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diff --git a/old/2pldy10.txt b/old/2pldy10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1f6fcf9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2pldy10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13459 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Portrait of a Lady, V. 2, by Henry James +#37 in our series by Henry James + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Etext created by Eve Sobol, South Bend, Indiana, USA + + + + + +The Portrait of a Lady + +by Henry James + + + + + +VOLUME II + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +On the morrow, in the evening, Lord Warburton went again to see +his friends at their hotel, and at this establishment he learned +that they had gone to the opera. He drove to the opera with the +idea of paying them a visit in their box after the easy Italian +fashion; and when he had obtained his admittance--it was one of +the secondary theatres--looked about the large, bare, ill-lighted +house. An act had just terminated and he was at liberty to pursue +his quest. After scanning two or three tiers of boxes he +perceived in one of the largest of these receptacles a lady whom +he easily recognised. Miss Archer was seated facing the stage and +partly screened by the curtain of the box; and beside her, +leaning back in his chair, was Mr. Gilbert Osmond. They appeared +to have the place to themselves, and Warburton supposed their +companions had taken advantage of the recess to enjoy the +relative coolness of the lobby. He stood a while with his eyes on +the interesting pair; he asked himself if he should go up and +interrupt the harmony. At last he judged that Isabel had seen +him, and this accident determined him. There should be no marked +holding off. He took his way to the upper regions and on the +staircase met Ralph Touchett slowly descending, his hat at the +inclination of ennui and his hands where they usually were. + +"I saw you below a moment since and was going down to you. I feel +lonely and want company," was Ralph's greeting. + +"You've some that's very good which you've yet deserted." + +"Do you mean my cousin? Oh, she has a visitor and doesn't want +me. Then Miss Stackpole and Bantling have gone out to a cafe to +eat an ice--Miss Stackpole delights in an ice. I didn't think +they wanted me either. The opera's very bad; the women look like +laundresses and sing like peacocks. I feel very low." + +"You had better go home," Lord Warburton said without +affectation. + +"And leave my young lady in this sad place? Ah no, I must watch +over her." + +"She seems to have plenty of friends." + +"Yes, that's why I must watch," said Ralph with the same large +mock-melancholy. + +"If she doesn't want you it's probable she doesn't want me." + +"No, you're different. Go to the box and stay there while I walk +about." + +Lord Warburton went to the box, where Isabel's welcome was as to +a friend so honourably old that he vaguely asked himself what +queer temporal province she was annexing. He exchanged greetings +with Mr. Osmond, to whom he had been introduced the day before +and who, after he came in, sat blandly apart and silent, as if +repudiating competence in the subjects of allusion now probable. +It struck her second visitor that Miss Archer had, in operatic +conditions, a radiance, even a slight exaltation; as she was, +however, at all times a keenly-glancing, quickly-moving, +completely animated young woman, he may have been mistaken on +this point. Her talk with him moreover pointed to presence of +mind; it expressed a kindness so ingenious and deliberate as to +indicate that she was in undisturbed possession of her faculties. +Poor Lord Warburton had moments of bewilderment. She had +discouraged him, formally, as much as a woman could; what +business had she then with such arts and such felicities, above +all with such tones of reparation--preparation? Her voice had +tricks of sweetness, but why play them on HIM? The others came +back; the bare, familiar, trivial opera began again. The box was +large, and there was room for him to remain if he would sit a +little behind and in the dark. He did so for half an hour, while +Mr. Osmond remained in front, leaning forward, his elbows on his +knees, just behind Isabel. Lord Warburton heard nothing, and from +his gloomy corner saw nothing but the clear profile of this young +lady defined against the dim illumination of the house. When +there was another interval no one moved. Mr. Osmond talked to +Isabel, and Lord Warburton kept his corner. He did so but for a +short time, however; after which he got up and bade good-night to +the ladies. Isabel said nothing to detain him, but it didn't +prevent his being puzzled again. Why should she mark so one of +his values--quite the wrong one--when she would have nothing to +do with another, which was quite the right? He was angry with +himself for being puzzled, and then angry for being angry. +Verdi's music did little to comfort him, and he left the theatre +and walked homeward, without knowing his way, through the +tortuous, tragic streets of Rome, where heavier sorrows than his +had been carried under the stars. + +"What's the character of that gentleman?" Osmond asked of Isabel +after he had retired. + +"Irreproachable--don't you see it?" + +"He owns about half England; that's his character," Henrietta +remarked. "That's what they call a free country!" + +"Ah, he's a great proprietor? Happy man!" said Gilbert Osmond. + +"Do you call that happiness--the ownership of wretched human +beings?" cried Miss Stackpole. "He owns his tenants and has +thousands of them. It's pleasant to own something, but inanimate +objects are enough for me. I don't insist on flesh and blood and +minds and consciences." + +"It seems to me you own a human being or two," Mr. Bantling +suggested jocosely. "I wonder if Warburton orders his tenants +about as you do me." + +"Lord Warburton's a great radical," Isabel said. "He has very +advanced opinions." + +"He has very advanced stone walls. His park's enclosed by a +gigantic iron fence, some thirty miles round," Henrietta +announced for the information of Mr. Osmond. "I should like him +to converse with a few of our Boston radicals." + +"Don't they approve of iron fences?" asked Mr. Bantling. + +"Only to shut up wicked conservatives. I always feel as if I were +talking to YOU over something with a neat top-finish of broken +glass." + +"Do you know him well, this unreformed reformer?" Osmond went on, +questioning Isabel. + +"Well enough for all the use I have for him." + +"And how much of a use is that?" + +"Well, I like to like him." + +"'Liking to like'--why, it makes a passion!" said Osmond. + +"No"--she considered--"keep that for liking to DISlike." + +"Do you wish to provoke me then," Osmond laughed, "to a passion +for HIM?" + +She said nothing for a moment, but then met the light question +with a disproportionate gravity. "No, Mr. Osmond; I don't think I +should ever dare to provoke you. Lord Warburton, at any rate," +she more easily added, "is a very nice man." + +"Of great ability?" her friend enquired. + +"Of excellent ability, and as good as he looks." + +"As good as he's good-looking do you mean? He's very good-looking. +How detestably fortunate!--to be a great English magnate, to be +clever and handsome into the bargain, and, by way of finishing off, +to enjoy your high favour! That's a man I could envy." + +Isabel considered him with interest. "You seem to me to be always +envying some one. Yesterday it was the Pope; to-day it's poor +Lord Warburton." + +"My envy's not dangerous; it wouldn't hurt a mouse. I don't want +to destroy the people--I only want to BE them. You see it would +destroy only myself." + +"You'd like to be the Pope?" said Isabel. + +"I should love it--but I should have gone in for it earlier. But +why"--Osmond reverted--"do you speak of your friend as poor?" + +"Women--when they are very, very good sometimes pity men after +they've hurt them; that's their great way of showing kindness," +said Ralph, joining in the conversation for the first time and +with a cynicism so transparently ingenious as to be virtually +innocent. + +"Pray, have I hurt Lord Warburton?" Isabel asked, raising her +eyebrows as if the idea were perfectly fresh. + +"It serves him right if you have," said Henrietta while the +curtain rose for the ballet. + +Isabel saw no more of her attributive victim for the next +twenty-four hours, but on the second day after the visit to the +opera she encountered him in the gallery of the Capitol, where he +stood before the lion of the collection, the statue of the Dying +Gladiator. She had come in with her companions, among whom, on +this occasion again, Gilbert Osmond had his place, and the party, +having ascended the staircase, entered the first and finest of +the rooms. Lord Warburton addressed her alertly enough, but said +in a moment that he was leaving the gallery. "And I'm leaving +Rome," he added. "I must bid you goodbye." Isabel, inconsequently +enough, was now sorry to hear it. This was perhaps because she +had ceased to be afraid of his renewing his suit; she was +thinking of something else. She was on the point of naming her +regret, but she checked herself and simply wished him a happy +journey; which made him look at her rather unlightedly. "I'm +afraid you'll think me very 'volatile.' I told you the other day +I wanted so much to stop." + +"Oh no; you could easily change your mind." + +"That's what I have done." + +"Bon voyage then." + +"You're in a great hurry to get rid of me," said his lordship +quite dismally. + +"Not in the least. But I hate partings." + +"You don't care what I do," he went on pitifully. + +Isabel looked at him a moment. "Ah," she said, "you're not +keeping your promise!" + +He coloured like a boy of fifteen. "If I'm not, then it's because +I can't; and that's why I'm going." + +"Good-bye then." + +"Good-bye." He lingered still, however. "When shall I see you +again?" + +Isabel hesitated, but soon, as if she had had a happy inspiration: +"Some day after you're married." + +"That will never be. It will be after you are." + +"That will do as well," she smiled. + +"Yes, quite as well. Good-bye." + +They shook hands, and he left her alone in the glorious room, +among the shining antique marbles. She sat down in the centre of +the circle of these presences, regarding them vaguely, resting +her eyes on their beautiful blank faces; listening, as it were, +to their eternal silence. It is impossible, in Rome at least, to +look long at a great company of Greek sculptures without feeling +the effect of their noble quietude; which, as with a high door +closed for the ceremony, slowly drops on the spirit the large +white mantle of peace. I say in Rome especially, because the +Roman air is an exquisite medium for such impressions. The golden +sunshine mingles with them, the deep stillness of the past, so +vivid yet, though it is nothing but a void full of names, seems +to throw a solemn spell upon them. The blinds were partly closed +in the windows of the Capitol, and a clear, warm shadow rested on +the figures and made them more mildly human. Isabel sat there a +long time, under the charm of their motionless grace, wondering +to what, of their experience, their absent eyes were open, and +how, to our ears, their alien lips would sound. The dark red +walls of the room threw them into relief; the polished marble +floor reflected their beauty. She had seen them all before, but +her enjoyment repeated itself, and it was all the greater because +she was glad again, for the time, to be alone. At last, however, +her attention lapsed, drawn off by a deeper tide of life. An +occasional tourist came in, stopped and stared a moment at the +Dying Gladiator, and then passed out of the other door, creaking +over the smooth pavement. At the end of half an hour Gilbert +Osmond reappeared, apparently in advance of his companions. He +strolled toward her slowly, with his hands behind him and his +usual enquiring, yet not quite appealing smile. "I'm surprised to +find you alone, I thought you had company. + +"So I have--the best." And she glanced at the Antinous and the +Faun. + +"Do you call them better company than an English peer?" + +"Ah, my English peer left me some time ago." She got up, speaking +with intention a little dryly. + +Mr. Osmond noted her dryness, which contributed for him to the +interest of his question. "I'm afraid that what I heard the other +evening is true: you're rather cruel to that nobleman." + +Isabel looked a moment at the vanquished Gladiator. "It's not +true. I'm scrupulously kind." + +"That's exactly what I mean!" Gilbert Osmond returned, and with +such happy hilarity that his joke needs to be explained. We know +that he was fond of originals, of rarities, of the superior and +the exquisite; and now that he had seen Lord Warburton, whom he +thought a very fine example of his race and order, he perceived a +new attraction in the idea of taking to himself a young lady who +had qualified herself to figure in his collection of choice +objects by declining so noble a hand. Gilbert Osmond had a high +appreciation of this particular patriciate; not so much for its +distinction, which he thought easily surpassable, as for its +solid actuality. He had never forgiven his star for not appointing +him to an English dukedom, and he could measure the unexpectedness +of such conduct as Isabel's. It would be proper that the woman he +might marry should have done something of that sort. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +Ralph Touchett, in talk with his excellent friend, had rather +markedly qualified, as we know, his recognition of Gilbert +Osmond's personal merits; but he might really have felt himself +illiberal in the light of that gentleman's conduct during the +rest of the visit to Rome. Osmond spent a portion of each day +with Isabel and her companions, and ended by affecting them as +the easiest of men to live with. Who wouldn't have seen that he +could command, as it were, both tact and gaiety?--which perhaps +was exactly why Ralph had made his old-time look of superficial +sociability a reproach to him. Even Isabel's invidious kinsman +was obliged to admit that he was just now a delightful associate. +His good humour was imperturbable, his knowledge of the right +fact, his production of the right word, as convenient as the +friendly flicker of a match for your cigarette. Clearly he was +amused--as amused as a man could be who was so little ever +surprised, and that made him almost applausive. It was not that +his spirits were visibly high--he would never, in the concert of +pleasure, touch the big drum by so much as a knuckle: he had a +mortal dislike to the high, ragged note, to what he called random +ravings. He thought Miss Archer sometimes of too precipitate a +readiness. It was pity she had that fault, because if she had +not had it she would really have had none; she would have been +as smooth to his general need of her as handled ivory to the +palm. If he was not personally loud, however, he was deep, and +during these closing days of the Roman May he knew a complacency +that matched with slow irregular walks under the pines of the +Villa Borghese, among the small sweet meadow-flowers and the +mossy marbles. He was pleased with everything; he had never +before been pleased with so many things at once. Old impressions, +old enjoyments, renewed themselves; one evening, going home to +his room at the inn, he wrote down a little sonnet to which he +prefixed the title of "Rome Revisited." A day or two later he +showed this piece of correct and ingenious verse to Isabel, +explaining to her that it was an Italian fashion to commemorate +the occasions of life by a tribute to the muse. + +He took his pleasures in general singly; he was too often--he +would have admitted that--too sorely aware of something wrong, +something ugly; the fertilising dew of a conceivable felicity too +seldom descended on his spirit. But at present he was happy-- +happier than he had perhaps ever been in his life, and the +feeling had a large foundation. This was simply the sense of +success--the most agreeable emotion of the human heart. Osmond +had never had too much of it; in this respect he had the +irritation of satiety, as he knew perfectly well and often +reminded himself. "Ah no, I've not been spoiled; certainly I've +not been spoiled," he used inwardly to repeat. "If I do succeed +before I die I shall thoroughly have earned it." He was too apt +to reason as if "earning" this boon consisted above all of +covertly aching for it and might be confined to that exercise. +Absolutely void of it, also, his career had not been; he might +indeed have suggested to a spectator here and there that he was +resting on vague laurels. But his triumphs were, some of them, +now too old; others had been too easy. The present one had been +less arduous than might have been expected, but had been easy-- +that is had been rapid--only because he had made an altogether +exceptional effort, a greater effort than he had believed it in +him to make. The desire to have something or other to show for +his "parts"--to show somehow or other--had been the dream of his +youth; but as the years went on the conditions attached to any +marked proof of rarity had affected him more and more as gross +and detestable; like the swallowing of mugs of beer to advertise +what one could "stand." If an anonymous drawing on a museum wall +had been conscious and watchful it might have known this peculiar +pleasure of being at last and all of a sudden identified--as from +the hand of a great master--by the so high and so unnoticed fact +of style. His "style" was what the girl had discovered with a +little help; and now, beside herself enjoying it, she should +publish it to the world without his having any of the trouble. +She should do the thing FOR him, and he would not have waited in +vain. + +Shortly before the time fixed in advance for her departure this +young lady received from Mrs. Touchett a telegram running as +follows: "Leave Florence 4th June for Bellaggio, and take you if +you have not other views. But can't wait if you dawdle in Rome." +The dawdling in Rome was very pleasant, but Isabel had different +views, and she let her aunt know she would immediately join her. +She told Gilbert Osmond that she had done so, and he replied +that, spending many of his summers as well as his winters in +Italy, he himself would loiter a little longer in the cool shadow +of Saint Peter's. He would not return to Florence for ten days +more, and in that time she would have started for Bellaggio. It +might be months in this case before he should see her again. This +exchange took place in the large decorated sitting-room occupied +by our friends at the hotel; it was late in the evening, and +Ralph Touchett was to take his cousin back to Florence on the +morrow. Osmond had found the girl alone; Miss Stackpole had +contracted a friendship with a delightful American family on the +fourth floor and had mounted the interminable staircase to pay +them a visit. Henrietta contracted friendships, in travelling, +with great freedom, and had formed in railway-carriages several +that were among her most valued ties. Ralph was making +arrangements for the morrow's journey, and Isabel sat alone in a +wilderness of yellow upholstery. The chairs and sofas were +orange; the walls and windows were draped in purple and gilt. The +mirrors, the pictures had great flamboyant frames; the ceiling +was deeply vaulted and painted over with naked muses and cherubs. +For Osmond the place was ugly to distress; the false colours, the +sham splendour were like vulgar, bragging, lying talk. Isabel had +taken in hand a volume of Ampere, presented, on their arrival in +Rome, by Ralph; but though she held it in her lap with her +finger vaguely kept in the place she was not impatient to pursue +her study. A lamp covered with a drooping veil of pink +tissue-paper burned on the table beside her and diffused a +strange pale rosiness over the scene. + +"You say you'll come back; but who knows?" Gilbert Osmond said. + +"I think you're much more likely to start on your voyage round +the world. You're under no obligation to come back; you can do +exactly what you choose; you can roam through space." + +"Well, Italy's a part of space," Isabel answered. "I can take it +on the way." + +"On the way round the world? No, don't do that. Don't put us in a +parenthesis--give us a chapter to ourselves. I don't want to see +you on your travels. I'd rather see you when they're over. I +should like to see you when you're tired and satiated," Osmond +added in a moment. "I shall prefer you in that state." + +Isabel, with her eyes bent, fingered the pages of M. Ampere. "You +turn things into ridicule without seeming to do it, though not, I +think, without intending it. You've no respect for my travels-- +you think them ridiculous." + +"Where do you find that?" + +She went on in the same tone, fretting the edge of her book with +the paper-knife. "You see my ignorance, my blunders, the way I +wander about as if the world belonged to me, simply because-- +because it has been put into my power to do so. You don't think a +woman ought to do that. You think it bold and ungraceful." + +"I think it beautiful," said Osmond. "You know my opinions--I've +treated you to enough of them. Don't you remember my telling you +that one ought to make one's life a work of art? You looked +rather shocked at first; but then I told you that it was +exactly what you seemed to me to be trying to do with your own." + +She looked up from her book. "What you despise most in the world +is bad, is stupid art." + +"Possibly. But yours seem to me very clear and very good." + +"If I were to go to Japan next winter you would laugh at me," she +went on. + +Osmond gave a smile--a keen one, but not a laugh, for the tone of +their conversation was not jocose. Isabel had in fact her +solemnity; he had seen it before. "You have one!" + +"That's exactly what I say. You think such an idea absurd." + +"I would give my little finger to go to Japan; it's one of the +countries I want most to see. Can't you believe that, with my +taste for old lacquer?" + +"I haven't a taste for old lacquer to excuse me," said Isabel. + +"You've a better excuse--the means of going. You're quite wrong +in your theory that I laugh at you. I don't know what has put it +into your head." + +"It wouldn't be remarkable if you did think it ridiculous that I +should have the means to travel when you've not; for you know +everything and I know nothing." + +"The more reason why you should travel and learn," smiled Osmond. +"Besides," he added as if it were a point to be made, "I don't +know everything." + +Isabel was not struck with the oddity of his saying this gravely; +she was thinking that the pleasantest incident of her life--so it +pleased her to qualify these too few days in Rome, which she +might musingly have likened to the figure of some small princess +of one of the ages of dress overmuffled in a mantle of state and +dragging a train that it took pages or historians to hold up-- +that this felicity was coming to an end. That most of the +interest of the time had been owing to Mr. Osmond was a reflexion +she was not just now at pains to make; she had already done the +point abundant justice. But she said to herself that if there +were a danger they should never meet again, perhaps after all it +would be as well. Happy things don't repeat themselves, and her +adventure wore already the changed, the seaward face of some +romantic island from which, after feasting on purple grapes, she +was putting off while the breeze rose. She might come back to +Italy and find him different--this strange man who pleased her +just as he was; and it would be better not to come than run the +risk of that. But if she was not to come the greater the pity +that the chapter was closed; she felt for a moment a pang that +touched the source of tears. The sensation kept her silent, and +Gilbert Osmond was silent too; he was looking at her. "Go +everywhere," he said at last, in a low, kind voice; "do everything; +get everything out of life. Be happy,--be triumphant." + +"What do you mean by being triumphant?" + +"Well, doing what you like." + +"To triumph, then, it seems to me, is to fail! Doing all the vain +things one likes is often very tiresome." + +"Exactly," said Osmond with his quiet quickness. "As I intimated +just now, you'll be tired some day." He paused a moment and then +he went on: "I don't know whether I had better not wait till then +for something I want to say to you." + +"Ah, I can't advise you without knowing what it is. But I'm +horrid when I'm tired," Isabel added with due inconsequence. + +"I don't believe that. You're angry, sometimes--that I can +believe, though I've never seen it. But I'm sure you're never +'cross.'" + +"Not even when I lose my temper?" + +"You don't lose it--you find it, and that must be beautiful." +Osmond spoke with a noble earnestness. "They must be great +moments to see." + +"If I could only find it now!" Isabel nervously cried. + +"I'm not afraid; I should fold my arms and admire you. I'm +speaking very seriously." He leaned forward, a hand on each knee; +for some moments he bent his eyes on the floor. "What I wish to +say to you," he went on at last, looking up, "is that I find I'm +in love with you." + +She instantly rose. "Ah, keep that till I am tired!" + +"Tired of hearing it from others?" He sat there raising his eyes +to her. "No, you may heed it now or never, as you please. But +after all I must say it now." She had turned away, but in the +movement she had stopped herself and dropped her gaze upon him. +The two remained a while in this situation, exchanging a long look +--the large, conscious look of the critical hours of life. Then he +got up and came near her, deeply respectful, as if he were afraid +he had been too familiar. "I'm absolutely in love with you." + +He had repeated the announcement in a tone of almost impersonal +discretion, like a man who expected very little from it but who +spoke for his own needed relief. The tears came into her eyes: +this time they obeyed the sharpness of the pang that suggested to +her somehow the slipping of a fine bolt--backward, forward, she +couldn't have said which. The words he had uttered made him, as +he stood there, beautiful and generous, invested him as with the +golden air of early autumn; but, morally speaking, she retreated +before them--facing him still--as she had retreated in the other +cases before a like encounter. "Oh don't say that, please," she +answered with an intensity that expressed the dread of having, in +this case too, to choose and decide. What made her dread great +was precisely the force which, as it would seem, ought to have +banished all dread--the sense of something within herself, deep +down, that she supposed to be inspired and trustful passion. It +was there like a large sum stored in a bank--which there was a +terror in having to begin to spend. If she touched it, it would +all come out. + +"I haven't the idea that it will matter much to you," said +Osmond. "I've too little to offer you. What I have--it's enough +for me; but it's not enough for you. I've neither fortune, nor +fame, nor extrinsic advantages of any kind. So I offer nothing. I +only tell you because I think it can't offend you, and some day +or other it may give you pleasure. It gives me pleasure, I assure +you," he went on, standing there before her, considerately +inclined to her, turning his hat, which he had taken up, slowly +round with a movement which had all the decent tremor of +awkwardness and none of its oddity, and presenting to her his +firm, refined, slightly ravaged face. "It gives me no pain, +because it's perfectly simple. For me you'll always be the most +important woman in the world." + +Isabel looked at herself in this character--looked intently, +thinking she filled it with a certain grace. But what she said +was not an expression of any such complacency. "You don't offend +me; but you ought to remember that, without being offended, one +may be incommoded, troubled." "Incommoded," she heard herself +saying that, and it struck her as a ridiculous word. But it was +what stupidly came to her. + +"I remember perfectly. Of course you're surprised and startled. +But if it's nothing but that, it will pass away. And it will +perhaps leave something that I may not be ashamed of." + +"I don't know what it may leave. You see at all events that I'm +not overwhelmed," said Isabel with rather a pale smile. "I'm not +too troubled to think. And I think that I'm glad I leave Rome +to-morrow." + +"Of course I don't agree with you there." + +"I don't at all KNOW you," she added abruptly; and then she +coloured as she heard herself saying what she had said almost a +year before to Lord Warburton. + +"If you were not going away you'd know me better." + +"I shall do that some other time." + +"I hope so. I'm very easy to know." + +"No, no," she emphatically answered--"there you're not sincere. +You're not easy to know; no one could be less so." + +"Well," he laughed, "I said that because I know myself. It may be +a boast, but I do." + +"Very likely; but you're very wise." + +"So are you, Miss Archer!" Osmond exclaimed. + +"I don't feel so just now. Still, I'm wise enough to think you +had better go. Good-night." + +"God bless you!" said Gilbert Osmond, taking the hand which she +failed to surrender. After which he added: "If we meet again +you'll find me as you leave me. If we don't I shall be so all the +same." + +"Thank you very much. Good-bye." + +There was something quietly firm about Isabel's visitor; he might +go of his own movement, but wouldn't be dismissed. "There's one +thing more. I haven't asked anything of you--not even a thought +in the future; you must do me that justice. But there's a little +service I should like to ask. I shall not return home for several +days; Rome's delightful, and it's a good place for a man in my +state of mind. Oh, I know you're sorry to leave it; but you're +right to do what your aunt wishes." + +"She doesn't even wish it!" Isabel broke out strangely. + +Osmond was apparently on the point of saying something that would +match these words, but he changed his mind and rejoined simply: +"Ah well, it's proper you should go with her, very proper. Do +everything that's proper; I go in for that. Excuse my being so +patronising. You say you don't know me, but when you do you'll +discover what a worship I have for propriety." + +"You're not conventional?" Isabel gravely asked. + +"I like the way you utter that word! No, I'm not conventional: +I'm convention itself. You don't understand that?" And he paused +a moment, smiling. "I should like to explain it." Then with a +sudden, quick, bright naturalness, "Do come back again," +he pleaded. "There are so many things we might talk about." + +She stood there with lowered eyes. "What service did you speak of +just now?" + +"Go and see my little daughter before you leave Florence. She's +alone at the villa; I decided not to send her to my sister, who +hasn't at all my ideas. Tell her she must love her poor father +very much," said Gilbert Osmond gently. + +"It will be a great pleasure to me to go," Isabel answered. "I'll +tell her what you say. Once more good-bye." + +On this he took a rapid, respectful leave. When he had gone she +stood a moment looking about her and seated herself slowly and +with an air of deliberation. She sat there till her companions +came back, with folded hands, gazing at the ugly carpet. Her +agitation--for it had not diminished--was very still, very deep. +What had happened was something that for a week past her +imagination had been going forward to meet; but here, when it +came, she stopped--that sublime principle somehow broke down. The +working of this young lady's spirit was strange, and I can only +give it to you as I see it, not hoping to make it seem altogether +natural. Her imagination, as I say, now hung back: there was a +last vague space it couldn't cross--a dusky, uncertain tract +which looked ambiguous and even slightly treacherous, like a +moorland seen in the winter twilight. But she was to cross it +yet. + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +She returned on the morrow to Florence, under her cousin's +escort, and Ralph Touchett, though usually restive under railway +discipline, thought very well of the successive hours passed in +the train that hurried his companion away from the city now +distinguished by Gilbert Osmond's preference--hours that were to +form the first stage in a larger scheme of travel. Miss Stackpole +had remained behind; she was planning a little trip to Naples, to +be carried out with Mr. Bantling's aid. Isabel was to have three +days in Florence before the 4th of June, the date of Mrs. +Touchett's departure, and she determined to devote the last of +these to her promise to call on Pansy Osmond. Her plan, however, +seemed for a moment likely to modify itself in deference to an +idea of Madame Merle's. This lady was still at Casa Touchett; but +she too was on the point of leaving Florence, her next station +being an ancient castle in the mountains of Tuscany, the +residence of a noble family of that country, whose acquaintance +(she had known them, as she said, "forever") seemed to Isabel, in +the light of certain photographs of their immense crenellated +dwelling which her friend was able to show her, a precious +privilege. She mentioned to this fortunate woman that Mr. Osmond +had asked her to take a look at his daughter, but didn't mention +that he had also made her a declaration of love. + +"Ah, comme cela se trouve!" Madame Merle exclaimed. "I myself +have been thinking it would be a kindness to pay the child a +little visit before I go off." + +"We can go together then," Isabel reasonably said: "reasonably" +because the proposal was not uttered in the spirit of enthusiasm. +She had prefigured her small pilgrimage as made in solitude; she +should like it better so. She was nevertheless prepared to +sacrifice this mystic sentiment to her great consideration for +her friend. + +That personage finely meditated. "After all, why should we both +go; having, each of us, so much to do during these last hours?" + +"Very good; I can easily go alone." + +"I don't know about your going alone--to the house of a handsome +bachelor. He has been married--but so long ago!" + +Isabel stared. "When Mr. Osmond's away what does it matter?" + +"They don't know he's away, you see." + +"They? Whom do you mean?" + +"Every one. But perhaps it doesn't signify." + +"If you were going why shouldn't I?" Isabel asked. + +"Because I'm an old frump and you're a beautiful young woman." + +"Granting all that, you've not promised." + +"How much you think of your promises!" said the elder woman in +mild mockery. + +"I think a great deal of my promises. Does that surprise you?" + +"You're right," Madame Merle audibly reflected. "I really think +you wish to be kind to the child." + +"I wish very much to be kind to her." + +"Go and see her then; no one will be the wiser. And tell her I'd +have come if you hadn't. Or rather," Madame Merle added, "DON'T +tell her. She won't care." + +As Isabel drove, in the publicity of an open vehicle, along the +winding way which led to Mr. Osmond's hill-top, she wondered what +her friend had meant by no one's being the wiser. Once in a +while, at large intervals, this lady, whose voyaging discretion, +as a general thing, was rather of the open sea than of the risky +channel, dropped a remark of ambiguous quality, struck a note +that sounded false. What cared Isabel Archer for the vulgar +judgements of obscure people? and did Madame Merle suppose that +she was capable of doing a thing at all if it had to be +sneakingly done? Of course not: she must have meant something +else--something which in the press of the hours that preceded her +departure she had not had time to explain. Isabel would return to +this some day; there were sorts of things as to which she liked +to be clear. She heard Pansy strumming at the piano in another +place as she herself was ushered into Mr. Osmond's drawing-room; +the little girl was "practising," and Isabel was pleased to think +she performed this duty with rigour. She immediately came in, +smoothing down her frock, and did the honours of her father's +house with a wide-eyed earnestness of courtesy. Isabel sat there +half an hour, and Pansy rose to the occasion as the small, winged +fairy in the pantomime soars by the aid of the dissimulated wire +--not chattering, but conversing, and showing the same respectful +interest in Isabel's affairs that Isabel was so good as to take +in hers. Isabel wondered at her; she had never had so directly +presented to her nose the white flower of cultivated sweetness. +How well the child had been taught, said our admiring young +woman; how prettily she had been directed and fashioned; and yet +how simple, how natural, how innocent she had been kept! Isabel +was fond, ever, of the question of character and quality, of +sounding, as who should say, the deep personal mystery, and it +had pleased her, up to this time, to be in doubt as to whether +this tender slip were not really all-knowing. Was the extremity +of her candour but the perfection of self-consciousness? Was it +put on to please her father's visitor, or was it the direct +expression of an unspotted nature? The hour that Isabel spent in +Mr. Osmond's beautiful empty, dusky rooms--the windows had been +half-darkened, to keep out the heat, and here and there, through +an easy crevice, the splendid summer day peeped in, lighting a +gleam of faded colour or tarnished gilt in the rich gloom--her +interview with the daughter of the house, I say, effectually +settled this question. Pansy was really a blank page, a pure +white surface, successfully kept so; she had neither art, nor +guile, nor temper, nor talent--only two or three small exquisite +instincts: for knowing a friend, for avoiding a mistake, +for taking care of an old toy or a new frock. Yet to be so tender +was to be touching withal, and she could be felt as an easy +victim of fate. She would have no will, no power to resist, no +sense of her own importance; she would easily be mystified, +easily crushed: her force would be all in knowing when and where +to cling. She moved about the place with her visitor, who had +asked leave to walk through the other rooms again, where Pansy +gave her judgement on several works of art. She spoke of her +prospects, her occupations, her father's intentions; she was not +egotistical, but felt the propriety of supplying the information +so distinguished a guest would naturally expect. + +"Please tell me," she said, "did papa, in Rome, go to see Madame +Catherine? He told me he would if he had time. Perhaps he had not +time. Papa likes a great deal of time. He wished to speak about +my education; it isn't finished yet, you know. I don't know what +they can do with me more; but it appears it's far from finished. +Papa told me one day he thought he would finish it himself; for +the last year or two, at the convent, the masters that teach the +tall girls are so very dear. Papa's not rich, and I should be +very sorry if he were to pay much money for me, because I don't +think I'm worth it. I don't learn quickly enough, and I have no +memory. For what I'm told, yes--especially when it's pleasant; +but not for what I learn in a book. There was a young girl who +was my best friend, and they took her away from the convent, when +she was fourteen, to make--how do you say it in English?