great exception for you. You +must remember that and must think as well of me as possible. You must +reward me by believing in me." + +By way of answer Isabel kissed her, and, though some women kiss with +facility, there are kisses and kisses, and this embrace was satisfactory +to Madame Merle. Our young lady, after this, was much alone; she saw her +aunt and cousin only at meals, and discovered that of the hours during +which Mrs. Touchett was invisible only a minor portion was now devoted +to nursing her husband. She spent the rest in her own apartments, to +which access was not allowed even to her niece, apparently occupied +there with mysterious and inscrutable exercises. At table she was grave +and silent; but her solemnity was not an attitude--Isabel could see it +was a conviction. She wondered if her aunt repented of having taken her +own way so much; but there was no visible evidence of this--no tears, no +sighs, no exaggeration of a zeal always to its own sense adequate. Mrs. +Touchett seemed simply to feel the need of thinking things over and +summing them up; she had a little moral account-book--with columns +unerringly ruled and a sharp steel clasp--which she kept with exemplary +neatness. Uttered reflection had with her ever, at any rate, a practical +ring. "If I had foreseen this I'd not have proposed your coming abroad +now," she said to Isabel after Madame Merle had left the house. "I'd +have waited and sent for you next year." + +"So that perhaps I should never have known my uncle? It's a great +happiness to me to have come now." + +"That's very well. But it was not that you might know your uncle that +I brought you to Europe." A perfectly veracious speech; but, as Isabel +thought, not as perfectly timed. She had leisure to think of this and +other matters. She took a solitary walk every day and spent vague hours +in turning over books in the library. Among the subjects that engaged +her attention were the adventures of her friend Miss Stackpole, with +whom she was in regular correspondence. Isabel liked her friend's +private epistolary style better than her public; that is she felt her +public letters would have been excellent if they had not been printed. +Henrietta's career, however, was not so successful as might have been +wished even in the interest of her private felicity; that view of the +inner life of Great Britain which she was so eager to take appeared to +dance before her like an ignis fatuus. The invitation from Lady Pensil, +for mysterious reasons, had never arrived; and poor Mr. Bantling +himself, with all his friendly ingenuity, had been unable to explain +so grave a dereliction on the part of a missive that had obviously been +sent. He had evidently taken Henrietta's affairs much to heart, +and believed that he owed her a set-off to this illusory visit to +Bedfordshire. "He says he should think I would go to the Continent," +Henrietta wrote; "and as he thinks of going there himself I suppose his +advice is sincere. He wants to know why I don't take a view of French +life; and it's a fact that I want very much to see the new Republic. Mr. +Bantling doesn't care much about the Republic, but he thinks of going +over to Paris anyway. I must say he's quite as attentive as I could +wish, and at least I shall have seen one polite Englishman. I keep +telling Mr. Bantling that he ought to have been an American, and you +should see how that pleases him. Whenever I say so he always breaks out +with the same exclamation--'Ah, but really, come now!" A few days later +she wrote that she had decided to go to Paris at the end of the week and +that Mr. Bantling had promised to see her off--perhaps even would go +as far as Dover with her. She would wait in Paris till Isabel should +arrive, Henrietta added; speaking quite as if Isabel were to start on +her continental journey alone and making no allusion to Mrs. Touchett. +Bearing in mind his interest in their late companion, our heroine +communicated several passages from this correspondence to Ralph, +who followed with an emotion akin to suspense the career of the +representative of the Interviewer. + +"It seems to me she's doing very well," he said, "going over to Paris +with an ex-Lancer! If she wants something to write about she has only to +describe that episode." + +"It's not conventional, certainly," Isabel answered; "but if you mean +that--as far as Henrietta is concerned--it's not perfectly innocent, +you're very much mistaken. You'll never understand Henrietta." + +"Pardon me, I understand her perfectly. I didn't at all at first, but +now I've the point of view. I'm afraid, however, that Bantling hasn't; +he may have some surprises. Oh, I understand Henrietta as well as if I +had made her!" + +Isabel was by no means sure of this, but she abstained from expressing +further doubt, for she was disposed in these days to extend a great +charity to her cousin. One afternoon less than a week after Madame +Merle's departure she was seated in the library with a volume to +which her attention was not fastened. She had placed herself in a deep +window-bench, from which she looked out into the dull, damp park; and as +the library stood at right angles to the entrance-front of the house she +could see the doctor's brougham, which had been waiting for the last two +hours before the door. She was struck with his remaining so long, but at +last she saw him appear in the portico, stand a moment slowly drawing on +his gloves and looking at the knees of his horse, and then get into the +vehicle and roll away. Isabel kept her place for half an hour; there was +a great stillness in the house. It was so great that when she at last +heard a soft, slow step on the deep carpet of the room she was almost +startled by the sound. She turned quickly away from the window and saw +Ralph Touchett standing there with his hands still in his pockets, but +with a face absolutely void of its usual latent smile. She got up and +her movement and glance were a question. + +"It's all over," said Ralph. + +"Do you mean that my uncle...?" And Isabel stopped. + +"My dear father died an hour ago." + +"Ah, my poor Ralph!" she gently wailed, putting out her two hands to +him. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +Some fortnight after this Madame Merle drove up in a hansom cab to +the house in Winchester Square. As she descended from her vehicle she +observed, suspended between the dining-room windows, a large, neat, +wooden tablet, on whose fresh black ground were inscribed in white paint +the words--"This noble freehold mansion to be sold"; with the name of +the agent to whom application should be made. "They certainly lose no +time," said the visitor as, after sounding the big brass knocker, she +waited to be admitted; "it's a practical country!" And within the house, +as she ascended to the drawing-room, she perceived numerous signs of +abdication; pictures removed from the walls and placed upon sofas, +windows undraped and floors laid bare. Mrs. Touchett presently received +her and intimated in a few words that condolences might be taken for +granted. + +"I know what you're going to say--he was a very good man. But I know it +better than any one, because I gave him more chance to show it. In that +I think I was a good wife." Mrs. Touchett added that at the end her +husband apparently recognised this fact. "He has treated me most +liberally," she said; "I won't say more liberally than I expected, +because I didn't expect. You know that as a general thing I don't +expect. But he chose, I presume, to recognise the fact that though I +lived much abroad and mingled--you may say freely--in foreign life, I +never exhibited the smallest preference for any one else." + +"For any one but yourself," Madame Merle mentally observed; but the +reflexion was perfectly inaudible. + +"I never sacrificed my husband to another," Mrs. Touchett continued with +her stout curtness. + +"Oh no," thought Madame Merle; "you never did anything for another!" + +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. Touchett's +history; the more so, too, as Madame Merle had a well-founded conviction +that her friend's last remark was not in the least to be construed as a +side-thrust at herself. The truth is that the moment she had crossed the +threshold she received an impression that Mr. Touchett's death had had +subtle consequences and that these consequences had been profitable to +a little circle of persons among whom she was not numbered. Of course +it was an event which would naturally have consequences; her imagination +had more than once rested upon this fact during her stay at Gardencourt. +But it had been one thing to foresee such a matter mentally and another +to stand among its massive records. 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." + +"She never dreamed, I'm sure, of my husband's doing anything for her; +and I never dreamed of it either, for he never spoke to me of his +intention," Mrs. Touchett said. "She had no claim upon him whatever; it +was no great recommendation to him that she was my niece. Whatever she +achieved she achieved unconsciously." + +"Ah," rejoined Madame Merle, "those are the greatest strokes!" Mrs. +Touchett reserved her opinion. "The girl's fortunate; I don't deny that. +But for the present she's simply stupefied." + +"Do you mean that she doesn't know what to do with the money?" + +"That, I think, she has hardly considered. She doesn't know what to +think about the matter at all. It has been as if a big gun were suddenly +fired off behind her; she's feeling herself to see if she be hurt. It's +but three days since she received a visit from the principal executor, +who came in person, very gallantly, to notify her. He told me afterwards +that when he had made his little speech she suddenly burst into tears. +The money's to remain in the affairs of the bank, and she's to draw the +interest." + +Madame Merle shook her head with a wise and now quite benignant smile. +"How very delicious! After she has done that two or three times she'll +get used to it." Then after a silence, "What does your son think of it?" +she abruptly asked. + +"He left England before the will was read--used up by his fatigue and +anxiety and hurrying off to the south. He's on his way to the Riviera +and I've not yet heard from him. But it's not likely he'll ever object +to anything done by his father." + +"Didn't you say his own share had been cut down?" + +"Only at his wish. I know that he urged his father to do something for +the people in America. He's not in the least addicted to looking after +number one." + +"It depends upon whom he regards as number one!" said Madame Merle. And +she remained thoughtful a moment, her eyes bent on the floor. + +"Am I not to see your happy niece?" she asked at last as she raised +them. + +"You may see her; but you'll not be struck with her being happy. She +has looked as solemn, these three days, as a Cimabue Madonna!" And Mrs. +Touchett rang for a servant. + +Isabel came in shortly after the footman had been sent to call her; and +Madame Merle thought, as she appeared, that Mrs. Touchett's comparison +had its force. The girl was pale and grave--an effect not mitigated by +her deeper mourning; but the smile of her brightest moments came into +her face as she saw Madame Merle, who went forward, laid her hand on our +heroine's shoulder and, after looking at her a moment, kissed her as if +she were returning the kiss she had received from her at Gardencourt. +This was the only allusion the visitor, in her great good taste, made +for the present to her young friend's inheritance. + +Mrs. Touchett had no purpose of awaiting in London the sale of her +house. After selecting from among its furniture the objects she wished +to transport to her other abode, she left the rest of its contents to be +disposed of by the auctioneer and took her departure for the Continent. +She was of course accompanied on this journey by her niece, who now had +plenty of leisure to measure and weigh and otherwise handle the windfall +on which Madame Merle had covertly congratulated her. Isabel thought +very often of the fact of her accession of means, looking at it in a +dozen different lights; but we shall not now attempt to follow her train +of thought or to explain exactly why her new consciousness was at first +oppressive. This failure to rise to immediate joy was indeed but brief; +the girl presently made up her mind that to be rich was a virtue because +it was to be able to do, and that to do could only be sweet. It was +the graceful contrary of the stupid side of weakness--especially the +feminine variety. To be weak was, for a delicate young person, rather +graceful, but, after all, as Isabel said to herself, there was a larger +grace than that. Just now, it is true, there was not much to do--once +she had sent off a cheque to Lily and another to poor Edith; but she was +thankful for the quiet months which her mourning robes and her aunt's +fresh widowhood compelled them to spend together. The acquisition of +power made her serious; she scrutinised her power with a kind of tender +ferocity, but was not eager to exercise it. She began to do so during +a stay of some weeks which she eventually made with her aunt in Paris, +though in ways that will inevitably present themselves as trivial. They +were the ways most naturally imposed in a city in which the shops are +the admiration of the world, and that were prescribed unreservedly by +the guidance of Mrs. Touchett, who took a rigidly practical view of the +transformation of her niece from a poor girl to a rich one. "Now that +you're a young woman of fortune you must know how to play the part--I +mean to play it well," she said to Isabel once for all; and she added +that the girl's first duty was to have everything handsome. "You don't +know how to take care of your things, but you must learn," she went on; +this was Isabel's second duty. Isabel submitted, but for the present +her imagination was not kindled; she longed for opportunities, but these +were not the opportunities she meant. + +Mrs. Touchett rarely changed her plans, and, having intended before her +husband's death to spend a part of the winter in Paris, saw no reason to +deprive herself--still less to deprive her companion--of this advantage. +Though they would live in great retirement she might still present +her niece, informally, to the little circle of her fellow countrymen +dwelling upon the skirts of the Champs Elysees. With many of these +amiable colonists Mrs. Touchett was intimate; she shared their +expatriation, their convictions, their pastimes, their ennui. Isabel +saw them arrive with a good deal of assiduity at her aunt's hotel, and +pronounced on them with a trenchancy doubtless to be accounted for by +the temporary exaltation of her sense of human duty. She made up her +mind that their lives were, though luxurious, inane, and incurred some +disfavour by expressing this view on bright Sunday afternoons, when the +American absentees were engaged in calling on each other. Though her +listeners passed for people kept exemplarily genial by their cooks and +dressmakers, two or three of them thought her cleverness, which was +generally admitted, inferior to that of the new theatrical pieces. "You +all live here this way, but what does it lead to?" she was pleased to +ask. "It doesn't seem to lead to anything, and I should think you'd get +very tired of it." + +Mrs. Touchett thought the question worthy of Henrietta Stackpole. The +two ladies had found Henrietta in Paris, and Isabel constantly saw her; +so that Mrs. Touchett had some reason for saying to herself that if her +niece were not clever enough to originate almost anything, she might be +suspected of having borrowed that style of remark from her journalistic +friend. The first occasion on which Isabel had spoken was that of +a visit paid by the two ladies to Mrs. Luce, an old friend of Mrs. +Touchett's and the only person in Paris she now went to see. Mrs. Luce +had been living in Paris since the days of Louis Philippe; she used to +say jocosely that she was one of the generation of 1830--a joke of +which the point was not always taken. When it failed Mrs. Luce used to +explain--"Oh yes, I'm one of the romantics;" her French had never +become quite perfect. She was always at home on Sunday afternoons and +surrounded by sympathetic compatriots, usually the same. In fact she +was at home at all times, and reproduced with wondrous truth in her +well-cushioned little corner of the brilliant city, the domestic tone of +her native Baltimore. This reduced Mr. Luce, her worthy husband, a tall, +lean, grizzled, well-brushed gentleman who wore a gold eye-glass and +carried his hat a little too much on the back of his head, to mere +platonic praise of the "distractions" of Paris--they were his great +word--since you would never have guessed from what cares he escaped to +them. One of them was that he went every day to the American banker's, +where he found a post-office that was almost as sociable and colloquial +an institution as in an American country town. He passed an hour (in +fine weather) in a chair in the Champs Elysees, and he dined uncommonly +well at his own table, seated above a waxed floor which it was Mrs. +Luce's happiness to believe had a finer polish than any other in the +French capital. Occasionally he dined with a friend or two at the Cafe +Anglais, where his talent for ordering a dinner was a source of felicity +to his companions and an object of admiration even to the headwaiter +of the establishment. These were his only known pastimes, but they had +beguiled his hours for upwards of half a century, and they doubtless +justified his frequent declaration that there was no place like Paris. +In no other place, on these terms, could Mr. Luce flatter himself that +he was enjoying life. There was nothing like Paris, but it must be +confessed that Mr. Luce thought less highly of this scene of his +dissipations than in earlier days. In the list of his resources his +political reflections should not be omitted, for they were doubtless the +animating principle of many hours that superficially seemed vacant. +Like many of his fellow colonists Mr. Luce was a high--or rather a +deep--conservative, and gave no countenance to the government lately +established in France. He had no faith in its duration and would assure +you from year to year that its end was close at hand. "They want to be +kept down, sir, to be kept down; nothing but the strong hand--the iron +heel--will do for them," he would frequently say of the French people; +and his ideal of a fine showy clever rule was that of the superseded +Empire. "Paris is much less attractive than in the days of the Emperor; +HE knew how to make a city pleasant," Mr. Luce had often remarked to +Mrs. Touchett, who was quite of his own way of thinking and wished to +know what one had crossed that odious Atlantic for but to get away from +republics. + +"Why, madam, sitting in the Champs Elysees, opposite to the Palace of +Industry, I've seen the court-carriages from the Tuileries pass up and +down as many as seven times a day. I remember one occasion when they +went as high as nine. What do you see now? It's no use talking, the +style's all gone. Napoleon knew what the French people want, and +there'll be a dark cloud over Paris, our Paris, till they get the Empire +back again." + +Among Mrs. Luce's visitors on Sunday afternoons was a young man with +whom Isabel had had a good deal of conversation and whom she found +full of valuable knowledge. Mr. Edward Rosier--Ned Rosier as he was +called--was native to New York and had been brought up in Paris, living +there under the eye of his father who, as it happened, had been an early +and intimate friend of the late Mr. Archer. Edward Rosier remembered +Isabel as a little girl; it had been his father who came to the rescue +of the small Archers at the inn at Neufchatel (he was travelling that +way with the boy and had stopped at the hotel by chance), after their +bonne had gone off with the Russian prince and when Mr. Archer's +whereabouts remained for some days a mystery. Isabel remembered +perfectly the neat little male child whose hair smelt of a delicious +cosmetic and who had a bonne all his own, warranted to lose sight of him +under no provocation. Isabel took a walk with the pair beside the lake +and thought little Edward as pretty as an angel--a comparison by no +means conventional in her mind, for she had a very definite conception +of a type of features which she supposed to be angelic and which her +new friend perfectly illustrated. A small pink face surmounted by a blue +velvet bonnet and set off by a stiff embroidered collar had become the +countenance of her childish dreams; and she had firmly believed for some +time afterwards that the heavenly hosts conversed among themselves in +a queer little dialect of French-English, expressing the properest +sentiments, as when Edward told her that he was "defended" by his bonne +to go near the edge of the lake, and that one must always obey to one's +bonne. Ned Rosier's English had improved; at least it exhibited in a +less degree the French variation. His father was dead and his bonne +dismissed, but the young man still conformed to the spirit of their +teaching--he never went to the edge of the lake. There was still +something agreeable to the nostrils about him and something not +offensive to nobler organs. He was a very gentle and gracious youth, +with what are called cultivated tastes--an acquaintance with old china, +with good wine, with the bindings of books, with the Almanach de Gotha, +with the best shops, the best hotels, the hours of railway-trains. He +could order a dinner almost as well as Mr. Luce, and it was probable +that as his experience accumulated he would be a worthy successor to +that gentleman, whose rather grim politics he also advocated in a soft +and innocent voice. He had some charming rooms in Paris, decorated with +old Spanish altar-lace, the envy of his female friends, who declared +that his chimney-piece was better draped than the high shoulders of many +a duchess. He usually, however, spent a part of every winter at Pau, and +had once passed a couple of months in the United States. + +He took a great interest in Isabel and remembered perfectly the walk at +Neufchatel, when she would persist in going so near the edge. He seemed +to recognise this same tendency in the subversive enquiry that I quoted +a moment ago, and set himself to answer our heroine's question with +greater urbanity than it perhaps deserved. "What does it lead to, Miss +Archer? Why Paris leads everywhere. You can't go anywhere unless you +come here first. Every one that comes to Europe has got to pass through. +You don't mean it in that sense so much? You mean what good it does you? +Well, how can you penetrate futurity? How can you tell what lies ahead? +If it's a pleasant road I don't care where it leads. I like the road, +Miss Archer; I like the dear old asphalte. You can't get tired of +it--you can't if you try. You think you would, but you wouldn't; +there's always something new and fresh. Take the Hotel Drouot, now; +they sometimes have three and four sales a week. Where can you get such +things as you can here? In spite of all they say I maintain they're +cheaper too, if you know the right places. I know plenty of places, +but I keep them to myself. I'll tell you, if you like, as a particular +favour; only you mustn't tell any one else. Don't you go anywhere +without asking me first; I want you to promise me that. As a general +thing avoid the Boulevards; there's very little to be done on the +Boulevards. Speaking conscientiously--sans blague--I don't believe +any one knows Paris better than I. You and Mrs. Touchett must come and +breakfast with me some day, and I'll show you my things; je ne vous dis +que ca! There has been a great deal of talk about London of late; it's +the fashion to cry up London. But there's nothing in it--you can't +do anything in London. No Louis Quinze--nothing of the First Empire; +nothing but their eternal Queen Anne. It's good for one's bed-room, +Queen Anne--for one's washing-room; but it isn't proper for a salon. Do +I spend my life at the auctioneer's?" Mr. Rosier pursued in answer to +another question of Isabel's. "Oh no; I haven't the means. I wish I +had. You think I'm a mere trifler; I can tell by the expression of your +face--you've got a wonderfully expressive face. I hope you don't mind +my saying that; I mean it as a kind of warning. You think I ought to do +something, and so do I, so long as you leave it vague. But when you +come to the point you see you have to stop. I can't go home and be +a shopkeeper. You think I'm very well fitted? Ah, Miss Archer, you +overrate me. I can buy very well, but I can't sell; you should see when +I sometimes try to get rid of my things. It takes much more ability to +make other people buy than to buy yourself. When I think how clever they +must be, the people who make ME buy! Ah no; I couldn't be a shopkeeper. +I can't be a doctor; it's a repulsive business. I can't be a clergyman; +I haven't got convictions. And then I can't pronounce the names right in +the Bible. They're very difficult, in the Old Testament particularly. I +can't be a lawyer; I don't understand--how do you call it?--the American +procedure. Is there anything else? There's nothing for a gentleman +in America. I should like to be a diplomatist; but American +diplomacy--that's not for gentlemen either. I'm sure if you had seen the +last min--" + +Henrietta Stackpole, who was often with her friend when Mr. Rosier, +coming to pay his compliments late in the afternoon, expressed himself +after the fashion I have sketched, usually interrupted the young man at +this point and read him a lecture on the duties of the American citizen. +She thought him most unnatural; he was worse than poor Ralph Touchett. +Henrietta, however, was at this time more than ever addicted to fine +criticism, for her conscience had been freshly alarmed as regards +Isabel. She had not congratulated this young lady on her augmentations +and begged to be excused from doing so. + +"If Mr. Touchett had consulted me about leaving you the money," she +frankly asserted, "I'd have said to him 'Never!" + +"I see," Isabel had answered. "You think it will prove a curse in +disguise. Perhaps it will." + +"Leave it to some one you care less for--that's what I should have +said." + +"To yourself for instance?" Isabel suggested jocosely. And then, "Do you +really believe it will ruin me?" she asked in quite another tone. + +"I hope it won't ruin you; but it will certainly confirm your dangerous +tendencies." + +"Do you mean the love of luxury--of extravagance?" + +"No, no," said Henrietta; "I mean your exposure on the moral side. I +approve of luxury; I think we ought to be as elegant as possible. Look +at the luxury of our western cities; I've seen nothing over here to +compare with it. I hope you'll never become grossly sensual; but I'm not +afraid of that. The peril for you is that you live too much in the world +of your own dreams. You're not enough in contact with reality--with +the toiling, striving, suffering, I may even say sinning, world +that surrounds you. You're too fastidious; you've too many graceful +illusions. Your newly-acquired thousands will shut you up more and +more to the society of a few selfish and heartless people who will be +interested in keeping them up." + +Isabel's eyes expanded as she gazed at this lurid scene. "What are my +illusions?" she asked. "I try so hard not to have any." + +"Well," said Henrietta, "you think you can lead a romantic life, that +you can live by pleasing yourself and pleasing others. You'll find +you're mistaken. Whatever life you lead you must put your soul in it--to +make any sort of success of it; and from the moment you do that it +ceases to be romance, I assure you: it becomes grim reality! And you +can't always please yourself; you must sometimes please other people. +That, I admit, you're very ready to do; but there's another thing that's +still more important--you must often displease others. You must always +be ready for that--you must never shrink from it. That doesn't suit you +at all--you're too fond of admiration, you like to be thought well +of. You think we can escape disagreeable duties by taking romantic +views--that's your great illusion, my dear. But we can't. You must be +prepared on many occasions in life to please no one at all--not even +yourself." + +Isabel shook her head sadly; she looked troubled and frightened. "This, +for you, Henrietta," she said, "must be one of those occasions!" + +It was certainly true that Miss Stackpole, during her visit to Paris, +which had been professionally more remunerative than her English +sojourn, had not been living in the world of dreams. Mr. Bantling, who +had now returned to England, was her companion for the first four weeks +of her stay; and about Mr. Bantling there was nothing dreamy. Isabel +learned from her friend that the two had led a life of great personal +intimacy and that this had been a peculiar advantage to Henrietta, +owing to the gentleman's remarkable knowledge of Paris. He had +explained everything, shown her everything, been her constant guide and +interpreter. They had breakfasted together, dined together, gone to +the theatre together, supped together, really in a manner quite lived +together. He was a true friend, Henrietta more than once assured our +heroine; and she had never supposed that she could like any Englishman +so well. Isabel could not have told you why, but she found something +that ministered to mirth in the alliance the correspondent of the +Interviewer had struck with Lady Pensil's brother; her amusement +moreover subsisted in face of the fact that she thought it a credit to +each of them. Isabel couldn't rid herself of a suspicion that they were +playing somehow at cross-purposes--that the simplicity of each had +been entrapped. But this simplicity was on either side none the less +honourable. It was as graceful on Henrietta's part to believe that Mr. +Bantling took an interest in the diffusion of lively journalism and in +consolidating the position of lady-correspondents as it was on the +part of his companion to suppose that the cause of the Interviewer--a +periodical of which he never formed a very definite conception--was, if +subtly analysed (a task to which Mr. Bantling felt himself quite equal), +but the cause of Miss Stackpole's need of demonstrative affection. Each +of these groping celibates supplied at any rate a want of which the +other was impatiently conscious. Mr. Bantling, who was of rather a slow +and a discursive habit, relished a prompt, keen, positive woman, who +charmed him by the influence of a shining, challenging eye and a kind of +bandbox freshness, and who kindled a perception of raciness in a mind +to which the usual fare of life seemed unsalted. Henrietta, on the other +hand, enjoyed the society of a gentleman who appeared somehow, in his +way, made, by expensive, roundabout, almost "quaint" processes, for +her use, and whose leisured state, though generally indefensible, was a +decided boon to a breathless mate, and who was furnished with an easy, +traditional, though by no means exhaustive, answer to almost any social +or practical question that could come up. She often found Mr. Bantling's +answers very convenient, and in the press of catching the American post +would largely and showily address them to publicity. It was to be feared +that she was indeed drifting toward those abysses of sophistication as +to which Isabel, wishing for a good-humoured retort, had warned her. +There might be danger in store for Isabel; but it was scarcely to be +hoped that Miss Stackpole, on her side, would find permanent rest in any +adoption of the views of a class pledged to all the old abuses. Isabel +continued to warn her good-humouredly; Lady Pensil's obliging brother +was sometimes, on our heroine's lips, an object of irreverent and +facetious allusion. Nothing, however, could exceed Henrietta's +amiability on this point; she used to abound in the sense of Isabel's +irony and to enumerate with elation the hours she had spent with this +perfect man of the world--a term that had ceased to make with her, as +previously, for opprobrium. Then, a few moments later, she would forget +that they had been talking jocosely and would mention with impulsive +earnestness some expedition she had enjoyed in his company. She would +say: "Oh, I know all about Versailles; I went there with Mr. Bantling. I +was bound to see it thoroughly--I warned him when we went out there that +I was thorough: so we spent three days at the hotel and wandered all +over the place. It was lovely weather--a kind of Indian summer, only not +so good. We just lived in that park. Oh yes; you can't tell me anything +about Versailles." Henrietta appeared to have made arrangements to meet +her gallant friend during the spring in Italy. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +Mrs. Touchett, before arriving in Paris, had fixed the day for her +departure and by the middle of February had begun to travel southward. +She interrupted her journey to pay a visit to her son, who at San Remo, +on the Italian shore of the Mediterranean, had been spending a dull, +bright winter beneath a slow-moving white umbrella. Isabel went with her +aunt as a matter of course, though Mrs. Touchett, with homely, customary +logic, had laid before her a pair of alternatives. + +"Now, of course, you're completely your own mistress and are as free as +the bird on the bough. I don't mean you were not so before, but you're +at present on a different footing--property erects a kind of barrier. +You can do a great many things if you're rich which would be severely +criticised if you were poor. You can go and come, you can travel alone, +you can have your own establishment: I mean of course if you'll take +a companion--some decayed gentlewoman, with a darned cashmere and dyed +hair, who paints on velvet. You don't think you'd like that? Of course +you can do as you please; I only want you to understand how much you're +at liberty. You might take Miss Stackpole as your dame de compagnie; +she'd keep people off very well. I think, however, that it's a great +deal better you should remain with me, in spite of there being no +obligation. It's better for several reasons, quite apart from your +liking it. I shouldn't think you'd like it, but I recommend you to make +the sacrifice. Of course whatever novelty there may have been at first +in my society has quite passed away, and you see me as I am--a dull, +obstinate, narrow-minded old woman." + +"I don't think you're at all dull," Isabel had replied to this. + +"But you do think I'm obstinate and narrow-minded? I told you so!" said +Mrs. Touchett with much elation at being justified. + +Isabel remained for the present with her aunt, because, in spite of +eccentric impulses, she had a great regard for what was usually deemed +decent, and a young gentlewoman without visible relations had always +struck her as a flower without foliage. It was true that Mrs. Touchett's +conversation had never again appeared so brilliant as that first +afternoon in Albany, when she sat in her damp waterproof and sketched +the opportunities that Europe would offer to a young person of taste. +This, however, was in a great measure the girl's own fault; she had +got a glimpse of her aunt's experience, and her imagination constantly +anticipated the judgements and emotions of a woman who had very little +of the same faculty. Apart from this, Mrs. Touchett had a great merit; +she was as honest as a pair of compasses. There was a comfort in her +stiffness and firmness; you knew exactly where to find her and were +never liable to chance encounters and concussions. On her own ground +she was perfectly present, but was never over-inquisitive as regards +the territory of her neighbour. Isabel came at last to have a kind of +undemonstrable pity for her; there seemed something so dreary in +the condition of a person whose nature had, as it were, so little +surface--offered so limited a face to the accretions of human contact. +Nothing tender, nothing sympathetic, had ever had a chance to fasten +upon it--no wind-sown blossom, no familiar softening moss. Her offered, +her passive extent, in other words, was about that of a knife-edge. +Isabel had reason to believe none the less that as she advanced in life +she made more of those concessions to the sense of something obscurely +distinct from convenience--more of them than she independently exacted. +She was learning to sacrifice consistency to considerations of that +inferior order for which the excuse must be found in the particular +case. It was not to the credit of her absolute rectitude that she should +have gone the longest way round to Florence in order to spend a few +weeks with her invalid son; since in former years it had been one of her +most definite convictions that when Ralph wished to see her he was at +liberty to remember that Palazzo Crescentini contained a large apartment +known as the quarter of the signorino. + +"I want to ask you something," Isabel said to this young man the day +after her arrival at San Remo--"something I've thought more than once +of asking you by letter, but that I've hesitated on the whole to write +about. Face to face, nevertheless, my question seems easy enough. Did +you know your father intended to leave me so much money?" + +Ralph stretched his legs a little further than usual and gazed a little +more fixedly at the Mediterranean. + +"What does it matter, my dear Isabel, whether I knew? My father was very +obstinate." + +"So," said the girl, "you did know." + +"Yes; he told me. We even talked it over a little." "What did he do it +for?" asked Isabel abruptly. "Why, as a kind of compliment." + +"A compliment on what?" + +"On your so beautifully existing." + +"He liked me too much," she presently declared. + +"That's a way we all have." + +"If I believed that I should be very unhappy. Fortunately I don't +believe it. I want to be treated with justice; I want nothing but that." + +"Very good. But you must remember that justice to a lovely being is +after all a florid sort of sentiment." + +"I'm not a lovely being. How can you say that, at the very moment when +I'm asking such odious questions? I must seem to you delicate!" + +"You seem to me troubled," said Ralph. + +"I am troubled." + +"About what?" + +For a moment she answered nothing; then she broke out: "Do you think it +good for me suddenly to be made so rich? Henrietta doesn't." + +"Oh, hang Henrietta!" said Ralph coarsely, "If you ask me I'm delighted +at it." + +"Is that why your father did it--for your amusement?" + +"I differ with Miss Stackpole," Ralph went on more gravely. "I think it +very good for you to have means." + +Isabel looked at him with serious eyes. "I wonder whether you know +what's good for me--or whether you care." + +"If I know depend upon it I care. Shall I tell you what it is? Not to +torment yourself." + +"Not to torment you, I suppose you mean." + +"You can't do that; I'm proof. Take things more easily. Don't ask +yourself so much whether this or that is good for you. Don't question +your conscience so much--it will get out of tune like a strummed +piano. Keep it for great occasions. Don't try so much to form your +character--it's like trying to pull open a tight, tender young rose. +Live as you like best, and your character will take care of itself. Most +things are good for you; the exceptions are very rare, and a comfortable +income's not one of them." Ralph paused, smiling; Isabel had listened +quickly. "You've too much power of thought--above all too much +conscience," Ralph added. "It's out of all reason, the number of things +you think wrong. Put back your watch. Diet your fever. Spread your +wings; rise above the ground. It's never wrong to do that." + +She had listened eagerly, as I say; and it was her nature to understand +quickly. "I wonder if you appreciate what you say. If you do, you take a +great responsibility." + +"You frighten me a little, but I think I'm right," said Ralph, +persisting in cheer. + +"All the same what you say is very true," Isabel pursued. "You could say +nothing more true. I'm absorbed in myself--I look at life too much as +a doctor's prescription. Why indeed should we perpetually be thinking +whether things are good for us, as if we were patients lying in a +hospital? Why should I be so afraid of not doing right? As if it +mattered to the world whether I do right or wrong!" + +"You're a capital person to advise," said Ralph; "you take the wind out +of my sails!" + +She looked at him as if she had not heard him--though she was following +out the train of reflexion which he himself had kindled. "I try to +care more about the world than about myself--but I always come back to +myself. It's because I'm afraid." She stopped; her voice had trembled +a little. "Yes, I'm afraid; I can't tell you. A large fortune means +freedom, and I'm afraid of that. It's such a fine thing, and one should +make such a good use of it. If one shouldn't one would be ashamed. And +one must keep thinking; it's a constant effort. I'm not sure it's not a +greater happiness to be powerless." + +"For weak people I've no doubt it's a greater happiness. For weak people +the effort not to be contemptible must be great." + +"And how do you know I'm not weak?" Isabel asked. + +"Ah," Ralph answered with a flush that the girl noticed, "if you are I'm +awfully sold!" + +The charm of the Mediterranean coast only deepened for our heroine +on acquaintance, for it was the threshold of Italy, the gate of +admirations. Italy, as yet imperfectly seen and felt, stretched before +her as a land of promise, a land in which a love of the beautiful might +be comforted by endless knowledge. Whenever she strolled upon the shore +with her cousin--and she was the companion of his daily walk--she looked +across the sea, with longing eyes, to where she knew that Genoa lay. She +was glad to pause, however, on the edge of this larger adventure; there +was such a thrill even in the preliminary hovering. It affected her +moreover as a peaceful interlude, as a hush of the drum and fife in a +career which she had little warrant as yet for regarding as agitated, +but which nevertheless she was constantly picturing to herself by +the light of her hopes, her fears, her fancies, her ambitions, her +predilections, and which reflected these subjective accidents in +a manner sufficiently dramatic. Madame Merle had predicted to Mrs. +Touchett that after their young friend had put her hand into her pocket +half a dozen times she would be reconciled to the idea that it had been +filled by a munificent uncle; and the event justified, as it had so +often justified before, that lady's perspicacity. Ralph Touchett had +praised his cousin for being morally inflammable, that is for being +quick to take a hint that was meant as good advice. His advice had +perhaps helped the matter; she had at any rate before leaving San Remo +grown used to feeling rich. The consciousness in question found a +proper place in rather a dense little group of ideas that she had about +herself, and often it was by no means the least agreeable. It took +perpetually for granted a thousand good intentions. She lost herself in +a maze of visions; the fine things to be done by a rich, independent, +generous girl who took a large human view of occasions and obligations +were sublime in the mass. Her fortune therefore became to her mind a +part of her better self; it gave her importance, gave her even, to her +own imagination, a certain ideal beauty. What it did for her in the +imagination of others is another affair, and on this point we must also +touch in time. The visions I have just spoken of were mixed with other +debates. Isabel liked better to think of the future than of the past; +but at times, as she listened to the murmur of the Mediterranean waves, +her glance took a backward flight. It rested upon two figures which, in +spite of increasing distance, were still sufficiently salient; they were +recognisable without difficulty as those of Caspar Goodwood and Lord +Warburton. It was strange how quickly these images of energy had fallen +into the background of our young lady's life. It was in her disposition +at all times to lose faith in the reality of absent things; she could +summon back her faith, in case of need, with an effort, but the effort +was often painful even when the reality had been pleasant. The past was +apt to look dead and its revival rather to show the livid light of a +judgement-day. The girl moreover was not prone to take for granted that +she herself lived in the mind of others--she had not the fatuity to +believe she left indelible traces. She was capable of being wounded by +the discovery that she had been forgotten; but of all liberties the one +she herself found sweetest was the liberty to forget. She had not given +her last shilling, sentimentally speaking, either to Caspar Goodwood or +to Lord Warburton, and yet couldn't but feel them appreciably in debt +to her. She had of course reminded herself that she was to hear from Mr. +Goodwood again; but this was not to be for another year and a half, and +in that time a great many things might happen. She had indeed failed to +say to herself that her American suitor might find some other girl more +comfortable to woo; because, though it was certain many other girls +would prove so, she had not the smallest belief that this merit +would attract him. But she reflected that she herself might know the +humiliation of change, might really, for that matter, come to the end of +the things that were not Caspar (even though there appeared so many of +them), and find rest in those very elements of his presence which struck +her now as impediments to the finer respiration. It was conceivable +that these impediments should some day prove a sort of blessing +in disguise--a clear and quiet harbour enclosed by a brave granite +breakwater. But that day could only come in its order, and she couldn't +wait for it with folded hands. That Lord Warburton should continue +to cherish her image seemed to her more than a noble humility or an +enlightened pride ought to wish to reckon with. She had so definitely +undertaken to preserve no record of what had passed between them that a +corresponding effort on his own part would be eminently just. This +was not, as it may seem, merely a theory tinged with sarcasm. Isabel +candidly believed that his lordship would, in the usual phrase, get over +his disappointment. He had been deeply affected--this she believed, and +she was still capable of deriving pleasure from the belief; but it +was absurd that a man both so intelligent and so honourably dealt with +should cultivate a scar out of proportion to any wound. Englishmen +liked moreover to be comfortable, said Isabel, and there could be +little comfort for Lord Warburton, in the long run, in brooding over a +self-sufficient American girl who had been but a casual acquaintance. +She flattered herself that, should she hear from one day to another that +he had married some young woman of his own country who had done more +to deserve him, she should receive the news without a pang even of +surprise. It would have proved that he believed she was firm--which was +what she wished to seem to him. That alone was grateful to her pride. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +On one of the first days of May, some six months after old Mr. +Touchett's death, a small group that might have been described by a +painter as composing well was gathered in one of the many rooms of an +ancient villa crowning an olive-muffled hill outside of the Roman gate +of Florence. The villa was a long, rather blank-looking structure, with +the far-projecting roof which Tuscany loves and which, on the hills that +encircle Florence, when considered from a distance, makes so harmonious +a rectangle with the straight, dark, definite cypresses that usually +rise in groups of three or four beside it. The house had a front upon +a little grassy, empty, rural piazza which occupied a part of the +hill-top; and this front, pierced with a few windows in irregular +relations and furnished with a stone bench lengthily adjusted to the +base of the structure and useful as a lounging-place to one or two +persons wearing more or less of that air of undervalued merit which in +Italy, for some reason or other, always gracefully invests any one who +confidently assumes a perfectly passive attitude--this antique, +solid, weather-worn, yet imposing front had a somewhat incommunicative +character. It was the mask, not the face of the house. It had heavy +lids, but no eyes; the house in reality looked another way--looked off +behind, into splendid openness and the range of the afternoon light. +In that quarter the villa overhung the slope of its hill and the long +valley of the Arno, hazy with Italian colour. It had a narrow garden, in +the manner of a terrace, productive chiefly of tangles of wild roses +and other old stone benches, mossy and sun-warmed. The parapet of the +terrace was just the height to lean upon, and beneath it the ground +declined into the vagueness of olive-crops and vineyards. It is not, +however, with the outside of the place that we are concerned; on this +bright morning of ripened spring its tenants had reason to prefer the +shady side of the wall. The windows of the ground-floor, as you saw +them from the piazza, were, in their noble proportions, extremely +architectural; but their function seemed less to offer communication +with the world than to defy the world to look in. They were massively +cross-barred, and placed at such a height that curiosity, even on +tiptoe, expired before it reached them. In an apartment lighted by a +row of three of these jealous apertures--one of the several distinct +apartments into which the villa was divided and which were mainly +occupied by foreigners of random race long resident in Florence--a +gentleman was seated in company with a young girl and two good sisters +from a religious house. The room was, however, less sombre than our +indications may have represented, for it had a wide, high door, which +now stood open into the tangled garden behind; and the tall iron +lattices admitted on occasion more than enough of the Italian +sunshine. It was moreover a seat of ease, indeed of luxury, telling +of arrangements subtly studied and refinements frankly proclaimed, and +containing a variety of those faded hangings of damask and tapestry, +those chests and cabinets of carved and time-polished oak, those angular +specimens of pictorial art in frames as pedantically primitive, those +perverse-looking relics of medieval brass and pottery, of which Italy +has long been the not quite exhausted storehouse. These things kept +terms with articles of modern furniture in which large allowance had +been made for a lounging generation; it was to be noticed that all the +chairs were deep and well padded and that much space was occupied by a +writing-table of which the ingenious perfection bore the stamp of London +and the nineteenth century. There were books in profusion and magazines +and newspapers, and a few small, odd, elaborate pictures, chiefly in +water-colour. One of these productions stood on a drawing-room easel +before which, at the moment we begin to be concerned with her, the young +girl I have mentioned had placed herself. She was looking at the picture +in silence. + +Silence--absolute silence--had not fallen upon her companions; but their +talk had an appearance of embarrassed continuity. The two good sisters +had not settled themselves in their respective chairs; their attitude +expressed a final reserve and their faces showed the glaze of +prudence. They were plain, ample, mild-featured women, with a kind of +business-like modesty to which the impersonal aspect of their stiffened +linen and of the serge that draped them as if nailed on frames gave an +advantage. One of them, a person of a certain age, in spectacles, with a +fresh complexion and a full cheek, had a more discriminating manner +than her colleague, as well as the responsibility of their errand, which +apparently related to the young girl. This object of interest wore her +hat--an ornament of extreme simplicity and not at variance with her +plain muslin gown, too short for her years, though it must already +have been "let out." The gentleman who might have been supposed to be +entertaining the two nuns was perhaps conscious of the difficulties of +his function, it being in its way as arduous to converse with the very +meek as with the very mighty. At the same time he was clearly much +occupied with their quiet charge, and while she turned her back to +him his eyes rested gravely on her slim, small figure. He was a man of +forty, with a high but well-shaped head, on which the hair, still dense, +but prematurely grizzled, had been cropped close. He had a fine, narrow, +extremely modelled and composed face, of which the only fault was just +this effect of its running a trifle too much to points; an appearance to +which the shape of the beard contributed not a little. This beard, cut +in the manner of the portraits of the sixteenth century and surmounted +by a fair moustache, of which the ends had a romantic upward flourish, +gave its wearer a foreign, traditionary look and suggested that he was a +gentleman who studied style. His conscious, curious eyes, however, eyes +at once vague and penetrating, intelligent and hard, expressive of +the observer as well as of the dreamer, would have assured you that +he studied it only within well-chosen limits, and that in so far as he +sought it he found it. You would have been much at a loss to determine +his original clime and country; he had none of the superficial signs +that usually render the answer to this question an insipidly easy one. +If he had English blood in his veins it had probably received some +French or Italian commixture; but he suggested, fine gold coin as he +was, no stamp nor emblem of the common mintage that provides for general +circulation; he was the elegant complicated medal struck off for a +special occasion. He had a light, lean, rather languid-looking figure, +and was apparently neither tall nor short. He was dressed as a man +dresses who takes little other trouble about it than to have no vulgar +things. + +"Well, my dear, what do you think of it?" he asked of the young girl. He +used the Italian tongue, and used it with perfect ease; but this would +not have convinced you he was Italian. + +The child turned her head earnestly to one side and the other. "It's +very pretty, papa. Did you make it yourself?" + +"Certainly I made it. Don't you think I'm clever?" + +"Yes, papa, very clever; I also have learned to make pictures." And +she turned round and showed a small, fair face painted with a fixed and +intensely sweet smile. + +"You should have brought me a specimen of your powers." + +"I've brought a great many; they're in my trunk." + +"She draws very--very carefully," the elder of the nuns remarked, +speaking in French. + +"I'm glad to hear it. Is it you who have instructed her?" + +"Happily no," said the good sister, blushing a little. "Ce n'est pas ma +partie. I teach nothing; I leave that to those who are wiser. We've an +excellent drawing-master, Mr.--Mr.--what is his name?" she asked of her +companion. + +Her companion looked about at the carpet. "It's a German name," she said +in Italian, as if it needed to be translated. + +"Yes," the other went on, "he's a German, and we've had him many years." + +The young girl, who was not heeding the conversation, had wandered away +to the open door of the large room and stood looking into the garden. +"And you, my sister, are French," said the gentleman. + +"Yes, sir," the visitor gently replied. "I speak to the pupils in my +own tongue. I know no other. But we have sisters of other +countries--English, German, Irish. They all speak their proper +language." + +The gentleman gave a smile. "Has my daughter been under the care of one +of the Irish ladies?" And then, as he saw that his visitors suspected +a joke, though failing to understand it, "You're very complete," he +instantly added. + +"Oh, yes, we're complete. We've everything, and everything's of the +best." + +"We have gymnastics," the Italian sister ventured to remark. "But not +dangerous." + +"I hope not. Is that YOUR branch?" A question which provoked much candid +hilarity on the part of the two ladies; on the subsidence of which their +entertainer, glancing at his daughter, remarked that she had grown. + +"Yes, but I think she has finished. She'll remain--not big," said the +French sister. + +"I'm not sorry. I prefer women like books--very good and not too long. +But I know," the gentleman said, "no particular reason why my child +should be short." + +The nun gave a temperate shrug, as if to intimate that such things might +be beyond our knowledge. "She's in very good health; that's the best +thing." + +"Yes, she looks sound." And the young girl's father watched her a +moment. "What do you see in the garden?" he asked in French. + +"I see many flowers," she replied in a sweet, small voice and with an +accent as good as his own. + +"Yes, but not many good ones. However, such as they are, go out and +gather some for ces dames." + +The child turned to him with her smile heightened by pleasure. "May I, +truly?" + +"Ah, when I tell you," said her father. + +The girl glanced at the elder of the nuns. "May I, truly, ma mere?" + +"Obey monsieur your father, my child," said the sister, blushing again. + +The child, satisfied with this authorisation, descended from the +threshold and was presently lost to sight. "You don't spoil them," said +her father gaily. + +"For everything they must ask leave. That's our system. Leave is freely +granted, but they must ask it." + +"Oh, I don't quarrel with your system; I've no doubt it's excellent. I +sent you my daughter to see what you'd make of her. I had faith." + +"One must have faith," the sister blandly rejoined, gazing through her +spectacles. + +"Well, has my faith been rewarded? What have you made of her?" + +The sister dropped her eyes a moment. "A good Christian, monsieur." + +Her host dropped his eyes as well; but it was probable that the movement +had in each case a different spring. "Yes, and what else?" + +He watched the lady from the convent, probably thinking she would say +that a good Christian was everything; but for all her simplicity she +was not so crude as that. "A charming young lady--a real little woman--a +daughter in whom you will have nothing but contentment." + +"She seems to me very gentille," said the father. "She's really pretty." + +"She's perfect. She has no faults." + +"She never had any as a child, and I'm glad you have given her none." + +"We love her too much," said the spectacled sister with dignity. + +"And as for faults, how can we give what we have not? Le couvent n'est +pas comme le monde, monsieur. She's our daughter, as you may say. We've +had her since she was so small." + +"Of all those we shall lose this year she's the one we shall miss most," +the younger woman murmured deferentially. + +"Ah, yes, we shall talk long of her," said the other. "We shall hold her +up to the new ones." And at this the good sister appeared to find her +spectacles dim; while her companion, after fumbling a moment, presently +drew forth a pocket-handkerchief of durable texture. + +"It's not certain you'll lose her; nothing's settled yet," their host +rejoined quickly; not as if to anticipate their tears, but in the tone +of a man saying what was most agreeable to himself. "We should be very +happy to believe that. Fifteen is very young to leave us." + +"Oh," exclaimed the gentleman with more vivacity than he had yet used, +"it is not I who wish to take her away. I wish you could keep her +always!" + +"Ah, monsieur," said the elder sister, smiling and getting up, "good as +she is, she's made for the world. Le monde y gagnera." + +"If all the good people were hidden away in convents how would the world +get on?" her companion softly enquired, rising also. + +This was a question of a wider bearing than the good woman apparently +supposed; and the lady in spectacles took a harmonising view by saying +comfortably: "Fortunately there are good people everywhere." + +"If you're going there will be two less here," her host remarked +gallantly. + +For this extravagant sally his simple visitors had no answer, and they +simply looked at each other in decent deprecation; but their confusion +was speedily covered by the return of the young girl with two large +bunches of roses--one of them all white, the other red. + +"I give you your choice, mamman Catherine," said the child. "It's only +the colour that's different, mamman Justine; there are just as many +roses in one bunch as in the other." + +The two sisters turned to each other, smiling and hesitating, with +"Which will you take?" and "No, it's for you to choose." + +"I'll take the red, thank you," said Catherine in the spectacles. "I'm +so red myself. They'll comfort us on our way back to Rome." + +"Ah, they won't last," cried the young girl. "I wish I could give you +something that would last!" + +"You've given us a good memory of yourself, my daughter. That will +last!" + +"I wish nuns could wear pretty things. I would give you my blue beads," +the child went on. + +"And do you go back to Rome to-night?" her father enquired. + +"Yes, we take the train again. We've so much to do la-bas." + +"Are you not tired?" + +"We are never tired." + +"Ah, my sister, sometimes," murmured the junior votaress. + +"Not to-day, at any rate. We have rested too well here. Que Dieu vous +garde, ma fine." + +Their host, while they exchanged kisses with his daughter, went forward +to open the door through which they were to pass; but as he did so he +gave a slight exclamation, and stood looking beyond. The door opened +into a vaulted ante-chamber, as high as a chapel and paved with red +tiles; and into this antechamber a lady had just been admitted by a +servant, a lad in shabby livery, who was now ushering her toward the +apartment in which our friends were grouped. The gentleman at the door, +after dropping his exclamation, remained silent; in silence too the lady +advanced. He gave her no further audible greeting and offered her no +hand, but stood aside to let her pass into the saloon. At the threshold +she hesitated. "Is there any one?" she asked. + +"Some one you may see." + +She went in and found herself confronted with the two nuns and their +pupil, who was coming forward, between them, with a hand in the arm of +each. At the sight of the new visitor they all paused, and the lady, who +had also stopped, stood looking at them. The young girl gave a little +soft cry: "Ah, Madame Merle!" + +The visitor had been slightly startled, but her manner the next instant +was none the less gracious. "Yes, it's Madame Merle, come to welcome you +home." And she held out two hands to the girl, who immediately came up +to her, presenting her forehead to be kissed. Madame Merle saluted this +portion of her charming little person and then stood smiling at the two +nuns. They acknowledged her smile with a decent obeisance, but permitted +themselves no direct scrutiny of this imposing, brilliant woman, who +seemed to bring in with her something of the radiance of the outer +world. "These ladies have brought my daughter home, and now they return +to the convent," the gentleman explained. + +"Ah, you go back to Rome? I've lately come from there. It's very lovely +now," said Madame Merle. + +The good sisters, standing with their hands folded into their sleeves, +accepted this statement uncritically; and the master of the house asked +his new visitor how long it was since she had left Rome. "She came to +see me at the convent," said the young girl before the lady addressed +had time to reply. + +"I've been more than once, Pansy," Madame Merle declared. "Am I not your +great friend in Rome?" + +"I remember the last time best," said Pansy, "because you told me I +should come away." + +"Did you tell her that?" the child's father asked. + +"I hardly remember. I told her what I thought would please her. I've +been in Florence a week. I hoped you would come to see me." + +"I should have done so if I had known you were there. One doesn't know +such things by inspiration--though I suppose one ought. You had better +sit down." + +These two speeches were made in a particular tone of voice--a tone +half-lowered and carefully quiet, but as from habit rather than from any +definite need. Madame Merle looked about her, choosing her seat. "You're +going to the door with these women? Let me of course not interrupt the +ceremony. Je vous salue, mesdames," she added, in French, to the nuns, +as if to dismiss them. + +"This lady's a great friend of ours; you will have seen her at the +convent," said their entertainer. "We've much faith in her judgement, +and she'll help me to decide whether my daughter shall return to you at +the end of the holidays." + +"I hope you'll decide in our favour, madame," the sister in spectacles +ventured to remark. + +"That's Mr. Osmond's pleasantry; I decide nothing," said Madame Merle, +but also as in pleasantry. "I believe you've a very good school, but +Miss Osmond's friends must remember that she's very naturally meant for +the world." + +"That's what I've told monsieur," sister Catherine answered. "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! I'm of the +world, Pansy." + +"Kindly permit us to retire," said sister Catherine. "Be good and wise +and happy in any case, my daughter." + +"I shall certainly come back and see you," Pansy returned, recommencing +her embraces, which were presently interrupted by Madame Merle. + +"Stay with me, dear child," she said, "while your father takes the good +ladies to the door." + +Pansy stared, disappointed, yet not protesting. She was evidently +impregnated with the idea of submission, which was due to any one who +took the tone of authority; and she was a passive spectator of the +operation of her fate. "May I not see mamman Catherine get into the +carriage?" she nevertheless asked very gently. + +"It would please me better if you'd remain with me," said Madame Merle, +while Mr. Osmond and his companions, who had bowed low again to the +other visitor, passed into the ante-chamber. + +"Oh yes, I'll stay," Pansy answered; and she stood near Madame Merle, +surrendering her little hand, which this lady took. She stared out of +the window; her eyes had filled with tears. + +"I'm glad they've taught you to obey," said Madame Merle. "That's what +good little girls should do." + +"Oh yes, I obey very well," cried Pansy with soft eagerness, almost with +boastfulness, as if she had been speaking of her piano-playing. And then +she gave a faint, just audible sigh. + +Madame Merle, holding her hand, drew it across her own fine palm and +looked at it. The gaze was critical, but it found nothing to deprecate; +the child's small hand was delicate and fair. "I hope they always see +that you wear gloves," she said in a moment. "Little girls usually +dislike them." + +"I used to dislike them, but I like them now," the child made answer. + +"Very good, I'll make you a present of a dozen." + +"I thank you very much. What colours will they be?" Pansy demanded with +interest. + +Madame Merle meditated. "Useful colours." + +"But very pretty?" + +"Are you very fond of pretty things?" + +"Yes; but--but not too fond," said Pansy with a trace of asceticism. + +"Well, they won't be too pretty," Madame Merle returned with a laugh. +She took the child's other hand and drew her nearer; after which, +looking at her a moment, "Shall you miss mother Catherine?" she went on. + +"Yes--when I think of her." + +"Try then not to think of her. Perhaps some day," added Madame Merle, +"you'll have another mother." + +"I don't think that's necessary," Pansy said, repeating her little soft +conciliatory sigh. "I had more than thirty mothers at the convent." + +Her father's step sounded again in the antechamber, and Madame Merle got +up, releasing the child. Mr. Osmond came in and closed the door; then, +without looking at Madame Merle, he pushed one or two chairs back into +their places. His visitor waited a moment for him to speak, watching him +as he moved about. Then at last she said: "I hoped you'd have come to +Rome. I thought it possible you'd have wished yourself to fetch Pansy +away." + +"That was a natural supposition; but I'm afraid it's not the first time +I've acted in defiance of your calculations." + +"Yes," said Madame Merle, "I think you very perverse." + +Mr. Osmond busied himself for a moment in the room--there was plenty of +space in it to move about--in the fashion of a man mechanically +seeking pretexts for not giving an attention which may be embarrassing. +Presently, however, he had exhausted his pretexts; there was nothing +left for him--unless he took up a book--but to stand with his hands +behind him looking at Pansy. "Why didn't you come and see the last of +mamman Catherine?" he asked of her abruptly in French. + +Pansy hesitated a moment, glancing at Madame Merle. "I asked her to stay +with me," said this lady, who had seated herself again in another place. + +"Ah, that was better," Osmond conceded. With which he dropped into a +chair and sat looking at Madame Merle; bent forward a little, his elbows +on the edge of the arms and his hands interlocked. + +"She's going to give me some gloves," said Pansy. + +"You needn't tell that to every one, my dear," Madame Merle observed. + +"You're very kind to her," said Osmond. "She's supposed to have +everything she needs." + +"I should think she had had enough of the nuns." + +"If we're going to discuss that matter she had better go out of the +room." + +"Let her stay," said Madame Merle. "We'll talk of something else." + +"If you like I won't listen," Pansy suggested with an appearance of +candour which imposed conviction. + +"You may listen, charming child, because you won't understand," her +father replied. The child sat down, deferentially, near the open door, +within sight of the garden, into which she directed her innocent, +wistful eyes; and Mr. Osmond went on irrelevantly, addressing himself to +his other companion. "You're looking particularly well." + +"I think I always look the same," said Madame Merle. + +"You always ARE the same. You don't vary. You're a wonderful woman." + +"Yes, I think I am." + +"You sometimes change your mind, however. You told me on your return +from England that you wouldn't leave Rome again for the present." + +"I'm pleased that you remember so well what I say. That was my +intention. But I've come to Florence to meet some friends who have +lately arrived and as to whose movements I was at that time uncertain." + +"That reason's characteristic. You're always doing something for your +friends." + +Madame Merle smiled straight at her host. "It's less characteristic than +your comment upon it which is perfectly insincere. I don't, however, +make a crime of that," she added, "because if you don't believe what +you say there's no reason why you should. I don't ruin myself for my +friends; I don't deserve your praise. I care greatly for myself." + +"Exactly; but yourself includes so many other selves--so much of every +one else and of everything. I never knew a person whose life touched so +many other lives." + +"What do you call one's life?" asked Madame Merle. "One's appearance, +one's movements, one's engagements, one's society?" + +"I call YOUR life your ambitions," said Osmond. + +Madame Merle looked a moment at Pansy. "I wonder if she understands +that," she murmured. + +"You see she can't stay with us!" And Pansy's father gave rather a +joyless smile. "Go into the garden, mignonne, and pluck a flower or two +for Madame Merle," he went on in French. + +"That's just what I wanted to do," Pansy exclaimed, rising with +promptness and noiselessly departing. Her father followed her to the +open door, stood a moment watching her, and then came back, but remained +standing, or rather strolling to and fro, as if to cultivate a sense of +freedom which in another attitude might be wanting. + +"My ambitions are principally for you," said Madame Merle, looking up at +him with a certain courage. + +"That comes back to what I say. I'm part of your life--I and a thousand +others. You're not selfish--I can't admit that. If you were selfish, +what should I be? What epithet would properly describe me?" + +"You're indolent. For me that's your worst fault." + +"I'm afraid it's really my best." + +"You don't care," said Madame Merle gravely. + +"No; I don't think I care much. What sort of a fault do you call that? +My indolence, at any rate, was one of the reasons I didn't go to Rome. +But it was only one of them." + +"It's not of importance--to me at least--that you didn't go; though I +should have been glad to see you. I'm glad you're not in Rome now--which +you might be, would probably be, if you had gone there a month ago. +There's something I should like you to do at present in Florence." + +"Please remember my indolence," said Osmond. + +"I do remember it; but I beg you to forget it. In that way you'll have +both the virtue and the reward. This is not a great labour, and it +may prove a real interest. How long is it since you made a new +acquaintance?" + +"I don't think I've made any since I made yours." + +"It's time then you should make another. There's a friend of mine I want +you to know." + +Mr. Osmond, in his walk, had gone back to the open door again and was +looking at his daughter as she moved about in the intense sunshine. +"What good will it do me?" he asked with a sort of genial crudity. + +Madame Merle waited. "It will amuse you." There was nothing crude in +this rejoinder; it had been thoroughly well considered. + +"If you say that, you know, I believe it," said Osmond, coming toward +her. "There are some points in which my confidence in you is complete. +I'm perfectly aware, for instance, that you know good society from bad." + +"Society is all bad." + +"Pardon me. That isn't--the knowledge I impute to you--a common sort +of wisdom. You've gained it in the right way--experimentally; you've +compared an immense number of more or less impossible people with each +other." + +"Well, I invite you to profit by my knowledge." + +"To profit? Are you very sure that I shall?" + +"It's what I hope. It will depend on yourself. If I could only induce +you to make an effort!" + +"Ah, there you are! I knew something tiresome was coming. What in the +world--that's likely to turn up here--is worth an effort?" + +Madame Merle flushed as with a wounded intention. "Don't be foolish, +Osmond. No one knows better than you what IS worth an effort. Haven't I +seen you in old days?" + +"I recognise some things. But they're none of them probable in this poor +life." + +"It's the effort that makes them probable," said Madame Merle. + +"There's something in that. Who then is your friend?" + +"The