--to +make a dot. You don't say it in English? I hope it isn't wrong; +I only mean they wished to keep the money to marry her. I don't +know whether it is for that that papa wishes to keep the money-- +to marry me. It costs so much to marry!" Pansy went on with a +sigh; "I think papa might make that economy. At any rate I'm too +young to think about it yet, and I don't care for any gentleman; +I mean for any but him. If he were not my papa I should like to +marry him; I would rather be his daughter than the wife of--of +some strange person. I miss him very much, but not so much as you +might think, for I've been so much away from him. Papa has always +been principally for holidays. I miss Madame Catherine almost +more; but you must not tell him that. You shall not see him +again? I'm very sorry, and he'll be sorry too. Of everyone who +comes here I like you the best. That's not a great compliment, +for there are not many people. It was very kind of you to come +to-day--so far from your house; for I'm really as yet only a +child. Oh, yes, I've only the occupations of a child. When did +YOU give them up, the occupations of a child? I should like to +know how old you are, but I don't know whether it's right to ask. +At the convent they told us that we must never ask the age. I +don't like to do anything that's not expected; it looks as if one +had not been properly taught. I myself--I should never like to be +taken by surprise. Papa left directions for everything. I go to +bed very early. When the sun goes off that side I go into the +garden. Papa left strict orders that I was not to get scorched. I +always enjoy the view; the mountains are so graceful. In Rome, +from the convent, we saw nothing but roofs and bell-towers. I +practise three hours. I don't play very well. You play yourself? +I wish very much you'd play something for me; papa has the idea +that I should hear good music. Madame Merle has played for me +several times; that's what I like best about Madame Merle; she +has great facility. I shall never have facility. And I've no +voice--just a small sound like the squeak of a slate-pencil +making flourishes." + +Isabel gratified this respectful wish, drew off her gloves and +sat down to the piano, while Pansy, standing beside her, watched +her white hands move quickly over the keys. When she stopped she +kissed the child good-bye, held her close, looked at her long. +"Be very good," she said; "give pleasure to your father." + +"I think that's what I live for," Pansy answered. "He has not +much pleasure; he's rather a sad man." + +Isabel listened to this assertion with an interest which she felt +it almost a torment to be obliged to conceal. It was her pride +that obliged her, and a certain sense of decency; there were +still other things in her head which she felt a strong impulse, +instantly checked, to say to Pansy about her father; there were +things it would have given her pleasure to hear the child, to +make the child, say. But she no sooner became conscious of these +things than her imagination was hushed with horror at the idea of +taking advantage of the little girl--it was of this she would +have accused herself--and of exhaling into that air where he +might still have a subtle sense for it any breath of her charmed +state. She had come--she had come; but she had stayed only an +hour. She rose quickly from the music-stool; even then, however, +she lingered a moment, still holding her small companion, drawing +the child's sweet slimness closer and looking down at her almost +in envy. She was obliged to confess it to herself--she would have +taken a passionate pleasure in talking of Gilbert Osmond to this +innocent, diminutive creature who was so near him. But she said +no other word; she only kissed Pansy once again. They went +together through the vestibule, to the door that opened on the +court; and there her young hostess stopped, looking rather +wistfully beyond. "I may go no further. I've promised papa not to +pass this door." + +"You're right to obey him; he'll never ask you anything +unreasonable." + +"I shall always obey him. But when will you come again?" + +"Not for a long time, I'm afraid." + +"As soon as you can, I hope. I'm only a little girl," said Pansy, +"but I shall always expect you." And the small figure stood in +the high, dark doorway, watching Isabel cross the clear, grey +court and disappear into the brightness beyond the big portone, +which gave a wider dazzle as it opened. + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +Isabel came back to Florence, but only after several months; an +interval sufficiently replete with incident. It is not, however, +during this interval that we are closely concerned with her; our +attention is engaged again on a certain day in the late +spring-time, shortly after her return to Palazzo Crescentini and +a year from the date of the incidents just narrated. She was +alone on this occasion, in one of the smaller of the numerous +rooms devoted by Mrs. Touchett to social uses, and there was that +in her expression and attitude which would have suggested that +she was expecting a visitor. The tall window was open, and though +its green shutters were partly drawn the bright air of the garden +had come in through a broad interstice and filled the room with +warmth and perfume. Our young woman stood near it for some time, +her hands clasped behind her; she gazed abroad with the vagueness +of unrest. Too troubled for attention she moved in a vain circle. +Yet it could not be in her thought to catch a glimpse of her +visitor before he should pass into the house, since the entrance +to the palace was not through the garden, in which stillness and +privacy always reigned. She wished rather to forestall his arrival +by a process of conjecture, and to judge by the expression of her +face this attempt gave her plenty to do. Grave she found herself, +and positively more weighted, as by the experience of the lapse of +the year she had spent in seeing the world. She had ranged, she +would have said, through space and surveyed much of mankind, and +was therefore now, in her own eyes, a very different person from +the frivolous young woman from Albany who had begun to take the +measure of Europe on the lawn at Gardencourt a couple of years +before. She flattered herself she had harvested wisdom and +learned a great deal more of life than this light-minded creature +had even suspected. If her thoughts just now had inclined +themselves to retrospect, instead of fluttering their wings +nervously about the present, they would have evoked a multitude +of interesting pictures. These pictures would have been both +landscapes and figure-pieces; the latter, however, would have +been the more numerous. With several of the images that might +have been projected on such a field we are already acquainted. +There would be for instance the conciliatory Lily, our heroine's +sister and Edmund Ludlow's wife, who had come out from New York +to spend five months with her relative. She had left her husband +behind her, but had brought her children, to whom Isabel now +played with equal munificence and tenderness the part of +maiden-aunt. Mr. Ludlow, toward the last, had been able to snatch +a few weeks from his forensic triumphs and, crossing the ocean +with extreme rapidity, had spent a month with the two ladies in +Paris before taking his wife home. The little Ludlows had not +yet, even from the American point of view, reached the proper +tourist-age; so that while her sister was with her Isabel had +confined her movements to a narrow circle. Lily and the babies +had joined her in Switzerland in the month of July, and they had +spent a summer of fine weather in an Alpine valley where the +flowers were thick in the meadows and the shade of great +chestnuts made a resting-place for such upward wanderings as +might be undertaken by ladies and children on warm afternoons. +They had afterwards reached the French capital, which was +worshipped, and with costly ceremonies, by Lily, but thought of +as noisily vacant by Isabel, who in these days made use of her +memory of Rome as she might have done, in a hot and crowded room, +of a phial of something pungent hidden in her handkerchief. + +Mrs. Ludlow sacrificed, as I say, to Paris, yet had doubts and +wonderments not allayed at that altar; and after her husband had +joined her found further chagrin in his failure to throw himself +into these speculations. They all had Isabel for subject; but +Edmund Ludlow, as he had always done before, declined to be +surprised, or distressed, or mystified, or elated, at anything +his sister-in-law might have done or have failed to do. Mrs. +Ludlow's mental motions were sufficiently various. At one moment +she thought it would be so natural for that young woman to come +home and take a house in New York--the Rossiters', for instance, +which had an elegant conservatory and was just round the corner +from her own; at another she couldn't conceal her surprise at the +girl's not marrying some member of one of the great aristocracies. +On the whole, as I have said, she had fallen from high communion +with the probabilities. She had taken more satisfaction in +Isabel's accession of fortune than if the money had been left to +herself; it had seemed to her to offer just the proper setting +for her sister's slightly meagre, but scarce the less eminent +figure. Isabel had developed less, however, than Lily had thought +likely--development, to Lily's understanding, being somehow +mysteriously connected with morning-calls and evening-parties. +Intellectually, doubtless, she had made immense strides; but she +appeared to have achieved few of those social conquests of which +Mrs. Ludlow had expected to admire the trophies. Lily's +conception of such achievements was extremely vague; but this was +exactly what she had expected of Isabel--to give it form and +body. Isabel could have done as well as she had done in New York; +and Mrs. Ludlow appealed to her husband to know whether there was +any privilege she enjoyed in Europe which the society of that +city might not offer her. We know ourselves that Isabel had made +conquests--whether inferior or not to those she might have +effected in her native land it would be a delicate matter to +decide; and it is not altogether with a feeling of complacency +that I again mention that she had not rendered these honourable +victories public. She had not told her sister the history of Lord +Warburton, nor had she given her a hint of Mr. Osmond's state of +mind; and she had had no better reason for her silence than that +she didn't wish to speak. It was more romantic to say nothing, +and, drinking deep, in secret, of romance, she was as little +disposed to ask poor Lily's advice as she would have been to +close that rare volume forever. But Lily knew nothing of these +discriminations, and could only pronounce her sister's career a +strange anti-climax--an impression confirmed by the fact that +Isabel's silence about Mr. Osmond, for instance, was in direct +proportion to the frequency with which he occupied her thoughts. +As this happened very often it sometimes appeared to Mrs. Ludlow +that she had lost her courage. So uncanny a result of so +exhilarating an incident as inheriting a fortune was of course +perplexing to the cheerful Lily; it added to her general sense +that Isabel was not at all like other people. + +Our young lady's courage, however, might have been taken as +reaching its height after her relations had gone home. She could +imagine braver things than spending the winter in Paris--Paris +had sides by which it so resembled New York, Paris was like +smart, neat prose--and her close correspondence with Madame +Merle did much to stimulate such flights. She had never had a +keener sense of freedom, of the absolute boldness and wantonness +of liberty, than when she turned away from the platform at the +Euston Station on one of the last days of November, after the +departure of the train that was to convey poor Lily, her husband +and her children to their ship at Liverpool. It had been good for +her to regale; she was very conscious of that; she was very +observant, as we know, of what was good for her, and her effort +was constantly to find something that was good enough. To profit +by the present advantage till the latest moment she had made the +journey from Paris with the unenvied travellers. She would have +accompanied them to Liverpool as well, only Edmund Ludlow had +asked her, as a favour, not to do so; it made Lily so fidgety and +she asked such impossible questions. Isabel watched the train +move away; she kissed her hand to the elder of her small nephews, +a demonstrative child who leaned dangerously far out of the +window of the carriage and made separation an occasion of violent +hilarity, and then she walked back into the foggy London street. +The world lay before her--she could do whatever she chose. There +was a deep thrill in it all, but for the present her choice was +tolerably discreet; she chose simply to walk back from Euston +Square to her hotel. The early dusk of a November afternoon had +already closed in; the street-lamps, in the thick, brown air, +looked weak and red; our heroine was unattended and Euston Square +was a long way from Piccadilly. But Isabel performed the journey +with a positive enjoyment of its dangers and lost her way almost +on purpose, in order to get more sensations, so that she was +disappointed when an obliging policeman easily set her right +again. She was so fond of the spectacle of human life that she +enjoyed even the aspect of gathering dusk in the London streets-- +the moving crowds, the hurrying cabs, the lighted shops, the +flaring stalls, the dark, shining dampness of everything. That +evening, at her hotel, she wrote to Madame Merle that she should +start in a day or two for Rome. She made her way down to Rome +without touching at Florence--having gone first to Venice and +then proceeded southward by Ancona. She accomplished this journey +without other assistance than that of her servant, for her +natural protectors were not now on the ground. Ralph Touchett was +spending the winter at Corfu, and Miss Stackpole, in the +September previous, had been recalled to America by a telegram +from the Interviewer. This journal offered its brilliant +correspondent a fresher field for her genius than the mouldering +cities of Europe, and Henrietta was cheered on her way by a +promise from Mr. Bantling that he would soon come over to see +her. Isabel wrote to Mrs. Touchett to apologise for not +presenting herself just yet in Florence, and her aunt replied +characteristically enough. Apologies, Mrs. Touchett intimated, +were of no more use to her than bubbles, and she herself never +dealt in such articles. One either did the thing or one didn't, +and what one "would" have done belonged to the sphere of the +irrelevant, like the idea of a future life or of the origin of +things. Her letter was frank, but (a rare case with Mrs. +Touchett) not so frank as it pretended. She easily forgave her +niece for not stopping at Florence, because she took it for a +sign that Gilbert Osmond was less in question there than +formerly. She watched of course to see if he would now find a +pretext for going to Rome, and derived some comfort from learning +that he had not been guilty of an absence. Isabel, on her side, +had not been a fortnight in Rome before she proposed to Madame +Merle that they should make a little pilgrimage to the East. +Madame Merle remarked that her friend was restless, but she added +that she herself had always been consumed with the desire to +visit Athens and Constantinople. The two ladies accordingly +embarked on this expedition, and spent three months in Greece, in +Turkey, in Egypt. Isabel found much to interest her in these +countries, though Madame Merle continued to remark that even +among the most classic sites, the scenes most calculated to +suggest repose and reflexion, a certain incoherence prevailed in +her. Isabel travelled rapidly and recklessly; she was like a +thirsty person draining cup after cup. Madame Merle meanwhile, as +lady-in-waiting to a princess circulating incognita, panted a +little in her rear. It was on Isabel's invitation she had come, +and she imparted all due dignity to the girl's uncountenanced +state. She played her part with the tact that might have been +expected of her, effacing herself and accepting the position of a +companion whose expenses were profusely paid. The situation, +however, had no hardships, and people who met this reserved +though striking pair on their travels would not have been able to +tell you which was patroness and which client. To say that Madame +Merle improved on acquaintance states meagrely the impression she +made on her friend, who had found her from the first so ample and +so easy. At the end of an intimacy of three months Isabel felt +she knew her better; her character had revealed itself, and the +admirable woman had also at last redeemed her promise of relating +her history from her own point of view--a consummation the more +desirable as Isabel had already heard it related from the point +of view of others. This history was so sad a one (in so far as it +concerned the late M. Merle, a positive adventurer, she might +say, though originally so plausible, who had taken advantage, +years before, of her youth and of an inexperience in which +doubtless those who knew her only now would find it difficult to +believe); it abounded so in startling and lamentable incidents +that her companion wondered a person so eprouvee could have +kept so much of her freshness, her interest in life. Into this +freshness of Madame Merle's she obtained a considerable insight; +she seemed to see it as professional, as slightly mechanical, +carried about in its case like the fiddle of the virtuoso, or +blanketed and bridled like the "favourite" of the jockey. She +liked her as much as ever, but there was a corner of the curtain +that never was lifted; it was as if she had remained after all +something of a public performer, condemned to emerge only in +character and in costume. She had once said that she came from a +distance, that she belonged to the "old, old" world, and Isabel +never lost the impression that she was the product of a different +moral or social clime from her own, that she had grown up under +other stars. + +She believed then that at bottom she had a different morality. Of +course the morality of civilised persons has always much in +common; but our young woman had a sense in her of values gone +wrong or, as they said at the shops, marked down. She considered, +with the presumption of youth, that a morality differing from her +own must be inferior to it; and this conviction was an aid to +detecting an occasional flash of cruelty, an occasional lapse +from candour, in the conversation of a person who had raised +delicate kindness to an art and whose pride was too high for the +narrow ways of deception. Her conception of human motives might, +in certain lights, have been acquired at the court of some +kingdom in decadence, and there were several in her list of which +our heroine had not even heard. She had not heard of everything, +that was very plain; and there were evidently things in the world +of which it was not advantageous to hear. She had once or twice +had a positive scare; since it so affected her to have to +exclaim, of her friend, "Heaven forgive her, she doesn't +understand me!" Absurd as it may seem this discovery operated as +a shock, left her with a vague dismay in which there was even an +element of foreboding. The dismay of course subsided, in the +light of some sudden proof of Madame Merle's remarkable +intelligence; but it stood for a high-water-mark in the ebb and +flow of confidence. Madame Merle had once declared her belief +that when a friendship ceases to grow it immediately begins to +decline--there being no point of equilibrium between liking more +and liking less. A stationary affection, in other words, was +impossible--it must move one way or the other. However that might +be, the girl had in these days a thousand uses for her sense of +the romantic, which was more active than it had ever been. I do +not allude to the impulse it received as she gazed at the +Pyramids in the course of an excursion from Cairo, or as she +stood among the broken columns of the Acropolis and fixed her +eyes upon the point designated to her as the Strait of Salamis; +deep and memorable as these emotions had remained. She came back +by the last of March from Egypt and Greece and made another stay +in Rome. A few days after her arrival Gilbert Osmond descended +from Florence and remained three weeks, during which the fact of +her being with his old friend Madame Merle, in whose house she +had gone to lodge, made it virtually inevitable that he should +see her every day. When the last of April came she wrote to Mrs. +Touchett that she should now rejoice to accept an invitation +given long before, and went to pay a visit at Palazzo Crescentini, +Madame Merle on this occasion remaining in Rome. She found her +aunt alone; her cousin was still at Corfu. Ralph, however, was +expected in Florence from day to day, and Isabel, who had not +seen him for upwards of a year, was prepared to give him the most +affectionate welcome. + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +It was not of him, nevertheless, that she was thinking while she +stood at the window near which we found her a while ago, and it +was not of any of the matters I have rapidly sketched. She was +not turned to the past, but to the immediate, impending hour. She +had reason to expect a scene, and she was not fond of scenes. She +was not asking herself what she should say to her visitor; this +question had already been answered. What he would say to her-- +that was the interesting issue. It could be nothing in the least +soothing--she had warrant for this, and the conviction doubtless +showed in the cloud on her brow. For the rest, however, all +clearness reigned in her; she had put away her mourning and she +walked in no small shimmering splendour. She only, felt older-- +ever so much, and as if she were "worth more" for it, like some +curious piece in an antiquary's collection. She was not at any +rate left indefinitely to her apprehensions, for a servant at +last stood before her with a card on his tray. "Let the gentleman +come in," she said, and continued to gaze out of the window after +the footman had retired. It was only when she had heard the door +close behind the person who presently entered that she looked +round. + +Caspar Goodwood stood there--stood and received a moment, from +head to foot, the bright, dry gaze with which she rather withheld +than offered a greeting. Whether his sense of maturity had kept +pace with Isabel's we shall perhaps presently ascertain; let me +say meanwhile that to her critical glance he showed nothing of +the injury of time. Straight, strong and hard, there was nothing +in his appearance that spoke positively either of youth or of +age; if he had neither innocence nor weakness, so he had no +practical philosophy. His jaw showed the same voluntary cast as +in earlier days; but a crisis like the present had in it of +course something grim. He had the air of a man who had travelled +hard; he said nothing at first, as if he had been out of breath. +This gave Isabel time to make a reflexion: "Poor fellow, what +great things he's capable of, and what a pity he should waste so +dreadfully his splendid force! What a pity too that one can't +satisfy everybody!" It gave her time to do more to say at the end +of a minute: "I can't tell you how I hoped you wouldn't come!" + +"I've no doubt of that." And he looked about him for a seat. Not +only had he come, but he meant to settle. + +"You must be very tired," said Isabel, seating herself, and +generously, as she thought, to give him his opportunity. + +"No, I'm not at all tired. Did you ever know me to be tired?" + +"Never; I wish I had! When did you arrive?" + +"Last night, very late; in a kind of snail-train they call the +express. These Italian trains go at about the rate of an American +funeral." + +"That's in keeping--you must have felt as if you were coming to +bury me!" And she forced a smile of encouragement to an easy view +of their situation. She had reasoned the matter well out, making +it perfectly clear that she broke no faith and falsified no +contract; but for all this she was afraid of her visitor. She was +ashamed of her fear; but she was devoutly thankful there was +nothing else to be ashamed of. He looked at her with his stiff +insistence, an insistence in which there was such a want of tact; +especially when the dull dark beam in his eye rested on her as a +physical weight. + +"No, I didn't feel that; I couldn't think of you as dead. I wish +I could!" he candidly declared. + +"I thank you immensely." + +"I'd rather think of you as dead than as married to another man." + +"That's very selfish of you!" she returned with the ardour of a +real conviction. "If you're not happy yourself others have yet a +right to be." + +"Very likely it's selfish; but I don't in the least mind your +saying so. I don't mind anything you can say now--I don't feel +it. The cruellest things you could think of would be mere +pin-pricks. After what you've done I shall never feel anything-- +I mean anything but that. That I shall feel all my life." + +Mr. Goodwood made these detached assertions with dry deliberateness, +in his hard, slow American tone, which flung no atmospheric colour +over propositions intrinsically crude. The tone made Isabel angry +rather than touched her; but her anger perhaps was fortunate, +inasmuch as it gave her a further reason for controlling herself. +It was under the pressure of this control that she became, after +a little, irrelevant. "When did you leave New York?" + +He threw up his head as if calculating. "Seventeen days ago." + +"You must have travelled fast in spite of your slow trains." + +"I came as fast as I could. I'd have come five days ago if I had +been able." + +"It wouldn't have made any difference, Mr. Goodwood," she coldly +smiled. + +"Not to you--no. But to me." + +"You gain nothing that I see." + +"That's for me to judge!" + +"Of course. To me it seems that you only torment yourself." And +then, to change the subject, she asked him if he had seen +Henrietta Stackpole. He looked as if he had not come from Boston +to Florence to talk of Henrietta Stackpole; but he answered, +distinctly enough, that this young lady had been with him just +before he left America. "She came to see you?" Isabel then +demanded. + +"Yes, she was in Boston, and she called at my office. It was the +day I had got your letter." + +"Did you tell her?" Isabel asked with a certain anxiety. + +"Oh no," said Caspar Goodwood simply; "I didn't want to do that. +She'll hear it quick enough; she hears everything." + +"I shall write to her, and then she'll write to me and scold me," +Isabel declared, trying to smile again. + +Caspar, however, remained sternly grave. "I guess she'll come +right out," he said. + +"On purpose to scold me?" + +"I don't know. She seemed to think she had not seen Europe +thoroughly." + +"I'm glad you tell me that," Isabel said. "I must prepare for +her." + +Mr. Goodwood fixed his eyes for a moment on the floor; then at +last, raising them, "Does she know Mr. Osmond?" he enquired. + +"A little. And she doesn't like him. But of course I don't marry +to please Henrietta," she added. It would have been better for +poor Caspar if she had tried a little more to gratify Miss +Stackpole; but he didn't say so; he only asked, presently, when +her marriage would take place. To which she made answer that she +didn't know yet. "I can only say it will be soon. I've told no +one but yourself and one other person--an old friend of Mr. +Osmond's." + +"Is it a marriage your friends won't like?" he demanded. + +"I really haven't an idea. As I say, I don't marry for my +friends." + +He went on, making no exclamation, no comment, only asking +questions, doing it quite without delicacy. "Who and what then is +Mr. Gilbert Osmond?" + +"Who and what? Nobody and nothing but a very good and very +honourable man. He's not in business," said Isabel. "He's not +rich; he's not known for anything in particular." + +She disliked Mr. Goodwood's questions, but she said to herself +that she owed it to him to satisfy him as far as possible. The +satisfaction poor Caspar exhibited was, however, small; he sat +very upright, gazing at her. "Where does he come from? Where +does he belong?" + +She had never been so little pleased with the way he said +"belawng." "He comes from nowhere. He has spent most of his life +in Italy." + +"You said in your letter he was American. Hasn't he a native +place?" + +"Yes, but he has forgotten it. He left it as a small boy." + +"Has he never gone back?" + +"Why should he go back?" Isabel asked, flushing all defensively. +"He has no profession." + +"He might have gone back for his pleasure. Doesn't he like the +United States?" + +"He doesn't know them. Then he's very quiet and very simple--he +contents himself with Italy." + +"With Italy and with you," said Mr. Goodwood with gloomy +plainness and no appearance of trying to make an epigram. "What +has he ever done?" he added abruptly. + +"That I should marry him? Nothing at all," Isabel replied while +her patience helped itself by turning a little to hardness. "If +he had done great things would you forgive me any better? Give me +up, Mr. Goodwood; I'm marrying a perfect nonentity. Don't try to +take an interest in him. You can't." + +"I can't appreciate him; that's what you mean. And you don't mean +in the least that he's a perfect nonentity. You think he's grand, +you think he's great, though no one else thinks so." + +Isabel's colour deepened; she felt this really acute of her +companion, and it was certainly a proof of the aid that passion +might render perceptions she had never taken for fine. "Why do +you always comeback to what others think? I can't discuss Mr. +Osmond with you." + +"Of course not," said Caspar reasonably. And he sat there with +his air of stiff helplessness, as if not only this were true, but +there were nothing else that they might discuss. + +"You see how little you gain," she accordingly broke out--"how +little comfort or satisfaction I can give you." + +"I didn't expect you to give me much." + +"I don't understand then why you came." + +"I came because I wanted to see you once more--even just as you +are." + +"I appreciate that; but if you had waited a while, sooner or +later we should have been sure to meet, and our meeting would +have been pleasanter for each of us than this." + +"Waited till after you're married? That's just what I didn't want +to do. You'll be different then." + +"Not very. I shall still be a great friend of yours. You'll see." + +"That will make it all the worse," said Mr. Goodwood grimly. + +"Ah, you're unaccommodating! I can't promise to dislike you in +order to help you to resign yourself." + +"I shouldn't care if you did!" + +Isabel got up with a movement of repressed impatience and walked +to the window, where she remained a moment looking out. When she +turned round her visitor was still motionless in his place. She +came toward him again and stopped, resting her hand on the back +of the chair she had just quitted. "Do you mean you came simply +to look at me? That's better for you perhaps than for me." + +"I wished to hear the sound of your voice," he said. + +"You've heard it, and you see it says nothing very sweet." + +"It gives me pleasure, all the same." And with this he got up. +She had felt pain and displeasure on receiving early that day the +news he was in Florence and by her leave would come within an +hour to see her. She had been vexed and distressed, though she +had sent back word by his messenger that he might come when he +would. She had not been better pleased when she saw him; his +being there at all was so full of heavy implications. It implied +things she could never assent to--rights, reproaches, +remonstrance, rebuke, the expectation of making her change her +purpose. These things, however, if implied, had not been +expressed; and now our young lady, strangely enough, began to +resent her visitor's remarkable self-control. There was a dumb +misery about him that irritated her; there was a manly staying of +his hand that made her heart beat faster. She felt her agitation +rising, and she said to herself that she was angry in the way a +woman is angry when she has been in the wrong. She was not in the +wrong; she had fortunately not that bitterness to swallow; but, +all the same, she wished he would denounce her a little. She had +wished his visit would be short; it had no purpose, no propriety; +yet now that he seemed to be turning away she felt a sudden +horror of his leaving her without uttering a word that would give +her an opportunity to defend herself more than she had done in +writing to him a month before, in a few carefully chosen words, +to announce her engagement. If she were not in the wrong, +however, why should she desire to defend herself? It was an +excess of generosity on Isabel's part to desire that Mr. Goodwood +should be angry. And if he had not meanwhile held himself hard it +might have made him so to hear the tone in which she suddenly +exclaimed, as if she were accusing him of having accused her: +"I've not deceived you! I was perfectly free!" + +"Yes, I know that," said Caspar. + +"I gave you full warning that I'd do as I chose." + +"You said you'd probably never marry, and you said it with such a +manner that I pretty well believed it." + +She considered this an instant. "No one can be more surprised +than myself at my present intention." + +"You told me that if I heard you were engaged I was not to +believe it," Caspar went on. "I heard it twenty days ago from +yourself, but I remembered what you had said. I thought there +might be some mistake, and that's partly why I came." + +"If you wish me to repeat it by word of mouth, that's soon done. +There's no mistake whatever." + +"I saw that as soon as I came into the room." + +"What good would it do you that I shouldn't marry?" she asked +with a certain fierceness. + +"I should like it better than this." + +"You're very selfish, as I said before." + +"I know that. I'm selfish as iron." + +"Even iron sometimes melts! If you'll be reasonable I'll see you +again." + +"Don't you call me reasonable now?" + +"I don't know what to say to you," she answered with sudden +humility. + +"I shan't trouble you for a long time," the young man went on. He +made a step towards the door, but he stopped. "Another reason why +I came was that I wanted to hear what you would say in explanation +of your having changed your mind." + +Her humbleness as suddenly deserted her. "In explanation? Do you +think I'm bound to explain?" + +He gave her one of his long dumb looks. "You were very positive. +I did believe it." + +"So did I. Do you think I could explain if I would?" + +"No, I suppose not. Well," he added, "I've done what I wished. +I've seen you." + +"How little you make of these terrible journeys," she felt the +poverty of her presently replying. + +"If you're afraid I'm knocked up--in any such way as that--you +may he at your ease about it." He turned away, this time in +earnest, and no hand-shake, no sign of parting, was exchanged +between them. + +At the door he stopped with his hand on the knob. "I shall leave +Florence to-morrow," he said without a quaver. + +"I'm delighted to hear it!" she answered passionately. Five +minutes after he had gone out she burst into tears. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +Her fit of weeping, however, was soon smothered, and the signs of +it had vanished when, an hour later, she broke the news to her +aunt. I use this expression because she had been sure Mrs. +Touchett would not be pleased; Isabel had only waited to tell her +till she had seen Mr. Goodwood. She had an odd impression that it +would not be honourable to make the fact public before she should +have heard what Mr. Goodwood would say about it. He had said +rather less than she expected, and she now had a somewhat angry +sense of having lost time. But she would lose no more; she waited +till Mrs. Touchett came into the drawing-room before the mid-day +breakfast, and then she began. "Aunt Lydia, I've something to +tell you." + +Mrs. Touchett gave a little jump and looked at her almost +fiercely. "You needn't tell me; I know what it is." + +"I don't know how you know." + +"The same way that I know when the window's open--by feeling a +draught. You're going to marry that man." + +"What man do you mean?" Isabel enquired with great dignity. + +"Madame Merle's friend--Mr. Osmond." + +"I don't know why you call him Madame Merle's friend. Is that the +principal thing he's known by?" + +"If he's not her friend he ought to be--after what she has done +for him!" cried Mrs. Touchett. "I shouldn't have expected it of +her; I'm disappointed." + +"If you mean that Madame Merle has had anything to do with my +engagement you're greatly mistaken," Isabel declared with a sort +of ardent coldness. + +"You mean that your attractions were sufficient, without the +gentleman's having had to be lashed up? You're quite right. +They're immense, your attractions, and he would never have +presumed to think of you if she hadn't put him up to it. He has a +very good opinion of himself, but he was not a man to take +trouble. Madame Merle took the trouble for him." + +"He has taken a great deal for himself!" cried Isabel with a +voluntary laugh. + +Mrs. Touchett gave a sharp nod. "I think he must, after all, to +have made you like him so much." + +"I thought he even pleased YOU." + +"He did, at one time; and that's why I'm angry with him." + +"Be angry with me, not with him," said the girl. + +"Oh, I'm always angry with you; that's no satisfaction! Was it +for this that you refused Lord Warburton?" + +"Please don't go back to that. Why shouldn't I like Mr. Osmond, +since others have done so?" + +"Others, at their wildest moments, never wanted to marry him. +There's nothing OF him," Mrs. Touchett explained. + +"Then he can't hurt me," said Isabel. + +"Do you think you're going to be happy? No one's happy, in such +doings, you should know." + +"I shall set the fashion then. What does one marry for?" + +"What YOU will marry for, heaven only knows. People usually marry +as they go into partnership--to set up a house. But in your +partnership you'll bring everything." + +"Is it that Mr. Osmond isn't rich? Is that what you're talking +about?" Isabel asked. + +"He has no money; he has no name; he has no importance. I value +such things and I have the courage to say it; I think they're very +precious. Many other people think the same, and they show it. But +they give some other reason." + +Isabel hesitated a little. "I think I value everything that's +valuable. I care very much for money, and that's why I wish Mr. +Osmond to have a little." + +"Give it to him then; but marry some one else." + +"His name's good enough for me," the girl went on. "It's a very +pretty name. Have I such a fine one myself?" + +"All the more reason you should improve on it. There are only a +dozen American names. Do you marry him out of charity?" + +"It was my duty to tell you, Aunt Lydia, but I don't think it's my +duty to explain to you. Even if it were I shouldn't be able. So +please don't remonstrate; in talking about it you have me at a +disadvantage. I can't talk about it." + +"I don't remonstrate, I simply answer you: I must give some sign +of intelligence. I saw it coming, and I said nothing. I never +meddle." + +"You never do, and I'm greatly obliged to you. You've been very +considerate." + +"It was not considerate--it was convenient," said Mrs. Touchett. +"But I shall talk to Madame Merle." + +"I don't see why you keep bringing her in. She has been a very +good friend to me." + +"Possibly; but she has been a poor one to me." + +"What has she done to you?" + +"She has deceived me. She had as good as promised me to prevent +your engagement." + +"She couldn't have prevented it." + +"She can do anything; that's what I've always liked her for. I +knew she could play any part; but I understood that she played +them one by one. I didn't understand that she would play two at +the same time." + +"I don't know what part she may have played to you," Isabel said; +"that's between yourselves. To me she has been honest and kind +and devoted." + +"Devoted, of course; she wished you to marry her candidate. She +told me she was watching you only in order to interpose." + +"She said that to please you," the girl answered; conscious, +however, of the inadequacy of the explanation. + +"To please me by deceiving me? She knows me better. Am I pleased +to-day?" + +"I don't think you're ever much pleased," Isabel was obliged to +reply. "If Madame Merle knew you would learn the truth what had +she to gain by insincerity?" + +"She gained time, as you see. While I waited for her to interfere +you were marching away, and she was really beating the drum." + +"That's very well. But by your own admission you saw I was +marching, and even if she had given the alarm you wouldn't have +tried to stop me." + +"No, but some one else would." + +"Whom do you mean?" Isabel asked, looking very hard at her aunt. +Mrs. Touchett's little bright eyes, active as they usually were, +sustained her gaze rather than returned it. "Would you have +listened to Ralph?" + +"Not if he had abused Mr. Osmond." + +"Ralph doesn't abuse people; you know that perfectly. He cares +very much for you." + +"I know he does," said Isabel; "and I shall feel the value of it +now, for he knows that whatever I do I do with reason." + +"He never believed you would do this. I told him you were capable +of it, and he argued the other way." + +"He did it for the sake of argument," the girl smiled. "You don't +accuse him of having deceived you; why should you accuse Madame +Merle?" + +"He never pretended he'd prevent it." + +"I'm glad of that!" cried Isabel gaily. "I wish very much," she +presently added, "that when he comes you'd tell him first of my +engagement." + +"Of course I'll mention it," said Mrs. Touchett. "I shall say +nothing more to you about it, but I give you notice I shall talk +to others." + +"That's as you please. I only meant that it's rather better the +announcement should come from you than from me." + +"I quite agree with you; it's much more proper!" And on this the +aunt and the niece went to breakfast, where Mrs. Touchett, as good +as her word, made no allusion to Gilbert Osmond. After an interval +of silence, however, she asked her companion from whom she had +received a visit an hour before. + +"From an old friend--an American gentleman," Isabel said with a +colour in her cheek. + +"An American gentleman of course. It's only an American gentleman +who calls at ten o'clock in the morning." + +"It was half-past ten; he was in a great hurry; he goes away this +evening." + +"Couldn't he have come yesterday, at the usual time?" + +"He only arrived last night." + +"He spends but twenty-four hours in Florence?" Mrs. Touchett +cried. "He's an American gentleman truly." + +"He is indeed," said Isabel, thinking with perverse admiration of +what Caspar Goodwood had done for her. + +Two days afterward Ralph arrived; but though Isabel was sure that +Mrs. Touchett had lost no time in imparting to him the great fact, +he showed at first no open knowledge of it. Their prompted talk +was naturally of his health; Isabel had many questions to ask +about Corfu. She had been shocked by his appearance when he came +into the room; she had forgotten how ill he looked. In spite of +Corfu he looked very ill to-day, and she wondered if he were +really worse or if she were simply disaccustomed to living with +an invalid. Poor Ralph made no nearer approach to conventional +beauty as he advanced in life, and the now apparently complete +loss of his health had done little to mitigate the natural oddity +of his person. Blighted and battered, but still responsive and +still ironic, his face was like a lighted lantern patched with +paper and unsteadily held; his thin whisker languished upon a +lean cheek; the exorbitant curve of his nose defined itself more +sharply. Lean he was altogether, lean and long and loose-jointed; +an accidental cohesion of relaxed angles. His brown velvet jacket +had become perennial; his hands had fixed themselves in his +pockets; he shambled and stumbled and shuffled in a manner that +denoted great physical helplessness. It was perhaps this +whimsical gait that helped to mark his character more than ever +as that of the humorous invalid--the invalid for whom even his +own disabilities are part of the general joke. They might well +indeed with Ralph have been the chief cause of the want of +seriousness marking his view of a world in which the reason for +his own continued presence was past finding out. Isabel had grown +fond of his ugliness; his awkwardness had become dear to her. They +had been sweetened by association; they struck her as the very +terms on which it had been given him to be charming. He was so +charming that her sense of his being ill had hitherto had a sort +of comfort in it; the state of his health had seemed not a +limitation, but a kind of intellectual advantage; it absolved him +from all professional and official emotions and left him the +luxury of being exclusively personal. The personality so +resulting was delightful; he had remained proof against the +staleness of disease; he had had to consent to be deplorably ill, +yet had somehow escaped being formally sick. Such had been the +girl's impression of her cousin; and when she had pitied him it +was only on reflection. As she reflected a good deal she had +allowed him a certain amount of compassion; but she always +had a dread of wasting that essence--a precious article, worth +more to the giver than to any one else. Now, however, it took no +great sensibility to feel that poor Ralph's tenure of life was +less elastic than it should be. He was a bright, free, generous +spirit, he had all the illumination of wisdom and none of its +pedantry, and yet he was distressfully dying. + +Isabel noted afresh that life was certainly hard for some people, +and she felt a delicate glow of shame as she thought how easy it +now promised to become for herself. She was prepared to learn that +Ralph was not pleased with her engagement; but she was not +prepared, in spite of her affection for him, to let this fact +spoil the situation. She was not even prepared, or so she thought, +to resent his want of sympathy; for it would be his privilege--it +would be indeed his natural line--to find fault with any step she +might take toward marriage. One's cousin always pretended to hate +one's husband; that was traditional, classical; it was a part of +one's cousin's always pretending to adore one. Ralph was nothing +if not critical; and though she would certainly, other things +being equal, have been as glad to marry to please him as to +please any one, it would be absurd to regard as important that +her choice should square with his views. What were his views +after all? He had pretended to believe she had better have +married Lord Warburton; but this was only because she had refused +that excellent man. If she had accepted him Ralph would certainly +have taken another tone; he always took the opposite. You could +criticise any marriage; it was the essence of a marriage to be +open to criticism. How well she herself, should she only give her +mind to it, might criticise this union of her own! She had other +employment, however, and Ralph was welcome to relieve her of the +care. Isabel was prepared to be most patient and most indulgent. +He must have seen that, and this made it the more odd he should +say nothing. After three days had elapsed without his speaking +our young woman wearied of waiting; dislike it as he would, he +might at least go through the form. We, who know more about poor +Ralph than his cousin, may easily believe that during the hours +that followed his arrival at Palazzo Crescentini he had privately +gone through many forms. His mother had literally greeted him +with the great news, which had been even more sensibly chilling +than Mrs. Touchett's maternal kiss. Ralph was shocked and +humiliated; his calculations had been false and the person in the +world in whom he was most interested was lost. He drifted about +the house like a rudderless vessel in a rocky stream, or sat in +the garden of the palace on a great cane chair, his long legs +extended, his head thrown back and his hat pulled over his eyes. +He felt cold about the heart; he had never liked anything less. +What could he do, what could he say? If the girl were +irreclaimable could he pretend to like it? To attempt to reclaim +her was permissible only if the attempt should succeed. To try to +persuade her of anything sordid or sinister in the man to whose +deep art she had succumbed would be decently discreet only in the +event of her being persuaded. Otherwise he should simply have +damned himself. It cost him an equal effort to speak his thought +and to dissemble; he could neither assent with sincerity nor +protest with hope. Meanwhile he knew--or rather he supposed--that +the affianced pair were daily renewing their mutual vows. Osmond +at this moment showed himself little at Palazzo Crescentini; but +Isabel met him every day elsewhere, as she was free to do after +their engagement had been made public. She had taken a carriage +by the month, so as not to be indebted to her aunt for the means +of pursuing a course of which Mrs. Touchett disapproved, and she +drove in the morning to the Cascine. This suburban wilderness, +during the early hours, was void of all intruders, and our young +lady, joined by her lover in its quietest part, strolled with him +a while through the grey Italian shade and listened to the +nightingales. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +One morning, on her return from her drive, some half-hour before +luncheon, she quitted her vehicle in the court of the palace and, +instead of ascending the great staircase, crossed the court, +passed beneath another archway and entered the garden. A sweeter +spot at this moment could not have been imagined. The stillness +of noontide hung over it, and the warm shade, enclosed and still, +made bowers like spacious caves. Ralph was sitting there in the +clear gloom, at the base of a statue of Terpsichore--a dancing +nymph with taper fingers and inflated draperies in the manner of +Bernini; the extreme relaxation of his attitude suggested at +first to Isabel that he was asleep. Her light footstep on the +grass had not roused him, and before turning away she stood for a +moment looking at him. During this instant he opened his eyes; +upon which she sat down on a rustic chair that matched with his +own. Though in her irritation she had accused him of indifference +she was not blind to the fact that he had visibly had something to +brood over. But she had explained his air of absence partly by the +languor of his increased weakness, partly by worries connected +with the property inherited from his father--the fruit of +eccentric arrangements of which Mrs. Touchett disapproved and +which, as she had told Isabel, now encountered opposition from the +other partners in the bank. He ought to have gone to England, his +mother said, instead of coming to Florence; he had not been there for +months, and took no more interest in the bank than in the state of +Patagonia. + +"I'm sorry I waked you," Isabel said; "you look too tired." + +"I feel too tired. But I was not asleep. I was thinking of you." + +"Are you tired of that?" + +"Very much so. It leads to nothing. The road's long and I never +arrive." + +"What do you wish to arrive at?" she put to him, closing her +parasol. + +"At the point of expressing to myself properly what I think of +your engagement." + +"Don't think too much of it," she lightly returned. + +"Do you mean that it's none of my business?" + +"Beyond a certain point, yes." + +"That's the point I want to fix. I had an idea you may have found +me wanting in good manners. I've never congratulated you." + +"Of course I've noticed that. I wondered why you were silent." + +"There have been a good many reasons. I'll tell you now," Ralph +said. He pulled off his hat and laid it on the ground; then he sat +looking at her. He leaned back under the protection of Bernini, +his head against his marble pedestal, his arms dropped on either +side of him, his hands laid upon the rests of his wide chair. He +looked awkward, uncomfortable; he hesitated long. Isabel said +nothing; when people were embarrassed she was usually sorry for +them, but she was determined not to help Ralph to utter a word +that should not be to the honour of her high decision. "I +think I've hardly got over my surprise," he went on at last. "You +were the last person I expected to see caught." + +"I don't know why you call it caught." + +"Because you're going to be put into a cage." + +"If I like my cage, that needn't trouble you," she answered. + +"That's what I wonder at; that's what I've been thinking of." + +"If you've been thinking you may imagine how I've thought! I'm +satisfied that I'm doing well." + +"You must have changed immensely. A year ago you valued your +liberty beyond everything. You wanted only to see life." + +"I've seen it," said Isabel. "It doesn't look to me now, I admit, +such an inviting expanse." + +"I don't pretend it is; only I had an idea that you took a genial +view of it and wanted to survey the whole field." + +"I've seen that one can't do anything so general. One must choose +a corner and cultivate that." + +"That's what I think. And one must choose as good a corner as +possible. I had no idea, all winter, while I read your delightful +letters, that you were choosing. You said nothing about it, and +your silence put me off my guard." + +"It was not a matter I was likely to write to you about. Besides, +I knew nothing of the future. It has all come lately. If you had +been on your guard, however," Isabel asked, "what would you have +done?" + +"I should have said 'Wait a little longer.'" + +"Wait for what?" + +"Well, for a little more light," said Ralph with rather an absurd +smile, while his hands found their way into his pockets. + +"Where should my light have come from? From you?" + +"I might have struck a spark or two." + +Isabel had drawn off her gloves; she smoothed them out as they lay +upon her knee. The mildness of this movement was accidental, for +her expression was not conciliatory. "You're beating about the +bush, Ralph. You wish to say you don't like Mr. Osmond, and yet +you're afraid." + +"Willing to wound and yet afraid to strike? I'm willing to +wound HIM, yes--but not to wound you. I'm afraid of you, not of +him. If you marry him it won't be a fortunate way for me to have +spoken." + +"IF I marry him! Have you had any expectation of dissuading me?" + +"Of course that seems to you too fatuous." + +"No," said Isabel after a little; "it seems to me too touching." + +"That's the same thing. It makes me so ridiculous that you pity +me." + +She stroked out her long gloves again. "I know you've a great +affection for me. I can't get rid of that." + +"For heaven's sake don't try. Keep that well in sight. It will +convince you how intensely I want you to do well." + +"And how little you trust me!" + +There was a moment's silence; the warm noontide seemed to listen. +"I trust you, but I don't trust him," said Ralph. + +She raised her eyes and gave him a wide, deep look. "You've said +it now, and I'm glad you've made it so clear. But you'll suffer by +it." + +"Not if you're just." + +"I'm very just," said Isabel. "What better proof of it can there +be than that I'm not angry with you? I don't know what's the +matter with me, but I'm not. I was when you began, but it has +passed away. Perhaps I ought to be angry, but Mr. Osmond wouldn't +think so. He wants me to know everything; that's what I like him +for. You've nothing to gain, I know that. I've never been so nice +to you, as a girl, that you should have much reason for wishing me +to remain one. You give very good advice; you've often done so. +No, I'm very quiet; I've always believed in your wisdom," she went +on, boasting of her quietness, yet speaking with a kind of +contained exaltation. It was her passionate desire to be just; it +touched Ralph to the heart, affected him like a caress from a +creature he had injured. He wished to interrupt, to reassure her; +for a moment he was absurdly inconsistent; he would have retracted +what he had said. But she gave him no chance; she went on, having +caught a glimpse, as she thought, of the heroic line and desiring +to advance in that direction. "I see you've some special idea; I +should like very much to hear it. I'm sure it's disinterested; I +feel that. It seems a strange thing to argue about, and of course +I ought to tell you definitely that if you expect to dissuade me +you may give it up. You'll not move me an inch; it's too late. As +you say, I'm caught. Certainly it won't be pleasant for you to +remember this, but your pain will be in your own thoughts. I shall +never reproach you." + +"I don't think you ever will," said Ralph. "It's not in the least +the sort of marriage I thought you'd make." + +"What sort of marriage was that, pray?" + +"Well, I can hardly say. I hadn't exactly a positive view of it, +but I had a negative. I didn't think you'd decide for--well, for +that type." + +"What's the matter with Mr. Osmond's type, if it be one? His being +so independent, so individual, is what I most see in him," the +girl declared. "What do you know against him? You know him +scarcely at all." + +"Yes," Ralph said, "I know him very little, and I confess I +haven't facts and items to prove him a villain. But all the same I +can't help feeling that you're running a grave risk." + +"Marriage is always a grave risk, and his risk's as grave as +mine." + +"That's his affair! If he's afraid, let him back out. I wish to +God he would." + +Isabel reclined in her chair, folding her arms and gazing a while +at her cousin. "I don't think I understand you," she said at last +coldly. "I don't know what you're talking about." + +"I believed you'd marry a man of more importance." + +Cold, I say, her tone had been, but at this a colour like a flame +leaped into her face. "Of more importance to whom? It seems to me +enough that one's husband should be of importance to one's self!" + +Ralph blushed as well; his attitude embarrassed him. Physically +speaking he proceeded to change it; he straightened himself, then +leaned forward, resting a hand on each knee. He fixed his eyes on +the ground; he had an air of the most respectful deliberation. + +"I'll tell you in a moment what I mean," he presently said. He +felt agitated, intensely eager; now that he had opened the +discussion he wished to discharge his mind. But he wished also to +be superlatively gentle. + +Isabel waited a little--then she went on with majesty. "In +everything that makes one care for people Mr. Osmond is +pre-eminent. There may be nobler natures, but I've never had the +pleasure of meeting one. Mr. Osmond's is the finest I know; he's +good enough for me, and interesting enough, and clever enough. I'm +far more struck with what he has and what he represents than with +what he may lack." + +"I had treated myself to a charming vision of your future," Ralph +observed without answering this; "I had amused myself with +planning out a high destiny for you. There was to be nothing of +this sort in it. You were not to come down so easily or so soon." + +"Come down, you say?" + +"Well, that renders my sense of what has happened to you. You +seemed to me to be soaring far up in the blue--to be, sailing in +the bright light, over the heads of men. Suddenly some one tosses +up a faded rosebud--a missile that should never have reached +you--and straight you drop to the ground. It hurts me," said Ralph +audaciously, "hurts me as if I had fallen myself!" + +The look of pain and bewilderment deepened in his companion's +face. "I don't understand you in the least," she repeated. "You +say you amused yourself with a project for my career--I don't +understand that. Don't amuse yourself too much, or I shall think +you're doing it at my expense." + +Ralph shook his head. "I'm not afraid of your not believing that +I've had great ideas for you." + +"What do you mean by my soaring and sailing?" she pursued. + +"I've never moved on a higher plane than I'm moving on now. +There's nothing higher for a girl than to marry a--a person she +likes," said poor Isabel, wandering into the didactic. + +"It's your liking the person we speak of that I venture to +criticise, my dear cousin. I should have said that the man for you +would have been a more active, larger, freer sort of nature." +Ralph hesitated, then added: "I can't get over the sense that +Osmond is somehow--well, small." He had uttered the last word with +no great assurance; he was afraid she would flash out again. But +to his surprise she was quiet; she had the air of considering. + +"Small?" She made it sound immense. + +"I think he's narrow, selfish. He takes himself so seriously!" + +"He has a great respect for himself; I don't blame him for that," +said Isabel. "It makes one more sure to respect others." + +Ralph for a moment felt almost reassured by her reasonable tone. + +"Yes, but everything is relative; one ought to feel one's relation +to things--to others. I don't think Mr. Osmond does that." + +"I've chiefly to do with his relation to me. In that he's +excellent." + +"He's the incarnation of taste," Ralph went on, thinking hard how +he could best express Gilbert Osmond's sinister attributes without +putting himself in the wrong by seeming to describe him coarsely. +He wished to describe him impersonally, scientifically. "He judges +and measures, approves and condemns, altogether by that." + +"It's a happy thing then that his taste should be exquisite." + +"It's exquisite, indeed, since it has led him to select you as his +bride. But have you ever seen such a taste--a really exquisite +one--ruffled?" + +"I hope it may never be my fortune to fail to gratify my +husband's." + +At these words a sudden passion leaped to Ralph's lips. "Ah, +that's wilful, that's unworthy of you! You were not meant to be +measured in that way--you were meant for something better than to +keep guard over the sensibilities of a sterile dilettante!" + +Isabel rose quickly and he did the same, so that they stood for a +moment looking at each other as if he had flung down a defiance or +an insult. But "You go too far," she simply breathed. + +"I've said what I had on my mind--and I've said it because I love +you!" + +Isabel turned pale: was he too on that tiresome list? She had a +sudden wish to strike him off. "Ah then, you're not disinterested!" + +"I love you, but I love without hope," said Ralph quickly, forcing +a smile and feeling that in that last declaration he had expressed +more than he intended. + +Isabel moved away and stood looking into the sunny stillness of +the garden; but after a little she turned back to him. "I'm afraid +your talk then is the wildness of despair! I don't understand it +--but it doesn't matter. I'm not arguing with you; it's impossible +I should; I've only tried to listen to you. I'm much obliged to +you for attempting to explain," she said gently, as if the anger +with which she had just sprung up had already subsided. "It's very +good of you to try to warn me, if you're really alarmed; but I +won't promise to think of what you've said: I shall forget it as +soon as possible. Try and forget it yourself; you've done your +duty, and no man can do more. I can't explain to you what I feel, +what I believe, and I wouldn't if I could." She paused a moment +and then went on with an inconsequence that Ralph observed even in +the midst of his eagerness to discover some symptom of concession. +"I can't enter into your idea of Mr. Osmond; I can't do it +justice, because I see him in quite another way. He's not +important--no, he's not important; he's a man to whom importance +is supremely indifferent. If that's what you mean when you call +him 'small,' then he's as small as you please. I call that +large--it's the largest thing I know. I won't pretend to argue +with you about a person I'm going to marry," Isabel repeated. +"I'm not in the least concerned to defend Mr. Osmond; he's not so +weak as to need my defence. I should think it would seem strange +even to yourself that I should talk of him so quietly and coldly, +as if he were any one else. I wouldn't talk of him at all to any +one but you; and you, after what you've said--I may just answer +you once for all. Pray, would you wish me to make a mercenary +marriage--what they call a marriage of ambition? I've only one +ambition--to be free to follow out a good feeling. I had others +once, but they've passed away. Do you complain of Mr. Osmond +because he's not rich? That's just what I like him for. I've +fortunately money enough; I've never felt so thankful for it as +to-day. There have been moments when I should like to go and +kneel down by your father's grave: he did perhaps a better thing +than he knew when he put it into my power to marry a poor man--a +man who has borne his poverty with such dignity, with such +indifference. Mr. Osmond has never scrambled nor struggled--he +has cared for no worldly prize. If that's to be narrow, if that's +to be selfish, then it's very well. I'm not frightened by such +words, I'm not even displeased; I'm only sorry that you should +make a mistake. Others might have done so, but I'm surprised that +you should. You might know a gentleman when you see one--you +might know a fine mind. Mr. Osmond makes no mistakes! He knows +everything, he understands everything, he has the kindest, +gentlest, highest spirit. You've got hold of some false idea. +It's a pity, but I can't help it; it regards you more than me." +Isabel paused a moment, looking at her cousin with an eye +illumined by a sentiment which contradicted the careful calmness +of her manner--a mingled sentiment, to which the angry pain +excited by his words and the wounded pride of having needed to +justify a choice of which she felt only the nobleness and purity, +equally contributed. Though she paused Ralph said nothing; he saw +she had more to say. She was grand, but she was highly +solicitous; she was indifferent, but she was all in a passion. +"What sort of a person should you have liked me to marry?" she +asked suddenly. "You talk about one's soaring and sailing, but if +one marries at all one touches the earth. One has human feelings +and needs, one has a heart in one's bosom, and one must marry a +particular individual. Your mother has never forgiven me for not +having come to a better