person I came to Florence to see. She's a niece of Mrs. Touchett, +whom you'll not have forgotten." + +"A niece? The word niece suggests youth and ignorance. I see what you're +coming to." + +"Yes, she's young--twenty-three years old. She's a great friend of mine. +I met her for the first time in England, several months ago, and we +struck up a grand alliance. I like her immensely, and I do what I don't +do every day--I admire her. You'll do the same." + +"Not if I can help it." + +"Precisely. But you won't be able to help it." + +"Is she beautiful, clever, rich, splendid, universally intelligent and +unprecedentedly virtuous? It's only on those conditions that I care to +make her acquaintance. You know I asked you some time ago never to speak +to me of a creature who shouldn't correspond to that description. I know +plenty of dingy people; I don't want to know any more." + +"Miss Archer isn't dingy; she's as bright as the morning. She +corresponds to your description; it's for that I wish you to know her. +She fills all your requirements." + +"More or less, of course." + +"No; quite literally. She's beautiful, accomplished, generous and, for +an American, well-born. She's also very clever and very amiable, and she +has a handsome fortune." + +Mr. Osmond listened to this in silence, appearing to turn it over in his +mind with his eyes on his informant. "What do you want to do with her?" +he asked at last. + +"What you see. Put her in your way." + +"Isn't she meant for something better than that?" + +"I don't pretend to know what people are meant for," said Madame Merle. +"I only know what I can do with them." + +"I'm sorry for Miss Archer!" Osmond declared. + +Madame Merle got up. "If that's a beginning of interest in her I take +note of it." + +The two stood there face to face; she settled her mantilla, looking down +at it as she did so. "You're looking very well," Osmond repeated still +less relevantly than before. "You have some idea. You're never so well +as when you've got an idea; they're always becoming to you." + +In the manner and tone of these two persons, on first meeting at any +juncture, and especially when they met in the presence of others, was +something indirect and circumspect, as if they had approached each other +obliquely and addressed each other by implication. The effect of +each appeared to be to intensify to an appreciable degree the +self-consciousness of the other. Madame Merle of course carried off any +embarrassment better than her friend; but even Madame Merle had not +on this occasion the form she would have liked to have--the perfect +self-possession she would have wished to wear for her host. The point to +be made is, however, that at a certain moment the element between them, +whatever it was, always levelled itself and left them more closely +face to face than either ever was with any one else. This was what had +happened now. They stood there knowing each other well and each on the +whole willing to accept the satisfaction of knowing as a compensation +for the inconvenience--whatever it might be--of being known. "I wish +very much you were not so heartless," Madame Merle quietly said. "It has +always been against you, and it will be against you now." + +"I'm not so heartless as you think. Every now and then something touches +me--as for instance your saying just now that your ambitions are for +me. I don't understand it; I don't see how or why they should be. But it +touches me, all the same." + +"You'll probably understand it even less as time goes on. There are some +things you'll never understand. There's no particular need you should." + +"You, after all, are the most remarkable of women," said Osmond. "You +have more in you than almost any one. I don't see why you think Mrs. +Touchett's niece should matter very much to me, when--when--" But he +paused a moment. + +"When I myself have mattered so little?" + +"That of course is not what I meant to say. When I've known and +appreciated such a woman as you." + +"Isabel Archer's better than I," said Madame Merle. + +Her companion gave a laugh. "How little you must think of her to say +that!" + +"Do you suppose I'm capable of jealousy? Please answer me that." + +"With regard to me? No; on the whole I don't." + +"Come and see me then, two days hence. I'm staying at Mrs. +Touchett's--Palazzo Crescentini--and the girl will be there." + +"Why didn't you ask me that at first simply, without speaking of the +girl?" said Osmond. "You could have had her there at any rate." + +Madame Merle looked at him in the manner of a woman whom no question he +could ever put would find unprepared. "Do you wish to know why? Because +I've spoken of you to her." + +Osmond frowned and turned away. "I'd rather not know that." Then in +a moment he pointed out the easel supporting the little water-colour +drawing. "Have you seen what's there--my last?" + +Madame Merle drew near and considered. "Is it the Venetian Alps--one of +your last year's sketches?" + +"Yes--but how you guess everything!" + +She looked a moment longer, then turned away. "You know I don't care for +your drawings." + +"I know it, yet I'm always surprised at it. They're really so much +better than most people's." + +"That may very well be. But as the only thing you do--well, it's so +little. I should have liked you to do so many other things: those were +my ambitions." + +"Yes; you've told me many times--things that were impossible." + +"Things that were impossible," said Madame Merle. And then in quite a +different tone: "In itself your little picture's very good." She looked +about the room--at the old cabinets, pictures, tapestries, surfaces +of faded silk. "Your rooms at least are perfect. I'm struck with that +afresh whenever I come back; I know none better anywhere. You understand +this sort of thing as nobody anywhere does. You've such adorable taste." + +"I'm sick of my adorable taste," said Gilbert Osmond. + +"You must nevertheless let Miss Archer come and see it. I've told her +about it." + +"I don't object to showing my things--when people are not idiots." + +"You do it delightfully. As cicerone of your museum you appear to +particular advantage." + +Mr. Osmond, in return for this compliment, simply looked at once colder +and more attentive. "Did you say she was rich?" + +"She has seventy thousand pounds." + +"En ecus bien comptes?" + +"There's no doubt whatever about her fortune. I've seen it, as I may +say." + +"Satisfactory woman!--I mean you. And if I go to see her shall I see the +mother?" + +"The mother? She has none--nor father either." + +"The aunt then--whom did you say?--Mrs. Touchett. I can easily keep her +out of the way." + +"I don't object to her," said Osmond; "I rather like Mrs. Touchett. +She has a sort of old-fashioned character that's passing away--a vivid +identity. But that long jackanapes the son--is he about the place?" + +"He's there, but he won't trouble you." + +"He's a good deal of a donkey." + +"I think you're mistaken. He's a very clever man. But he's not fond of +being about when I'm there, because he doesn't like me." + +"What could he be more asinine than that? Did you say she has looks?" +Osmond went on. + +"Yes; but I won't say it again, lest you should be disappointed in them. +Come and make a beginning; that's all I ask of you." + +"A beginning of what?" + +Madame Merle was silent a little. "I want you of course to marry her." + +"The beginning of the end? Well, I'll see for myself. Have you told her +that?" + +"For what do you take me? She's not so coarse a piece of machinery--nor +am I." + +"Really," said Osmond after some meditation, "I don't understand your +ambitions." + +"I think you'll understand this one after you've seen Miss Archer. +Suspend your judgement." Madame Merle, as she spoke, had drawn near the +open door of the garden, where she stood a moment looking out. "Pansy +has really grown pretty," she presently added. + +"So it seemed to me." + +"But she has had enough of the convent." + +"I don't know," said Osmond. "I like what they've made of her. It's very +charming." + +"That's not the convent. It's the child's nature." + +"It's the combination, I think. She's as pure as a pearl." + +"Why doesn't she come back with my flowers then?" Madame Merle asked. +"She's not in a hurry." + +"We'll go and get them." + +"She doesn't like me," the visitor murmured as she raised her parasol +and they passed into the garden. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +Madame Merle, who had come to Florence on Mrs. Touchett's arrival at +the invitation of this lady--Mrs. Touchett offering her for a month the +hospitality of Palazzo Crescentini--the judicious Madame Merle spoke to +Isabel afresh about Gilbert Osmond and expressed the hope she might know +him; making, however, no such point of the matter as we have seen her do +in recommending the girl herself to Mr. Osmond's attention. The reason +of this was perhaps that Isabel offered no resistance whatever to Madame +Merle's proposal. In Italy, as in England, the lady had a multitude of +friends, both among the natives of the country and its heterogeneous +visitors. She had mentioned to Isabel most of the people the girl would +find it well to "meet"--of course, she said, Isabel could know whomever +in the wide world she would--and had placed Mr. Osmond near the top of +the list. He was an old friend of her own; she had known him these dozen +years; he was one of the cleverest and most agreeable men--well, in +Europe simply. He was altogether above the respectable average; quite +another affair. He wasn't a professional charmer--far from it, and the +effect he produced depended a good deal on the state of his nerves and +his spirits. When not in the right mood he could fall as low as any one, +saved only by his looking at such hours rather like a demoralised prince +in exile. But if he cared or was interested or rightly challenged--just +exactly rightly it had to be--then one felt his cleverness and his +distinction. Those qualities didn't depend, in him, as in so many +people, on his not committing or exposing himself. He had his +perversities--which indeed Isabel would find to be the case with all the +men really worth knowing--and didn't cause his light to shine equally +for all persons. Madame Merle, however, thought she could undertake that +for Isabel he would be brilliant. He was easily bored, too easily, and +dull people always put him out; but a quick and cultivated girl like +Isabel would give him a stimulus which was too absent from his life. At +any rate he was a person not to miss. One shouldn't attempt to live in +Italy without making a friend of Gilbert Osmond, who knew more about the +country than any one except two or three German professors. And if +they had more knowledge than he it was he who had most perception and +taste--being artistic through and through. Isabel remembered that her +friend had spoken of him during their plunge, at Gardencourt, into the +deeps of talk, and wondered a little what was the nature of the tie +binding these superior spirits. She felt that Madame Merle's ties always +somehow had histories, and such an impression was part of the interest +created by this inordinate woman. As regards her relations with Mr. +Osmond, however, she hinted at nothing but a long-established calm +friendship. Isabel said she should be happy to know a person who had +enjoyed so high a confidence for so many years. "You ought to see a +great many men," Madame Merle remarked; "you ought to see as many as +possible, so as to get used to them." + +"Used to them?" Isabel repeated with that solemn stare which sometimes +seemed to proclaim her deficient in the sense of comedy. "Why, I'm not +afraid of them--I'm as used to them as the cook to the butcher-boys." + +"Used to them, I mean, so as to despise them. That's what one comes to +with most of them. You'll pick out, for your society, the few whom you +don't despise." + +This was a note of cynicism that Madame Merle didn't often allow herself +to sound; but Isabel was not alarmed, for she had never supposed that +as one saw more of the world the sentiment of respect became the +most active of one's emotions. It was excited, none the less, by the +beautiful city of Florence, which pleased her not less than Madame Merle +had promised; and if her unassisted perception had not been able to +gauge its charms she had clever companions as priests to the mystery. +She was--in no want indeed of esthetic illumination, for Ralph found it +a joy that renewed his own early passion to act as cicerone to his +eager young kinswoman. Madame Merle remained at home; she had seen the +treasures of Florence again and again and had always something else +to do. But she talked of all things with remarkable vividness of +memory--she recalled the right-hand corner of the large Perugino and the +position of the hands of the Saint Elizabeth in the picture next to it. +She had her opinions as to the character of many famous works of art, +differing often from Ralph with great sharpness and defending her +interpretations with as much ingenuity as good-humour. Isabel listened +to the discussions taking place between the two with a sense that +she might derive much benefit from them and that they were among the +advantages she couldn't have enjoyed for instance in Albany. In the +clear May mornings before the formal breakfast--this repast at Mrs. +Touchett's was served at twelve o'clock--she wandered with her cousin +through the narrow and sombre Florentine streets, resting a while in +the thicker dusk of some historic church or the vaulted chambers of some +dispeopled convent. She went to the galleries and palaces; she looked at +the pictures and statues that had hitherto been great names to her, +and exchanged for a knowledge which was sometimes a limitation a +presentiment which proved usually to have been a blank. She performed +all those acts of mental prostration in which, on a first visit to +Italy, youth and enthusiasm so freely indulge; she felt her heart beat +in the presence of immortal genius and knew the sweetness of rising +tears in eyes to which faded fresco and darkened marble grew dim. But +the return, every day, was even pleasanter than the going forth; the +return into the wide, monumental court of the great house in which Mrs. +Touchett, many years before, had established herself, and into the +high, cool rooms where the carven rafters and pompous frescoes of the +sixteenth century looked down on the familiar commodities of the age of +advertisement. Mrs. Touchett inhabited an historic building in a narrow +street whose very name recalled the strife of medieval factions; and +found compensation for the darkness of her frontage in the modicity of +her rent and the brightness of a garden where nature itself looked as +archaic as the rugged architecture of the palace and which cleared +and scented the rooms in regular use. To live in such a place was, for +Isabel, to hold to her ear all day a shell of the sea of the past. This +vague eternal rumour kept her imagination awake. + +Gilbert Osmond came to see Madame Merle, who presented him to the young +lady lurking at the other side of the room. Isabel took on this occasion +little part in the talk; she scarcely even smiled when the others turned +to her invitingly; she sat there as if she had been at the play and had +paid even a large sum for her place. Mrs. Touchett was not present, and +these two had it, for the effect of brilliancy, all their own way. They +talked of the Florentine, the Roman, the cosmopolite world, and might +have been distinguished performers figuring for a charity. It all had +the rich readiness that would have come from rehearsal. Madame Merle +appealed to her as if she had been on the stage, but she could ignore +any learnt cue without spoiling the scene--though of course she thus put +dreadfully in the wrong the friend who had told Mr. Osmond she could be +depended on. This was no matter for once; even if more had been involved +she could have made no attempt to shine. There was something in +the visitor that checked her and held her in suspense--made it more +important she should get an impression of him than that she should +produce one herself. Besides, she had little skill in producing an +impression which she knew to be expected: nothing could be happier, in +general, than to seem dazzling, but she had a perverse unwillingness to +glitter by arrangement. Mr. Osmond, to do him justice, had a well-bred +air of expecting nothing, a quiet ease that covered everything, even the +first show of his own wit. This was the more grateful as his face, his +head, was sensitive; he was not handsome, but he was fine, as fine as +one of the drawings in the long gallery above the bridge of the +Uffizi. And his very voice was fine--the more strangely that, with its +clearness, it yet somehow wasn't sweet. This had had really to do with +making her abstain from interference. His utterance was the vibration +of glass, and if she had put out her finger she might have changed the +pitch and spoiled the concert. Yet before he went she had to speak. + +"Madame Merle," he said, "consents to come up to my hill-top some day +next week and drink tea in my garden. It would give me much pleasure if +you would come with her. It's thought rather pretty--there's what they +call a general view. My daughter too would be so glad--or rather, for +she's too young to have strong emotions, I should be so glad--so very +glad." And Mr. Osmond paused with a slight air of embarrassment, leaving +his sentence unfinished. "I should be so happy if you could know my +daughter," he went on a moment afterwards. + +Isabel replied that she should be delighted to see Miss Osmond and that +if Madame Merle would show her the way to the hill-top she should be +very grateful. Upon this assurance the visitor took his leave; after +which Isabel fully expected her friend would scold her for having been +so stupid. But to her surprise that lady, who indeed never fell into the +mere matter-of-course, said to her in a few moments, + +"You were charming, my dear; you were just as one would have wished you. +You're never disappointing." + +A rebuke might possibly have been irritating, though it is much more +probable that Isabel would have taken it in good part; but, strange +to say, the words that Madame Merle actually used caused her the first +feeling of displeasure she had known this ally to excite. "That's more +than I intended," she answered coldly. "I'm under no obligation that I +know of to charm Mr. Osmond." + +Madame Merle perceptibly flushed, but we know it was not her habit to +retract. "My dear child, I didn't speak for him, poor man; I spoke for +yourself. It's not of course a question as to his liking you; it matters +little whether he likes you or not! But I thought you liked HIM." + +"I did," said Isabel honestly. "But I don't see what that matters +either." + +"Everything that concerns you matters to me," Madame Merle returned +with her weary nobleness; "especially when at the same time another old +friend's concerned." + +Whatever Isabel's obligations may have been to Mr. Osmond, it must be +admitted that she found them sufficient to lead her to put to Ralph +sundry questions about him. She thought Ralph's judgements distorted by +his trials, but she flattered herself she had learned to make allowance +for that. + +"Do I know him?" said her cousin. "Oh, yes, I 'know' him; not well, +but on the whole enough. I've never cultivated his society, and he +apparently has never found mine indispensable to his happiness. Who is +he, what is he? He's a vague, unexplained American who has been living +these thirty years, or less, in Italy. Why do I call him unexplained? +Only as a cover for my ignorance; I don't know his antecedents, his +family, his origin. For all I do know he may be a prince in disguise; he +rather looks like one, by the way--like a prince who has abdicated in a +fit of fastidiousness and has been in a state of disgust ever since. He +used to live in Rome; but of late years he has taken up his abode here; +I remember hearing him say that Rome has grown vulgar. He has a great +dread of vulgarity; that's his special line; he hasn't any other that I +know of. He lives on his income, which I suspect of not being vulgarly +large. He's a poor but honest gentleman that's what he calls himself. +He married young and lost his wife, and I believe he has a daughter. He +also has a sister, who's married to some small Count or other, of these +parts; I remember meeting her of old. She's nicer than he, I should +think, but rather impossible. I remember there used to be some stories +about her. I don't think I recommend you to know her. But why don't you +ask Madame Merle about these people? She knows them all much better than +I." + +"I ask you because I want your opinion as well as hers," said Isabel. + +"A fig for my opinion! If you fall in love with Mr. Osmond what will you +care for that?" + +"Not much, probably. But meanwhile it has a certain importance. The more +information one has about one's dangers the better." + +"I don't agree to that--it may make them dangers. We know too much about +people in these days; we hear too much. Our ears, our minds, our mouths, +are stuffed with personalities. Don't mind anything any one tells you +about any one else. Judge everyone and everything for yourself." + +"That's what I try to do," said Isabel "but when you do that people call +you conceited." + +"You're not to mind them--that's precisely my argument; not to mind what +they say about yourself any more than what they say about your friend or +your enemy." + +Isabel considered. "I think you're right; but there are some things I +can't help minding: for instance when my friend's attacked or when I +myself am praised." + +"Of course you're always at liberty to judge the critic. Judge people as +critics, however," Ralph added, "and you'll condemn them all!" + +"I shall see Mr. Osmond for myself," said Isabel. "I've promised to pay +him a visit." + +"To pay him a visit?" + +"To go and see his view, his pictures, his daughter--I don't know +exactly what. Madame Merle's to take me; she tells me a great many +ladies call on him." + +"Ah, with Madame Merle you may go anywhere, de confiance," said Ralph. +"She knows none but the best people." + +Isabel said no more about Mr. Osmond, but she presently remarked to her +cousin that she was not satisfied with his tone about Madame Merle. "It +seems to me you insinuate things about her. I don't know what you mean, +but if you've any grounds for disliking her I think you should either +mention them frankly or else say nothing at all." + +Ralph, however, resented this charge with more apparent earnestness than +he commonly used. "I speak of Madame Merle exactly as I speak to her: +with an even exaggerated respect." + +"Exaggerated, precisely. That's what I complain of." + +"I do so because Madame Merle's merits are exaggerated." + +"By whom, pray? By me? If so I do her a poor service." + +"No, no; by herself." + +"Ah, I protest!" Isabel earnestly cried. "If ever there was a woman who +made small claims--!" + +"You put your finger on it," Ralph interrupted. "Her modesty's +exaggerated. She has no business with small claims--she has a perfect +right to make large ones." + +"Her merits are large then. You contradict yourself." + +"Her merits are immense," said Ralph. "She's indescribably blameless; a +pathless desert of virtue; the only woman I know who never gives one a +chance." + +"A chance for what?" + +"Well, say to call her a fool! She's the only woman I know who has but +that one little fault." + +Isabel turned away with impatience. "I don't understand you; you're too +paradoxical for my plain mind." + +"Let me explain. When I say she exaggerates I don't mean it in the +vulgar sense--that she boasts, overstates, gives too fine an account of +herself. I mean literally that she pushes the search for perfection too +far--that her merits are in themselves overstrained. She's too good, too +kind, too clever, too learned, too accomplished, too everything. She's +too complete, in a word. I confess to you that she acts on my nerves and +that I feel about her a good deal as that intensely human Athenian felt +about Aristides the Just." + +Isabel looked hard at her cousin; but the mocking spirit, if it lurked +in his words, failed on this occasion to peep from his face. "Do you +wish Madame Merle to be banished?" + +"By no means. She's much too good company. I delight in Madame Merle," +said Ralph Touchett simply. + +"You're very odious, sir!" Isabel exclaimed. And then she asked him if +he knew anything that was not to the honour of her brilliant friend. + +"Nothing whatever. Don't you see that's just what I mean? On the +character of every one else you may find some little black speck; if +I were to take half an hour to it, some day, I've no doubt I should be +able to find one on yours. For my own, of course, I'm spotted like a +leopard. But on Madame Merle's nothing, nothing, nothing!" + +"That's just what I think!" said Isabel with a toss of her head. "That +is why I like her so much." + +"She's a capital person for you to know. Since you wish to see the world +you couldn't have a better guide." + +"I suppose you mean by that that she's worldly?" + +"Worldly? No," said Ralph, "she's the great round world itself!" + +It had certainly not, as Isabel for the moment took it into her head to +believe, been a refinement of malice in him to say that he delighted in +Madame Merle. Ralph Touchett took his refreshment wherever he could find +it, and he would not have forgiven himself if he had been left wholly +unbeguiled by such a mistress of the social art. There are deep-lying +sympathies and antipathies, and it may have been that, in spite of the +administered justice she enjoyed at his hands, her absence from his +mother's house would not have made life barren to him. But Ralph +Touchett had learned more or less inscrutably to attend, and there could +have been nothing so "sustained" to attend to as the general performance +of Madame Merle. He tasted her in sips, he let her stand, with an +opportuneness she herself could not have surpassed. There were moments +when he felt almost sorry for her; and these, oddly enough, were the +moments when his kindness was least demonstrative. He was sure she had +been yearningly ambitious and that what she had visibly accomplished was +far below her secret measure. She had got herself into perfect training, +but had won none of the prizes. She was always plain Madame Merle, +the widow of a Swiss negociant, with a small income and a large +acquaintance, who stayed with people a great deal and was almost as +universally "liked" as some new volume of smooth twaddle. The contrast +between this position and any one of some half-dozen others that he +supposed to have at various moments engaged her hope had an element of +the tragical. His mother thought he got on beautifully with their genial +guest; to Mrs. Touchett's sense two persons who dealt so largely in +too-ingenious theories of conduct--that is of their own--would have much +in common. He had given due consideration to Isabel's intimacy with her +eminent friend, having long since made up his mind that he could not, +without opposition, keep his cousin to himself; and he made the best of +it, as he had done of worse things. He believed it would take care of +itself; it wouldn't last forever. Neither of these two superior persons +knew the other as well as she supposed, and when each had made an +important discovery or two there would be, if not a rupture, at least +a relaxation. Meanwhile he was quite willing to admit that the +conversation of the elder lady was an advantage to the younger, who had +a great deal to learn and would doubtless learn it better from Madame +Merle than from some other instructors of the young. It was not probable +that Isabel would be injured. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +It would certainly have been hard to see what injury could arise to +her from the visit she presently paid to Mr. Osmond's hill-top. Nothing +could have been more charming than this occasion--a soft afternoon in +the full maturity of the Tuscan spring. The companions drove out of the +Roman Gate, beneath the enormous blank superstructure which crowns the +fine clear arch of that portal and makes it nakedly impressive, and +wound between high-walled lanes into which the wealth of blossoming +orchards over-drooped and flung a fragrance, until they reached the +small superurban piazza, of crooked shape, where the long brown wall of +the villa occupied in part by Mr. Osmond formed a principal, or at least +a very imposing, object. Isabel went with her friend through a wide, +high court, where a clear shadow rested below and a pair of light-arched +galleries, facing each other above, caught the upper sunshine upon their +slim columns and the flowering plants in which they were dressed. There +was something grave and strong in the place; it looked somehow as +if, once you were in, you would need an act of energy to get out. For +Isabel, however, there was of course as yet no thought of getting out, +but only of advancing. Mr. Osmond met her in the cold ante-chamber--it +was cold even in the month of May--and ushered her, with her +conductress, into the apartment to which we have already been +introduced. Madame Merle was in front, and while Isabel lingered a +little, talking with him, she went forward familiarly and greeted two +persons who were seated in the saloon. One of these was little Pansy, on +whom she bestowed a kiss; the other was a lady whom Mr. Osmond indicated +to Isabel as his sister, the Countess Gemini. "And that's my little +girl," he said, "who has just come out of her convent." + +Pansy had on a scant white dress, and her fair hair was neatly arranged +in a net; she wore her small shoes tied sandal-fashion about her ankles. +She made Isabel a little conventual curtsey and then came to be kissed. +The Countess Gemini simply nodded without getting up: Isabel could see +she was a woman of high fashion. She was thin and dark and not at +all pretty, having features that suggested some tropical bird--a long +beak-like nose, small, quickly-moving eyes and a mouth and chin +that receded extremely. Her expression, however, thanks to various +intensities of emphasis and wonder, of horror and joy, was not inhuman, +and, as regards her appearance, it was plain she understood herself +and made the most of her points. Her attire, voluminous and delicate, +bristling with elegance, had the look of shimmering plumage, and her +attitudes were as light and sudden as those of a creature who perched +upon twigs. She had a great deal of manner; Isabel, who had never +known any one with so much manner, immediately classed her as the most +affected of women. She remembered that Ralph had not recommended her as +an acquaintance; but she was ready to acknowledge that to a casual view +the Countess Gemini revealed no depths. Her demonstrations suggested the +violent waving of some flag of general truce--white silk with fluttering +streamers. + +"You'll believe I'm glad to see you when I tell you it's only because +I knew you were to be here that I came myself. I don't come and see my +brother--I make him come and see me. This hill of his is impossible--I +don't see what possesses him. Really, Osmond, you'll be the ruin of my +horses some day, and if it hurts them you'll have to give me another +pair. I heard them wheezing to-day; I assure you I did. It's very +disagreeable to hear one's horses wheezing when one's sitting in the +carriage; it sounds too as if they weren't what they should be. But +I've always had good horses; whatever else I may have lacked I've always +managed that. My husband doesn't know much, but I think he knows a +horse. In general Italians don't, but my husband goes in, according to +his poor light, for everything English. My horses are English--so it's +all the greater pity they should be ruined. I must tell you," she went +on, directly addressing Isabel, "that Osmond doesn't often invite me; +I don't think he likes to have me. It was quite my own idea, coming +to-day. I like to see new people, and I'm sure you're very new. But +don't sit there; that chair's not what it looks. There are some very +good seats here, but there are also some horrors." + +These remarks were delivered with a series of little jerks and pecks, of +roulades of shrillness, and in an accent that was as some fond recall of +good English, or rather of good American, in adversity. + +"I don't like to have you, my dear?" said her brother. "I'm sure you're +invaluable." + +"I don't see any horrors anywhere," Isabel returned, looking about her. +"Everything seems to me beautiful and precious." + +"I've a few good things," Mr. Osmond allowed; "indeed I've nothing very +bad. But I've not what I should have liked." + +He stood there a little awkwardly, smiling and glancing about; his +manner was an odd mixture of the detached and the involved. He seemed to +hint that nothing but the right "values" was of any consequence. Isabel +made a rapid induction: perfect simplicity was not the badge of his +family. Even the little girl from the convent, who, in her prim white +dress, with her small submissive face and her hands locked before her, +stood there as if she were about to partake of her first communion, +even Mr. Osmond's diminutive daughter had a kind of finish that was not +entirely artless. + +"You'd have liked a few things from the Uffizi and the Pitti--that's what +you'd have liked," said Madame Merle. + +"Poor Osmond, with his old curtains and crucifixes!" the Countess Gemini +exclaimed: she appeared to call her brother only by his family-name. Her +ejaculation had no particular object; she smiled at Isabel as she made +it and looked at her from head to foot. + +Her brother had not heard her; he seemed to be thinking what he could +say to Isabel. "Won't you have some tea?--you must be very tired," he at +last bethought himself of remarking. + +"No indeed, I'm not tired; what have I done to tire me?" Isabel felt a +certain need of being very direct, of pretending to nothing; there was +something in the air, in her general impression of things--she could +hardly have said what it was--that deprived her of all disposition to +put herself forward. The place, the occasion, the combination of people, +signified more than lay on the surface; she would try to understand--she +would not simply utter graceful platitudes. Poor Isabel was doubtless +not aware that many women would have uttered graceful platitudes to +cover the working of their observation. It must be confessed that her +pride was a trifle alarmed. A man she had heard spoken of in terms +that excited interest and who was evidently capable of distinguishing +himself, had invited her, a young lady not lavish of her favours, +to come to his house. Now that she had done so the burden of the +entertainment rested naturally on his wit. Isabel was not rendered +less observant, and for the moment, we judge, she was not rendered +more indulgent, by perceiving that Mr. Osmond carried his burden less +complacently than might have been expected. "What a fool I was to +have let myself so needlessly in--!" she could fancy his exclaiming to +himself. + +"You'll be tired when you go home, if he shows you all his bibelots and +gives you a lecture on each," said the Countess Gemini. + +"I'm not afraid of that; but if I'm tired I shall at least have learned +something." + +"Very little, I suspect. But my sister's dreadfully afraid of learning +anything," said Mr. Osmond. + +"Oh, I confess to that; I don't want to know anything more--I know too +much already. The more you know the more unhappy you are." + +"You should not undervalue knowledge before Pansy, who has not finished +her education," Madame Merle interposed with a smile. "Pansy will +never know any harm," said the child's father. "Pansy's a little +convent-flower." + +"Oh, the convents, the convents!" cried the Countess with a flutter of +her ruffles. "Speak to me of the convents! You may learn anything there; +I'm a convent-flower myself. I don't pretend to be good, but the nuns +do. Don't you see what I mean?" she went on, appealing to Isabel. + +Isabel was not sure she saw, and she answered that she was very bad +at following arguments. The Countess then declared that she herself +detested arguments, but that this was her brother's taste--he would +always discuss. "For me," she said, "one should like a thing or one +shouldn't; one can't like everything, of course. But one shouldn't +attempt to reason it out--you never know where it may lead you. There +are some very good feelings that may have bad reasons, don't you know? +And then there are very bad feelings, sometimes, that have good reasons. +Don't you see what I mean? I don't care anything about reasons, but I +know what I like." + +"Ah, that's the great thing," said Isabel, smiling and suspecting that +her acquaintance with this lightly flitting personage would not lead to +intellectual repose. If the Countess objected to argument Isabel at this +moment had as little taste for it, and she put out her hand to Pansy +with a pleasant sense that such a gesture committed her to nothing that +would admit of a divergence of views. Gilbert Osmond apparently took a +rather hopeless view of his sister's tone; he turned the conversation to +another topic. He presently sat down on the other side of his daughter, +who had shyly brushed Isabel's fingers with her own; but he ended by +drawing her out of her chair and making her stand between his knees, +leaning against him while he passed his arm round her slimness. The +child fixed her eyes on Isabel with a still, disinterested gaze which +seemed void of an intention, yet conscious of an attraction. Mr. Osmond +talked of many things; Madame Merle had said he could be agreeable +when he chose, and to-day, after a little, he appeared not only to have +chosen but to have determined. Madame Merle and the Countess Gemini sat +a little apart, conversing in the effortless manner of persons who knew +each other well enough to take their ease; but every now and then Isabel +heard the Countess, at something said by her companion, plunge into the +latter's lucidity as a poodle splashes after a thrown stick. It was as +if Madame Merle were seeing how far she would go. Mr. Osmond talked of +Florence, of Italy, of the pleasure of living in that country and of the +abatements to the pleasure. There were both satisfactions and drawbacks; +the drawbacks were numerous; strangers were too apt to see such a world +as all romantic. It met the case soothingly for the human, for the +social failure--by which he meant the people who couldn't "realise," as +they said, on their sensibility: they could keep it about them there, +in their poverty, without ridicule, as you might keep an heirloom or an +inconvenient entailed place that brought you in nothing. Thus there were +advantages in living in the country which contained the greatest sum of +beauty. Certain impressions you could get only there. Others, favourable +to life, you never got, and you got some that were very bad. But from +time to time you got one of a quality that made up for everything. +Italy, all the same, had spoiled a great many people; he was even +fatuous enough to believe at times that he himself might have been a +better man if he had spent less of his life there. It made one idle and +dilettantish and second-rate; it had no discipline for the character, +didn't cultivate in you, otherwise expressed, the successful social +and other "cheek" that flourished in Paris and London. "We're sweetly +provincial," said Mr. Osmond, "and I'm perfectly aware that I myself am +as rusty as a key that has no lock to fit it. It polishes me up a little +to talk with you--not that I venture to pretend I can turn that very +complicated lock I suspect your intellect of being! But you'll be going +away before I've seen you three times, and I shall perhaps never see you +after that. That's what it is to live in a country that people come to. +When they're disagreeable here it's bad enough; when they're agreeable +it's still worse. As soon as you like them they're off again! I've been +deceived too often; I've ceased to form attachments, to permit myself +to feel attractions. You mean to stay--to settle? That would be really +comfortable. Ah yes, your aunt's a sort of guarantee; I believe she may +be depended on. Oh, she's an old Florentine; I mean literally an old +one; not a modern outsider. She's a contemporary of the Medici; she must +have been present at the burning of Savonarola, and I'm not sure she +didn't throw a handful of chips into the flame. Her face is very much +like some faces in the early pictures; little, dry, definite faces that +must have had a good deal of expression, but almost always the same one. +Indeed I can show you her portrait in a fresco of Ghirlandaio's. I hope +you don't object to my speaking that way of your aunt, eh? I've an idea +you don't. Perhaps you think that's even worse. I assure you there's +no want of respect in it, to either of you. You know I'm a particular +admirer of Mrs. Touchett." + +While Isabel's host exerted himself to entertain her in this somewhat +confidential fashion she looked occasionally at Madame Merle, who met +her eyes with an inattentive smile in which, on this occasion, there +was no infelicitous intimation that our heroine appeared to advantage. +Madame Merle eventually proposed to the Countess Gemini that they +should go into the garden, and the Countess, rising and shaking out +her feathers, began to rustle toward the door. "Poor Miss Archer!" she +exclaimed, surveying the other group with expressive compassion. "She +has been brought quite into the family." + +"Miss Archer can certainly have nothing but sympathy for a family to +which you belong," Mr. Osmond answered, with a laugh which, though it +had something of a mocking ring, had also a finer patience. + +"I don't know what you mean by that! I'm sure she'll see no harm in +me but what you tell her. I'm better than he says, Miss Archer," the +Countess went on. "I'm only rather an idiot and a bore. Is that all he +has said? Ah then, you keep him in good-humour. Has he opened on one of +his favourite subjects? I give you notice that there are two or three +that he treats a fond. In that case you had better take off your +bonnet." + +"I don't think I know what Mr. Osmond's favourite subjects are," said +Isabel, who had risen to her feet. + +The Countess assumed for an instant an attitude of intense meditation, +pressing one of her hands, with the finger-tips gathered together, to +her forehead. "I'll tell you in a moment. One's Machiavelli; the other's +Vittoria Colonna; the next is Metastasio." + +"Ah, with me," said Madame Merle, passing her arm into the Countess +Gemini's as if to guide her course to the garden, "Mr. Osmond's never so +historical." + +"Oh you," the Countess answered as they moved away, "you yourself are +Machiavelli--you yourself are Vittoria Colonna!" + +"We shall hear next that poor Madame Merle is Metastasio!" Gilbert +Osmond resignedly sighed. + +Isabel had got up on the assumption that they too were to go into the +garden; but her host stood there with no apparent inclination to leave +the room, his hands in the pockets of his jacket and his daughter, who +had now locked her arm into one of his own, clinging to him and looking +up while her eyes moved from his own face to Isabel's. Isabel waited, +with a certain unuttered contentedness, to have her movements directed; +she liked Mr. Osmond's talk, his company: she had what always gave her +a very private thrill, the consciousness of a new relation. Through +the open doors of the great room she saw Madame Merle and the Countess +stroll across the fine grass of the garden; then she turned, and her +eyes wandered over the things scattered about her. The understanding +had been that Mr. Osmond should show her his treasures; his pictures and +cabinets all looked like treasures. Isabel after a moment went toward +one of the pictures to see it better; but just as she had done so he +said to her abruptly: "Miss Archer, what do you think of my sister?" + +She faced him with some surprise. "Ah, don't ask me that--I've seen your +sister too little." + +"Yes, you've seen her very little; but you must have observed that +there is not a great deal of her to see. What do you think of our family +tone?" he went on with his cool smile. "I should like to know how +it strikes a fresh, unprejudiced mind. I know what you're going to +say--you've had almost no observation of it. Of course this is only +a glimpse. But just take notice, in future, if you have a chance. I +sometimes think we've got into a rather bad way, living off here among +things and people not our own, without responsibilities or attachments, +with nothing to hold us together or keep us up; marrying foreigners, +forming artificial tastes, playing tricks with our natural mission. Let +me add, though, that I say that much more for myself than for my sister. +She's a very honest lady--more so than she seems. She's rather +unhappy, and as she's not of a serious turn she doesn't tend to show +it tragically: she shows it comically instead. She has got a horrid +husband, though I'm not sure she makes the best of him. Of course, +however, a horrid husband's an awkward thing. Madame Merle gives her +excellent advice, but it's a good deal like giving a child a dictionary +to learn a language with. He can look out the words, but he can't put +them together. My sister needs a grammar, but unfortunately she's not +grammatical. Pardon my troubling you with these details; my sister was +very right in saying you've been taken into the family. Let me take down +that picture; you want more light." + +He took down the picture, carried it toward the window, related some +curious facts about it. She looked at the other works of art, and he +gave her such further information as might appear most acceptable to +a young lady making a call on a summer afternoon. His pictures, his +medallions and tapestries were interesting; but after a while Isabel +felt the owner much more so, and independently of them, thickly as they +seemed to overhang him. He resembled no one she had ever seen; most +of the people she knew might be divided into groups of half a dozen +specimens. There were one or two exceptions to this; she could think for +instance of no group that would contain her aunt Lydia. There were other +people who were, relatively speaking, original--original, as one might +say, by courtesy such as Mr. Goodwood, as her cousin Ralph, as Henrietta +Stackpole, as Lord Warburton, as Madame Merle. But in essentials, when +one came to look at them, these individuals belonged to types already +present to her mind. Her mind contained no class offering a natural +place to Mr. Osmond--he was a specimen apart. It was not that she +recognised all these truths at the hour, but they were falling into +order before her. For the moment she only said to herself that this "new +relation" would perhaps prove her very most distinguished. Madame Merle +had had that note of rarity, but what quite other power it immediately +gained when sounded by a man! It was not so much what he said and did, +but rather what he withheld, that marked him for her as by one of those +signs of the highly curious that he was showing her on the underside of +old plates and in the corner of sixteenth-century drawings: he indulged +in no striking deflections from common usage, he was an original without +being an eccentric. She had never met a person of so fine a grain. +The peculiarity was physical, to begin with, and it extended to +impalpabilities. His dense, delicate hair, his overdrawn, retouched +features, his clear complexion, ripe without being coarse, the very +evenness of the growth of his beard, and that light, smooth slenderness +of structure which made the movement of a single one of his fingers +produce the effect of an expressive gesture--these personal points +struck our sensitive young woman as signs of quality, of intensity, +somehow as promises of interest. He was certainly fastidious and +critical; he was probably irritable. His sensibility had governed +him--possibly governed him too much; it had made him impatient of +vulgar troubles and had led him to live by himself, in a sorted, sifted, +arranged world, thinking about art and beauty and history. He had +consulted his taste in everything--his taste alone perhaps, as a sick +man consciously incurable consults at last only his lawyer: that was +what made him so different from every one else. Ralph had something of +this same quality, this appearance of thinking that life was a matter +of connoisseurship; but in Ralph it was an anomaly, a kind of humorous +excrescence, whereas in Mr. Osmond it was the keynote, and everything +was in harmony with it. She was certainly far from understanding him +completely; his meaning was not at all times obvious. It was hard to see +what he meant for instance by speaking of his provincial side--which +was exactly the side she would have taken him most to lack. Was it a +harmless paradox, intended to puzzle her? or was it the last refinement +of high culture? She trusted she should learn in time; it would be very +interesting to learn. If it was provincial to have that harmony, what +then was the finish of the capital? And she could put this question +in spite of so feeling her host a shy personage; since such shyness as +his--the shyness of ticklish nerves and fine perceptions--was perfectly +consistent with the best breeding. Indeed it was almost a proof of +standards and touchstones other than the vulgar: he must be so sure the +vulgar would be first on the ground. He wasn't a man of easy assurance, +who chatted and gossiped with the fluency of a superficial nature; he +was critical of himself as well as of others, and, exacting a good deal +of others, to think them agreeable, probably took a rather ironical view +of what he himself offered: a proof into the bargain that he was not +grossly conceited. If he had not been shy he wouldn't have effected that +gradual, subtle, successful conversion of it to which she owed both what +pleased her in him and what mystified her. If he had suddenly asked her +what she thought of the Countess Gemini, that was doubtless a proof that +he was interested in her; it could scarcely be as a help to knowledge +of his own sister. That he should be so interested showed an enquiring +mind; but it was a little singular he should sacrifice his fraternal +feeling to his curiosity. This was the most eccentric thing he had done. + +There were two other rooms, beyond the one in which she had been +received, equally full of romantic objects, and in these apartments +Isabel spent a quarter of an hour. Everything was in the last degree +curious and precious, and Mr. Osmond continued to be the kindest of +ciceroni as he led her from one fine piece to another and still held his +little girl by the hand. His kindness almost surprised our young friend, +who wondered why he should take so much trouble for her; and she was +oppressed at last with the accumulation of beauty and knowledge to which +she found herself introduced. There was enough for the present; she had +ceased to attend to what he said; she listened to him with attentive +eyes, but was not thinking of what he told her. He probably thought +her quicker, cleverer in every way, more prepared, than she was. Madame +Merle would have pleasantly exaggerated; which was a pity, because in +the end he would be sure to find out, and then perhaps even her real +intelligence wouldn't reconcile him to his mistake. A part of Isabel's +fatigue came from the effort to appear as intelligent as she believed +Madame Merle had described her, and from the fear (very unusual with +her) of exposing--not her ignorance; for that she cared comparatively +little--but her possible grossness of perception. It would have annoyed +her to express a liking for something he, in his superior enlightenment, +would think she oughtn't to like; or to pass by something at which the +truly initiated mind would arrest itself. She had no wish to fall into +that grotesqueness--in which she had seen women (and it was a warning) +serenely, yet ignobly, flounder. She was very careful therefore as to +what she said, as to what she noticed or failed to notice; more careful +than she had ever been before. + +They came back into the first of the rooms, where the tea had been +served; but as the two other ladies were still on the terrace, and as +Isabel had not yet been made acquainted with the view, the paramount +distinction of the place, Mr. Osmond directed her steps into the garden +without more delay. Madame Merle and the Countess had had chairs brought +out, and as the afternoon was lovely the Countess proposed they should +take their tea in the open air. Pansy therefore was sent to bid the +servant bring out the preparations. The sun had got low, the golden +light took a deeper tone, and on the mountains and the plain that +stretched beneath them the masses of purple shadow glowed as richly +as the places that were still exposed. The scene had an extraordinary +charm. The air was almost solemnly still, and the large expanse of the +landscape, with its garden-like culture and nobleness of outline, +its teeming valley and delicately-fretted hills, its peculiarly +human-looking touches of habitation, lay there in splendid harmony and +classic grace. "You seem so well pleased that I think you can be trusted +to come back," Osmond said as he led his companion to one of the angles +of the terrace. + +"I shall certainly come back," she returned, "in spite of what you say +about its being bad to live in Italy. What was that you said about one's +natural mission? I wonder if I should forsake my natural mission if I +were to settle in Florence." + +"A woman's natural mission is to be where she's most appreciated." + +"The point's to find out where that is." + +"Very true--she often wastes a great deal of time in the enquiry. People +ought to make it very plain to her." + +"Such a matter would have to be made very plain to me," smiled Isabel. + +"I'm glad, at any rate, to hear you talk of settling. Madame Merle had +given me an idea that you were of a rather roving disposition. I thought +she spoke of your having some plan of going round the world." + +"I'm rather ashamed of my plans; I make a new one every day." + +"I don't see why you should be ashamed; it's the greatest of pleasures." + +"It seems frivolous, I think," said Isabel. "One ought to choose +something very deliberately, and be faithful to that." + +"By that rule then, I've not been frivolous." + +"Have you never made plans?" + +"Yes, I made one years ago, and I'm acting on it to-day." + +"It must have been a very pleasant one," Isabel permitted herself to +observe. + +"It was very simple. It was to be as quiet as possible." + +"As quiet?" the girl repeated. + +"Not to worry--not to strive nor struggle. To resign myself. To be +content with little." He spoke these sentences slowly, with short pauses +between, and his intelligent regard was fixed on his visitor's with the +conscious air of a man who has brought himself to confess something. + +"Do you call that simple?" she asked with mild irony. + +"Yes, because it's negative." + +"Has your life been negative?" + +"Call it affirmative if you like. Only it has affirmed my indifference. +Mind you, not my natural indifference--I HAD none. But my studied, my +wilful renunciation." + +She scarcely understood him; it seemed a question whether he were +joking or not. Why should a man who struck her as having a great fund +of reserve suddenly bring himself to be so confidential? This was his +affair, however, and his confidences were interesting. "I don't see why +you should have renounced," she said in a moment. + +"Because I could do nothing. I had no prospects, I was poor, and I was +not a man of genius. I had no talents even; I took my measure early in +life. I was simply the most fastidious young gentleman living. There +were two or three people in the world I envied--the Emperor of Russia, +for instance, and the Sultan of Turkey! There were even moments when I +envied the Pope of Rome--for the consideration he enjoys. I should have +been delighted to be considered to that extent; but since that couldn't +be I didn't care for anything less, and I made up my mind not to go +in for honours. The leanest gentleman can always consider himself, +and fortunately I was, though lean, a gentleman. I could do nothing in +Italy--I couldn't even be an Italian patriot. To do that I should have +had to get out of the country; and I was too fond of it to leave it, to +say nothing of my being too well satisfied with it, on the whole, as it +then was, to wish it altered. So I've passed a great many years here on +that quiet plan I spoke of. I've not been at all unhappy. I don't mean +to say I've cared for nothing; but the things I've cared for have +been definite--limited. The events of my life have been absolutely +unperceived by any one save myself; getting an old silver crucifix at a +bargain (I've never bought anything dear, of course), or discovering, +as I once did, a sketch by Correggio on a panel daubed over by some +inspired idiot." + +This would have been rather a dry account of Mr. Osmond's career if +Isabel had fully believed it; but her imagination supplied the human +element which she was sure had not been wanting. His life had been +mingled with other lives more than he admitted; naturally she couldn't +expect him to enter into this. For the present she abstained from +provoking further revelations; to intimate that he had not told her +everything would be more familiar and less considerate than she now +desired to be--would in fact be uproariously vulgar. He had certainly +told her quite enough. It was her present inclination, however, to +express a measured sympathy for the success with which he had preserved +his independence. "That's a very pleasant life," she said, "to renounce +everything but Correggio!" + +"Oh, I've made in my way a good thing of it. Don't imagine I'm whining +about it. It's one's own fault if one isn't happy." + +This was large; she kept down to something smaller. "Have you lived here +always?" + +"No, not always. I lived a long time at Naples, and many years in +Rome. But I've been here a good while. Perhaps I shall have to change, +however; to do something else. I've no longer myself to think of. My +daughter's growing up and may very possibly not care so much for the +Correggios and crucifixes as I. I shall have to do what's best for +Pansy." + +"Yes, do that," said Isabel. "She's such a dear little girl." + +"Ah," cried Gilbert Osmond beautifully, "she's a little saint of heaven! +She is my great happiness!" + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +While this sufficiently intimate colloquy (prolonged for some time after +we cease to follow it) went forward Madame Merle and her companion, +breaking a silence of some duration, had begun to exchange remarks. +They were sitting in an attitude of unexpressed expectancy; an attitude +especially marked on the part of the Countess Gemini, who, being of a +more nervous temperament than her friend, practised with less success +the art of disguising impatience. What these ladies were waiting for +would not have been apparent and was perhaps not very definite to their +own minds. Madame Merle waited for Osmond to release their young friend +from her tete-a-tete, and the Countess waited because Madame Merle did. +The Countess, moreover, by waiting, found the time ripe for one of her +pretty perversities. She might have desired for some minutes to place +it. Her brother wandered with Isabel to the end of the garden, to which +point her eyes followed them. + +"My dear," she then observed to her companion, "you'll excuse me if I +don't congratulate you!" + +"Very willingly, for I don't in the least know why you should." + +"Haven't you a little plan that you think rather well of?" And the +Countess nodded at the sequestered couple. + +Madame Merle's eyes took the same direction; then she looked serenely at +her neighbour. "You know I never understand you very well," she smiled. + +"No one can understand better than you when you wish. I see that just +now you DON'T wish." + +"You say things to me that no one else does," said Madame Merle gravely, +yet without bitterness. + +"You mean things you don't like? Doesn't Osmond sometimes say such +things?" + +"What your brother says has a point." + +"Yes, a poisoned one sometimes. If you mean that I'm not so clever as he +you mustn't think I shall suffer from your sense of our difference. But +it will be much better that you should understand me." + +"Why so?" asked Madame Merle. "To what will it conduce?" + +"If I don't approve of your plan you ought to know it in order to +appreciate the danger of my interfering with it." + +Madame Merle looked as if she were ready to admit that there might be +something in this; but in a moment she said quietly: "You think me more +calculating than I am." + +"It's not your calculating I think ill of; it's your calculating wrong. +You've done so in this case." + +"You must have made extensive calculations yourself to discover that." + +"No, I've not had time. I've seen the girl but this once," said the +Countess, "and the conviction has suddenly come to me. I like her very +much." + +"So do I," Madame Merle mentioned. + +"You've a strange way of showing it." + +"Surely I've given her the advantage of making your acquaintance." + +"That indeed," piped the Countess, "is perhaps the best thing that could +happen to her!" + +Madame Merle said nothing for some time. The Countess's manner was +odious, was really low; but it was an old story, and with her eyes upon +the violet slope of Monte Morello she gave herself up to reflection. "My +dear lady," she finally resumed, "I advise you not to agitate yourself. +The matter you allude to concerns three persons much stronger of purpose +than yourself." + +"Three persons? You and Osmond of course. But is Miss Archer also very +strong of purpose?" + +"Quite as much so as we." + +"Ah then," said the Countess radiantly, "if I convince her it's her +interest to resist you she'll do so successfully!" + +"Resist us? Why do you express yourself so coarsely? She's not exposed +to compulsion or deception." + +"I'm not sure of that. You're capable of anything, you and Osmond. I +don't mean Osmond by himself, and I don't mean you by yourself. But +together you're dangerous--like some chemical combination." + +"You had better leave us alone then," smiled Madame Merle. + +"I don't mean to touch you--but I shall talk to that girl." + +"My poor Amy," Madame Merle murmured, "I don't see what has got into +your head." + +"I take an interest in her--that's what has got into my head. I like +her." + +Madame Merle hesitated a moment. "I don't think she likes you." + +The Countess's bright little eyes expanded and her face was set in a +grimace. "Ah, you ARE dangerous--even by yourself!" + +"If you want her to like you don't abuse your brother to her," said +Madame Merle. + +"I don't suppose you pretend she has fallen in love with him in two +interviews." + +Madame Merle looked a moment at Isabel and at the master of the house. +He was leaning against the parapet, facing her, his arms folded; and +she at present was evidently not lost in the mere impersonal view, +persistently as she gazed at it. As Madame Merle watched her she lowered +her eyes; she was listening, possibly with a certain embarrassment, +while she pressed the point of her parasol into the path. Madame Merle +rose from her chair. "Yes, I think so!" she pronounced. + +The shabby footboy, summoned by Pansy--he might, tarnished as to livery +and quaint as to type, have issued from some stray sketch of old-time +manners, been "put in" by the brush of a Longhi or a Goya--had come out +with a small table and placed it on the grass, and then had gone back +and fetched the tea-tray; after which he had again disappeared, to +return with a couple of chairs. Pansy had watched these proceedings with +the deepest interest, standing with her small hands folded together +upon the front of her scanty frock; but she had not presumed to offer +assistance. When the tea-table had been arranged, however, she gently +approached her aunt. + +"Do you think papa would object to my making the tea?" + +The Countess looked at her with a deliberately critical gaze and without +answering her question. "My poor niece," she said, "is that your best +frock?" + +"Ah no," Pansy answered, "it's just a little toilette for common +occasions." + +"Do you call it a common occasion when I come to see you?--to say +nothing of Madame Merle and the pretty lady yonder." + +Pansy reflected a moment, turning gravely from one of the persons +mentioned to the other. Then her face broke into its perfect smile. +"I have a pretty dress, but even that one's very simple. Why should I +expose it beside your beautiful things?" + +"Because it's the prettiest you have; for me you must always wear the +prettiest. Please put it on the next time. It seems to me they don't +dress you so well as they might." + +The child sparingly stroked down her antiquated skirt. "It's a good +little dress to make tea--don't you think? Don't you believe papa would +allow me?" + +"Impossible for me to say, my child," said the Countess. "For me, your +father's ideas are unfathomable. Madame Merle understands them better. +Ask HER." + +Madame Merle smiled with her usual grace. "It's a weighty question--let +me think. It seems to me it would please your father to see a careful +little daughter making his tea. It's the proper duty of the daughter of +the house--when she grows up." + +"So it seems to me, Madame Merle!" Pansy cried. "You shall see how well +I'll make it. A spoonful for each." And she began to busy herself at the +table. + +"Two spoonfuls for me," said the Countess, who, with Madame Merle, +remained for some moments watching her. "Listen to me, Pansy," the +Countess resumed at last. "I should like to know what you think of your +visitor." + +"Ah, she's not mine--she's papa's," Pansy objected. + +"Miss Archer came to see you as well," said Madame Merle. + +"I'm very happy to hear that. She has been very polite to me." + +"Do you like her then?" the Countess asked. + +"She's charming--charming," Pansy repeated in her little neat +conversational tone. "She pleases me thoroughly." + +"And how do you think she pleases your father?" + +"Ah really, Countess!" murmured Madame Merle dissuasively. "Go and call +them to tea," she went on to the child. + +"You'll see if they don't like it!" Pansy declared; and departed to +summon the others, who had still lingered at the end of the terrace. + +"If Miss Archer's to become her mother it's surely interesting to know +if the child likes her," said the Countess. + +"If your brother marries again it won't be for Pansy's sake," Madame +Merle replied. "She'll soon be sixteen, and after that she'll begin to +need a husband rather than a stepmother." + +"And will you provide the husband as well?" + +"I shall certainly take an interest in her marrying fortunately. I +imagine you'll do the same." + +"Indeed I shan't!" cried the Countess. "Why should I, of all women, set +such a price on a husband?" + +"You didn't marry fortunately; that's what I'm speaking of. When I say a +husband I mean a good one." + +"There are no good ones. Osmond won't be a good one." + +Madame Merle closed her eyes a moment. "You're irritated just now; I +don't know why," she presently said. "I don't think you'll really object +either to your brother's or to your niece's marrying, when the time +comes for them to do so; and as regards Pansy I'm confident that we +shall some day have the pleasure of looking for a husband for her +together. Your large acquaintance will be a great help." + +"Yes, I'm irritated," the Countess answered. "You often irritate me. +Your own coolness is fabulous. You're a strange woman." + +"It's much better that we should always act together," Madame Merle went +on. + +"Do you mean that as a threat?" asked the Countess rising. Madame +Merle shook her head as for quiet amusement. "No indeed, you've not my +coolness!" + +Isabel and Mr. Osmond were now slowly coming toward them and Isabel +had taken Pansy by the hand. "Do you pretend to believe he'd make her +happy?" the Countess demanded. + +"If he should marry Miss Archer I suppose he'd behave like a gentleman." + +The Countess jerked herself into a succession of attitudes. "Do you +mean as most gentlemen behave? That would be much to be thankful for! Of +course Osmond's a gentleman; his own sister needn't be reminded of that. +But does he think he can marry any girl he happens to pick out? Osmond's +a gentleman, of course; but I must say I've NEVER, no, no, never, seen +any one of Osmond's pretensions! What they're all founded on is more +than I can say. I'm his own sister; I might be supposed to know. Who +is he, if you please? What has he ever done? If there had been anything +particularly grand in his origin--if he were made of some superior +clay--I presume I should have got some inkling of it. If there had been +any great honours or splendours in the family I should certainly have +made the most of them: they would have been quite in my line. But +there's nothing, nothing, nothing. One's parents were charming people of +course; but so were yours, I've no doubt. Every one's a charming person +nowadays. Even I'm a charming person; don't laugh, it has literally +been said. As for Osmond, he has always appeared to believe that he's +descended from the gods." + +"You may say what you please," said Madame Merle, who had listened to +this quick outbreak none the less attentively, we may believe, because +her eye wandered away from the speaker and her hands busied themselves +with adjusting the knots of ribbon on her dress. "You Osmonds are a fine +race--your blood must flow from some very pure source. Your brother, +like an intelligent man, has had the conviction of it if he has not +had the proofs. You're modest about it, but you yourself are extremely +distinguished. What do you say about your niece? The child's a little +princess. Nevertheless," Madame Merle added, "it won't be an easy matter +for Osmond to marry Miss Archer. Yet he can try." + +"I hope she'll refuse him. It will take him down a little." + +"We mustn't forget that he is one of the cleverest of men." + +"I've heard you say that before, but I haven't yet discovered what he +has done." + +"What he has done? He has done nothing that has had to be undone. And he +has known how to wait." + +"To wait for Miss Archer's money? How much of it is there?" + +"That's not what I mean," said Madame Merle. "Miss Archer has seventy +thousand pounds." + +"Well, it's a pity she's so charming," the Countess declared. "To be +sacrificed, any girl would do. She needn't be superior." + +"If she weren't superior your brother would never look at her. He must +have the best." + +"Yes," returned the Countess as they went forward a little to meet +the others, "he's very hard to satisfy. That makes me tremble for her +happiness!" + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +Gilbert Osmond came to see Isabel again; that is he came to Palazzo +Crescentini. He had other friends there as well, and to Mrs. Touchett +and Madame Merle he was always impartially civil; but the former of +these ladies noted the fact that in the course of a fortnight he +called five times, and compared it with another fact that she found no +difficulty in remembering. Two visits a year had hitherto constituted +his regular tribute to Mrs. Touchett's worth, and she had never +observed him select for such visits those moments, of almost periodical +recurrence, when Madame Merle was under her roof. It was not for Madame +Merle that he came; these two were old friends and he never put himself +out for her. He was not fond of Ralph--Ralph had told her so--and it was +not supposable that Mr. Osmond had suddenly taken a fancy to her son. +Ralph was imperturbable--Ralph had a kind of loose-fitting urbanity +that wrapped him about like an ill-made overcoat, but of which he +never divested himself; he thought Mr. Osmond very good company and was +willing at any time to look at him in the light of hospitality. But he +didn't flatter himself that the desire to repair a past injustice was +the motive of their visitor's calls; he read the situation more clearly. +Isabel was the attraction, and in all conscience a sufficient one. +Osmond was a critic, a student of the exquisite, and it was natural he +should be curious of so rare an apparition. So when his mother observed +to him that it was plain what Mr. Osmond was thinking of, Ralph replied +that he was quite of her opinion. Mrs. Touchett had from far back found +a place on her scant list for this gentleman, though wondering dimly by +what art and what process--so negative and so wise as they were--he +had everywhere effectively imposed himself. As he had never been an +importunate visitor he had had no chance to be offensive, and he was +recommended to her by his appearance of being as well able to do without +her as she was to do without him--a quality that always, oddly enough, +affected her as providing ground for a relation with her. It gave her +no satisfaction, however, to think that he had taken it into his head to +marry her niece. Such an alliance, on Isabel's part, would have an air +of almost morbid perversity. Mrs. Touchett easily remembered that the +girl had refused an English peer; and that a young lady with whom Lord +Warburton had not successfully wrestled should content herself with an +obscure American dilettante, a middle-aged widower with an uncanny child +and an ambiguous income, this answered to nothing in Mrs. Touchett's +conception of success. She took, it will be observed, not the +sentimental, but the political, view of matrimony--a view which has +always had much to recommend it. "I trust she won't have the folly +to listen to him," she said to her son; to which Ralph replied that +Isabel's listening was one thing and Isabel's answering quite another. +He knew she had listened to several parties, as his father would +have said, but had made them listen in return; and he found much +entertainment in the idea that in these few months of his knowing her he +should observe a fresh suitor at her gate. She had wanted to see life, +and fortune was serving her to her taste; a succession of fine gentlemen +going down on their knees to her would do as well as anything else. +Ralph looked forward to a fourth, a fifth, a tenth besieger; he had no +conviction she would stop at a third. She would keep the gate ajar and +open a parley; she would certainly not allow number three to come in. +He expressed this view, somewhat after this fashion, to his mother, who +looked at him as if he had been dancing a jig. He had such a fanciful, +pictorial way of saying things that