understanding with Lord Warburton, and +she's horrified at my contenting myself with a person who has +none of his great advantages--no property, no title, no honours, +no houses, nor lands, nor position, nor reputation, nor brilliant +belongings of any sort. It's the total absence of all these +things that pleases me. Mr. Osmond's simply a very lonely, a very +cultivated and a very honest man--he's not a prodigious +proprietor." + +Ralph had listened with great attention, as if everything she said +merited deep consideration; but in truth he was only half thinking +of the things she said, he was for the rest simply accommodating +himself to the weight of his total impression--the impression of +her ardent good faith. She was wrong, but she believed; she was +deluded, but she was dismally consistent. It was wonderfully +characteristic of her that, having invented a fine theory, about +Gilbert Osmond, she loved him not for what he really possessed, +but for his very poverties dressed out as honours. Ralph +remembered what he had said to his father about wishing to put it +into her power to meet the requirements of her imagination. He +had done so, and the girl had taken full advantage of the luxury. +Poor Ralph felt sick; he felt ashamed. Isabel had uttered her +last words with a low solemnity of conviction which virtually +terminated the discussion, and she closed it formally by turning +away and walking back to the house. Ralph walked beside her, and +they passed into the court together and reached the big +staircase. Here he stopped and Isabel paused, turning on him a +face of elation--absolutely and perversely of gratitude. His +opposition had made her own conception of her conduct clearer to +her. "Shall you not come up to breakfast?" she asked. + +"No; I want no breakfast; I'm not hungry." + +"You ought to eat," said the girl; "you live on air." + +"I do, very much, and I shall go back into the garden and take +another mouthful. I came thus far simply to say this. I told you +last year that if you were to get into trouble I should feel +terribly sold. That's how I feel to-day." + +"Do you think I'm in trouble?" + +"One's in trouble when one's in error." + +"Very well," said Isabel; "I shall never complain of my trouble +to you!" And she moved up the staircase. + +Ralph, standing there with his hands in his pockets, followed her +with his eyes; then the lurking chill of the high-walled court +struck him and made him shiver, so that he returned to the garden +to breakfast on the Florentine sunshine. + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +Isabel, when she strolled in the Cascine with her lover, felt no +impulse to tell him how little he was approved at Palazzo +Crescentini. The discreet opposition offered to her marriage by +her aunt and her cousin made on the whole no great impression upon +her; the moral of it was simply that they disliked Gilbert Osmond. +This dislike was not alarming to Isabel; she scarcely even +regretted it; for it served mainly to throw into higher relief the +fact, in every way so honourable, that she married to please +herself. One did other things to please other people; one did this +for a more personal satisfaction; and Isabel's satisfaction was +confirmed by her lover's admirable good conduct. Gilbert Osmond +was in love, and he had never deserved less than during these +still, bright days, each of them numbered, which preceded the +fulfilment of his hopes, the harsh criticism passed upon him by +Ralph Touchett. The chief impression produced on Isabel's spirit +by this criticism was that the passion of love separated its +victim terribly from every one but the loved object. She felt +herself disjoined from every one she had ever known before--from +her two sisters, who wrote to express a dutiful hope that she +would be happy, and a surprise, somewhat more vague, at her not +having chosen a consort who was the hero of a richer accumulation +of anecdote; from Henrietta, who, she was sure, would come out, +too late, on purpose to remonstrate; from Lord Warburton, who +would certainly console himself, and from Caspar Goodwood, who +perhaps would not; from her aunt, who had cold, shallow ideas +about marriage, for which she was not sorry to display her +contempt; and from Ralph, whose talk about having great views for +her was surely but a whimsical cover for a personal disappointment. +Ralph apparently wished her not to marry at all--that was what it +really meant--because he was amused with the spectacle of her +adventures as a single woman. His disappointment made him say +angry things about the man she had preferred even to him: Isabel +flattered herself that she believed Ralph had been angry. It was +the more easy for her to believe this because, as I say, she had +now little free or unemployed emotion for minor needs, and +accepted as an incident, in fact quite as an ornament, of her lot +the idea that to prefer Gilbert Osmond as she preferred him was +perforce to break all other ties. She tasted of the sweets of +this preference, and they made her conscious, almost with awe, of +the invidious and remorseless tide of the charmed and +possessed condition, great as was the traditional honour and +imputed virtue of being in love. It was the tragic part of +happiness; one's right was always made of the wrong of some one +else. + +The elation of success, which surely now flamed high in Osmond, +emitted meanwhile very little smoke for so brilliant a blaze. +Contentment, on his part, took no vulgar form; excitement, in the +most self-conscious of men, was a kind of ecstasy of self-control. +This disposition, however, made him an admirable lover; it gave +him a constant view of the smitten and dedicated state. He never +forgot himself, as I say; and so he never forgot to be graceful +and tender, to wear the appearance--which presented indeed no +difficulty--of stirred senses and deep intentions. He was +immensely pleased with his young lady; Madame Merle had made him a +present of incalculable value. What could be a finer thing to live +with than a high spirit attuned to softness? For would not the +softness be all for one's self, and the strenuousness for society, +which admired the air of superiority? What could be a happier +gift in a companion than a quick, fanciful mind which saved one +repetitions and reflected one's thought on a polished, elegant +surface? Osmond hated to see his thought reproduced literally-- +that made it look stale and stupid; he preferred it to be +freshened in the reproduction even as "words" by music. His +egotism had never taken the crude form of desiring a dull wife; +this lady's intelligence was to be a silver plate, not an earthen +one--a plate that he might heap up with ripe fruits, to which it +would give a decorative value, so that talk might become for him a +sort of served dessert. He found the silver quality in this +perfection in Isabel; he could tap her imagination with his +knuckle and make it ring. He knew perfectly, though he had not +been told, that their union enjoyed little favour with the girl's +relations; but he had always treated her so completely as an +independent person that it hardly seemed necessary to express +regret for the attitude of her family. Nevertheless, one morning, +he made an abrupt allusion to it. "It's the difference in our +fortune they don't like," he said. "They think I'm in love with +your money." + +"Are you speaking of my aunt--of my cousin?" Isabel asked. "How +do you know what they think?" + +"You've not told me they're pleased, and when I wrote to Mrs. +Touchett the other day she never answered my note. If they had +been delighted I should have had some sign of it, and the fact of +my being poor and you rich is the most obvious explanation of +their reserve. But of course when a poor man marries a rich girl +he must be prepared for imputations. I don't mind them; I only +care for one thing--for your not having the shadow of a doubt. I +don't care what people of whom I ask nothing think--I'm not even +capable perhaps of wanting to know. I've never so concerned +myself, God forgive me, and why should I begin to-day, when I have +taken to myself a compensation for everything? I won't pretend +I'm sorry you're rich; I'm delighted. I delight in everything +that's yours--whether it be money or virtue. Money's a horrid +thing to follow, but a charming thing to meet. It seems to me, +however, that I've sufficiently proved the limits of my itch for +it: I never in my life tried to earn a penny, and I ought to be +less subject to suspicion than most of the people one sees +grubbing and grabbing. I suppose it's their business to +suspect--that of your family; it's proper on the whole they should. +They'll like me better some day; so will you, for that matter. +Meanwhile my business is not to make myself bad blood, but +simply to be thankful for life and love." "It has made me better, +loving you," he said on another occasion; "it has made me wiser +and easier and--I won't pretend to deny--brighter and nicer and +even stronger. I used to want a great many things before and to be +angry I didn't have them. Theoretically I was satisfied, as I +once told you. I flattered myself I had limited my wants. But I +was subject to irritation; I used to have morbid, sterile, hateful +fits of hunger, of desire. Now I'm really satisfied, because I +can't think of anything better. It's just as when one has been +trying to spell out a book in the twilight and suddenly the lamp +comes in. I had been putting out my eyes over the book of life and +finding nothing to reward me for my pains; but now that I can read +it properly I see it's a delightful story. My dear girl, I can't +tell you how life seems to stretch there before us--what a long +summer afternoon awaits us. It's the latter half of an Italian day +--with a golden haze, and the shadows just lengthening, and that +divine delicacy in the light, the air, the landscape, which I have +loved all my life and which you love to-day. Upon my honour, I +don't see why we shouldn't get on. We've got what we like--to say +nothing of having each other. We've the faculty of admiration and +several capital convictions. We're not stupid, we're not mean, +we're not under bonds to any kind of ignorance or dreariness. You're +remarkably fresh, and I'm remarkably well-seasoned. We've my poor +child to amuse us; we'll try and make up some little life for her. +It's all soft and mellow--it has the Italian colouring." + +They made a good many plans, but they left themselves also a good +deal of latitude; it was a matter of course, however, that they +should live for the present in Italy. It was in Italy that they +had met, Italy had been a party to their first impressions of +each other, and Italy should be a party to their happiness. +Osmond had the attachment of old acquaintance and Isabel the +stimulus of new, which seemed to assure her a future at a high +level of consciousness of the beautiful. The desire for unlimited +expansion had been succeeded in her soul by the sense that life +was vacant without some private duty that might gather one's +energies to a point. She had told Ralph she had "seen life" in a +year or two and that she was already tired, not of the act of +living, but of that of observing. What had become of all her +ardours, her aspirations, her theories, her high estimate of her +independence and her incipient conviction that she should never +marry? These things had been absorbed in a more primitive need-- +a need the answer to which brushed away numberless questions, yet +gratified infinite desires. It simplified the situation at a +stroke, it came down from above like the light of the stars, and +it needed no explanation. There was explanation enough in the +fact that he was her lover, her own, and that she should be able +to be of use to him. She could surrender to him with a kind of +humility, she could marry him with a kind of pride; she was not +only taking, she was giving. + +He brought Pansy with him two or three times to the Cascine-- +Pansy who was very little taller than a year before, and not much +older. That she would always be a child was the conviction +expressed by her father, who held her by the hand when she was in +her sixteenth year and told her to go and play while he sat down +a little with the pretty lady. Pansy wore a short dress and a +long coat; her hat always seemed too big for her. She found +pleasure in walking off, with quick, short steps, to the end of +the alley, and then in walking back with a smile that seemed an +appeal for approbation. Isabel approved in abundance, and the +abundance had the personal touch that the child's affectionate +nature craved. She watched her indications as if for herself also +much depended on them--Pansy already so represented part of the +service she could render, part of the responsibility she could +face. Her father took so the childish view of her that he had not +yet explained to her the new relation in which he stood to the +elegant Miss Archer. "She doesn't know," he said to Isabel; "she +doesn't guess; she thinks it perfectly natural that you and I +should come and walk here together simply as good friends. There +seems to me something enchantingly innocent in that; it's the way +I like her to be. No, I'm not a failure, as I used to think; I've +succeeded in two things. I'm to marry the woman I adore, and I've +brought up my child, as I wished, in the old way." + +He was very fond, in all things, of the "old way"; that had +struck Isabel as one of his fine, quiet, sincere notes. "It +occurs to me that you'll not know whether you've succeeded until +you've told her," she said. "You must see how she takes your +news, She may be horrified--she may be jealous." + +"I'm not afraid of that; she's too fond of you on her own +account. I should like to leave her in the dark a little longer +--to see if it will come into her head that if we're not engaged +we ought to be." + +Isabel was impressed by Osmond's artistic, the plastic view, as +it somehow appeared, of Pansy's innocence--her own appreciation +of it being more anxiously moral. She was perhaps not the less +pleased when he told her a few days later that he had +communicated the fact to his daughter, who had made such a pretty +little speech--"Oh, then I shall have a beautiful sister!" She +was neither surprised nor alarmed; she had not cried, as he +expected. + +"Perhaps she had guessed it," said Isabel. + +"Don't say that; I should be disgusted if I believed that. I +thought it would be just a little shock; but the way she took it +proves that her good manners are paramount. That's also what I +wished. You shall see for yourself; to-morrow she shall make you +her congratulations in person." + +The meeting, on the morrow, took place at the Countess Gemini's, +whither Pansy had been conducted by her father, who knew that +Isabel was to come in the afternoon to return a visit made her by +the Countess on learning that they were to become sisters-in-law. +Calling at Casa Touchett the visitor had not found Isabel at +home; but after our young woman had been ushered into the +Countess's drawing-room Pansy arrived to say that her aunt would +presently appear. Pansy was spending the day with that lady, who +thought her of an age to begin to learn how to carry herself in +company. It was Isabel's view that the little girl might have +given lessons in deportment to her relative, and nothing could +have justified this conviction more than the manner in which +Pansy acquitted herself while they waited together for the +Countess. Her father's decision, the year before, had finally +been to send her back to the convent to receive the last graces, +and Madame Catherine had evidently carried out her theory that +Pansy was to be fitted for the great world. + +"Papa has told me that you've kindly consented to marry him," +said this excellent woman's pupil. "It's very delightful; I think +you'll suit very well." + +"You think I shall suit YOU?" + +"You'll suit me beautifully; but what I mean is that you and papa +will suit each other. You're both so quiet and so serious. You're +not so quiet as he--or even as Madame Merle; but you're more +quiet than many others. He should not for instance have a wife +like my aunt. She's always in motion, in agitation--to-day +especially; you'll see when she comes in. They told us at the +convent it was wrong to judge our elders, but I suppose there's +no harm if we judge them favourably. You'll be a delightful +companion for papa." + +"For you too, I hope," Isabel said. + +"I speak first of him on purpose. I've told you already what I +myself think of you; I liked you from the first. I admire you so +much that I think it will be a good fortune to have you always +before me. You'll be my model; I shall try to imitate you though +I'm afraid it will be very feeble. I'm very glad for papa--he +needed something more than me. Without you I don't see how he +could have got it. You'll be my stepmother, but we mustn't use +that word. They're always said to be cruel; but I don't think +you'll ever so much as pinch or even push me. I'm not afraid at +all." + +"My good little Pansy," said Isabel gently, "I shall be ever so +kind to you." A vague, inconsequent vision of her coming in some +odd way to need it had intervened with the effect of a chill. + +"Very well then, I've nothing to fear," the child returned with +her note of prepared promptitude. What teaching she had had, it +seemed to suggest--or what penalties for non-performance she +dreaded! + +Her description of her aunt had not been incorrect; the Countess +Gemini was further than ever from having folded her wings. She +entered the room with a flutter through the air and kissed Isabel +first on the forehead and then on each cheek as if according to +some ancient prescribed rite. She drew the visitor to a sofa and, +looking at her with a variety of turns of the head, began to talk +very much as if, seated brush in hand before an easel, she were +applying a series of considered touches to a composition of +figures already sketched in. "If you expect me to congratulate +you I must beg you to excuse me. I don't suppose you care if I do +or not; I believe you're supposed not to care--through being so +clever--for all sorts of ordinary things. But I care myself if I +tell fibs; I never tell them unless there's something rather good +to be gained. I don't see what's to be gained with you-- +especially as you wouldn't believe me. I don't make professions +any more than I make paper flowers or flouncey lampshades--I +don't know how. My lampshades would be sure to take fire, my +roses and my fibs to be larger than life. I'm very glad for my +own sake that you're to marry Osmond; but I won't pretend I'm +glad for yours. You're very brilliant--you know that's the way +you're always spoken of; you're an heiress and very good-looking +and original, not banal; so it's a good thing to have you in the +family. Our family's very good, you know; Osmond will have told +you that; and my mother was rather distinguished--she was called +the American Corinne. But we're dreadfully fallen, I think, and +perhaps you'll pick us up. I've great confidence in you; there +are ever so many things I want to talk to you about. I never +congratulate any girl on marrying; I think they ought to make it +somehow not quite so awful a steel trap. I suppose Pansy +oughtn't to hear all this; but that's what she has come to me for +--to acquire the tone of society. There's no harm in her knowing +what horrors she may be in for. When first I got an idea that my +brother had designs on you I thought of writing to you, to +recommend you, in the strongest terms, not to listen to him. Then +I thought it would be disloyal, and I hate anything of that kind. +Besides, as I say, I was enchanted for myself; and after all I'm +very selfish. By the way, you won't respect me, not one little +mite, and we shall never be intimate. I should like it, but you +won't. Some day, all the same, we shall be better friends than +you will believe at first. My husband will come and see you, +though, as you probably know, he's on no sort of terms with +Osmond. He's very fond of going to see pretty women, but I'm not +afraid of you. In the first place I don't care what he does. In +the second, you won't care a straw for him; he won't be a bit, at +any time, your affair, and, stupid as he is, he'll see you're not +his. Some day, if you can stand it, I'll tell you all about him. +Do you think my niece ought to go out of the room? Pansy, go and +practise a little in my boudoir." + +"Let her stay, please," said Isabel. "I would rather hear nothing +that Pansy may not!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +One afternoon of the autumn of 1876, toward dusk, a young man of +pleasing appearance rang at the door of a small apartment on the +third floor of an old Roman house. On its being opened he +enquired for Madame Merle; whereupon the servant, a neat, plain +woman, with a French face and a lady's maid's manner, ushered him +into a diminutive drawing-room and requested the favour of his +name. "Mr. Edward Rosier," said the young man, who sat down to +wait till his hostess should appear. + +The reader will perhaps not have forgotten that Mr. Rosier was an +ornament of the American circle in Paris, but it may also be +remembered that he sometimes vanished from its horizon. He had +spent a portion of several winters at Pau, and as he was a +gentleman of constituted habits he might have continued for years +to pay his annual visit to this charming resort. In the summer of +1876, however, an incident befell him which changed the current +not only of his thoughts, but of his customary sequences. He +passed a month in the Upper Engadine and encountered at Saint +Moritz a charming young girl. To this little person he began to +pay, on the spot, particular attention: she struck him as exactly +the household angel he had long been looking for. He was never +precipitate, he was nothing if not discreet, so he forbore for +the present to declare his passion; but it seemed to him when +they parted--the young lady to go down into Italy and her admirer +to proceed to Geneva, where he was under bonds to join other +friends--that he should be romantically wretched if he were not +to see her again. The simplest way to do so was to go in the +autumn to Rome, where Miss Osmond was domiciled with her family. +Mr. Rosier started on his pilgrimage to the Italian capital and +reached it on the first of November. It was a pleasant thing to +do, but for the young man there was a strain of the heroic in the +enterprise. He might expose himself, unseasoned, to the poison of +the Roman air, which in November lay, notoriously, much in wait. +Fortune, however, favours the brave; and this adventurer, who +took three grains of quinine a day, had at the end of a month no +cause to deplore his temerity. He had made to a certain extent +good use of his time; he had devoted it in vain to finding a flaw +in Pansy Osmond's composition. She was admirably finished; she +had had the last touch; she was really a consummate piece. He +thought of her in amorous meditation a good deal as he might have +thought of a Dresden-china shepherdess. Miss Osmond, indeed, in +the bloom of her juvenility, had a hint of the rococo which +Rosier, whose taste was predominantly for that manner, could not +fail to appreciate. That he esteemed the productions of +comparatively frivolous periods would have been apparent from the +attention he bestowed upon Madame Merle's drawing-room, which, +although furnished with specimens of every style, was especially +rich in articles of the last two centuries. He had immediately +put a glass into one eye and looked round; and then "By Jove, she +has some jolly good things!" he had yearningly murmured. The room +was small and densely filled with furniture; it gave an impression +of faded silk and little statuettes which might totter if one +moved. Rosier got up and wandered about with his careful tread, +bending over the tables charged with knick-knacks and the cushions +embossed with princely arms. When Madame Merle came in she found +him standing before the fireplace with his nose very close to the +great lace flounce attached to the damask cover of the mantel. He +had lifted it delicately, as if he were smelling it. + +"It's old Venetian," she said; "it's rather good." + +"It's too good for this; you ought to wear it." + +"They tell me you have some better in Paris, in the same +situation." + +"Ah, but I can't wear mine," smiled the visitor. + +"I don't see why you shouldn't! I've better lace than that to +wear." + +His eyes wandered, lingeringly, round the room again. "You've +some very good things." + +"Yes, but I hate them." + +"Do you want to get rid of them?" the young man quickly asked. + +"No, it's good to have something to hate: one works it off!" + +"I love my things," said Mr. Rosier as he sat there flushed with +all his recognitions. "But it's not about them, nor about yours, +that I came to talk to you." He paused a moment and then, with +greater softness: "I care more for Miss Osmond than for all the +bibelots in Europe!" + +Madame Merle opened wide eyes. "Did you come to tell me that?" + +"I came to ask your advice." + +She looked at him with a friendly frown, stroking her chin with +her large white hand. "A man in love, you know, doesn't ask +advice." + +"Why not, if he's in a difficult position? That's often the case +with a man in love. I've been in love before, and I know. But +never so much as this time--really never so much. I should like +particularly to know what you think of my prospects. I'm afraid +that for Mr. Osmond I'm not--well, a real collector's piece." + +"Do you wish me to intercede?" Madame Merle asked with her fine +arms folded and her handsome mouth drawn up to the left. + +"If you could say a good word for me I should be greatly obliged. +There will be no use in my troubling Miss Osmond unless I have +good reason to believe her father will consent." + +"You're very considerate; that's in your favour. But you assume in +rather an off-hand way that I think you a prize." + +"You've been very kind to me," said the young man. "That's why I +came." + +"I'm always kind to people who have good Louis Quatorze. It's very +rare now, and there's no telling what one may get by it." With +which the left-hand corner of Madame Merle's mouth gave expression +to the joke. + +But he looked, in spite of it, literally apprehensive and +consistently strenuous. "Ah, I thought you liked me for myself!" + +"I like you very much; but, if you please, we won't analyse. +Pardon me if I seem patronising, but I think you a perfect little +gentleman. I must tell you, however, that I've not the marrying of +Pansy Osmond." + +"I didn't suppose that. But you've seemed to me intimate with her +family, and I thought you might have influence." + +Madame Merle considered. "Whom do you call her family?" + +"Why, her father; and--how do you say it in English?--her +belle-mere." + +"Mr. Osmond's her father, certainly; but his wife can scarcely be +termed a member of her family. Mrs. Osmond has nothing to do with +marrying her." + +"I'm sorry for that," said Rosier with an amiable sigh of good +faith. "I think Mrs. Osmond would favour me." + +"Very likely--if her husband doesn't." + +He raised his eyebrows. "Does she take the opposite line from +him?" + +"In everything. They think quite differently." + +"Well," said Rosier, "I'm sorry for that; but it's none of my +business. She's very fond of Pansy." + +"Yes, she's very fond of Pansy." + +"And Pansy has a great affection for her. She has told me how she +loves her as if she were her own mother." + +"You must, after all, have had some very intimate talk with the +poor child," said Madame Merle. "Have you declared your +sentiments?" + +"Never!" cried Rosier, lifting his neatly-gloved hand. "Never till +I've assured myself of those of the parents." + +"You always wait for that? You've excellent principles; you +observe the proprieties." + +"I think you're laughing at me," the young man murmured, dropping +back in his chair and feeling his small moustache. "I didn't +expect that of you, Madame Merle." + +She shook her head calmly, like a person who saw things as she saw +them. "You don't do me justice. I think your conduct in excellent +taste and the best you could adopt. Yes, that's what I think." + +"I wouldn't agitate her--only to agitate her; I love her too +much for that," said Ned Rosier. + +"I'm glad, after all, that you've told me," Madame Merle went on. +"Leave it to me a little; I think I can help you." + +"I said you were the person to come to!" her visitor cried with +prompt elation. + +"You were very clever," Madame Merle returned more dryly. "When I +say I can help you I mean once assuming your cause to be good. Let +us think a little if it is." + +"I'm awfully decent, you know," said Rosier earnestly. "I won't +say I've no faults, but I'll say I've no vices." + +"All that's negative, and it always depends, also, on what people +call vices. What's the positive side? What's the virtuous? What +have you got besides your Spanish lace and your Dresden teacups?" + +"I've a comfortable little fortune--about forty thousand francs a +year. With the talent I have for arranging, we can live +beautifully on such an income." + +"Beautifully, no. Sufficiently, yes. Even that depends on where +you live." + +"Well, in Paris. I would undertake it in Paris." + +Madame Merle's mouth rose to the left. "It wouldn't be famous; +you'd have to make use of the teacups, and they'd get broken." + +"We don't want to be famous. If Miss Osmond should have everything +pretty it would be enough. When one's as pretty as she one can +afford--well, quite cheap faience. She ought never to wear +anything but muslin--without the sprig," said Rosier reflectively. + +"Wouldn't you even allow her the sprig? She'd be much obliged to +you at any rate for that theory." + +"It's the correct one, I assure you; and I'm sure she'd enter into +it. She understands all that; that's why I love her." + +"She's a very good little girl, and most tidy--also extremely +graceful. But her father, to the best of my belief, can give her +nothing." + +Rosier scarce demurred. "I don't in the least desire that he +should. But I may remark, all the same, that he lives like a rich +man." + +"The money's his wife's; she brought him a large fortune." + +"Mrs. Osmond then is very fond of her stepdaughter; she may do +something." + +"For a love-sick swain you have your eyes about you!" Madame +Merle exclaimed with a laugh. + +"I esteem a dot very much. I can do without it, but I esteem it." + +"Mrs. Osmond," Madame Merle went on, "will probably prefer to keep +her money for her own children." + +"Her own children? Surely she has none." + +"She may have yet. She had a poor little boy, who died two years +ago, six months after his birth. Others therefore may come." + +"I hope they will, if it will make her happy. She's a splendid +woman." + +Madame Merle failed to burst into speech. "Ah, about her there's +much to be said. Splendid as you like! We've not exactly made out +that you're a parti. The absence of vices is hardly a source of +income. + +"Pardon me, I think it may be," said Rosier quite lucidly. + +"You'll be a touching couple, living on your innocence!" + +"I think you underrate me." + +"You're not so innocent as that? Seriously," said Madame Merle, +"of course forty thousand francs a year and a nice character are a +combination to be considered. I don't say it's to be jumped at, +but there might be a worse offer. Mr. Osmond, however, will +probably incline to believe he can do better." + +"HE can do so perhaps; but what can his daughter do? She can't do +better than marry the man she loves. For she does, you know," +Rosier added eagerly. + +"She does--I know it." + +"Ah," cried the young man, "I said you were the person to come to." + +"But I don't know how you know it, if you haven't asked her," +Madame Merle went on. + +"In such a case there's no need of asking and telling; as you say, +we're an innocent couple. How did YOU know it?" + +"I who am not innocent? By being very crafty. Leave it to me; I'll +find out for you." + +Rosier got up and stood smoothing his hat. "You say that rather +coldly. Don't simply find out how it is, but try to make it as it +should be." + +"I'll do my best. I'll try to make the most of your advantages." + +"Thank you so very much. Meanwhile then I'll say a word to Mrs. +Osmond." + +"Gardez-vous-en bien!" And Madame Merle was on her feet. "Don't +set her going, or you'll spoil everything." + +Rosier gazed into his hat; he wondered whether his hostess HAD +been after all the right person to come to. "I don't think I +understand you. I'm an old friend of Mrs. Osmond, and I think she +would like me to succeed." + +"Be an old friend as much as you like; the more old friends she +has the better, for she doesn't get on very well with some of her +new. But don't for the present try to make her take up the cudgels +for you. Her husband may have other views, and, as a person who +wishes her well, I advise you not to multiply points of difference +between them." + +Poor Rosier's face assumed an expression of alarm; a suit for the +hand of Pansy Osmond was even a more complicated business than his +taste for proper transitions had allowed. But the extreme good +sense which he concealed under a surface suggesting that of a +careful owner's "best set" came to his assistance. "I don't see +that I'm bound to consider Mr. Osmond so very much!" he exclaimed. +"No, but you should consider HER. You say you're an old friend. +Would you make her suffer?" + +"Not for the world." + +"Then be very careful, and let the matter alone till I've taken a +few soundings." + +"Let the matter alone, dear Madame Merle? Remember that I'm in +love." + +"Oh, you won't burn up! Why did you come to me, if you're not to +heed what I say?" + +"You're very kind; I'll be very good," the young man promised. +"But I'm afraid Mr. Osmond's pretty hard," he added in his mild +voice as he went to the door. + +Madame Merle gave a short laugh. "It has been said before. But his +wife isn't easy either." + +"Ah, she's a splendid woman!" Ned Rosier repeated, for departure. +He resolved that his conduct should be worthy of an aspirant who +was already a model of discretion; but he saw nothing in any +pledge he had given Madame Merle that made it improper he should +keep himself in spirits by an occasional visit to Miss Osmond's +home. He reflected constantly on what his adviser had said to +him, and turned over in his mind the impression of her rather +circumspect tone. He had gone to her de confiance, as they +put it in Paris; but it was possible he had been precipitate. He +found difficulty in thinking of himself as rash--he had incurred +this reproach so rarely; but it certainly was true that he had +known Madame Merle only for the last month, and that his thinking +her a delightful woman was not, when one came to look into it, a +reason for assuming that she would be eager to push Pansy Osmond +into his arms, gracefully arranged as these members might be to +receive her. She had indeed shown him benevolence, and she was a +person of consideration among the girl's people, where she had a +rather striking appearance (Rosier had more than once wondered how +she managed it) of being intimate without being familiar. But +possibly he had exaggerated these advantages. There was no +particular reason why she should take trouble for him; a charming +woman was charming to every one, and Rosier felt rather a fool +when he thought of his having appealed to her on the ground that +she had distinguished him. Very likely--though she had appeared to +say it in joke--she was really only thinking of his bibelots. Had +it come into her head that he might offer her two or three of the +gems of his collection? If she would only help him to marry Miss +Osmond he would present her with his whole museum. He could hardly +say so to her outright; it would seem too gross a bribe. But he +should like her to believe it. + +It was with these thoughts that he went again to Mrs. Osmond's, +Mrs. Osmond having an "evening"--she had taken the Thursday of +each week--when his presence could be accounted for on general +principles of civility. The object of Mr. Rosier's well-regulated +affection dwelt in a high house in the very heart of Rome; a dark +and massive structure overlooking a sunny piazzetta in the +neighbourhood of the Farnese Palace. In a palace, too, little +Pansy lived--a palace by Roman measure, but a dungeon to poor +Rosier's apprehensive mind. It seemed to him of evil omen that the +young lady he wished to marry, and whose fastidious father he +doubted of his ability to conciliate, should be immured in a kind +of domestic fortress, a pile which bore a stern old Roman name, +which smelt of historic deeds, of crime and craft and violence, +which was mentioned in "Murray" and visited by tourists who +looked, on a vague survey, disappointed and depressed, and which +had frescoes by Caravaggio in the piano nobile and a row of +mutilated statues and dusty urns in the wide, nobly-arched +loggia overhanging the damp court where a fountain gushed out +of a mossy niche. In a less preoccupied frame of mind he could +have done justice to the Palazzo Roccanera; he could have entered +into the sentiment of Mrs. Osmond, who had once told him that on +settling themselves in Rome she and her husband had chosen this +habitation for the love of local colour. It had local colour +enough, and though he knew less about architecture than about +Limoges enamels he could see that the proportions of the windows +and even the details of the cornice had quite the grand air. But +Rosier was haunted by the conviction that at picturesque periods +young girls had been shut up there to keep them from their true +loves, and hen, under the threat of being thrown into convents, +had been forced into unholy marriages. There was one point, +however, to which he always did justice when once he found +himself in Mrs. Osmond's warm, rich-looking reception-rooms, +which were on the second floor. He acknowledged that these people +were very strong in "good things." It was a taste of Osmond's +own--not at all of hers; this she had told him the first time he +came to the house, when, after asking himself for a quarter of an +hour whether they had even better "French" than he in Paris, he +was obliged on the spot to admit that they had, very much, and +vanquished his envy, as a gentleman should, to the point of +expressing to his hostess his pure admiration of her treasures. +He learned from Mrs. Osmond that her husband had made a large +collection before their marriage and that, though he had annexed +a number of fine pieces within the last three years, he had +achieved his greatest finds at a time when he had not the +advantage of her advice. Rosier interpreted this information +according to principles of his own. For "advice" read "cash," he +said to himself; and the fact that Gilbert Osmond had landed his +highest prizes during his impecunious season confirmed his most +cherished doctrine--the doctrine that a collector may freely be +poor if he be only patient. In general, when Rosier presented +himself on a Thursday evening, his first recognition was for the +walls of the saloon; there were three or four objects his eyes +really yearned for. But after his talk with Madame Merle he felt +the extreme seriousness of his position; and now, when he came +in, he looked about for the daughter of the house with such +eagerness as might be permitted a gentleman whose smile, as he +crossed a threshold, always took everything comfortable for +granted. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +Pansy was not in the first of the rooms, a large apartment with a +concave ceiling and walls covered with old red damask; it was here +Mrs. Osmond usually sat--though she was not in her most customary +place to-night--and that a circle of more especial intimates +gathered about the fire. The room was flushed with subdued, +diffused brightness; it contained the larger things and--almost +always--an odour of flowers. Pansy on this occasion was +presumably in the next of the series, the resort of younger +visitors, where tea was served. Osmond stood before the chimney, +leaning back with his hands behind him; he had one foot up and +was warming the sole. Half a dozen persons, scattered near him, +were talking together; but he was not in the conversation; his +eyes had an expression, frequent with them, that seemed to +represent them as engaged with objects more worth their while +than the appearances actually thrust upon them. Rosier, coming in +unannounced, failed to attract his attention; but the young man, +who was very punctilious, though he was even exceptionally +conscious that it was the wife, not the husband, he had come to +see, went up to shake hands with him. Osmond put out his left +hand, without changing his attitude. + +"How d'ye do? My wife's somewhere about." + +"Never fear; I shall find her," said Rosier cheerfully. + +Osmond, however, took him in; he had never in his life felt +himself so efficiently looked at. "Madame Merle has told him, and +he doesn't like it," he privately reasoned. He had hoped Madame +Merle would be there, but she was not in sight; perhaps she was in +one of the other rooms or would come later. He had never +especially delighted in Gilbert Osmond, having a fancy he gave +himself airs. But Rosier was not quickly resentful, and where +politeness was concerned had ever a strong need of being quite in +the right. He looked round him and smiled, all without help, and +then in a moment, "I saw a jolly good piece of Capo di Monte +to-day," he said. + +Osmond answered nothing at first; but presently, while he warmed +his boot-sole, "I don't care a fig for Capo di Monte!" he +returned. + +"I hope you're not losing your interest?" + +"In old pots and plates? Yes, I'm losing my interest." + +Rosier for an instant forgot the delicacy of his position. "You're +not thinking of parting with a--a piece or two?" + +"No, I'm not thinking of parting with anything at all, Mr. +Rosier," said Osmond, with his eyes still on the eyes of his +visitor. + +"Ah, you want to keep, but not to add," Rosier remarked brightly. + +"Exactly. I've nothing I wish to match." + +Poor Rosier was aware he had blushed; he was distressed at his +want of assurance. "Ah, well, I have!" was all he could murmur; +and he knew his murmur was partly lost as he turned away. He took +his course to the adjoining room and met Mrs. Osmond coming out of +the deep doorway. She was dressed in black velvet; she looked high +and splendid, as he had said, and yet oh so radiantly gentle! We +know what Mr. Rosier thought of her and the terms in which, to +Madame Merle, he had expressed his admiration. Like his +appreciation of her dear little stepdaughter it was based partly +on his eye for decorative character, his instinct for +authenticity; but also on a sense for uncatalogued values, for +that secret of a "lustre" beyond any recorded losing or +rediscovering, which his devotion to brittle wares had still not +disqualified him to recognise. Mrs. Osmond, at present, might well +have gratified such tastes. The years had touched her only to +enrich her; the flower of her youth had not faded, it only hung +more quietly on its stem. She had lost something of that quick +eagerness to which her husband had privately taken exception--she +had more the air of being able to wait. Now, at all events, framed +in the gilded doorway, she struck our young man as the picture of +a gracious lady. "You see I'm very regular," he said. "But who +should be if I'm not?" + +"Yes, I've known you longer than any one here. But we mustn't +indulge in tender reminiscences. I want to introduce you to a +young lady." + +"Ah, please, what young lady?" Rosier was immensely obliging; +but this was not what he had come for. + +"She sits there by the fire in pink and has no one to speak to." +Rosier hesitated a moment. "Can't Mr. Osmond speak to her? He's +within six feet of her." + +Mrs. Osmond also hesitated. "She's not very lively, and he +doesn't like dull people." + +"But she's good enough for me? Ah now, that's hard!" + +"I only mean that you've ideas for two. And then you're so +obliging." + +"No, he's not--to me." And Mrs. Osmond vaguely smiled. + +"That's a sign he should be doubly so to other women. + +"So I tell him," she said, still smiling. + +"You see I want some tea," Rosier went on, looking wistfully +beyond. + +"That's perfect. Go and give some to my young lady." + +"Very good; but after that I'll abandon her to her fate. The +simple truth is I'm dying to have a little talk with Miss +Osmond." + +"Ah," said Isabel, turning away, "I can't help you there!" + +Five minutes later, while he handed a tea-cup to the damsel in +pink, whom he had conducted into the other room, he wondered +whether, in making to Mrs. Osmond the profession I have just +quoted, he had broken the spirit of his promise to Madame Merle. +Such a question was capable of occupying this young man's mind +for a considerable time. At last, however, he became-- +comparatively speaking--reckless; he cared little what promises +he might break. The fate to which he had threatened to abandon +the damsel in pink proved to be none so terrible; for Pansy +Osmond, who had given him the tea for his companion--Pansy was as +fond as ever of making tea--presently came and talked to her. +Into this mild colloquy Edward Rosier entered little; he sat by +moodily, watching his small sweetheart. If we look at her now +through his eyes we shall at first not see much to remind us of +the obedient little girl who, at Florence, three years before, +was sent to walk short distances in the Cascine while her father +and Miss Archer talked together of matters sacred to elder +people. But after a moment we shall perceive that if at nineteen +Pansy has become a young lady she doesn't really fill out the +part; that if she has grown very pretty she lacks in a deplorable +degree the quality known and esteemed in the appearance of +females as style; and that if she is dressed with great freshness +she wears her smart attire with an undisguised appearance of +saving it--very much as if it were lent her for the occasion. +Edward Rosier, it would seem, would have been just the man to +note these defects; and in point of fact there was not a quality +of this young lady, of any sort, that he had not noted. Only he +called her qualities by names of his own--some of which indeed +were happy enough. "No, she's unique--she's absolutely unique," +he used to say to himself; and you may be sure that not for an +instant would he have admitted to you that she was wanting in +style. Style? Why, she had the style of a little princess; if you +couldn't see it you had no eye. It was not modern, it was not +conscious, it would produce no impression in Broadway; the small, +serious damsel, in her stiff little dress, only looked like an +Infanta of Velasquez. This was enough for Edward Rosier, who +thought her delightfully old-fashioned. Her anxious eyes, her +charming lips, her slip of a figure, were as touching as a +childish prayer. He had now an acute desire to know just to what +point she liked him--a desire which made him fidget as he sat in +his chair. It made him feel hot, so that he had to pat his +forehead with his handkerchief; he had never been so uncomfortable. +She was such a perfect jeune fille, and one couldn't make of a +jeune fille the enquiry requisite for throwing light on such a +point. A jeune fille was what Rosier had always dreamed of--a +jeune fille who should yet not be French, for he had felt that +this nationality would complicate the question. He was sure Pansy +had never looked at a newspaper and that, in the way of novels, +if she had read Sir Walter Scott it was the very most. An +American jeune fille--what could be better than that? She would +be frank and gay, and yet would not have walked alone, nor have +received letters from men, nor have been taken to the theatre to +see the comedy of manners. Rosier could not deny that, as the +matter stood, it would be a breach of hospitality to appeal +directly to this unsophisticated creature; but he was now in +imminent danger of asking himself if hospitality were the most +sacred thing in the world. Was not the sentiment that he +entertained for Miss Osmond of infinitely greater importance? Of +greater importance to him--yes; but not probably to the master of +the house. There was one comfort; even if this gentleman had been +placed on his guard by Madame Merle he would not have extended +the warning to Pansy; it would not have been part of his policy +to let her know that a prepossessing young man was in love with +her. But he WAS in love with her, the prepossessing young man; +and all these restrictions of circumstance had ended by +irritating him. What had Gilbert Osmond meant by giving him two +fingers of his left hand? If Osmond was rude, surely he himself +might be bold. He felt extremely bold after the dull girl in so +vain a disguise of rose-colour had responded to the call of her +mother, who came in to say, with a significant simper at Rosier, +that she must carry her off to other triumphs. The mother and +daughter departed together, and now it depended only upon him +that he should be virtually alone with Pansy. He had never been +alone with her before; he had never been alone with a jeune +fille. It was a great moment; poor Rosier began to pat his +forehead again. There was another room beyond the one in which +they stood--a small room that had been thrown open and lighted, +but that, the company not being numerous, had remained empty all +the evening. It was empty yet; it was upholstered in pale yellow; +there were several lamps; through the open door it looked the +very temple of authorised love. Rosier gazed a moment through +this aperture; he was afraid that Pansy would run away, and felt +almost capable of stretching out a hand to detain her. But she +lingered where the other maiden had left them, making no motion to +join a knot of visitors on the far side of the room. For a little +it occurred to him that she was frightened--too frightened +perhaps to move; but a second glance assured him she was not, and +he then reflected that she was too innocent indeed for that. +After a supreme hesitation he asked her if he might go and look +at the yellow room, which seemed so attractive yet so virginal. +He had been there already with Osmond, to inspect the furniture, +which was of the First French Empire, and especially to admire +the clock (which he didn't really admire), an immense classic +structure of that period. He therefore felt that he had now begun +to manoeuvre. + +"Certainly, you may go," said Pansy; "and if you like I'll show +you." She was not in the least frightened. + +"That's just what I hoped you'd say; you're so very kind," Rosier +murmured. + +They went in together; Rosier really thought the room very ugly, +and it seemed cold. The same idea appeared to have struck Pansy. +"It's not for winter evenings; it's more for summer," she said. +"It's papa's taste; he has so much." + +He had a good deal, Rosier thought; but some of it was very bad. +He looked about him; he hardly knew what to say in such a +situation. "Doesn't Mrs. Osmond care how her rooms are done? Has +she no taste?" he asked. + +"Oh yes, a great deal; but it's more for literature," said Pansy +--"and for conversation. But papa cares also for those things. I +think he knows everything." + +Rosier was silent a little. "There's one thing I'm sure he +knows!" he broke out presently. "He knows that when I come here +it's, with all respect to him, with all respect to Mrs. Osmond, +who's so charming--it's really," said the young man, "to see +you!" + +"To see me?" And Pansy raised her vaguely troubled eyes. + +"To see you; that's what I come for," Rosier repeated, feeling +the intoxication of a rupture with authority. + +Pansy stood looking at him, simply, intently, openly; a blush was +not needed to make her face more modest. "I thought it was for +that." + +"And it was not disagreeable to you?" + +"I couldn't tell; I didn't know. You never told me," said Pansy. + +"I was afraid of offending you." + +"You don't offend me," the young girl murmured, smiling as if an +angel had kissed her. + +"You like me then, Pansy?" Rosier asked very gently, feeling very +happy. + +"Yes--I like you." + +They had walked to the chimney-piece where the big cold Empire +clock was perched; they were well within the room and beyond +observation from without. The tone in which she had said these +four words seemed to him the very breath of nature, and his only +answer could be to take her hand and hold it a moment. Then he +raised it to his lips. She submitted, still with her pure, +trusting smile, in which there was something ineffably passive. +She liked him--she had liked him all the while; now anything +might happen! She was ready--she had been ready always, waiting +for him to speak. If he had not spoken she would have waited for +ever; but when the word came she dropped like the peach from the +shaken tree. Rosier felt that if he should draw her toward him +and hold her to his heart she would submit without a murmur, +would rest there without a question. It was true that this would +be a rash experiment in a yellow Empire salottino. She had +known it was for her he came, and yet like what a perfect little +lady she had carried it off! + +"You're very dear to me," he murmured, trying to believe that +there was after all such a thing as hospitality. + +She looked a moment at her hand, where he had kissed it. "Did you +say papa knows?" + +"You told me just now he knows everything." + +"I think you must make sure," said Pansy. + +"Ah, my dear, when once I'm sure of YOU!" Rosier murmured in her +ear; whereupon she turned back to the other rooms with a little +air of consistency which seemed to imply that their appeal should +be immediate. + +The other rooms meanwhile had become conscious of the arrival of +Madame Merle, who, wherever she went, produced an impression when +she entered. How she did it the most attentive spectator could +not have told you, for she neither spoke loud, nor laughed +profusely, nor moved rapidly, nor dressed with splendour, nor +appealed in any appreciable manner to the audience. Large, fair, +smiling, serene, there was something in her very tranquillity +that diffused itself, and when people looked round it was +because of a sudden quiet. On this occasion she had done the +quietest thing she could do; after embracing Mrs. Osmond, which +was more striking, she had sat down on a small sofa to commune +with the master of the house. There was a brief exchange of +commonplaces between these two--they always paid, in public, a +certain formal tribute to the commonplace--and then Madame Merle, +whose eyes had been wandering, asked if little Mr. Rosier had +come this evening. + +"He came nearly an hour ago--but he has disappeared," Osmond +said. + +"And where's Pansy?" + +"In the other room. There are several people there." + +"He's probably among them," said Madame Merle. + +"Do you wish to see him?" Osmond asked in a provokingly +pointless tone. + +Madame Merle looked at him a moment; she knew each of his tones +to the eighth of a note. "Yes, I should like to say to him that +I've told you what he wants, and that it interests you but +feebly." + +"Don't tell him that. He'll try to interest me more--which is +exactly what I don't want. Tell him I hate his proposal." + +"But you don't hate it." + +"It doesn't signify; I don't love it. I let him see that, myself, +this evening; I was rude to him on purpose. That sort of thing's +a great bore. There's no hurry." + +"I'll tell him that you'll take time and think it over." + +"No, don't do that. He'll hang on." + +"If I discourage him he'll do the same." + +"Yes, but in the one case he'll try to talk and explain--which +would be exceedingly tiresome. In the other he'll probably hold +his tongue and go in for some deeper game. That will leave me +quiet. I hate talking with a donkey." + +"Is that what you call poor Mr. Rosier?" + +"Oh, he's a nuisance--with his eternal majolica." + +Madame Merle dropped her eyes; she had a faint smile. "He's a +gentleman, he has a charming temper; and, after all, an income of +forty thousand francs!" + +"It's misery--'genteel' misery," Osmond broke in. "It's not what +I've dreamed of for Pansy." + +"Very good then. He has promised me not to speak to her." + +"Do you believe him?" Osmond asked absentmindedly. + +"Perfectly. Pansy has thought a great deal about him; but I don't +suppose you consider that that matters." + +"I don't consider it matters at all; but neither do I believe she +has thought of him." + +"That opinion's more convenient," said Madame Merle quietly. + +"Has she told you she's in love with him?" + +"For what do you take her? And for what do you take me?" Madame +Merle added in a moment. + +Osmond had raised his foot and was resting his slim ankle on the +other knee; he clasped his ankle in his hand familiarly--his +long, fine forefinger and thumb could make a ring for it--and +gazed a while before him. "This kind of thing doesn't find me +unprepared. It's what I educated her for. It was all for this-- +that when such a case should come up she should do what I +prefer." + +"I'm not afraid that she'll not do it." + +"Well then, where's the hitch?" + +"I don't see any. But, all the same, I recommend you not to get +rid of Mr. Rosier. Keep him on hand; he may be useful." + +"I can't keep him. Keep him yourself." + +"Very good; I'll put him into a corner and allow him so much a +day." Madame Merle had, for the most part, while they talked, +been glancing about her; it was her habit in this situation, just +as it was her habit to interpose a good many blank-looking +pauses. A long drop followed the last words I have quoted; and +before it had ended she saw Pansy come out of the adjoining room, +followed by Edward Rosier. The girl advanced a few steps and then +stopped and stood looking at Madame Merle and at her father. + +"He has spoken to her," Madame Merle went on to Osmond. + +Her companion never turned his head. "So much for your belief in +his promises. He ought to be horsewhipped." + +"He intends to confess, poor little man!" + +Osmond got up; he had now taken a sharp look at his daughter. "It +doesn't matter," he murmured, turning away. + +Pansy after a moment came up to Madame Merle with her little +manner of unfamiliar politeness. This lady's reception of her was +not more intimate; she simply, as she rose from the sofa, gave +her a friendly smile. + +"You're very late," the young creature gently said. + +"My dear child, I'm never later than I intend to be." + +Madame Merle had not got up to be gracious to Pansy; she moved +toward Edward Rosier. He came to meet her and, very quickly, as +if to get it off his mind, "I've spoken to her!" he whispered. + +"I know it, Mr. Rosier." + +"Did she tell you?" + +"Yes, she told me. Behave properly for the rest of the evening, +and come and see me to-morrow at a quarter past five." She was +severe, and in the manner in which she turned her back to him +there was a degree of contempt which caused him to mutter a +decent imprecation. + +He had no intention of speaking to Osmond; it was neither the +time nor the place. But he instinctively wandered toward Isabel, +who sat talking with an old lady. He sat down on the other side +of her; the old lady was Italian, and Rosier took for granted she +understood no English. "You said just now you wouldn't help me," +he began to Mrs. Osmond. "Perhaps you'll feel differently when +you know--when you know--!" + +Isabel met his hesitation. "When I know what?" + +"That she's all right." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Well, that we've come to an understanding." + +"She's all wrong," said Isabel. "It won't do." + +Poor Rosier gazed at her half-pleadingly, half-angrily; a sudden +flush testified to his sense of injury. "I've never been treated +so," he said. "What is there against me, after all? That's not +the way I'm usually considered. I could have married twenty +times." + +"It's a pity you didn't. I don't mean twenty times, but once, +comfortably," Isabel added, smiling kindly. "You're not rich +enough for Pansy." + +"She doesn't care a straw for one's money." + +"No, but her father does." + +"Ah yes, he has proved that!" cried the young man. + +Isabel got up, turning away from him, leaving her old lady +without ceremony; and he occupied himself for the next ten +minutes in pretending to look at Gilbert Osmond's collection of +miniatures, which were neatly arranged on a series of small +velvet screens. But he looked without seeing; his cheek burned; +he was too full of his sense of injury. It was certain that he +had never been treated that way before; he was not used to being +thought not good enough. He knew how good he was, and if such a +fallacy had not been so pernicious he could have laughed at it. +He searched again for Pansy, but she had disappeared, and his +main desire was now to get out of the house. Before doing so he +spoke once more to Isabel; it was not agreeable to him to reflect +that he had just said a rude thing to her--the only point that +would now justify a low view of him. + +"I referred to Mr. Osmond as I shouldn't have done, a while ago," +he began. "But you must remember my situation." + +"I don't remember what you said," she answered coldly. + +"Ah, you're offended, and now you'll never help me." + +She was silent an instant, and then with a change of tone: "It's +not that I won't; I simply can't!" Her manner was almost +passionate. + +"If you COULD, just a little, I'd never again speak of your +husband save as an angel." + +"The inducement's great," said Isabel gravely--inscrutably, as he +afterwards, to himself, called it; and she gave him, straight in +the eyes, a look which was also inscrutable. It made him remember +somehow that he had known her as a child; and yet it was keener +than he liked, and he took himself off. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +He went to see Madame Merle on the morrow, and to his surprise +she let him off rather easily. But she made him promise that he +would stop there till something should have been decided. Mr. +Osmond had had higher expectations; it was very true that as he +had no intention of giving his daughter a portion such +expectations were open to criticism or even, if one would, to +ridicule. But she would advise Mr. Rosier not to take that tone; +if he would possess his soul in patience he might arrive at his +felicity. Mr. Osmond was not favourable to his suit, but it +wouldn't be a miracle if he should gradually come round. Pansy +would never defy her father, he might depend on that; so nothing +was to be gained by precipitation. Mr. Osmond needed to accustom +his mind to an offer of a sort that he had not hitherto +entertained, and this result must come of itself--it was useless +to try to force it. Rosier remarked that his own situation would +be in the meanwhile the most uncomfortable in the world, and +Madame Merle assured him that she felt for him. But, as she +justly declared, one couldn't have everything one wanted; she had +learned that lesson for herself. There would be no use in his +writing to Gilbert Osmond, who had charged her to tell him as +much. He wished the matter dropped for a few weeks and would +himself write when he should have anything to communicate that it +might please Mr. Rosier to hear. + +"He doesn't like your having spoken to Pansy, Ah, he doesn't like +it at all," said Madame Merle. + +"I'm perfectly willing to give him a chance to tell me so!" + +"If you do that he'll tell you more than you care to hear. Go to +the house, for the next month, as little as possible, and leave +the rest to me." + +"As little as possible? Who's to measure the possibility?" + +"Let me measure it. Go on Thursday evenings with the rest of the +world, but don't go at all at odd times, and don't fret about +Pansy. I'll see that she understands everything. She's a calm +little nature; she'll take it quietly." + +Edward Rosier fretted about Pansy a good deal, but he did as he +was advised, and awaited another Thursday evening before returning +to Palazzo Roccanera. There had been a party at dinner, so that +though he went early the company was already tolerably numerous. +Osmond, as usual, was in the first room, near the fire, staring +straight at the door, so that, not to be distinctly uncivil, +Rosier had to go and speak to him. + +"I'm glad that you can take a hint," Pansy's father said, slightly +closing his keen, conscious eyes. + +"I take no hints. But I took a message, as I supposed it to be." + +"You took it? Where did you take it?" + +It seemed to poor Rosier he was being insulted, and he waited a +moment, asking himself how much a true lover ought to submit to. +"Madame Merle gave me, as I understood it, a message from you-- +to the effect that you declined to give me the opportunity I +desire, the opportunity to explain my wishes to you." And he +flattered himself he spoke rather sternly. + +"I don't see what Madame Merle has to do with it. Why did you +apply to Madame Merle?" + +"I asked her for an opinion--for nothing more. I did so because +she had seemed to me to know you very well." + +"She doesn't know me so well as she thinks," said Osmond. + +"I'm sorry for that, because she has given me some little ground +for hope." + +Osmond stared into the fire a moment. "I set a great price on my +daughter." + +"You can't set a higher one than I do. Don't I prove it by wishing +to marry her?" + +"I wish to marry her very well," Osmond went on with a dry +impertinence which, in another mood, poor Rosier would have +admired. + +"Of course I pretend she'd marry well in marrying me. She +couldn't marry a man who loves her more--or whom, I may venture to +add, she loves more." + +"I'm not bound to accept your theories as to whom my daughter +loves"--and Osmond looked up with a quick, cold smile. + +"I'm not theorising. Your daughter has spoken." + +"Not to me," Osmond continued, now bending forward a little and +dropping his eyes to his boot-toes. + +"I have her promise, sir!" cried Rosier with the sharpness of +exasperation. + +As their voices had been pitched very low before, such a note +attracted some attention from the company. Osmond waited till +this little movement had subsided; then he said, all undisturbed: +"I think she has no recollection of having given it." + +They had been standing with their faces to the fire, and after he +had uttered these last words the master of the house turned round +again to the room. Before Rosier had time to reply he perceived +that a gentleman--a stranger--had just come in, unannounced, +according to the Roman custom, and was about to present himself +to his host. The latter smiled blandly, but somewhat blankly; the +visitor had a handsome face and a large, fair beard, and was +evidently an Englishman. + +"You apparently don't recognise me," he said with a smile that +expressed more than Osmond's. + +"Ah yes, now I do. I expected so little to see you." + +Rosier departed and went in direct pursuit of Pansy. He sought +her, as usual, in the neighbouring room, but he again encountered +Mrs. Osmond in his path. He gave his hostess no greeting--he was +too righteously indignant, but said to her crudely: "Your +husband's awfully cold-blooded." + +She gave the same mystical smile he had noticed before. "You +can't expect every one to be as hot as yourself." + +"I don't pretend to be cold, but I'm cool. What has he been doing +to his daughter?" + +"I've no idea." + +"Don't you take any interest?" Rosier demanded with his sense +that she too was irritating. + +For a moment she answered nothing; then, "No!" she said abruptly +and with a quickened light in her eyes which directly +contradicted the word. + +"Pardon me if I don't believe that. Where's Miss Osmond?" + +"In the corner, making tea. Please leave her there." + +Rosier instantly discovered his friend, who had been hidden by +intervening groups. He watched her, but her own attention was +entirely given to her occupation. "What on earth has he done to +her?" he asked again imploringly. "He declares to me she has +given me up." + +"She has not given you up," Isabel said in a low tone and without +looking at him. + +"Ah, thank you for that! Now I'll leave her alone as long as you +think proper!" + +He had hardly spoken when he saw her change colour, and became +aware that Osmond was coming toward her accompanied by the +gentleman who had just entered. He judged the latter, in spite of +the advantage of good looks and evident social experience, a +little embarrassed. "Isabel," said her husband, "I bring you an +old friend." + +Mrs. Osmond's face, though it wore a smile, was, like her old +friend's, not perfectly confident. "I'm very happy to see Lord +Warburton," she said. Rosier turned away and, now that his talk +with her had been interrupted, felt absolved from the little +pledge he had just taken. He had a quick impression that Mrs. +Osmond wouldn't notice what he did. + +Isabel in fact, to do him justice, for some time quite ceased to +observe him. She had been startled; she hardly knew if she felt a +pleasure or a pain. Lord Warburton, however, now that he was face +to face with her, was plainly quite sure of his own sense of the +matter; though his grey eyes had still their fine original +property of keeping recognition and attestation strictly sincere. +He was "heavier" than of yore and looked older; he stood there +very solidly and sensibly. + +"I suppose you didn't expect to see me," he said; "I've but just +arrived. Literally, I only got here this evening. You see I've +lost no time in coming to pay you my respects. I knew you were at +home on Thursdays." + +"You see the fame of your Thursdays has spread to England," +Osmond remarked to his wife. + +"It's very kind of Lord Warburton to come so soon; we're greatly +flattered," Isabel said. + +"Ah well, it's better than stopping in one of those horrible +inns," Osmond went on. + +"The hotel seems very good; I think it's the same at which I saw +you four years since. You know it was here in Rome that we first +met; it's a long time ago. Do you remember where I bade you +good-bye?" his lordship asked of his hostess. "It was in the +Capitol, in the first room." + +"I remember that myself," said Osmond. "I was there at the time." + +"Yes, I remember you there. I was very sorry to leave Rome--so +sorry that, somehow or other, it became almost a dismal memory, +and I've never cared to come back till to-day. But I knew you +were living here," her old friend went on to Isabel, "and I +assure you I've often thought of you. It must be a charming place +to live in," he added with a look, round him, at her established +home, in which she might have caught the dim ghost of his old +ruefulness. + +"We should have been glad to see you at any time," Osmond +observed with propriety. + +"Thank you very much. I haven't been out of England since then. +Till a month ago I really supposed my travels over." + +"I've heard of you from time to time," said Isabel, who had +already, with her rare capacity for such inward feats, taken the +measure of what meeting him again meant for her. + +"I hope you've heard no harm. My life has been a remarkably +complete blank." + +"Like the good reigns in history," Osmond suggested. He appeared +to think his duties as a host now terminated--he had performed +them so conscientiously. Nothing could have been more adequate, +more nicely measured, than his courtesy to his wife's old friend. +It was punctilious, it was explicit, it was everything but +natural--a deficiency which Lord Warburton, who, himself, had on +the whole a good deal of nature, may be supposed to have +perceived. "I'll leave you and Mrs. Osmond together," he added. +"You have reminiscences into which I don't enter." + +"I'm afraid you lose a good deal!" Lord Warburton called after +him, as he moved away, in a tone which perhaps betrayed overmuch +an appreciation of his generosity. Then the visitor turned on +Isabel the deeper, the deepest, consciousness of his look, +which gradually became more serious. "I'm really very glad to see +you." + +"It's very pleasant. You're very kind." + +"Do you know that you're changed--a little?" + +She just hesitated. "Yes--a good deal." + +"I don't mean for the worse, of course; and yet how can I say for +the better?" + +"I think I shall have no scruple in saying that to YOU," she +bravely returned. + +"Ah well, for me--it's a long time. It would be a pity there +shouldn't be something to show for it." They sat down and she +asked him about his sisters, with other enquiries of a somewhat +perfunctory kind. He answered her questions as if they interested +him, and in a few moments she saw--or believed she saw--that he +would press with less of his whole weight than of yore. Time had +breathed upon his heart and, without chilling it, given it a +relieved sense of having taken the air. Isabel felt her usual +esteem for Time rise at a bound. Her friend's manner was +certainly that of a contented man, one who would rather like +people, or like her at least, to know him for such. "There's +something I must tell you without more delay," he resumed. "I've +brought Ralph Touchett with me." + +"Brought him with you?" Isabel's surprise was great. + +"He's at the hotel; he was too tired to come out and has gone to +bed." + +"I'll go to see him," she immediately said. + +"That's exactly what I hoped you'd do. I had an idea you hadn't +seen much of him since your marriage, that in fact your relations +were a--a little more formal. That's why I hesitated--like an +awkward Briton." + +"I'm as fond of Ralph as ever," Isabel answered. "But why has he +come to Rome?" The declaration was very gentle, the question a +little sharp. + +"Because he's very far gone, Mrs. Osmond." + +"Rome then is no place for him. I heard from him that he had +determined to give up his custom of wintering abroad and to +remain in England, indoors, in what he called an artificial +climate." + +"Poor fellow, he doesn't succeed with the artificial! I went to +see him three weeks ago, at Gardencourt, and found him thoroughly +ill. He has been getting worse every year, and now he has no +strength left. He smokes no more cigarettes! He had got up an +artificial climate indeed; the house was as hot as Calcutta. +Nevertheless he had suddenly taken it into his head to start for +Sicily. I didn't believe in it--neither did the doctors, nor any +of his friends. His mother, as I suppose you know, is in America, +so there was no one to prevent him. He stuck to his idea that it +would be the saving of him to spend the winter at Catania. He +said he could take servants and furniture, could make himself +comfortable, but in point of fact he hasn't brought anything. I +wanted him at least to go by sea, to save fatigue; but he said he +hated the sea and wished to stop at Rome. After that, though I +thought it all rubbish, I made up my mind to come with him. I'm +acting as--what do you call it in America?--as a kind of +moderator. Poor Ralph's very moderate now. We left England a +fortnight ago, and he has been very bad on the way. He can't keep +warm, and the further south we come the more he feels the cold. +He has got rather a good man, but I'm afraid he's beyond human +help. I wanted him to take with him some clever fellow--I mean +some sharp young doctor; but he wouldn't hear of it. If you don't +mind my saying so, I think it was a most extraordinary time for +Mrs. Touchett to decide on going to America." + +Isabel had listened eagerly; her face was full of pain and +wonder. "My aunt does that at fixed periods and lets nothing turn +her aside. When the date comes round she starts; I think she'd +have started if Ralph had been dying." + +"I sometimes think he IS dying," Lord Warburton said. + +Isabel sprang up. "I'll go to him then now." + +He checked her; he was a little disconcerted at the quick effect +of his words. "I don't mean I thought so to-night. On the +contrary, to-day, in the train, he seemed particularly well; the +idea of our reaching Rome--he's very fond of Rome, you know-- +gave him strength. An hour ago, when I bade him goodnight, he +told me he was very tired, but very happy. Go to him in the +morning; that's all I mean. I didn't tell him I was coming here; +I didn't decide to till after we had separated. Then I remembered +he had told me you had an evening, and that it was this very +Thursday. It occurred to me to come in and tell you he's here, +and let you know you had perhaps better not wait for him to call. +I think he said he hadn't written to you." There was no need of +Isabel's declaring that she would act upon Lord Warburton's +information; she looked, as she sat there, like a winged creature +held back. "Let alone that I wanted to see you for myself," her +visitor gallantly added. + +"I don't understand Ralph's plan; it seems to me very wild," she +said. "I was glad to think of him between those thick walls at +Gardencourt." + +"He was completely alone there; the thick walls were his only +company." + +"You went to see him; you've been extremely kind." + +"Oh dear, I had nothing to do," said Lord Warburton. + +"We hear, on the contrary, that you're doing great things. Every +one speaks of you as a great statesman, and I'm perpetually +seeing your name in the Times, which, by the way, doesn't +appear to hold it in reverence. You're apparently as wild a +radical as ever." + +"I don't feel nearly so wild; you know the world has come round +to me. Touchett and I have kept up a sort of parliamentary debate +all the way from London. I tell him he's the last of the Tories, +and he calls me the King of the Goths--says I have, down to the +details of my personal appearance, every sign of the brute. So +you see there's life in him yet." + +Isabel had many questions to ask about Ralph, but she abstained +from asking them all. She would see for herself on the morrow. +She perceived that after a little Lord Warburton would tire of +that subject--he had a conception of other possible topics. She +was more and more able to say to herself that he had recovered, +and, what is more to the point, she was able to say it without +bitterness. He had been for her, of old, such an image of +urgency, of insistence, of something to be resisted and reasoned +with, that his reappearance at first menaced her with a new +trouble. But she was now reassured; she could see he only wished +to live with her on good terms, that she was to understand he had +forgiven her and was incapable of the bad taste of making pointed +allusions. This was not a form of revenge, of course; she had no +suspicion of his wishing to punish her by an exhibition of +disillusionment; she did him the justice to believe it had simply +occurred to him that she would now take a good-natured interest +in knowing he was resigned. It was the resignation of a healthy, +manly nature, in which sentimental wounds could never fester. +British politics had cured him; she had known they would. She +gave an envious thought to the happier lot of men, who are always +free to plunge into the healing waters of action. Lord Warburton +of course spoke of the past, but he spoke of it without +implications; he even went so far as to allude to their former +meeting in Rome as a very jolly time. And he told her he had been +immensely interested in hearing of her marriage and that it was a +great pleasure for him to make Mr. Osmond's acquaintance--since +he could hardly be said to have made it on the other occasion. He +had not written to her at the time of that passage in her +history, but he didn't apologise to her for this. The only thing +he implied was that they were old friends, intimate friends. It +was very much as an intimate friend that he said to her, +suddenly, after a short pause which he had occupied in smiling, +as he looked about him, like a person amused, at a provincial +entertainment, by some innocent game of guesses-- + +"Well now, I suppose you're very happy and all that sort of +thing?" + +Isabel answered with a quick laugh; the tone of his remark struck +her almost as the accent of comedy. "Do you suppose if I were not +I'd tell you?" + +"Well, I don't know. I don't see why not." + +"I do then. Fortunately, however, I'm very happy." + +"You've got an awfully good house." + +"Yes, it's very pleasant. But that's not my merit--it's my +husband's." + +"You mean he has arranged it?" + +"Yes, it was nothing when we came." + +"He must be very clever." + +"He has a genius for upholstery," said Isabel. + +"There's a great rage for that sort of thing now. But you must +have a taste of your own." + +"I enjoy things when they're done, but I've no ideas. I can never +propose anything." + +"Do you mean you accept what others propose?" + +"Very willingly, for the most part." + +"That's a good thing to know. I shall propose to you something." + +"It will be very kind. I must say, however, that I've in a few +small ways a certain initiative. I should like for instance to +introduce you to some of these people." + +"Oh, please don't; I prefer sitting here. Unless it be to that +young lady in the blue dress. She has a charming face." + +"The one talking to the rosy young man? That's my husband's +daughter." + +"Lucky man, your husband. What a dear little maid!" + +"You must make her acquaintance." + +"In a moment--with pleasure. I like looking at her from here." He +ceased to look at her, however, very soon; his eyes constantly +reverted to Mrs. Osmond. "Do you know I was wrong just now in +saying you had changed?" he presently went on. "You seem to me, +after all, very much the same." + +"And yet I find it a great change to be married," said Isabel +with mild gaiety. + +"It affects most people more than it has affected you. You see I +haven't gone in for that." + +"It rather surprises me." + +"You ought to understand it, Mrs. Osmond. But I do want to +marry," he added more simply. + +"It ought to be very easy," Isabel said, rising--after which she +reflected, with a pang perhaps too visible, that she was hardly +the person to say this. It was perhaps because Lord Warburton +divined the pang that he generously forbore to call her attention +to her not having contributed then to the facility. + +Edward Rosier had meanwhile seated himself on an ottoman beside +Pansy's tea-table. He pretended at first to talk to her about +trifles, and she asked him who was the new gentleman conversing +with her stepmother. + +"He's an English lord," said Rosier. "I don't know more." + +"I wonder if he'll have some tea. The English are so fond of +tea." + +"Never mind that; I've something particular to say to you." + +"Don't speak so loud every one will hear," said Pansy. + +"They won't hear if you continue to look that way: as if your +only thought in life was the wish the kettle would boil." + +"It has just been filled; the servants never know!"--and she +sighed with the weight of her responsibility. + +"Do you know what your father said to me just now? That you +didn't mean what you said a week ago." + +"I don't mean everything I say. How can a young girl do that? But +I mean what I say to you." + +"He told me you had forgotten me." + +"Ah no, I don't forget," said Pansy, showing her pretty teeth in +a fixed smile. + +"Then everything's just the very same?" + +"Ah no, not the very same. Papa has been terribly severe." + +"What has he done to you?" + +"He asked me what you had done to me, and I told him everything. +Then he forbade me to marry you." + +"You needn't mind that." + +"Oh yes, I must indeed. I can't disobey papa." + +"Not for one who loves you as I do, and whom you pretend to +love?" + +She raised the lid of the tea-pot, gazing into this vessel for a +moment; then she dropped six words into its aromatic depths. "I +love you just as much." + +"What good will that do me?" + +"Ah," said Pansy, raising her sweet, vague eyes, "I don't know +that." + +"You disappoint me," groaned poor Rosier. + +She was silent a little; she handed a tea-cup to a servant. +"Please don't talk any more." + +"Is this to be all my satisfaction?" + +"Papa said I was not to talk with you." + +"Do you sacrifice me like that? Ah, it's too much!" + +"I wish you'd wait a little," said the girl in a voice just +distinct enough to betray a quaver. + +"Of course I'll wait if you'll give me hope. But you take my life +away." + +"I'll not give you up--oh no!" Pansy went on. + +"He'll try and make you marry some one else." + +"I'll never do that." + +"What then are we to wait for?" + +She hesitated again. "I'll speak to Mrs. Osmond and she'll help +us." It was in this manner that she for the most part designated +her stepmother. + +"She won't help us much. She's afraid." + +"Afraid of what?" + +"Of your father, I suppose." + +Pansy shook her little head. "She's not afraid of any one. We +must have patience." + +"Ah, that's an awful word," Rosier groaned; he was deeply +disconcerted. Oblivious of the customs of good society, he +dropped his head into his hands and, supporting it with a +melancholy grace, sat staring at the carpet. Presently he became +aware of a good deal of movement about him and, as he looked up, +saw Pansy making a curtsey--it was still her little curtsey of +the convent--to the English lord whom Mrs. Osmond had introduced. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +It will probably not surprise the reflective reader that Ralph +Touchett should have seen less of his cousin since her marriage +than he had done before that event--an event of which he took +such a view as could hardly prove a confirmation of intimacy. He +had uttered his thought, as we know, and after this had held his +peace, Isabel not having invited him to resume a discussion which +marked an era in their relations. That discussion had made a +difference--the difference he feared rather than the one he +hoped. It had not chilled the girl's zeal in carrying out her +engagement, but it had come dangerously near to spoiling a +friendship. No reference was ever again made between them to +Ralph's opinion of Gilbert Osmond, and by surrounding this topic +with a sacred silence they managed to preserve a semblance of +reciprocal frankness. But there was a difference, as Ralph often +said to himself--there was a difference. She had not forgiven +him, she never would forgive him: that was all he had gained. She +thought she had forgiven him; she believed she didn't care; and +as she was both very generous and very proud these convictions +represented a certain reality. But whether or no the event should +justify him he would virtually have done her a wrong, and the +wrong was of the sort that women remember best. As Osmond's wife +she could never again be his friend. If in this character she +should enjoy the felicity she expected, she would have nothing +but contempt for the man who had attempted, in advance, to +undermine a blessing so dear; and if on the other hand his +warning should be justified the vow she had taken that he should +never know it would lay upon her spirit such a burden as to make +her hate him. So dismal had been, during the year that followed +his cousin's marriage, Ralph's prevision of the future; and if +his meditations appear morbid we must remember he was not in the +bloom of health. He consoled himself as he might by behaving (as +he deemed) beautifully, and was present at the ceremony by which +Isabel was united to Mr. Osmond, and which was performed in +Florence in the month of June. He learned from his mother that +Isabel at first had thought of celebrating her nuptials in her +native land, but that as simplicity was what she chiefly desired +to secure she had finally decided, in spite of Osmond's professed +willingness to make a journey of any length, that this +characteristic would be best embodied in their being married by +the nearest clergyman in the shortest time. The thing was done +therefore at the little American chapel, on a very hot day, in +the presence only of Mrs. Touchett and her son, of Pansy Osmond +and the Countess Gemini. That severity in the proceedings of +which I just spoke was in part the result of the absence of two +persons who might have been looked for on the occasion and who +would have lent it a certain richness. Madame Merle had been +invited, but Madame Merle, who was unable to leave Rome, had +written a gracious letter of excuses. Henrietta Stackpole had not +been invited, as her departure from America, announced to Isabel +by Mr. Goodwood, was in fact frustrated by the duties of her +profession; but she had sent a letter, less gracious than Madame +Merle's, intimating that, had she been able to cross the +Atlantic, she would have been present not only as a witness but +as a critic. Her return to Europe had taken place somewhat later, +and she had effected a meeting with Isabel in the autumn, in +Paris, when she had indulged--perhaps a trifle too freely--her +critical genius. Poor Osmond, who was chiefly the subject of it, +had protested so sharply that Henrietta was obliged to declare to +Isabel that she had taken a step which put a barrier between +them. "It isn't in the least that you've married--it is that you +have married HIM," she had deemed it her duty to remark; +agreeing, it will be seen, much more with Ralph Touchett than she +suspected, though she had few of his hesitations and +compunctions. Henrietta's second visit to Europe, however, was +not apparently to have been made in vain; for just at the moment +when Osmond had declared to Isabel that he really must object to +that newspaper-woman, and Isabel had answered that it seemed to +her he took Henrietta too hard, the good Mr. Bantling had +appeared upon the scene and proposed that they should take a run +down to Spain. Henrietta's letters from Spain had proved the most +acceptable she had yet published, and there had been one in +especial, dated from the Alhambra and entitled 'Moors and +Moonlight,' which generally passed for her masterpiece. Isabel +had been secretly disappointed at her husband's not seeing his +way simply to take the poor girl for funny. She even wondered if +his sense of fun, or of the funny--which would be his sense of +humour, wouldn't it?--were by chance defective. Of course she +herself looked at the matter as a person whose present happiness +had nothing to grudge to Henrietta's violated conscience. Osmond +had thought their alliance a kind of monstrosity; he couldn't +imagine what they had in common. For him, Mr. Bantling's fellow +tourist was simply the most vulgar of women, and he had also +pronounced her the most abandoned. Against this latter clause +of the verdict Isabel had appealed with an ardour that had made +him wonder afresh at the oddity of some of his wife's tastes. +Isabel could explain it only by saying that she liked to know +people who were as different as possible from herself. "Why then +don't you make the acquaintance of your washerwoman?" Osmond had +enquired; to which Isabel had answered that she was afraid her +washerwoman wouldn't care for her. Now Henrietta cared so much. + +Ralph had seen nothing of her for the greater part of the two +years that had followed her marriage; the winter that formed the +beginning of her residence in Rome he had spent again at San +Remo, where he had been joined in the spring by his mother, who +afterwards had gone with him to England, to see what they were +doing at the bank--an operation she couldn't induce him to +perform. Ralph had taken a lease of his house at San Remo, a +small villa which he had occupied still another winter; but late +in the month of April of this second year he had come down to +Rome. It was the first time since her marriage that he had stood +face to face with Isabel; his desire to see her again was then of +the keenest. She had written to him from time to time, but her +letters told him nothing he wanted to know. He had asked his +mother what she was making of her life, and his mother had simply +answered that she supposed she was making the best of it. Mrs. +Touchett had not the imagination that communes with the unseen, +and she now pretended to no intimacy with her niece, whom she +rarely encountered. This young woman appeared to be living in a +sufficiently honourable way, but Mrs. Touchett still remained of +the opinion that her marriage had been a shabby affair. It had +given her no pleasure to think of Isabel's establishment, which +she was sure was a very lame business. From time to time, in +Florence, she rubbed against the Countess Gemini, doing her best +always to minimise the contact; and the Countess reminded her of +Osmond, who made her think of Isabel. The Countess was less +talked of in these days; but Mrs. Touchett augured no good of +that: it only proved how she had been talked of before. There was +a more direct suggestion of Isabel in the person of Madame Merle; +but Madame Merle's relations with Mrs. Touchett had undergone a +perceptible change. Isabel's aunt had told her, without +circumlocution, that she had played too ingenious a part; and +Madame Merle, who never quarrelled with any one, who appeared to +think no one worth it, and who had performed the miracle of +living, more or less, for several years with Mrs. Touchett and +showing no symptom of irritation--Madame Merle now took a very +high tone and declared that this was an accusation from which she +couldn't stoop to defend herself. She added, however (without +stooping), that her behaviour had been only too simple, that she +had believed only what she saw, that she saw Isabel was not eager +to marry and Osmond not eager to please (his repeated visits had +been nothing; he was boring himself to death on his hill-top and +he came merely for amusement). Isabel had kept her sentiments to +herself, and her journey to Greece and Egypt had effectually +thrown dust in her companion's eyes. Madame Merle accepted the +event--she was unprepared to think of it as a scandal; but that +she had played any part in it, double or single, was an +imputation against which she proudly protested. It was doubtless +in consequence of Mrs. Touchett's attitude, and of the injury it +offered to habits consecrated by many charming seasons, that +Madame Merle had, after this, chosen to pass many months in +England, where her credit was quite unimpaired. Mrs. Touchett had +done her a wrong; there are some things that can't be forgiven. +But Madame Merle suffered in silence; there was always something +exquisite in her dignity. + +Ralph, as I say, had wished to see for himself; but while engaged +in this pursuit he had yet felt afresh what a fool he had been to +put the girl on her guard. He had played the wrong card, and now +he had lost the game. He should see nothing, he should learn +nothing; for him she would always wear a mask. His true line +would have been to profess delight in her union, so that later, +when, as Ralph phrased it, the bottom should fall out of it, she +might have the pleasure of saying to him that he had been a +goose. He would gladly have consented to pass for a goose in +order to know Isabel's real situation. At present, however, she +neither taunted him with his fallacies nor pretended that her own +confidence was justified; if she wore a mask it completely +covered her face. There was something fixed and mechanical in the +serenity painted on it; this was not an expression, Ralph said-- +it was a representation, it was even an advertisement. She had +lost her child; that was a sorrow, but it was a sorrow she +scarcely spoke of; there was more to say about it than she could +say to Ralph. It belonged to the past, moreover; it had occurred +six months before and she had already laid aside the tokens of +mourning. She appeared to be leading the life of the world; Ralph +heard her spoken of as having a "charming position." He observed +that she produced the impression of being peculiarly enviable, +that it was supposed, among many people, to be a privilege even +to know her. Her house was not open to every one, and she had an +evening in the week to which people were not invited as a matter +of course. She lived with a certain magnificence, but you needed +to be a member of her circle to perceive it; for there was +nothing to gape at, nothing to criticise, nothing even to admire, +in the daily proceedings of Mr. and Mrs. Osmond. Ralph, in all +this, recognised the hand of the master; for he knew that Isabel +had no faculty for producing studied impressions. She struck him +as having a great love of movement, of gaiety, of late hours, of +long rides, of fatigue; an eagerness to be entertained, to be +interested, even to be bored, to make acquaintances, to see +people who were talked about, to explore the neighbourhood of +Rome, to enter into relation with certain of the mustiest relics +of its old society. In all this there was much less discrimination +than in that desire for comprehensiveness of development on which +he had been used to exercise his wit. There was a kind of +violence in some of her impulses, of crudity in some of her +experiments, which took him by surprise: it seemed to him that +she even spoke faster, moved faster, breathed faster, than before +her marriage. Certainly she had fallen into exaggerations--she +who used to care so much for the pure truth; and whereas of old +she had a great delight in good-humoured argument, in +intellectual play (she never looked so charming as when in the +genial heat of discussion she received a crushing blow full in +the face and brushed it away as a feather), she appeared now to +think there was nothing worth people's either differing about or +agreeing upon. Of old she had been curious, and now she was +indifferent, and yet in spite of her indifference her activity +was greater than ever. Slender still, but lovelier than before, +she had gained no great maturity of aspect; yet there was an +amplitude and a brilliancy in her personal arrangements that gave +a touch of insolence to her beauty. Poor human-hearted Isabel, +what perversity had bitten her? Her light step drew a mass of +drapery behind it; her intelligent head sustained a majesty of +ornament. The free, keen girl had become quite another person; +what he saw was the fine lady who was supposed to represent +something. What did Isabel represent? Ralph asked himself; and he +could only answer by saying that she represented Gilbert Osmond. +"Good heavens, what a function!" he then woefully exclaimed. He +was lost in wonder at the mystery of things. + +He recognised Osmond, as I say; he recognised him at every turn. +He saw how he kept all things within limits; how he adjusted, +regulated, animated their manner of life. Osmond was in his +element; at last he had material to work with. He always had an +eye to effect, and his effects were deeply calculated. They were +produced by no vulgar means, but the motive was as vulgar as the +art was great. To surround his interior with a sort of invidious +sanctity, to tantalise society with a sense of exclusion, to make +people believe his house was different from every other, to +impart to the face that he presented to the world a cold +originality--this was the ingenious effort of the personage to +whom Isabel had attributed a superior morality. "He works with +superior material," Ralph said to himself; "it's rich abundance +compared with his former resources." Ralph was a clever man; but +Ralph had never--to his own sense--been so clever as when he +observed, in petto, that under the guise of caring only for +intrinsic values Osmond lived exclusively for the world. Far from +being its master as he pretended to be, he was its very humble +servant, and the degree of its attention was his only measure of +success. He lived with his eye on it from morning till night, and +the world was so stupid it never suspected the trick. Everything +he did was pose--pose so subtly considered that if one were not +on the lookout one mistook it for impulse. Ralph had never met a +man who lived so much in the land of consideration. His tastes, +his studies, his accomplishments, his collections, were all for a +purpose. His life on his hill-top at Florence had been the +conscious attitude of years. His solitude, his ennui, his love +for his daughter, his good manners, his bad manners, were so many +features of a mental image constantly present to him as a model +of impertinence and mystification. His ambition was not to please +the world, but to please himself by exciting the world's +curiosity and then declining to satisfy it. It had made him feel +great, ever, to play the world a trick. The thing he had done in +his life most directly to please himself was his marrying Miss +Archer; though in this case indeed the gullible world was in a +manner embodied in poor Isabel, who had been mystified to the top +of her bent. Ralph of course found a fitness in being consistent; +he had embraced a creed, and as he had suffered for it he could +not in honour forsake it. I give this little sketch of its +articles for what they may at the time have been worth. It was +certain that he was very skilful in fitting the facts to his +theory--even the fact that during the month he spent in Rome at +this period the husband of the woman he loved appeared to regard +him not in the least as an enemy. + +For Gilbert Osmond Ralph had not now that importance. It was not +that he had the importance of a friend; it was rather that he had +none at all. He was Isabel's cousin and he was rather unpleasantly +ill--it was on this basis that Osmond treated with him. He made +the proper enquiries, asked about his health, about Mrs. +Touchett, about his opinion of winter climates, whether he were +comfortable at his hotel. He addressed him, on the few occasions +of their meeting, not a word that was not necessary; but his +manner had always the urbanity proper to conscious success in the +presence of conscious failure. For all this, Ralph had had, +toward the end, a sharp inward vision of Osmond's making it of +small ease to his wife that she should continue to receive +Mr. Touchett. He was not jealous--he had not that excuse; no one +could be jealous of Ralph. But he made Isabel pay for her +old-time kindness, of which so much was still left; and as Ralph +had no idea of her paying too much, so when his suspicion had +become sharp, he had taken himself off. In doing so he had +deprived Isabel of a very interesting occupation: she had been +constantly wondering what fine principle was keeping him alive. +She had decided that it was his love of conversation; his +conversation had been better than ever. He had given up walking; +be was no longer a humorous stroller. He sat all day in a chair +--almost any chair would serve, and was so dependent on what you +would do for him that, had not his talk been highly +contemplative, you might have thought he was blind. The reader +already knows more about him than Isabel was ever to know, and +the reader may therefore be given the key to the mystery. What +kept Ralph alive was simply the fact that he had not yet seen +enough of the person in the world in whom he was most interested: +he was not yet satisfied. There was more to come; he couldn't +make up his mind to lose that. He wanted to see what she would +make of her husband--or what her husband would make of her. This +was only the first act of the drama, and he was determined to sit +out the performance. His determination had held good; it had kept +him going some eighteen months more, till the time of his return +to Rome with Lord Warburton. It had given him indeed such an air +of intending to live indefinitely that Mrs. Touchett, though more +accessible to confusions of thought in the matter of this +strange, unremunerative--and unremunerated--son of hers than she +had ever been before, had, as we have learned, not scrupled to +embark for a distant land. If Ralph had been kept alive by +suspense it was with a good deal of the same emotion--the +excitement of wondering in what state she should find him--that +Isabel mounted to his apartment the day after Lord Warburton had +notified her of his arrival in Rome. + +She spent an hour with him; it was the first of several visits. +Gilbert Osmond called on him punctually, and on their sending +their carriage for him Ralph came more than once to Palazzo +Roccanera. A fortnight elapsed, at the end of which Ralph +announced to Lord Warburton that he thought after all he wouldn't +go to Sicily. The two men had been dining together after a day +spent by the latter in ranging about the Campagna. They had left +the table, and Warburton, before the chimney, was lighting a +cigar, which he instantly removed from his lips. + +"Won't go to Sicily? Where then will you go?" + +"Well, I guess I won't go anywhere," said Ralph, from the sofa, +all shamelessly. + +"Do you mean you'll return to England?" + +"Oh dear no; I'll stay in Rome." + +"Rome won't do for you. Rome's not warm enough." + +"It will have to do. I'll make it do. See how well I've been." + +Lord Warburton looked at him a while, puffing a cigar and as if +trying to see it. "You've been better than you were on the +journey, certainly. I wonder how you lived through that. But I +don't understand your condition. I recommend you to try Sicily." + +"I can't try," said poor Ralph. "I've done trying. I can't move +further. I can't face that journey. Fancy me between Scylla and +Charybdis! I don't want to die on the Sicilian plains--to be +snatched away, like Proserpine in the same locality, to the +Plutonian shades." + +"What the deuce then did you come for?" his lordship enquired. + +"Because the idea took me. I see it won't do. It really doesn't +matter where I am now. I've exhausted all remedies, I've +swallowed all climates. As I'm here I'll stay. I haven't a single +cousin in Sicily--much less a married one." + +"Your cousin's certainly an inducement. But what does the doctor +say?" + +"I haven't asked him, and I don't care a fig. If I die here Mrs. +Osmond will bury me. But I shall not die here." + +"I hope not." Lord Warburton continued to smoke reflectively. +"Well, I must say," he resumed, "for myself I'm very glad you +don't insist on Sicily. I had a horror of that journey." + +"Ah, but for you it needn't have mattered. I had no idea of +dragging you in my train." + +"I certainly didn't mean to let you go alone." + +"My dear Warburton, I never expected you to come further than +this," Ralph cried. + +"I should have gone with you and seen you settled," said Lord +Warburton. + +"You're a very good Christian. You're a very kind man." + +"Then I should have come back here." + +"And then you'd have gone to England." + +"No, no; I should have stayed." + +"Well," said Ralph, "if that's what we are both up to, I don't +see where Sicily comes in!" + +His companion was silent; he sat staring at the fire. At last, +looking up, "I say, tell me this," he broke out; "did you really +mean to go to Sicily when we started?" + +"Ah, vous m'en demandez trop! Let me put a question first. Did +you come with me quite--platonically?" + +"I don't know what you mean by that. I wanted to come abroad." + +"I suspect we've each been playing our little game." + +"Speak for yourself. I made no secret whatever of my desiring to +be here a while." + +"Yes, I remember you said you wished to see the Minister of +Foreign Affairs." + +"I've seen him three times. He's very amusing." + +"I think you've forgotten what you came for," said Ralph. + +"Perhaps I have," his companion answered rather gravely. + +These two were gentlemen of a race which is not distinguished by +the absence of reserve, and they had travelled together from +London to Rome without an allusion to matters that were uppermost +in the mind of each. There was an old subject they had once +discussed, but it had lost its recognised place in their attention, +and even after their arrival in Rome, where many things led back +to it, they had kept the same half-diffident, half-confident +silence. + +"I recommend you to get the doctor's consent, all the same," Lord +Warburton went on, abruptly, after an interval. + +"The doctor's consent will spoil it. I never have it when I can +help it." + +"What then does Mrs. Osmond think?" Ralph's friend demanded. +I've not told her. She'll probably say that Rome's too cold and +even offer to go with me to Catania. She's capable of that." + +"In your place I should like it." + +"Her husband won't like it." + +"Ah well, I can fancy that; though it seems to me you're not +bound to mind his likings. They're his affair." + +"I don't want to make any more trouble between them," said Ralph. + +"Is there so much already?" + +"There's complete preparation for it. Her going off with me would +make the explosion. Osmond isn't fond of his wife's cousin." + +"Then of course he'd make a row. But won't he make a row if you +stop here?" + +"That's what I want to see. He made one the last time I was in +Rome, and then I thought it my duty to disappear. Now I think +it's my duty to stop and defend her." + +"My dear Touchett, your defensive powers--!" Lord Warburton began +with a smile. But he saw something in his companion's face that +checked him. "Your duty, in these premises, seems to me rather a +nice question," he observed instead. + +Ralph for a short time answered nothing. "It's true that my +defensive powers are small," he returned at last; "but as my +aggressive ones are still smaller Osmond may after all not think +me worth his gunpowder. At any rate," he added, "there are things +I'm curious to see." + +"You're sacrificing your health to your curiosity then?" + +"I'm not much interested in my health, and I'm deeply interested +in Mrs. Osmond." + +"So am I. But not as I once was," Lord Warburton added quickly. +This was one of the allusions he had not hitherto found occasion +to make. + +"Does she strike you as very happy?" Ralph enquired, emboldened +by this confidence. + +"Well, I don't know; I've hardly thought. She told me the other +night she was happy." + +"Ah, she told YOU, of course," Ralph exclaimed, smiling. + +"I don't know that. It seems to me I was rather the sort of +person she might have complained to." + +"Complained? She'll never complain. She has done it--what she HAS +done--and she knows it. She'll complain to you least of all. +She's very careful." + +"She needn't be. I don't mean to make love to her again." + +"I'm delighted to hear it. There can be no doubt at least of YOUR +duty." + +"Ah no," said Lord Warburton gravely; "none!" + +"Permit me to ask," Ralph went on, "whether it's to bring out the +fact that you don't mean to make love to her that you're so very +civil to the little girl?" + +Lord Warburton gave a slight start; he got up and stood before +the fire, looking at it hard. "Does that strike you as very +ridiculous?" + +"Ridiculous? Not in the least, if you really like her." + +"I think her a delightful little person. I don't know when a girl +of that age has pleased me more." + +"She's a charming creature. Ah, she at least is genuine." + +"Of course there's the difference in our ages--more than twenty +years." + +"My dear Warburton," said Ralph, "are you serious?" + +"Perfectly serious--as far as I've got." + +"I'm very glad. And, heaven help us," cried Ralph, "how +cheered-up old Osmond will be!" + +His companion frowned. "I say, don't spoil it. I shouldn't +propose for his daughter to please HIM." + +"He'll have the perversity to be pleased all the same." + +"He's not so fond of me as that," said his lordship. + +"As that? My dear Warburton, the drawback of your position is +that people needn't be fond of you at all to wish to be connected +with you. Now, with me in such a case, I should have the happy +confidence that they loved me." + +Lord Warburton seemed scarcely in the mood for doing justice to +general axioms--he was thinking of a special case. "Do you judge +she'll be pleased?" + +"The girl herself? Delighted, surely." + +"No, no; I mean Mrs. Osmond." + +Ralph looked at him a moment. "My dear fellow, what has she to do +with it?" + +"Whatever she chooses. She's very fond of Pansy." + +"Very true--very true." And Ralph slowly got up. "It's an +interesting question--how far her fondness for Pansy will carry +her." He stood there a moment with his hands in his pockets and +rather a clouded brow. "I hope, you know, that you're very--very +sure. The deuce!" he broke off. "I don't know how to say it." + +"Yes, you do; you know how to say everything." + +"Well, it's awkward. I hope you're sure that among Miss Osmond's +merits her being--a--so near her stepmother isn't a leading one?" + +"Good heavens, Touchett!" cried Lord Warburton angrily, "for what +do you take me?" + + + +CHAPTER XL + +Isabel had not seen much of Madame Merle since her marriage, this +lady having indulged in frequent absences from Rome. At one time +she had spent six months in England; at another she had passed a +portion of a winter in Paris. She had made numerous visits to +distant friends and gave countenance to the idea that for the +future she should be a less inveterate Roman than in the past. As +she had been inveterate in the past only in the sense of +constantly having an apartment in one of the sunniest niches of +the Pincian--an apartment which often stood empty--this suggested +a prospect of almost constant absence; a danger which Isabel at +one period had been much inclined to deplore. Familiarity had +modified in some degree her first impression of Madame Merle, but +it had not essentially altered it; there was still much wonder of +admiration in it. That personage was armed at all points; it was +a pleasure to see a character so completely equipped for the +social battle. She carried her flag discreetly, but her weapons +were polished steel, and she used them with a skill which struck +Isabel as more and more that of a veteran. She was never weary, +never overcome with disgust; she never appeared to need rest or +consolation. She had her own ideas; she had of old exposed a +great many of them to Isabel, who knew also that under an +appearance of extreme self-control her highly-cultivated friend +concealed a rich sensibility. But her will was mistress of her +life; there was something gallant in the way she kept going. It +was as if she had learned the secret of it--as if the art of life +were some clever trick she had guessed. Isabel, as she herself +grew older, became acquainted with revulsions, with disgusts; +there were days when the world looked black and she asked herself +with some sharpness what it was that she was pretending to live +for. Her old habit had been to live by enthusiasm, to fall in +love with suddenly-perceived possibilities, with the idea of some +new adventure. As a younger person she had been used to proceed +from one little exaltation to the other: there were scarcely any +dull places between. But Madame Merle had suppressed enthusiasm; +she fell in love now-a-days with nothing; she lived entirely by +reason and by wisdom. There were hours when Isabel would have +given anything for lessons in this art; if her brilliant friend +had been near she would have made an appeal to her. She had +become aware more than before of the advantage of being like that +--of having made one's self a firm surface, a sort of corselet of +silver. + +But, as I say, it was not till the winter during which we lately +renewed acquaintance with our heroine that the personage in +question made again a continuous stay in Rome. Isabel now saw +more of her than she had done since her marriage; but by this +time Isabel's needs and inclinations had considerably changed. It +was not at present to Madame Merle that she would have applied +for instruction; she had lost the desire to know this lady's +clever trick. If she had troubles she must keep them to herself, +and if life was difficult it would not make it easier to confess +herself beaten. Madame Merle was doubtless of great use to +herself and an ornament to any circle; but was she--would she be +--of use to others in periods of refined embarrassment? The best +way to profit by her friend--this indeed Isabel had always +thought--was to imitate her, to be as firm and bright as she. She +recognised no embarrassments, and Isabel, considering this fact, +determined for the fiftieth time to brush aside her own. It +seemed to her too, on the renewal of an intercourse which had +virtually been interrupted, that her old ally was different, was +almost detached--pushing to the extreme a certain rather +artificial fear of being indiscreet. Ralph Touchett, we know, had +been of the opinion that she was prone to exaggeration, to +forcing the note--was apt, in the vulgar phrase, to overdo it. +Isabel had never admitted this charge--had never indeed quite +understood it; Madame Merle's conduct, to her perception, always +bore the stamp of good taste, was always "quiet." But in this +matter of not wishing to intrude upon the inner life of the +Osmond family it at last occurred to our young woman that she +overdid a little. That of course was not the best taste; that was +rather violent. She remembered too much that Isabel was married; +that she had now other interests; that though she, Madame Merle, +had known Gilbert Osmond and his little Pansy very well, better +almost than any one, she was not after all of the inner circle. +She was on her guard; she never spoke of their affairs till she +was asked, even pressed--as when her opinion was wanted; she had +a dread of seeming to meddle. Madame Merle was as candid as we +know, and one day she candidly expressed this dread to Isabel. + +"I MUST be on my guard," she said; "I might so easily, without +suspecting it, offend you. You would be right to be offended, +even if my intention should have been of the purest. I must not +forget that I knew your husband long before you did; I must not +let that betray me. If you were a silly woman you might be +jealous. You're not a silly woman; I know that perfectly. But +neither am I; therefore I'm determined not to get into trouble. A +little harm's very soon done; a mistake's made before one knows +it. Of course if I had wished to make love to your husband I had +ten years to do it in, and nothing to prevent; so it isn't likely +I shall begin to-day, when I'm so much less attractive than I +was. But if I were to annoy you by seeming to take a place that +doesn't belong to me, you wouldn't make that reflection; +you'd simply say I was forgetting certain differences. I'm +determined not to forget them. Certainly a good friend isn't +always thinking of that; one doesn't suspect one's friends of +injustice. I don't suspect you, my dear, in the least; but I +suspect human nature. Don't think I make myself uncomfortable; +I'm not always watching myself. I think I sufficiently prove it +in talking to you as I do now. All I wish to say is, however, +that if you were to be jealous--that's the form it would take--I +should be sure to think it was a little my fault. It certainly +wouldn't be your husband's." + +Isabel had had three years to think over Mrs. Touchett's theory +that Madame Merle had made Gilbert Osmond's marriage. We know how +she had at first received it. Madame Merle might have made +Gilbert Osmond's marriage, but she certainly had not made Isabel +Archer's. That was the work of--Isabel scarcely knew what: of +nature, providence, fortune, of the eternal mystery of things. It +was true her aunt's complaint had been not so much of Madame +Merle's activity as of her duplicity: she had brought about the +strange event and then she had denied her guilt. Such guilt would +not have been great, to Isabel's mind; she couldn't make a crime +of Madame Merle's having been the producing cause of the most +important friendship she had ever formed. This had occurred to +her just before her marriage, after her little discussion with +her aunt and at a time when she was still capable of that large +inward reference, the tone almost of the philosophic historian, +to her scant young annals. If Madame Merle had desired her change +of state she could only say it had been a very happy thought. +With her, moreover, she had been perfectly straightforward; she +had never concealed her high opinion of Gilbert Osmond. After +their union Isabel discovered that her husband took a less +convenient view of the matter; he seldom consented to finger, in +talk, this roundest and smoothest bead of their social rosary. +"Don't you like Madame Merle?" Isabel had once said to him. "She +thinks a great deal of you." + +"I'll tell you once for all," Osmond had answered. "I liked her +once better than I do to-day. I'm tired of her, and I'm rather +ashamed of it. She's so almost unnaturally good! I'm glad she's +not in Italy; it makes for relaxation--for a sort of moral +detente. Don't talk of her too much; it seems to bring her +back. She'll come back in plenty of time." + +Madame Merle, in fact, had come back before it was too late--too +late, I mean, to recover whatever advantage she might have lost. +But meantime, if, as I have said, she was sensibly different, +Isabel's feelings were also not quite the same. Her consciousness +of the situation was as acute as of old, but it was much less +satisfying. A dissatisfied mind, whatever else it may miss, is +rarely in want of reasons; they bloom as thick as buttercups in +June. The fact of Madame Merle's having had a hand in Gilbert +Osmond's marriage ceased to be one of her titles to +consideration; it might have been written, after all, that there +was not so much to thank her for. As time went on there was less +and less, and Isabel once said to herself that perhaps without +her these things would not have been. That reflection indeed was +instantly stifled; she knew an immediate horror at having made +it. "Whatever happens to me let me not be unjust," she said; "let +me bear my burdens myself and not shift them upon others!" This +disposition was tested, eventually, by that ingenious apology for +her present conduct which Madame Merle saw fit to make and of +which I have given a sketch; for there was something irritating-- +there was almost an air of mockery--in her neat discriminations +and clear convictions. In Isabel's mind to-day there was nothing +clear; there was a confusion of regrets, a complication of fears. +She felt helpless as she turned away from her friend, who had +just made the statements I have quoted: Madame Merle knew so +little what she was thinking of! She was herself moreover so +unable to explain. Jealous of her--jealous of her with Gilbert? +The idea just then suggested no near reality. She almost wished +jealousy had been possible; it would have made in a manner for +refreshment. Wasn't it in a manner one of the symptoms of +happiness? Madame Merle, however, was wise, so wise that she +might have been pretending to know Isabel better than Isabel knew +herself. This young woman had always been fertile in resolutions +--any of them of an elevated character; but at no period had they +flourished (in the privacy of her heart) more richly than to-day. +It is true that they all had a family likeness; they might have +been summed up in the determination that if she was to be unhappy +it should not be by a fault of her own. Her poor winged spirit +had always had a great desire to do its best, and it had not as +yet been seriously discouraged. It wished, therefore, to hold +fast to justice--not to pay itself by petty revenges. To +associate Madame Merle with its disappointment would be a petty +revenge--especially as the pleasure to be derived from that would +be perfectly insincere. It might feed her sense of bitterness, +but it would not loosen her bonds. It was impossible to pretend +that she had not acted with her eyes open; if ever a girl was a +free agent she had been. A girl in love was doubtless not a free +agent; but the sole source of her mistake had been within +herself. There had been no plot, no snare; she had looked and +considered and chosen. When a woman had made such a mistake, +there was only one way to repair it--just immensely (oh, with the +highest grandeur!) to accept it. One folly was enough, especially +when it was to last for ever; a second one would not much set it +off. In this vow of reticence there was a certain nobleness which +kept Isabel going; but Madame Merle had been right, for all that, +in taking her precautions. + +One day about a month after Ralph Touchett's arrival in Rome +Isabel came back from a walk with Pansy. It was not only a part +of her general determination to be just that she was at present +very thankful for Pansy--it was also a part of her tenderness for +things that were pure and weak. Pansy was dear to her, and there +was nothing else in her life that had the rightness of the young +creature's attachment or the sweetness of her own clearness about +it. It was like a soft presence--like a small hand in her own; on +Pansy's part it was more than an affection--it was a kind of +ardent coercive faith. On her own side her sense of the girl's +dependence was more than a pleasure; it operated as a definite +reason when motives threatened to fail her. She had said to +herself that we must take our duty where we find it, and that we +must look for it as much as possible. Pansy's sympathy was a +direct admonition; it seemed to say that here was an opportunity, +not eminent perhaps, but unmistakeable. Yet an opportunity for +what Isabel could hardly have said; in general, to be more for +the child than the child was able to be for herself. Isabel could +have smiled, in these days, to remember that her little companion +had once been ambiguous, for she now perceived that Pansy's +ambiguities were simply her own grossness of vision. She had been +unable to believe any one could care so much--so extraordinarily +much--to please. But since then she had seen this delicate +faculty in operation, and now she knew what to think of it. It +was the whole creature--it was a sort of genius. Pansy had no +pride to interfere with it, and though she was constantly +extending her conquests she took no credit for them. The two were +constantly together; Mrs. Osmond was rarely seen without her +stepdaughter. Isabel liked her company; it had the effect of +one's carrying a nosegay composed all of the same flower. And +then not to neglect Pansy, not under any provocation to neglect +her--this she had made an article of religion. The young girl had +every appearance of being happier in Isabel's society than in +that of any one save her father,--whom she admired with an +intensity justified by the fact that, as paternity was an +exquisite pleasure to Gilbert Osmond, he had always been +luxuriously mild. Isabel knew how Pansy liked to be with her and +how she studied the means of pleasing her. She had decided that +the best way of pleasing her was negative, and consisted in not +giving her trouble--a conviction which certainly could have had +no reference to trouble already existing. She was therefore +ingeniously passive and almost imaginatively docile; she was +careful even to moderate the eagerness with which she assented to +Isabel's propositions and which might have implied that she could +have thought otherwise. She never interrupted, never asked social +questions, and though she delighted in approbation, to the point +of turning pale when it came to her, never held out her hand for +it. She only looked toward it wistfully--an attitude which, as +she grew older, made her eyes the prettiest in the world. When +during the second winter at Palazzo Roccanera she began to go to +parties, to dances, she always, at a reasonable hour, lest Mrs. +Osmond should be tired, was the first to propose departure. +Isabel appreciated the sacrifice of the late dances, for she knew +her little companion had a passionate pleasure in this exercise, +taking her steps to the music like a conscientious fairy. Society, +moreover, had no drawbacks for her; she liked even the tiresome +parts--the heat of ball-rooms, the dulness of dinners, the crush +at the door, the awkward waiting for the carriage. During the day, +in this vehicle, beside her stepmother, she sat in a small fixed, +appreciative posture, bending forward and faintly smiling, as if +she had been taken to drive for the first time. + +On the day I speak of they had been driven out of one of the +gates of the city and at the end of half an hour had left the +carriage to await them by the roadside while they walked away +over the short grass of the Campagna, which even in the winter +months is sprinkled with delicate flowers. This was almost a +daily habit with Isabel, who was fond of a walk and had a swift +length of step, though not so swift a one as on her first coming +to Europe. It was not the form of exercise that Pansy loved best, +but she liked it, because she liked everything; and she moved +with a shorter undulation beside her father's wife, who +afterwards, on their return to Rome, paid a tribute to her +preferences by making the circuit of the Pincian or the Villa +Borghese. She had gathered a handful of flowers in a sunny +hollow, far from the walls of Rome, and on reaching Palazzo +Roccanera she went straight to her room, to put them into water. +Isabel passed into the drawing-room, the one she herself usually +occupied, the second in order from the large ante-chamber which +was entered from the staircase and in which even Gilbert Osmond's +rich devices had not been able to correct a look of rather grand +nudity. Just beyond the threshold of the drawing-room she stopped +short, the reason for her doing so being that she had received an +impression. The impression had, in strictness, nothing +unprecedented; but she felt it as something new, and the +soundlessness of her step gave her time to take in the scene +before she interrupted it. Madame Merle was there in her bonnet, +and Gilbert Osmond was talking to her; for a minute they were +unaware she had come in. Isabel had often seen that before, +certainly; but what she had not seen, or at least had not +noticed, was that their colloquy had for the moment converted +itself into a sort of familiar silence, from which she instantly +perceived that her entrance would startle them. Madame Merle was +standing on the rug, a little way from the fire; Osmond was in a +deep chair, leaning back and looking at her. Her head was erect, +as usual, but her eyes were bent on his. What struck Isabel first +was that he was sitting while Madame Merle stood; there was an +anomaly in this that arrested her. Then she perceived that they +had arrived at a desultory pause in their exchange of ideas and +were musing, face to face, with the freedom of old friends who +sometimes exchange ideas without uttering them. There was nothing +to shock in this; they were old friends in fact. But the thing +made an image, lasting only a moment, like a sudden flicker of +light. Their relative positions, their absorbed mutual gaze, +struck her as something detected. But it was all over by the time +she had fairly seen it. Madame Merle had seen her and had +welcomed her without moving; her husband, on the other hand, had +instantly jumped up. He presently murmured something about +wanting a walk and, after having asked their visitor to excuse +him, left the room. + +"I came to see you, thinking you would have come in; and as you +hadn't I waited for you," Madame Merle said. + +"Didn't he ask you to sit down?" Isabel asked with a smile. + +Madame Merle looked about her. "Ah, it's very true; I was going +away." + +"You must stay now." + +"Certainly. I came for a reason; I've something on my mind." + +"I've told you that before," Isabel said--"that it takes +something extraordinary to bring you to this house." + +"And you know what I've told YOU; that whether I come or whether +I stay away, I've always the same motive--the affection I bear +you." + +"Yes, you've told me that." + +"You look just now as if you didn't believe it," said Madame +Merle. + +"Ah," Isabel answered, "the profundity of your motives, that's +the last thing I doubt!" + +"You doubt sooner of the sincerity of my words." + +Isabel shook her head gravely. "I know you've always been kind to +me." + +"As often as you would let me. You don't always take it; then one +has to let you alone. It's not to do you a kindness, however, +that I've come to-day; it's quite another affair. I've come to +get rid of a trouble of my own--to make it over to you. I've been +talking to your husband about it." + +"I'm surprised at that; he doesn't like troubles." + +"Especially other people's; I know very well. But neither do you, +I suppose. At any rate, whether you do or not, you must help me. +It's about poor Mr. Rosier." + +"Ah," said Isabel reflectively, "it's his trouble then, not yours." + +"He has succeeded in saddling me with it. He comes to see me ten +times a week, to talk about Pansy." + +"Yes, he wants to marry her. I know all about it." + +Madame Merle hesitated. "I gathered from your husband that +perhaps you didn't." + +"How should he know what I know? He has never spoken to me of the +matter." + +"It's probably because he doesn't know how to speak of it." + +"It's nevertheless the sort of question in which he's rarely at +fault." + +"Yes, because as a general thing he knows perfectly well what to +think. To-day he doesn't." + +"Haven't you been telling him?" Isabel asked. + +Madame Merle gave a bright, voluntary smile. "Do you know you're +a little dry?" + +"Yes; I can't help it. Mr. Rosier has also talked to me." + +"In that there's some reason. You're so near the child." + +"Ah," said Isabel, "for all the comfort I've given him! If you +think me dry, I wonder what HE thinks." + +"I believe he thinks you can do more than you have done." + +"I can do nothing." + +"You can do more at least than I. I don't know what mysterious +connection he may have discovered between me and Pansy; but he +came to me from the first, as if I held his fortune in my hand. +Now he keeps coming back, to spur me up, to know what hope there +is, to pour out his feelings." + +"He's very much in love," said Isabel. + +"Very much--for him." + +"Very much for Pansy, you might say as well." + +Madame Merle dropped her eyes a moment. "Don't you think she's +attractive?" + +"The dearest little person possible--but very limited." + +"She ought to be all the easier for Mr. Rosier to love. Mr. +Rosier's not unlimited." + +"No," said Isabel, "he has about the extent of one's +pocket-handkerchief--the small ones with lace borders." Her +humour had lately turned a good deal to sarcasm, but in a moment +she was ashamed of exercising it on so innocent an object as +Pansy's suitor. "He's very kind, very honest," she presently +added; "and he's not such a fool as he seems." + +"He assures me that she delights in him," said Madame Merle. + +"I don't know; I've not asked her." + +"You've never sounded her a little?" + +"It's not my place; it's her father's." + +"Ah, you're too literal!" said Madame Merle. + +"I must judge for myself." + +Madame Merle gave her smile again. "It isn't easy to help you." + +"To help me?" said Isabel very seriously. "What do you mean?" + +"It's easy to displease you. Don't you see how wise I am to be +careful? I notify you, at any rate, as I notified Osmond, that I +wash my hands of the love-affairs of Miss Pansy and Mr. Edward +Rosier. Je n'y peux rien, moi! I can't talk to Pansy about him. +Especially," added Madame Merle, "as I don't think him a paragon +of husbands." + +Isabel reflected a little; after which, with a smile, "You don't +wash your hands then!" she said. After which again she added in +another tone: "You can't--you're too much interested." + +Madame Merle slowly rose; she had given Isabel a look as rapid as +the intimation that had gleamed before our heroine a few moments +before. Only this time the latter saw nothing. "Ask him the next +time, and you'll see." + +"I can't ask him; he has ceased to come to the house. Gilbert has +let him know that he's not welcome." + +"Ah yes," said Madame Merle, "I forgot that--though it's the +burden of his lamentation. He says Osmond has insulted him. All +the same," she went on, "Osmond doesn't dislike him so much as he +thinks." She had got up as if to close the conversation, but she +lingered, looking about her, and had evidently more to say. +Isabel perceived this and even saw the point she had in view; but +Isabel also had her own reasons for not opening the way. + +"That must have pleased him, if you've told him," she answered, +smiling. + +"Certainly I've told him; as far as that goes I've encouraged +him. I've preached patience, have said that his case isn't +desperate if he'll only hold his tongue and be quiet. +Unfortunately he has taken it into his head to be jealous." + +"Jealous?" + +"Jealous of Lord Warburton, who, he says, is always here." + +Isabel, who was tired, had remained sitting; but at this she also +rose. "Ah!" she exclaimed simply, moving slowly to the fireplace. +Madame Merle observed her as she passed and while she stood a +moment before the mantel-glass and pushed into its place a +wandering tress of hair. + +"Poor Mr. Rosier keeps saying there's nothing impossible in Lord +Warburton's falling in love with Pansy," Madame Merle went on. +Isabel was silent a little; she turned away from the glass. "It's +true--there's nothing impossible," she returned at last, gravely +and more gently. + +"So I've had to admit to Mr. Rosier. So, too, your husband +thinks." + +"That I don't know." + +"Ask him and you'll see." + +"I shall not ask him," said Isabel. + +"Pardon me; I forgot you had pointed that out. Of course," Madame +Merle added, "you've had infinitely more observation of Lord +Warburton's behaviour than I." + +"I see no reason why I shouldn't tell you that he likes my +stepdaughter very much." + +Madame Merle gave one of her quick looks again. "Likes her, you +mean--as Mr. Rosier means?" + +"I don't know how Mr. Rosier means; but Lord Warburton has let me +know that he's charmed with Pansy." + +"And you've never told Osmond?" This observation was immediate, +precipitate; it almost burst from Madame Merle's lips. + +Isabel's eyes rested on her. "I suppose he'll know in time; Lord +Warburton has a tongue and knows how to express himself." + +Madame Merle instantly became conscious that she had spoken more +quickly than usual, and the reflection brought the colour to her +cheek. She gave the treacherous impulse time to subside and then +said as if she had been thinking it over a little: "That would be +better than marrying poor Mr. Rosier." + +"Much better, I think." + +"It would be very delightful; it would be a great marriage. It's +really very kind of him." + +"Very kind of him?" + +"To drop his eyes on a simple little girl." + +"I don't see that." + +"It's very good of you. But after all, Pansy Osmond--" + +"After all, Pansy Osmond's the most attractive person he has ever +known!" Isabel exclaimed. + +Madame Merle stared, and indeed she was justly bewildered. "Ah, a +moment ago I thought you seemed rather to disparage her." + +"I said she was limited. And so she is. And so's Lord Warburton." + +"So are we all, if you come to that. If it's no more than Pansy +deserves, all the better. But if she fixes her affections on Mr. +Rosier I won't admit that she deserves it. That will be too +perverse." + +"Mr. Rosier's a nuisance!" Isabel cried abruptly. + +"I quite agree with you, and I'm delighted to know that I'm not +expected to feed his flame. For the future, when he calls on me, +my door shall be closed to him." And gathering her mantle +together Madame Merle prepared to depart. She was checked, +however, on her progress to the door, by an inconsequent request +from Isabel. + +"All the same, you know, be kind to him." + +She lifted her shoulders and eyebrows and stood looking at her +friend. "I don't understand your contradictions! Decidedly I +shan't be kind to him, for it will be a false kindness. I want to +see her married to Lord Warburton." + +"You had better wait till he asks her." + +"If what you say's true, he'll ask her. Especially," said Madame +Merle in a moment, "if you make him." + +"If I make him?" + +"It's quite in your power. You've great influence with him." + +Isabel frowned a little. "Where did you learn that?" + +"Mrs. Touchett told me. Not you--never!" said Madame Merle, +smiling. + +"I certainly never told you anything of the sort." + +"You MIGHT have done so--so far as opportunity went--when we were +by way of being confidential with each other. But you really told +me very little; I've often thought so since." + +Isabel had thought so too, and sometimes with a certain +satisfaction. But she didn't admit it now--perhaps because she +wished not to appear to exult in it. "You seem to have had an +excellent informant in my aunt," she simply returned. + +"She let me know you had declined an offer of marriage from Lord +Warburton, because she was greatly vexed and was full of the +subject. Of course I think you've done better in doing as you +did. But if you wouldn't marry Lord Warburton yourself, make him +the reparation of helping him to marry some one else." + +Isabel listened to this with a face that persisted in not +reflecting the bright expressiveness of Madame Merle's. But in a +moment she said, reasonably and gently enough: "I should be very +glad indeed if, as regards Pansy, it could be arranged." Upon +which her companion, who seemed to regard this as a speech of +good omen, embraced her more tenderly than might have been +expected and triumphantly withdrew. + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +Osmond touched on this matter that evening for the first time; +coming very late into the drawing-room, where she was sitting +alone. They had spent the evening at home, and Pansy had gone to +bed; he himself had been sitting since dinner in a small +apartment in which he had arranged his books and which he called +his study. At ten o'clock Lord Warburton had come in, as he +always did when he knew from Isabel that she was to be at home; +he was going somewhere