he might as well address her in the +deaf-mute's alphabet. + +"I don't think I know what you mean," she said; "you use too many +figures of speech; I could never understand allegories. The two words in +the language I most respect are Yes and No. If Isabel wants to marry Mr. +Osmond she'll do so in spite of all your comparisons. Let her alone to +find a fine one herself for anything she undertakes. I know very little +about the young man in America; I don't think she spends much of her +time in thinking of him, and I suspect he has got tired of waiting for +her. There's nothing in life to prevent her marrying Mr. Osmond if +she only looks at him in a certain way. That's all very well; no one +approves more than I of one's pleasing one's self. But she takes her +pleasure in such odd things; she's capable of marrying Mr. Osmond for +the beauty of his opinions or for his autograph of Michael Angelo. +She wants to be disinterested: as if she were the only person who's +in danger of not being so! Will HE be so disinterested when he has the +spending of her money? That was her idea before your father's death, and +it has acquired new charms for her since. She ought to marry some one of +whose disinterestedness she shall herself be sure; and there would be no +such proof of that as his having a fortune of his own." + +"My dear mother, I'm not afraid," Ralph answered. "She's making fools of +us all. She'll please herself, of course; but she'll do so by studying +human nature at close quarters and yet retaining her liberty. She has +started on an exploring expedition, and I don't think she'll change her +course, at the outset, at a signal from Gilbert Osmond. She may have +slackened speed for an hour, but before we know it she'll be steaming +away again. Excuse another metaphor." + +Mrs. Touchett excused it perhaps, but was not so much reassured as to +withhold from Madame Merle the expression of her fears. "You who +know everything," she said, "you must know this: whether that curious +creature's really making love to my niece." + +"Gilbert Osmond?" Madame Merle widened her clear eyes and, with a full +intelligence, "Heaven help us," she exclaimed, "that's an idea!" + +"Hadn't it occurred to you?" + +"You make me feel an idiot, but I confess it hadn't. I wonder," she +added, "if it has occurred to Isabel." + +"Oh, I shall now ask her," said Mrs. Touchett. + +Madame Merle reflected. "Don't put it into her head. The thing would be +to ask Mr. Osmond." + +"I can't do that," said Mrs. Touchett. "I won't have him enquire +of me--as he perfectly may with that air of his, given Isabel's +situation--what business it is of mine." + +"I'll ask him myself," Madame Merle bravely declared. + +"But what business--for HIM--is it of yours?" + +"It's being none whatever is just why I can afford to speak. It's so +much less my business than any one's else that he can put me off with +anything he chooses. But it will be by the way he does this that I shall +know." + +"Pray let me hear then," said Mrs. Touchett, "of the fruits of your +penetration. If I can't speak to him, however, at least I can speak to +Isabel." + +Her companion sounded at this the note of warning. "Don't be too quick +with her. Don't inflame her imagination." + +"I never did anything in life to any one's imagination. But I'm always +sure of her doing something--well, not of MY kind." + +"No, you wouldn't like this," Madame Merle observed without the point of +interrogation. + +"Why in the world should I, pray? Mr. Osmond has nothing the least solid +to offer." + +Again Madame Merle was silent while her thoughtful smile drew up her +mouth even more charmingly than usual toward the left corner. "Let us +distinguish. Gilbert Osmond's certainly not the first comer. He's a man +who in favourable conditions might very well make a great impression. He +has made a great impression, to my knowledge, more than once." + +"Don't tell me about his probably quite cold-blooded love-affairs; +they're nothing to me!" Mrs. Touchett cried. "What you say's precisely +why I wish he would cease his visits. He has nothing in the world that +I know of but a dozen or two of early masters and a more or less pert +little daughter." + +"The early masters are now worth a good deal of money," said Madame +Merle, "and the daughter's a very young and very innocent and very +harmless person." + +"In other words she's an insipid little chit. Is that what you mean? +Having no fortune she can't hope to marry as they marry here; so that +Isabel will have to furnish her either with a maintenance or with a +dowry." + +"Isabel probably wouldn't object to being kind to her. I think she likes +the poor child." + +"Another reason then for Mr. Osmond's stopping at home! Otherwise, a +week hence, we shall have my niece arriving at the conviction that her +mission in life's to prove that a stepmother may sacrifice herself--and +that, to prove it, she must first become one." + +"She would make a charming stepmother," smiled Madame Merle; "but I +quite agree with you that she had better not decide upon her mission +too hastily. Changing the form of one's mission's almost as difficult as +changing the shape of one's nose: there they are, each, in the middle of +one's face and one's character--one has to begin too far back. But I'll +investigate and report to you." + +All this went on quite over Isabel's head; she had no suspicions that +her relations with Mr. Osmond were being discussed. Madame Merle had +said nothing to put her on her guard; she alluded no more pointedly to +him than to the other gentlemen of Florence, native and foreign, who now +arrived in considerable numbers to pay their respects to Miss Archer's +aunt. Isabel thought him interesting--she came back to that; she liked +so to think of him. She had carried away an image from her visit to his +hill-top which her subsequent knowledge of him did nothing to efface +and which put on for her a particular harmony with other supposed +and divined things, histories within histories: the image of a quiet, +clever, sensitive, distinguished man, strolling on a moss-grown terrace +above the sweet Val d'Arno and holding by the hand a little girl whose +bell-like clearness gave a new grace to childhood. The picture had no +flourishes, but she liked its lowness of tone and the atmosphere of +summer twilight that pervaded it. It spoke of the kind of personal issue +that touched her most nearly; of the choice between objects, subjects, +contacts--what might she call them?--of a thin and those of a rich +association; of a lonely, studious life in a lovely land; of an old +sorrow that sometimes ached to-day; of a feeling of pride that was +perhaps exaggerated, but that had an element of nobleness; of a care +for beauty and perfection so natural and so cultivated together that the +career appeared to stretch beneath it in the disposed vistas and with +the ranges of steps and terraces and fountains of a formal Italian +garden--allowing only for arid places freshened by the natural dews of +a quaint half-anxious, half-helpless fatherhood. At Palazzo Crescentini +Mr. Osmond's manner remained the same; diffident at first--oh +self-conscious beyond doubt! and full of the effort (visible only to a +sympathetic eye) to overcome this disadvantage; an effort which +usually resulted in a great deal of easy, lively, very positive, rather +aggressive, always suggestive talk. Mr. Osmond's talk was not injured by +the indication of an eagerness to shine; Isabel found no difficulty +in believing that a person was sincere who had so many of the signs of +strong conviction--as for instance an explicit and graceful appreciation +of anything that might be said on his own side of the question, said +perhaps by Miss Archer in especial. What continued to please this young +woman was that while he talked so for amusement he didn't talk, as she +had heard people, for "effect." He uttered his ideas as if, odd as +they often appeared, he were used to them and had lived with them; old +polished knobs and heads and handles, of precious substance, that could +be fitted if necessary to new walking-sticks--not switches plucked in +destitution from the common tree and then too elegantly waved about. One +day he brought his small daughter with him, and she rejoiced to renew +acquaintance with the child, who, as she presented her forehead to be +kissed by every member of the circle, reminded her vividly of an ingenue +in a French play. Isabel had never seen a little person of this pattern; +American girls were very different--different too were the maidens of +England. Pansy was so formed and finished for her tiny place in the +world, and yet in imagination, as one could see, so innocent and +infantine. She sat on the sofa by Isabel; she wore a small grenadine +mantle and a pair of the useful gloves that Madame Merle had given +her--little grey gloves with a single button. She was like a sheet of +blank paper--the ideal jeune fille of foreign fiction. Isabel hoped that +so fair and smooth a page would be covered with an edifying text. + +The Countess Gemini also came to call upon her, but the Countess was +quite another affair. She was by no means a blank sheet; she had been +written over in a variety of hands, and Mrs. Touchett, who felt by no +means honoured by her visit, pronounced that a number of unmistakeable +blots were to be seen upon her surface. The Countess gave rise indeed to +some discussion between the mistress of the house and the visitor from +Rome, in which Madame Merle (who was not such a fool as to irritate +people by always agreeing with them) availed herself felicitously enough +of that large licence of dissent which her hostess permitted as freely +as she practised it. Mrs. Touchett had declared it a piece of audacity +that this highly compromised character should have presented herself at +such a time of day at the door of a house in which she was esteemed so +little as she must long have known herself to be at Palazzo Crescentini. +Isabel had been made acquainted with the estimate prevailing under that +roof: it represented Mr. Osmond's sister as a lady who had so mismanaged +her improprieties that they had ceased to hang together at all--which +was at the least what one asked of such matters--and had become the mere +floating fragments of a wrecked renown, incommoding social circulation. +She had been married by her mother--a more administrative person, with +an appreciation of foreign titles which the daughter, to do her justice, +had probably by this time thrown off--to an Italian nobleman who had +perhaps given her some excuse for attempting to quench the consciousness +of outrage. The Countess, however, had consoled herself outrageously, +and the list of her excuses had now lost itself in the labyrinth of her +adventures. Mrs. Touchett had never consented to receive her, though the +Countess had made overtures of old. Florence was not an austere city; +but, as Mrs. Touchett said, she had to draw the line somewhere. + +Madame Merle defended the luckless lady with a great deal of zeal and +wit. She couldn't see why Mrs. Touchett should make a scapegoat of a +woman who had really done no harm, who had only done good in the wrong +way. One must certainly draw the line, but while one was about it one +should draw it straight: it was a very crooked chalk-mark that would +exclude the Countess Gemini. In that case Mrs. Touchett had better +shut up her house; this perhaps would be the best course so long as +she remained in Florence. One must be fair and not make arbitrary +differences: the Countess had doubtless been imprudent, she had not been +so clever as other women. She was a good creature, not clever at +all; but since when had that been a ground of exclusion from the best +society? For ever so long now one had heard nothing about her, and there +could be no better proof of her having renounced the error of her ways +than her desire to become a member of Mrs. Touchett's circle. Isabel +could contribute nothing to this interesting dispute, not even a patient +attention; she contented herself with having given a friendly welcome to +the unfortunate lady, who, whatever her defects, had at least the merit +of being Mr. Osmond's sister. As she liked the brother Isabel thought it +proper to try and like the sister: in spite of the growing complexity of +things she was still capable of these primitive sequences. She had not +received the happiest impression of the Countess on meeting her at the +villa, but was thankful for an opportunity to repair the accident. +Had not Mr. Osmond remarked that she was a respectable person? To have +proceeded from Gilbert Osmond this was a crude proposition, but Madame +Merle bestowed upon it a certain improving polish. She told Isabel +more about the poor Countess than Mr. Osmond had done, and related the +history of her marriage and its consequences. The Count was a member of +an ancient Tuscan family, but of such small estate that he had been glad +to accept Amy Osmond, in spite of the questionable beauty which had yet +not hampered her career, with the modest dowry her mother was able +to offer--a sum about equivalent to that which had already formed her +brother's share of their patrimony. Count Gemini since then, however, +had inherited money, and now they were well enough off, as Italians +went, though Amy was horribly extravagant. The Count was a low-lived +brute; he had given his wife every pretext. She had no children; she had +lost three within a year of their birth. Her mother, who had bristled +with pretensions to elegant learning and published descriptive poems and +corresponded on Italian subjects with the English weekly journals, her +mother had died three years after the Countess's marriage, the father, +lost in the grey American dawn of the situation, but reputed originally +rich and wild, having died much earlier. One could see this in Gilbert +Osmond, Madame Merle held--see that he had been brought up by a woman; +though, to do him justice, one would suppose it had been by a more +sensible woman than the American Corinne, as Mrs. Osmond had liked to be +called. She had brought her children to Italy after her husband's death, +and Mrs. Touchett remembered her during the year that followed her +arrival. She thought her a horrible snob; but this was an irregularity +of judgement on Mrs. Touchett's part, for she, like Mrs. Osmond, +approved of political marriages. The Countess was very good company and +not really the featherhead she seemed; all one had to do with her was +to observe the simple condition of not believing a word she said. +Madame Merle had always made the best of her for her brother's sake; +he appreciated any kindness shown to Amy, because (if it had to be +confessed for him) he rather felt she let down their common name. +Naturally he couldn't like her style, her shrillness, her egotism, +her violations of taste and above all of truth: she acted badly on his +nerves, she was not HIS sort of woman. What was his sort of woman? Oh, +the very opposite of the Countess, a woman to whom the truth should be +habitually sacred. Isabel was unable to estimate the number of times her +visitor had, in half an hour, profaned it: the Countess indeed had +given her an impression of rather silly sincerity. She had talked almost +exclusively about herself; how much she should like to know Miss Archer; +how thankful she should be for a real friend; how base the people in +Florence were; how tired she was of the place; how much she should +like to live somewhere else--in Paris, in London, in Washington; how +impossible it was to get anything nice to wear in Italy except a little +old lace; how dear the world was growing everywhere; what a life of +suffering and privation she had led. Madame Merle listened with interest +to Isabel's account of this passage, but she had not needed it to feel +exempt from anxiety. On the whole she was not afraid of the Countess, +and she could afford to do what was altogether best--not to appear so. + +Isabel had meanwhile another visitor, whom it was not, even behind her +back, so easy a matter to patronise. Henrietta Stackpole, who had left +Paris after Mrs. Touchett's departure for San Remo and had worked her +way down, as she said, through the cities of North Italy, reached the +banks of the Arno about the middle of May. Madame Merle surveyed her +with a single glance, took her in from head to foot, and after a pang +of despair determined to endure her. She determined indeed to delight +in her. She mightn't be inhaled as a rose, but she might be grasped as +a nettle. Madame Merle genially squeezed her into insignificance, and +Isabel felt that in foreseeing this liberality she had done justice to +her friend's intelligence. Henrietta's arrival had been announced by +Mr. Bantling, who, coming down from Nice while she was at Venice, and +expecting to find her in Florence, which she had not yet reached, called +at Palazzo Crescentini to express his disappointment. Henrietta's own +advent occurred two days later and produced in Mr. Bantling an emotion +amply accounted for by the fact that he had not seen her since the +termination of the episode at Versailles. The humorous view of his +situation was generally taken, but it was uttered only by Ralph +Touchett, who, in the privacy of his own apartment, when Bantling smoked +a cigar there, indulged in goodness knew what strong comedy on the +subject of the all-judging one and her British backer. This gentleman +took the joke in perfectly good part and candidly confessed that he +regarded the affair as a positive intellectual adventure. He liked +Miss Stackpole extremely; he thought she had a wonderful head on her +shoulders, and found great comfort in the society of a woman who was not +perpetually thinking about what would be said and how what she did, how +what they did--and they had done things!--would look. Miss Stackpole +never cared how anything looked, and, if she didn't care, pray why +should he? But his curiosity had been roused; he wanted awfully to see +if she ever WOULD care. He was prepared to go as far as she--he didn't +see why he should break down first. + +Henrietta showed no signs of breaking down. Her prospects had brightened +on her leaving England, and she was now in the full enjoyment of her +copious resources. She had indeed been obliged to sacrifice her hopes +with regard to the inner life; the social question, on the Continent, +bristled with difficulties even more numerous than those she had +encountered in England. But on the Continent there was the outer +life, which was palpable and visible at every turn, and more easily +convertible to literary uses than the customs of those opaque islanders. +Out of doors in foreign lands, as she ingeniously remarked, one seemed +to see the right side of the tapestry; out of doors in England one +seemed to see the wrong side, which gave one no notion of the figure. +The admission costs her historian a pang, but Henrietta, despairing of +more occult things, was now paying much attention to the outer life. She +had been studying it for two months at Venice, from which city she sent +to the Interviewer a conscientious account of the gondolas, the Piazza, +the Bridge of Sighs, the pigeons and the young boatman who chanted +Tasso. The Interviewer was perhaps disappointed, but Henrietta was at +least seeing Europe. Her present purpose was to get down to Rome before +the malaria should come on--she apparently supposed that it began on a +fixed day; and with this design she was to spend at present but few days +in Florence. Mr. Bantling was to go with her to Rome, and she pointed +out to Isabel that as he had been there before, as he was a military man +and as he had had a classical education--he had been bred at Eton, where +they study nothing but Latin and Whyte-Melville, said Miss Stackpole--he +would be a most useful companion in the city of the Caesars. At this +juncture Ralph had the happy idea of proposing to Isabel that she also, +under his own escort, should make a pilgrimage to Rome. She expected +to pass a portion of the next winter there--that was very well; but +meantime there was no harm in surveying the field. There were ten days +left of the beautiful month of May--the most precious month of all +to the true Rome-lover. Isabel would become a Rome-lover; that was a +foregone conclusion. She was provided with a trusty companion of her +own sex, whose society, thanks to the fact of other calls on this lady's +attention, would probably not be oppressive. Madame Merle would remain +with Mrs. Touchett; she had left Rome for the summer and wouldn't +care to return. She professed herself delighted to be left at peace +in Florence; she had locked up her apartment and sent her cook home to +Palestrina. She urged Isabel, however, to assent to Ralph's proposal, +and assured her that a good introduction to Rome was not a thing to +be despised. Isabel in truth needed no urging, and the party of four +arranged its little journey. Mrs. Touchett, on this occasion, had +resigned herself to the absence of a duenna; we have seen that she +now inclined to the belief that her niece should stand alone. One of +Isabel's preparations consisted of her seeing Gilbert Osmond before she +started and mentioning her intention to him. + +"I should like to be in Rome with you," he commented. "I should like to +see you on that wonderful ground." + +She scarcely faltered. "You might come then." + +"But you'll have a lot of people with you." + +"Ah," Isabel admitted, "of course I shall not be alone." + +For a moment he said nothing more. "You'll like it," he went on at last. +"They've spoiled it, but you'll rave about it." + +"Ought I to dislike it because, poor old dear--the Niobe of Nations, you +know--it has been spoiled?" she asked. + +"No, I think not. It has been spoiled so often," he smiled. "If I were +to go, what should I do with my little girl?" + +"Can't you leave her at the villa?" + +"I don't know that I like that--though there's a very good old woman who +looks after her. I can't afford a governess." + +"Bring her with you then," said Isabel promptly. + +Mr. Osmond looked grave. "She has been in Rome all winter, at her +convent; and she's too young to make journeys of pleasure." + +"You don't like bringing her forward?" Isabel enquired. + +"No, I think young girls should be kept out of the world." + +"I was brought up on a different system." + +"You? Oh, with you it succeeded, because you--you were exceptional." + +"I don't see why," said Isabel, who, however, was not sure there was not +some truth in the speech. + +Mr. Osmond didn't explain; he simply went on: "If I thought it would +make her resemble you to join a social group in Rome I'd take her there +to-morrow." + +"Don't make her resemble me," said Isabel. "Keep her like herself." + +"I might send her to my sister," Mr. Osmond observed. He had almost +the air of asking advice; he seemed to like to talk over his domestic +matters with Miss Archer. + +"Yes," she concurred; "I think that wouldn't do much towards making her +resemble me!" + +After she had left Florence Gilbert Osmond met Madame Merle at the +Countess Gemini's. There were other people present; the Countess's +drawing-room was usually well filled, and the talk had been general, +but after a while Osmond left his place and came and sat on an ottoman +half-behind, half-beside Madame Merle's chair. "She wants me to go to +Rome with her," he remarked in a low voice. + +"To go with her?" + +"To be there while she's there. She proposed it. + +"I suppose you mean that you proposed it and she assented." + +"Of course I gave her a chance. But she's encouraging--she's very +encouraging." + +"I rejoice to hear it--but don't cry victory too soon. Of course you'll +go to Rome." + +"Ah," said Osmond, "it makes one work, this idea of yours!" + +"Don't pretend you don't enjoy it--you're very ungrateful. You've not +been so well occupied these many years." + +"The way you take it's beautiful," said Osmond. "I ought to be grateful +for that." + +"Not too much so, however," Madame Merle answered. She talked with +her usual smile, leaning back in her chair and looking round the room. +"You've made a very good impression, and I've seen for myself that +you've received one. You've not come to Mrs. Touchett's seven times to +oblige me." + +"The girl's not disagreeable," Osmond quietly conceded. + +Madame Merle dropped her eye on him a moment, during which her lips +closed with a certain firmness. "Is that all you can find to say about +that fine creature?" + +"All? Isn't it enough? Of how many people have you heard me say more?" + +She made no answer to this, but still presented her talkative grace to +the room. "You're unfathomable," she murmured at last. "I'm frightened +at the abyss into which I shall have cast her." + +He took it almost gaily. "You can't draw back--you've gone too far." + +"Very good; but you must do the rest yourself." + +"I shall do it," said Gilbert Osmond. + +Madame Merle remained silent and he changed his place again; but when +she rose to go he also took leave. Mrs. Touchett's victoria was awaiting +her guest in the court, and after he had helped his friend into it he +stood there detaining her. "You're very indiscreet," she said rather +wearily; "you shouldn't have moved when I did." + +He had taken off his hat; he passed his hand over his forehead. "I +always forget; I'm out of the habit." + +"You're quite unfathomable," she repeated, glancing up at the windows of +the house, a modern structure in the new part of the town. + +He paid no heed to this remark, but spoke in his own sense. "She's +really very charming. I've scarcely known any one more graceful." + +"It does me good to hear you say that. The better you like her the +better for me." + +"I like her very much. She's all you described her, and into the bargain +capable, I feel, of great devotion. She has only one fault." + +"What's that?" + +"Too many ideas." + +"I warned you she was clever." + +"Fortunately they're very bad ones," said Osmond. + +"Why is that fortunate?" + +"Dame, if they must be sacrificed!" + +Madame Merle leaned back, looking straight before her; then she spoke to +the coachman. But her friend again detained her. "If I go to Rome what +shall I do with Pansy?" + +"I'll go and see her," said Madame Merle. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +I may not attempt to report in its fulness our young woman's response +to the deep appeal of Rome, to analyse her feelings as she trod the +pavement of the Forum or to number her pulsations as she crossed the +threshold of Saint Peter's. It is enough to say that her impression was +such as might have been expected of a person of her freshness and her +eagerness. She had always been fond of history, and here was history +in the stones of the street and the atoms of the sunshine. She had an +imagination that kindled at the mention of great deeds, and wherever she +turned some great deed had been acted. These things strongly moved her, +but moved her all inwardly. It seemed to her companions that she talked +less than usual, and Ralph Touchett, when he appeared to be looking +listlessly and awkwardly over her head, was really dropping on her an +intensity of observation. By her own measure she was very happy; she +would even have been willing to take these hours for the happiest she +was ever to know. The sense of the terrible human past was heavy to her, +but that of something altogether contemporary would suddenly give it +wings that it could wave in the blue. Her consciousness was so mixed +that she scarcely knew where the different parts of it would lead her, +and she went about in a repressed ecstasy of contemplation, seeing often +in the things she looked at a great deal more than was there, and yet +not seeing many of the items enumerated in her Murray. Rome, as Ralph +said, confessed to the psychological moment. The herd of reechoing +tourists had departed and most of the solemn places had relapsed into +solemnity. The sky was a blaze of blue, and the plash of the fountains +in their mossy niches had lost its chill and doubled its music. On the +corners of the warm, bright streets one stumbled on bundles of flowers. +Our friends had gone one afternoon--it was the third of their stay--to +look at the latest excavations in the Forum, these labours having been +for some time previous largely extended. They had descended from the +modern street to the level of the Sacred Way, along which they wandered +with a reverence of step which was not the same on the part of each. +Henrietta Stackpole was struck with the fact that ancient Rome had been +paved a good deal like New York, and even found an analogy between the +deep chariot-ruts traceable in the antique street and the overjangled +iron grooves which express the intensity of American life. The sun had +begun to sink, the air was a golden haze, and the long shadows of broken +column and vague pedestal leaned across the field of ruin. Henrietta +wandered away with Mr. Bantling, whom it was apparently delightful to +her to hear speak of Julius Caesar as a "cheeky old boy," and Ralph +addressed such elucidations as he was prepared to offer to the attentive +ear of our heroine. One of the humble archeologists who hover about +the place had put himself at the disposal of the two, and repeated his +lesson with a fluency which the decline of the season had done nothing +to impair. A process of digging was on view in a remote corner of the +Forum, and he presently remarked that if it should please the signori +to go and watch it a little they might see something of interest. The +proposal commended itself more to Ralph than to Isabel, weary with much +wandering; so that she admonished her companion to satisfy his curiosity +while she patiently awaited his return. The hour and the place were much +to her taste--she should enjoy being briefly alone. Ralph accordingly +went off with the cicerone while Isabel sat down on a prostrate column +near the foundations of the Capitol. She wanted a short solitude, but +she was not long to enjoy it. Keen as was her interest in the rugged +relics of the Roman past that lay scattered about her and in which the +corrosion of centuries had still left so much of individual life, her +thoughts, after resting a while on these things, had wandered, by a +concatenation of stages it might require some subtlety to trace, to +regions and objects charged with a more active appeal. From the Roman +past to Isabel Archer's future was a long stride, but her imagination +had taken it in a single flight and now hovered in slow circles over +the nearer and richer field. She was so absorbed in her thoughts, as she +bent her eyes upon a row of cracked but not dislocated slabs covering +the ground at her feet, that she had not heard the sound of approaching +footsteps before a shadow was thrown across the line of her vision. She +looked up and saw a gentleman--a gentleman who was not Ralph come back +to say that the excavations were a bore. This personage was startled as +she was startled; he stood there baring his head to her perceptibly pale +surprise. + +"Lord Warburton!" Isabel exclaimed as she rose. + +"I had no idea it was you. I turned that corner and came upon you." + +She looked about her to explain. "I'm alone, but my companions have just +left me. My cousin's gone to look at the work over there." + +"Ah yes; I see." And Lord Warburton's eyes wandered vaguely in the +direction she had indicated. He stood firmly before her now; he had +recovered his balance and seemed to wish to show it, though very kindly. +"Don't let me disturb you," he went on, looking at her dejected pillar. +"I'm afraid you're tired." + +"Yes, I'm rather tired." She hesitated a moment, but sat down again. +"Don't let me interrupt you," she added. + +"Oh dear, I'm quite alone, I've nothing on earth to do. I had no +idea you were in Rome. I've just come from the East. I'm only passing +through." + +"You've been making a long journey," said Isabel, who had learned from +Ralph that Lord Warburton was absent from England. + +"Yes, I came abroad for six months--soon after I saw you last. I've been +in Turkey and Asia Minor; I came the other day from Athens." He managed +not to be awkward, but he wasn't easy, and after a longer look at the +girl he came down to nature. "Do you wish me to leave you, or will you +let me stay a little?" + +She took it all humanely. "I don't wish you to leave me, Lord Warburton; +I'm very glad to see you." + +"Thank you for saying that. May I sit down?" + +The fluted shaft on which she had taken her seat would have afforded a +resting-place to several persons, and there was plenty of room even for +a highly-developed Englishman. This fine specimen of that great class +seated himself near our young lady, and in the course of five minutes he +had asked her several questions, taken rather at random and to which, as +he put some of them twice over, he apparently somewhat missed catching +the answer; had given her too some information about himself which was +not wasted upon her calmer feminine sense. He repeated more than once +that he had not expected to meet her, and it was evident that the +encounter touched him in a way that would have made preparation +advisable. He began abruptly to pass from the impunity of things +to their solemnity, and from their being delightful to their being +impossible. He was splendidly sunburnt; even his multitudinous beard had +been burnished by the fire of Asia. He was dressed in the loose-fitting, +heterogeneous garments in which the English traveller in foreign lands +is wont to consult his comfort and affirm his nationality; and with +his pleasant steady eyes, his bronzed complexion, fresh beneath its +seasoning, his manly figure, his minimising manner and his general air +of being a gentleman and an explorer, he was such a representative of +the British race as need not in any clime have been disavowed by those +who have a kindness for it. Isabel noted these things and was glad she +had always liked him. He had kept, evidently in spite of shocks, every +one of his merits--properties these partaking of the essence of great +decent houses, as one might put it; resembling their innermost fixtures +and ornaments, not subject to vulgar shifting and removable only by +some whole break-up. They talked of the matters naturally in order; +her uncle's death, Ralph's state of health, the way she had passed her +winter, her visit to Rome, her return to Florence, her plans for the +summer, the hotel she was staying at; and then of Lord Warburton's own +adventures, movements, intentions, impressions and present domicile. At +last there was a silence, and it said so much more than either had said +that it scarce needed his final words. "I've written to you several +times." + +"Written to me? I've never had your letters." + +"I never sent them. I burned them up." + +"Ah," laughed Isabel, "it was better that you should do that than I!" + +"I thought you wouldn't care for them," he went on with a simplicity +that touched her. "It seemed to me that after all I had no right to +trouble you with letters." + +"I should have been very glad to have news of you. You know how I hoped +that--that--" But she stopped; there would be such a flatness in the +utterance of her thought. + +"I know what you're going to say. You hoped we should always remain good +friends." This formula, as Lord Warburton uttered it, was certainly flat +enough; but then he was interested in making it appear so. + +She found herself reduced simply to "Please don't talk of all that"; a +speech which hardly struck her as improvement on the other. + +"It's a small consolation to allow me!" her companion exclaimed with +force. + +"I can't pretend to console you," said the girl, who, all still as +she sat there, threw herself back with a sort of inward triumph on +the answer that had satisfied him so little six months before. He was +pleasant, he was powerful, he was gallant; there was no better man than +he. But her answer remained. + +"It's very well you don't try to console me; it wouldn't be in your +power," she heard him say through the medium of her strange elation. + +"I hoped we should meet again, because I had no fear you would attempt +to make me feel I had wronged you. But when you do that--the pain's +greater than the pleasure." And she got up with a small conscious +majesty, looking for her companions. + +"I don't want to make you feel that; of course I can't say that. I only +just want you to know one or two things--in fairness to myself, as it +were. I won't return to the subject again. I felt very strongly what I +expressed to you last year; I couldn't think of anything else. I tried +to forget--energetically, systematically. I tried to take an interest in +somebody else. I tell you this because I want you to know I did my duty. +I didn't succeed. It was for the same purpose I went abroad--as far +away as possible. They say travelling distracts the mind, but it didn't +distract mine. I've thought of you perpetually, ever since I last saw +you. I'm exactly the same. I love you just as much, and everything I +said to you then is just as true. This instant at which I speak to you +shows me again exactly how, to my great misfortune, you just insuperably +charm me. There--I can't say less. I don't mean, however, to insist; +it's only for a moment. I may add that when I came upon you a few +minutes since, without the smallest idea of seeing you, I was, upon +my honour, in the very act of wishing I knew where you were." He had +recovered his self-control, and while he spoke it became complete. He +might have been addressing a small committee--making all quietly and +clearly a statement of importance; aided by an occasional look at a +paper of notes concealed in his hat, which he had not again put on. And +the committee, assuredly, would have felt the point proved. + +"I've often thought of you, Lord Warburton," Isabel answered. "You may +be sure I shall always do that." And she added in a tone of which she +tried to keep up the kindness and keep down the meaning: "There's no +harm in that on either side." + +They walked along together, and she was prompt to ask about his sisters +and request him to let them know she had done so. He made for the moment +no further reference to their great question, but dipped again into +shallower and safer waters. But he wished to know when she was to leave +Rome, and on her mentioning the limit of her stay declared he was glad +it was still so distant. + +"Why do you say that if you yourself are only passing through?" she +enquired with some anxiety. + +"Ah, when I said I was passing through I didn't mean that one would +treat Rome as if it were Clapham Junction. To pass through Rome is to +stop a week or two." + +"Say frankly that you mean to stay as long as I do!" + +His flushed smile, for a little, seemed to sound her. "You won't like +that. You're afraid you'll see too much of me." + +"It doesn't matter what I like. I certainly can't expect you to leave +this delightful place on my account. But I confess I'm afraid of you." + +"Afraid I'll begin again? I promise to be very careful." + +They had gradually stopped and they stood a moment face to face. "Poor +Lord Warburton!" she said with a compassion intended to be good for both +of them. + +"Poor Lord Warburton indeed! But I'll be careful." + +"You may be unhappy, but you shall not make ME so. That I can't allow." + +"If I believed I could make you unhappy I think I should try it." At +this she walked in advance and he also proceeded. "I'll never say a word +to displease you." + +"Very good. If you do, our friendship's at an end." + +"Perhaps some day--after a while--you'll give me leave." + +"Give you leave to make me unhappy?" + +He hesitated. "To tell you again--" But he checked himself. "I'll keep +it down. I'll keep it down always." + +Ralph Touchett had been joined in his visit to the excavation by Miss +Stackpole and her attendant, and these three now emerged from among the +mounds of earth and stone collected round the aperture and came into +sight of Isabel and her companion. Poor Ralph hailed his friend with joy +qualified by wonder, and Henrietta exclaimed in a high voice "Gracious, +there's that lord!" Ralph and his English neighbour greeted with the +austerity with which, after long separations, English neighbours greet, +and Miss Stackpole rested her large intellectual gaze upon the sunburnt +traveller. But she soon established her relation to the crisis. "I don't +suppose you remember me, sir." + +"Indeed I do remember you," said Lord Warburton. "I asked you to come +and see me, and you never came." + +"I don't go everywhere I'm asked," Miss Stackpole answered coldly. + +"Ah well, I won't ask you again," laughed the master of Lockleigh. + +"If you do I'll go; so be sure!" + +Lord Warburton, for all his hilarity, seemed sure enough. Mr. Bantling +had stood by without claiming a recognition, but he now took occasion +to nod to his lordship, who answered him with a friendly "Oh, you here, +Bantling?" and a hand-shake. + +"Well," said Henrietta, "I didn't know you knew him!" + +"I guess you don't know every one I know," Mr. Bantling rejoined +facetiously. + +"I thought that when an Englishman knew a lord he always told you." + +"Ah, I'm afraid Bantling was ashamed of me," Lord Warburton laughed +again. Isabel took pleasure in that note; she gave a small sigh of +relief as they kept their course homeward. + +The next day was Sunday; she spent her morning over two long +letters--one to her sister Lily, the other to Madame Merle; but in +neither of these epistles did she mention the fact that a rejected +suitor had threatened her with another appeal. Of a Sunday afternoon +all good Romans (and the best Romans are often the northern barbarians) +follow the custom of going to vespers at Saint Peter's; and it had been +agreed among our friends that they would drive together to the great +church. After lunch, an hour before the carriage came, Lord Warburton +presented himself at the Hotel de Paris and paid a visit to the two +ladies, Ralph Touchett and Mr. Bantling having gone out together. The +visitor seemed to have wished to give Isabel a proof of his intention to +keep the promise made her the evening before; he was both discreet and +frank--not even dumbly importunate or remotely intense. He thus left +her to judge what a mere good friend he could be. He talked about his +travels, about Persia, about Turkey, and when Miss Stackpole asked him +whether it would "pay" for her to visit those countries assured her they +offered a great field to female enterprise. Isabel did him justice, but +she wondered what his purpose was and what he expected to gain even by +proving the superior strain of his sincerity. If he expected to melt +her by showing what a good fellow he was, he might spare himself the +trouble. She knew the superior strain of everything about him, and +nothing he could now do was required to light the view. Moreover +his being in Rome at all affected her as a complication of the wrong +sort--she liked so complications of the right. Nevertheless, when, on +bringing his call to a close, he said he too should be at Saint Peter's +and should look out for her and her friends, she was obliged to reply +that he must follow his convenience. + +In the church, as she strolled over its tesselated acres, he was the +first person she encountered. She had not been one of the superior +tourists who are "disappointed" in Saint Peter's and find it smaller +than its fame; the first time she passed beneath the huge leathern +curtain that strains and bangs at the entrance, the first time she found +herself beneath the far-arching dome and saw the light drizzle down +through the air thickened with incense and with the reflections of +marble and gilt, of mosaic and bronze, her conception of greatness rose +and dizzily rose. After this it never lacked space to soar. She gazed +and wondered like a child or a peasant, she paid her silent tribute to +the seated sublime. Lord Warburton walked beside her and talked of Saint +Sophia of Constantinople; she feared for instance that he would end +by calling attention to his exemplary conduct. The service had not yet +begun, but at Saint Peter's there is much to observe, and as there is +something almost profane in the vastness of the place, which seems meant +as much for physical as for spiritual exercise, the different figures +and groups, the mingled worshippers and spectators, may follow their +various intentions without conflict or scandal. In that splendid +immensity individual indiscretion carries but a short distance. Isabel +and her companions, however, were guilty of none; for though Henrietta +was obliged in candour to declare that Michael Angelo's dome suffered +by comparison with that of the Capitol at Washington, she addressed +her protest chiefly to Mr. Bantling's ear and reserved it in its more +accentuated form for the columns of the Interviewer. Isabel made the +circuit of the church with his lordship, and as they drew near the choir +on the left of the entrance the voices of the Pope's singers were borne +to them over the heads of the large number of persons clustered outside +the doors. They paused a while on the skirts of this crowd, composed +in equal measure of Roman cockneys and inquisitive strangers, and while +they stood there the sacred concert went forward. Ralph, with Henrietta +and Mr. Bantling, was apparently within, where Isabel, looking beyond +the dense group in front of her, saw the afternoon light, silvered by +clouds of incense that seemed to mingle with the splendid chant, slope +through the embossed recesses of high windows. After a while the singing +stopped and then Lord Warburton seemed disposed to move off with her. +Isabel could only accompany him; whereupon she found herself confronted +with Gilbert Osmond, who appeared to have been standing at a short +distance behind her. He now approached with all the forms--he appeared +to have multiplied them on this occasion to suit the place. + +"So you decided to come?" she said as she put out her hand. + +"Yes, I came last night and called this afternoon at your hotel. They +told me you had come here, and I looked about for you." + +"The others are inside," she decided to say. + +"I didn't come for the others," he promptly returned. + +She looked away; Lord Warburton was watching them; perhaps he had heard +this. Suddenly she remembered it to be just what he had said to her the +morning he came to Gardencourt to ask her to marry him. Mr. Osmond's +words had brought the colour to her cheek, and this reminiscence had not +the effect of dispelling it. She repaired any betrayal by mentioning to +each companion the name of the other, and fortunately at this moment Mr. +Bantling emerged from the choir, cleaving the crowd with British valour +and followed by Miss Stackpole and Ralph Touchett. I say fortunately, +but this is perhaps a superficial view of the matter; since on +perceiving the gentleman from Florence Ralph Touchett appeared to take +the case as not committing him to joy. He didn't hang back, however, +from civility, and presently observed to Isabel, with due benevolence, +that she would soon have all her friends about her. Miss Stackpole had +met Mr. Osmond in Florence, but she had already found occasion to say +to Isabel that she liked him no better than her other admirers--than Mr. +Touchett and Lord Warburton, and even than little Mr. Rosier in Paris. +"I don't know what it's in you," she had been pleased to remark, "but +for a nice girl you do attract the most unnatural people. Mr. Goodwood's +the only one I've any respect for, and he's just the one you don't +appreciate." + +"What's your opinion of Saint Peter's?" Mr. Osmond was meanwhile +enquiring of our young lady. + +"It's very large and very bright," she contented herself with replying. + +"It's too large; it makes one feel like an atom." + +"Isn't that the right way to feel in the greatest of human temples?" she +asked with rather a liking for her phrase. + +"I suppose it's the right way to feel everywhere, when one IS nobody. +But I like it in a church as little as anywhere else." + +"You ought indeed to be a Pope!" Isabel exclaimed, remembering something +he had referred to in Florence. + +"Ah, I should have enjoyed that!" said Gilbert Osmond. + +Lord Warburton meanwhile had joined Ralph Touchett, and the two strolled +away together. "Who's the fellow speaking to Miss Archer?" his lordship +demanded. + +"His name's Gilbert Osmond--he lives in Florence," Ralph said. + +"What is he besides?" + +"Nothing at all. Oh yes, he's an American; but one forgets that--he's so +little of one." + +"Has he known Miss Archer long?" + +"Three or four weeks." + +"Does she like him?" + +"She's trying to find out." + +"And will she?" + +"Find out--?" Ralph asked. + +"Will she like him?" + +"Do you mean will she accept him?" + +"Yes," said Lord Warburton after an instant; "I suppose that's what I +horribly mean." + +"Perhaps not if one does nothing to prevent it," Ralph replied. + +His lordship stared a moment, but apprehended. "Then we must be +perfectly quiet?" + +"As quiet as the grave. And only on the chance!" Ralph added. + +"The chance she may?" + +"The chance she may not?" + +Lord Warburton took this at first in silence, but he spoke again. "Is he +awfully clever?" + +"Awfully," said Ralph. + +His companion thought. "And what else?" + +"What more do you want?" Ralph groaned. + +"Do you mean what more does SHE?" + +Ralph took him by the arm to turn him: they had to rejoin the others. +"She wants nothing that WE can give her." + +"Ah well, if she won't have You--!" said his lordship handsomely as they +went. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Portrait of a Lady, by Henry James + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY *** + +***** This file should be named 2833.txt or 2833.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/3/2833/ + +Produced by Eve Sobol + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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