else and he sat for half an hour. Isabel, +after asking him for news of Ralph, said very little to him, on +purpose; she wished him to talk with her stepdaughter. She +pretended to read; she even went after a little to the piano; she +asked herself if she mightn't leave the room. She had come little +by little to think well of the idea of Pansy's becoming the wife +of the master of beautiful Lockleigh, though at first it had not +presented itself in a manner to excite her enthusiasm. Madame +Merle, that afternoon, had applied the match to an accumulation +of inflammable material. When Isabel was unhappy she always +looked about her--partly from impulse and partly by theory--for +some form of positive exertion. She could never rid herself of +the sense that unhappiness was a state of disease--of suffering +as opposed to doing. To "do"--it hardly mattered what--would +therefore be an escape, perhaps in some degree a remedy. Besides, +she wished to convince herself that she had done everything +possible to content her husband; she was determined not to be +haunted by visions of his wife's limpness under appeal. It would +please him greatly to see Pansy married to an English nobleman, +and justly please him, since this nobleman was so sound a +character. It seemed to Isabel that if she could make it her duty +to bring about such an event she should play the part of a good +wife. She wanted to be that; she wanted to be able to believe +sincerely, and with proof of it, that she had been that. Then +such an undertaking had other recommendations. It would occupy +her, and she desired occupation. It would even amuse her, and if +she could really amuse herself she perhaps might be saved. +Lastly, it would be a service to Lord Warburton, who evidently +pleased himself greatly with the charming girl. It was a little +"weird" he should--being what he was; but there was no accounting +for such impressions. Pansy might captivate any one--any one at +least but Lord Warburton. Isabel would have thought her too +small, too slight, perhaps even too artificial for that. There +was always a little of the doll about her, and that was not what +he had been looking for. Still, who could say what men ever were +looking for? They looked for what they found; they knew what +pleased them only when they saw it. No theory was valid in such +matters, and nothing was more unaccountable or more natural than +anything else. If he had cared for HER it might seem odd he +should care for Pansy, who was so different; but he had not cared +for her so much as he had supposed. Or if he had, he had +completely got over it, and it was natural that, as that affair +had failed, he should think something of quite another sort might +succeed. Enthusiasm, as I say, had not come at first to Isabel, +but it came to-day and made her feel almost happy. It was +astonishing what happiness she could still find in the idea of +procuring a pleasure for her husband. It was a pity, however, +that Edward Rosier had crossed their path! + +At this reflection the light that had suddenly gleamed upon that +path lost something of its brightness. Isabel was unfortunately +as sure that Pansy thought Mr. Rosier the nicest of all the young +men--as sure as if she had held an interview with her on the +subject. It was very tiresome she should be so sure, when she had +carefully abstained from informing herself; almost as tiresome as +that poor Mr. Rosier should have taken it into his own head. He +was certainly very inferior to Lord Warburton. It was not the +difference in fortune so much as the difference in the men; the +young American was really so light a weight. He was much more of +the type of the useless fine gentleman than the English nobleman. +It was true that there was no particular reason why Pansy should +marry a statesman; still, if a statesman admired her, that was +his affair, and she would make a perfect little pearl of a +peeress. + +It may seem to the reader that Mrs. Osmond had grown of a sudden +strangely cynical, for she ended by saying to herself that this +difficulty could probably be arranged. An impediment that was +embodied in poor Rosier could not anyhow present itself as a +dangerous one; there were always means of levelling secondary +obstacles. Isabel was perfectly aware that she had not taken the +measure of Pansy's tenacity, which might prove to be +inconveniently great; but she inclined to see her as rather +letting go, under suggestion, than as clutching under deprecation +--since she had certainly the faculty of assent developed in a +very much higher degree than that of protest. She would cling, +yes, she would cling; but it really mattered to her very little +what she clung to. Lord Warburton would do as well as Mr. Rosier +--especially as she seemed quite to like him; she had expressed +this sentiment to Isabel without a single reservation; she had +said she thought his conversation most interesting--he had told +her all about India. His manner to Pansy had been of the rightest +and easiest--Isabel noticed that for herself, as she also +observed that he talked to her not in the least in a patronising +way, reminding himself of her youth and simplicity, but quite as +if she understood his subjects with that sufficiency with which +she followed those of the fashionable operas. This went far +enough for attention to the music and the barytone. He was +careful only to be kind--he was as kind as he had been to another +fluttered young chit at Gardencourt. A girl might well be touched +by that; she remembered how she herself had been touched, and +said to herself that if she had been as simple as Pansy the +impression would have been deeper still. She had not been simple +when she refused him; that operation had been as complicated as, +later, her acceptance of Osmond had been. Pansy, however, in +spite of HER simplicity, really did understand, and was glad that +Lord Warburton should talk to her, not about her partners and +bouquets, but about the state of Italy, the condition of the +peasantry, the famous grist-tax, the pellagra, his impressions +of Roman society. She looked at him, as she drew her needle +through her tapestry, with sweet submissive eyes, and when she +lowered them she gave little quiet oblique glances at his person, +his hands, his feet, his clothes, as if she were considering him. +Even his person, Isabel might have reminded her, was better than +Mr. Rosier's. But Isabel contented herself at such moments with +wondering where this gentleman was; he came no more at all to +Palazzo Roccanera. It was surprising, as I say, the hold it had +taken of her--the idea of assisting her husband to be pleased. + +It was surprising for a variety of reasons which I shall +presently touch upon. On the evening I speak of, while Lord +Warburton sat there, she had been on the point of taking the +great step of going out of the room and leaving her companions +alone. I say the great step, because it was in this light that +Gilbert Osmond would have regarded it, and Isabel was trying as +much as possible to take her husband's view. She succeeded after +a fashion, but she fell short of the point I mention. After all +she couldn't rise to it; something held her and made this +impossible. It was not exactly that it would be base or +insidious; for women as a general thing practise such manoeuvres +with a perfectly good conscience, and Isabel was instinctively +much more true than false to the common genius of her sex. There +was a vague doubt that interposed--a sense that she was not quite +sure. So she remained in the drawing-room, and after a while Lord +Warburton went off to his party, of which he promised to give +Pansy a full account on the morrow. After he had gone she +wondered if she had prevented something which would have happened +if she had absented herself for a quarter of an hour; and then +she pronounced--always mentally--that when their distinguished +visitor should wish her to go away he would easily find means to +let her know it. Pansy said nothing whatever about him after he +had gone, and Isabel studiously said nothing, as she had taken a +vow of reserve until after he should have declared himself. He +was a little longer in coming to this than might seem to accord +with the description he had given Isabel of his feelings. Pansy +went to bed, and Isabel had to admit that she could not now guess +what her stepdaughter was thinking of. Her transparent little +companion was for the moment not to be seen through. + +She remained alone, looking at the fire, until, at the end of +half an hour, her husband came in. He moved about a while in +silence and then sat down; he looked at the fire like herself. +But she now had transferred her eyes from the flickering flame in +the chimney to Osmond's face, and she watched him while he kept +his silence. Covert observation had become a habit with her; an +instinct, of which it is not an exaggeration to say that it was +allied to that of self-defence, had made it habitual. She wished +as much as possible to know his thoughts, to know what he would +say, beforehand, so that she might prepare her answer. Preparing +answers had not been her strong point of old; she had rarely in +this respect got further than thinking afterwards of clever +things she might have said. But she had learned caution--learned +it in a measure from her husband's very countenance. It was the +same face she had looked into with eyes equally earnest perhaps, +but less penetrating, on the terrace of a Florentine villa; +except that Osmond had grown slightly stouter since his marriage. +He still, however, might strike one as very distinguished. + +"Has Lord Warburton been here?" he presently asked. + +"Yes, he stayed half an hour." + +"Did he see Pansy?" + +"Yes; he sat on the sofa beside her." + +"Did he talk with her much?" + +"He talked almost only to her." + +"It seems to me he's attentive. Isn't that what you call it?" + +"I don't call it anything," said Isabel; "I've waited for you to +give it a name." + +"That's a consideration you don't always show," Osmond answered +after a moment. + +"I've determined, this time, to try and act as you'd like. I've +so often failed of that." + +Osmond turned his head slowly, looking at her. "Are you trying to +quarrel with me?" + +"No, I'm trying to live at peace." + +"Nothing's more easy; you know I don't quarrel myself." + +"What do you call it when you try to make me angry?" Isabel +asked. + +"I don't try; if I've done so it has been the most natural thing +in the world. Moreover I'm not in the least trying now." + +Isabel smiled. "It doesn't matter. I've determined never to be +angry again." + +"That's an excellent resolve. Your temper isn't good." + +"No--it's not good." She pushed away the book she had been +reading and took up the band of tapestry Pansy had left on the +table. + +"That's partly why I've not spoken to you about this business of +my daughter's," Osmond said, designating Pansy in the manner that +was most frequent with him. "I was afraid I should encounter +opposition--that you too would have views on the subject. I've +sent little Rosier about his business." + +"You were afraid I'd plead for Mr. Rosier? Haven't you noticed +that I've never spoken to you of him?" + +"I've never given you a chance. We've so little conversation in +these days. I know he was an old friend of yours." + +"Yes; he's an old friend of mine." Isabel cared little more for +him than for the tapestry that she held in her hand; but it was +true that he was an old friend and that with her husband she felt +a desire not to extenuate such ties. He had a way of expressing +contempt for them which fortified her loyalty to them, even when, +as in the present case, they were in themselves insignificant. +She sometimes felt a sort of passion of tenderness for memories +which had no other merit than that they belonged to her unmarried +life. "But as regards Pansy," she added in a moment, "I've given +him no encouragement." + +"That's fortunate," Osmond observed. + +"Fortunate for me, I suppose you mean. For him it matters little." + +"There's no use talking of him," Osmond said. "As I tell you, +I've turned him out." + +"Yes; but a lover outside's always a lover. He's sometimes even +more of one. Mr. Rosier still has hope." + +"He's welcome to the comfort of it! My daughter has only to sit +perfectly quiet to become Lady Warburton." + +"Should you like that?" Isabel asked with a simplicity which was +not so affected as it may appear. She was resolved to assume +nothing, for Osmond had a way of unexpectedly turning her +assumptions against her. The intensity with which he would like +his daughter to become Lady Warburton had been the very basis of +her own recent reflections. But that was for herself; she would +recognise nothing until Osmond should have put it into words; she +would not take for granted with him that he thought Lord +Warburton a prize worth an amount of effort that was unusual +among the Osmonds. It was Gilbert's constant intimation that for +him nothing in life was a prize; that he treated as from equal to +equal with the most distinguished people in the world, and that +his daughter had only to look about her to pick out a prince. It +cost him therefore a lapse from consistency to say explicitly +that he yearned for Lord Warburton and that if this nobleman +should escape his equivalent might not be found; with which +moreover it was another of his customary implications that he was +never inconsistent. He would have liked his wife to glide over +the point. But strangely enough, now that she was face to face +with him and although an hour before she had almost invented a +scheme for pleasing him, Isabel was not accommodating, would not +glide. And yet she knew exactly the effect on his mind of her +question: it would operate as an humiliation. Never mind; he was +terribly capable of humiliating her--all the more so that he was +also capable of waiting for great opportunities and of showing +sometimes an almost unaccountable indifference to small ones. +Isabel perhaps took a small opportunity because she would not +have availed herself of a great one. + +Osmond at present acquitted himself very honourably. "I should +like it extremely; it would be a great marriage. And then Lord +Warburton has another advantage: he's an old friend of yours. It +would be pleasant for him to come into the family. It's very odd +Pansy's admirers should all be your old friends." + +"It's natural that they should come to see me. In coming to see +me they see Pansy. Seeing her it's natural they should fall in +love with her." + +"So I think. But you're not bound to do so." + +"If she should marry Lord Warburton I should be very glad," +Isabel went on frankly. "He's an excellent man. You say, however, +that she has only to sit perfectly still. Perhaps she won't sit +perfectly still. If she loses Mr. Rosier she may jump up!" + +Osmond appeared to give no heed to this; he sat gazing at the +fire. "Pansy would like to be a great lady," he remarked in a +moment with a certain tenderness of tone. "She wishes above all +to please," he added. + +"To please Mr. Rosier, perhaps." + +"No, to please me." + +"Me too a little, I think," said Isabel. + +"Yes, she has a great opinion of you. But she'll do what I like." + +"If you're sure of that, it's very well," she went on. + +"Meantime," said Osmond, "I should like our distinguished visitor +to speak." + +"He has spoken--to me. He has told me it would be a great +pleasure to him to believe she could care for him." + +Osmond turned his head quickly, but at first he said nothing. +Then, "Why didn't you tell me that?" he asked sharply. + +"There was no opportunity. You know how we live. I've taken the +first chance that has offered." + +"Did you speak to him of Rosier?" + +"Oh yes, a little." + +"That was hardly necessary." + +"I thought it best he should know, so that, so that--" And Isabel +paused. + +"So that what?" + +"So that he might act accordingly." + +"So that he might back out, do you mean?" + +"No, so that he might advance while there's yet time." + +"That's not the effect it seems to have had." + +"You should have patience," said Isabel. "You know Englishmen are +shy." + +"This one's not. He was not when he made love to YOU." + +She had been afraid Osmond would speak of that; it was +disagreeable to her. "I beg your pardon; he was extremely so," +she returned. + +He answered nothing for some time; he took up a book and fingered +the pages while she sat silent and occupied herself with Pansy's +tapestry. "You must have a great deal of influence with him," +Osmond went on at last. "The moment you really wish it you can +bring him to the point." + +This was more offensive still; but she felt the great naturalness +of his saying it, and it was after all extremely like what she +had said to herself. "Why should I have influence?" she asked. +"What have I ever done to put him under an obligation to me?" + +"You refused to marry him," said Osmond with his eyes on his +book. + +"I must not presume too much on that," she replied. + +He threw down the book presently and got up, standing before the +fire with his hands behind him. "Well, I hold that it lies in +your hands. I shall leave it there. With a little good-will you +may manage it. Think that over and remember how much I count on +you." He waited a little, to give her time to answer; but she +answered nothing, and he presently strolled out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +She had answered nothing because his words had put the situation +before her and she was absorbed in looking at it. There was +something in them that suddenly made vibrations deep, so that she +had been afraid to trust herself to speak. After he had gone she +leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes; and for a long +time, far into the night and still further, she sat in the still +drawing-room, given up to her meditation. A servant came in to +attend to the fire, and she bade him bring fresh candles and then +go to bed. Osmond had told her to think of what he had said; and +she did so indeed, and of many other things. The suggestion from +another that she had a definite influence on Lord Warburton--this +had given her the start that accompanies unexpected recognition. +Was it true that there was something still between them that might +be a handle to make him declare himself to Pansy--a susceptibility, +on his part, to approval, a desire to do what would please her? +Isabel had hitherto not asked herself the question, because she +had not been forced; but now that it was directly presented to +her she saw the answer, and the answer frightened her. Yes, there +was something--something on Lord Warburton's part. When he had +first come to Rome she believed the link that united them to be +completely snapped; but little by little she had been reminded +that it had yet a palpable existence. It was as thin as a hair, +but there were moments when she seemed to hear it vibrate. For +herself nothing was changed; what she once thought of him she +always thought; it was needless this feeling should change; it +seemed to her in fact a better feeling than ever. But he? had +he still the idea that she might be more to him than other women? +Had he the wish to profit by the memory of the few moments of +intimacy through which they had once passed? Isabel knew she had +read some of the signs of such a disposition. But what were his +hopes, his pretensions, and in what strange way were they mingled +with his evidently very sincere appreciation of poor Pansy? Was +he in love with Gilbert Osmond's wife, and if so what comfort did +he expect to derive from it? If he was in love with Pansy he was +not in love with her stepmother, and if he was in love with her +stepmother he was not in love with Pansy. Was she to cultivate the +advantage she possessed in order to make him commit himself to +Pansy, knowing he would do so for her sake and not for the small +creature's own--was this the service her husband had asked of her? +This at any rate was the duty with which she found herself +confronted--from the moment she admitted to herself that her old +friend had still an uneradicated predilection for her society. It +was not an agreeable task; it was in fact a repulsive one. She +asked herself with dismay whether Lord Warburton were pretending +to be in love with Pansy in order to cultivate another +satisfaction and what might be called other chances. Of this +refinement of duplicity she presently acquitted him; she +preferred to believe him in perfect good faith. But if his +admiration for Pansy were a delusion this was scarcely better +than its being an affectation. Isabel wandered among these ugly +possibilities until she had completely lost her way; some of them, +as she suddenly encountered them, seemed ugly enough. Then she +broke out of the labyrinth, rubbing her eyes, and declared that +her imagination surely did her little honour and that her +husband's did him even less. Lord Warburton was as disinterested +as he need be, and she was no more to him than she need wish. She +would rest upon this till the contrary should be proved; proved +more effectually than by a cynical intimation of Osmond's. + +Such a resolution, however, brought her this evening but little +peace, for her soul was haunted with terrors which crowded to the +foreground of thought as quickly as a place was made for them. +What had suddenly set them into livelier motion she hardly knew, +unless it were the strange impression she had received in the +afternoon of her husband's being in more direct communication with +Madame Merle than she suspected. That impression came back to her +from time to time, and now she wondered it had never come before. +Besides this, her short interview with Osmond half an hour ago was +a striking example of his faculty for making everything wither +that he touched, spoiling everything for her that he looked at. It +was very well to undertake to give him a proof of loyalty; the +real fact was that the knowledge of his expecting a thing raised a +presumption against it. It was as if he had had the evil eye; as +if his presence were a blight and his favour a misfortune. Was the +fault in himself, or only in the deep mistrust she had conceived +for him? This mistrust was now the clearest result of their short +married life; a gulf had opened between them over which they +looked at each other with eyes that were on either side a +declaration of the deception suffered. It was a strange +opposition, of the like of which she had never dreamed--an +opposition in which the vital principle of the one was a thing of +contempt to the other. It was not her fault--she had practised no +deception; she had only admired and believed. She had taken all +the first steps in the purest confidence, and then she had +suddenly found the infinite vista of a multiplied life to be a +dark, narrow alley with a dead wall at the end. Instead of leading +to the high places of happiness, from which the world would seem +to lie below one, so that one could look down with a sense of +exaltation and advantage, and judge and choose and pity, it led +rather downward and earthward, into realms of restriction and +depression where the sound of other lives, easier and freer, was +heard as from above, and where it served to deepen the feeling of +failure. It was her deep distrust of her husband--this was what +darkened the world. That is a sentiment easily indicated, but not +so easily explained, and so composite in its character that much +time and still more suffering had been needed to bring it to its +actual perfection. Suffering, with Isabel, was an active +condition; it was not a chill, a stupor, a despair; it was a +passion of thought, of speculation, of response to every pressure. +She flattered herself that she had kept her failing faith to +herself, however,--that no one suspected it but Osmond. Oh, he +knew it, and there were times when she thought he enjoyed it. It +had come gradually--it was not till the first year of their life +together, so admirably intimate at first, had closed that she had +taken the alarm. Then the shadows had begun to gather; it was as +if Osmond deliberately, almost malignantly, had put the lights +out one by one. The dusk at first was vague and thin, and she +could still see her way in it. But it steadily deepened, and if +now and again it had occasionally lifted there were certain +corners of her prospect that were impenetrably black. These +shadows were not an emanation from her own mind: she was very +sure of that; she had done her best to be just and temperate, to +see only the truth. They were a part, they were a kind of +creation and consequence, of her husband's very presence. They +were not his misdeeds, his turpitudes; she accused him of nothing +--that is but of one thing, which was NOT a crime. She knew of no +wrong he had done; he was not violent, he was not cruel: she +simply believed he hated her. That was all she accused him of, +and the miserable part of it was precisely that it was not a +crime, for against a crime she might have found redress. He had +discovered that she was so different, that she was not what he had +believed she would prove to be. He had thought at first he could +change her, and she had done her best to be what he would like. +But she was, after all, herself--she couldn't help that; and now +there was no use pretending, wearing a mask or a dress, for he +knew her and had made up his mind. She was not afraid of him; she +had no apprehension he would hurt her; for the ill-will he bore +her was not of that sort. He would if possible never give her a +pretext, never put himself in the wrong. Isabel, scanning the +future with dry, fixed eyes, saw that he would have the better of +her there. She would give him many pretexts, she would often put +herself in the wrong. There were times when she almost pitied +him; for if she had not deceived him in intention she understood +how completely she must have done so in fact. She had effaced +herself when he first knew her; she had made herself small, +pretending there was less of her than there really was. It was +because she had been under the extraordinary charm that he, on +his side, had taken pains to put forth. He was not changed; he +had not disguised himself, during the year of his courtship, any +more than she. But she had seen only half his nature then, as one +saw the disk of the moon when it was partly masked by the shadow +of the earth. She saw the full moon now--she saw the whole man. +She had kept still, as it were, so that he should have a free +field, and yet in spite of this she had mistaken a part for the +whole. + +Ah, she had been immensely under the charm! It had not passed +away; it was there still: she still knew perfectly what it was +that made Osmond delightful when he chose to be. He had wished to +be when he made love to her, and as she had wished to be charmed +it was not wonderful he had succeeded. He had succeeded because he +had been sincere; it never occurred to her now to deny him that. +He admired her--he had told her why: because she was the most +imaginative woman he had known. It might very well have been true; +for during those months she had imagined a world of things that +had no substance. She had had a more wondrous vision of him, fed +through charmed senses and oh such a stirred fancy!--she had not +read him right. A certain combination of features had touched her, +and in them she had seen the most striking of figures. That he was +poor and lonely and yet that somehow he was noble--that was what +had interested her and seemed to give her her opportunity. There +had been an indefinable beauty about him--in his situation, in +his mind, in his face. She had felt at the same time that he was +helpless and ineffectual, but the feeling had taken the form of a +tenderness which was the very flower of respect. He was like a +sceptical voyager strolling on the beach while he waited for the +tide, looking seaward yet not putting to sea. It was in all this +she had found her occasion. She would launch his boat for him; she +would be his providence; it would be a good thing to love him. And +she had loved him, she had so anxiously and yet so ardently given +herself--a good deal for what she found in him, but a good deal +also for what she brought him and what might enrich the gift. As +she looked back at the passion of those full weeks she perceived +in it a kind of maternal strain--the happiness of a woman who felt +that she was a contributor, that she came with charged hands. But +for her money, as she saw to-day, she would never have done it. +And then her mind wandered off to poor Mr. Touchett, sleeping +under English turf, the beneficent author of infinite woe! For +this was the fantastic fact. At bottom her money had been a +burden, had been on her mind, which was filled with the desire to +transfer the weight of it to some other conscience, to some more +prepared receptacle. What would lighten her own conscience more +effectually than to make it over to the man with the best taste in +the world? Unless she should have given it to a hospital there +would have been nothing better she could do with it; and there was +no charitable institution in which she had been as much interested +as in Gilbert Osmond. He would use her fortune in a way that would +make her think better of it and rub off a certain grossness +attaching to the good luck of an unexpected inheritance. There had +been nothing very delicate in inheriting seventy thousand pounds; +the delicacy had been all in Mr. Touchett's leaving them to her. +But to marry Gilbert Osmond and bring him such a portion--in +that there would be delicacy for her as well. There would be less +for him--that was true; but that was his affair, and if he loved +her he wouldn't object to her being rich. Had he not had the +courage to say he was glad she was rich? + +Isabel's cheek burned when she asked herself if she had really +married on a factitious theory, in order to do something finely +appreciable with her money. But she was able to answer quickly +enough that this was only half the story. It was because a certain +ardour took possession of her--a sense of the earnestness of his +affection and a delight in his personal qualities. He was better +than any one else. This supreme conviction had filled her life for +months, and enough of it still remained to prove to her that she +could not have done otherwise. The finest--in the sense of being +the subtlest--manly organism she had ever known had become her +property, and the recognition of her having but to put out her +hands and take it had been originally a sort of act of devotion. +She had not been mistaken about the beauty of his mind; she knew +that organ perfectly now. She had lived with it, she had lived IN +it almost--it appeared to have become her habitation. If she had +been captured it had taken a firm hand to seize her; that +reflection perhaps had some worth. A mind more ingenious, more +pliant, more cultivated, more trained to admirable exercises, she +had not encountered; and it was this exquisite instrument she had +now to reckon with. She lost herself in infinite dismay when she +thought of the magnitude of HIS deception. It was a wonder, +perhaps, in view of this, that he didn't hate her more. She +remembered perfectly the first sign he had given of it--it had +been like the bell that was to ring up the curtain upon the real +drama of their life. He said to her one day that she had too many +ideas and that she must get rid of them. He had told her that +already, before their marriage; but then she had not noticed it: +it had come back to her only afterwards. This time she might well +have noticed it, because he had really meant it. The words had +been nothing superficially; but when in the light of deepening +experience she had looked into them they had then appeared +portentous. He had really meant it--he would have liked her to +have nothing of her own but her pretty appearance. She had known +she had too many ideas; she had more even than he had supposed, +many more than she had expressed to him when he had asked her to +marry him. Yes, she HAD been hypocritical; she had liked him so +much. She had too many ideas for herself; but that was just what +one married for, to share them with some one else. One couldn't +pluck them up by the roots, though of course one might suppress +them, be careful not to utter them. It had not been this, however, +his objecting to her opinions; this had been nothing. She had no +opinions--none that she would not have been eager to sacrifice in +the satisfaction of feeling herself loved for it. What he had +meant had been the whole thing--her character, the way she felt, +the way she judged. This was what she had kept in reserve; this +was what he had not known until he had found himself--with the +door closed behind, as it were--set down face to face with it. +She had a certain way of looking at life which he took as a +personal offence. Heaven knew that now at least it was a very +humble, accommodating way! The strange thing was that she should +not have suspected from the first that his own had been so +different. She had thought it so large, so enlightened, so +perfectly that of an honest man and a gentleman. Hadn't he assured +her that he had no superstitions, no dull limitations, no +prejudices that had lost their freshness? Hadn't he all the +appearance of a man living in the open air of the world, +indifferent to small considerations, caring only for truth +and knowledge and believing that two intelligent people ought +to look for them together and, whether they found them or not, +find at least some happiness in the search? He had told her he +loved the conventional; but there was a sense in which this seemed +a noble declaration. In that sense, that of the love of harmony +and order and decency and of all the stately offices of life, she +went with him freely, and his warning had contained nothing +ominous. But when, as the months had elapsed, she had followed him +further and he had led her into the mansion of his own habitation, +then, THEN she had seen where she really was. + +She could live it over again, the incredulous terror with which +she had taken the measure of her dwelling. Between those four +walls she had lived ever since; they were to surround her for the +rest of her life. It was the house of darkness, the house of +dumbness, the house of suffocation. Osmond's beautiful mind gave +it neither light nor air; Osmond's beautiful mind indeed seemed +to peep down from a small high window and mock at her. Of course +it had not been physical suffering; for physical suffering there +might have been a remedy. She could come and go; she had her +liberty; her husband was perfectly polite. He took himself so +seriously; it was something appalling. Under all his culture, his +cleverness, his amenity, under his good-nature, his facility, his +knowledge of life, his egotism lay hidden like a serpent in a +bank of flowers. She had taken him seriously, but she had not +taken him so seriously as that. How could she--especially when +she had known him better? She was to think of him as he thought +of himself--as the first gentleman in Europe. So it was that she +had thought of him at first, and that indeed was the reason she +had married him. But when she began to see what it implied she +drew back; there was more in the bond than she had meant to put +her name to. It implied a sovereign contempt for every one but +some three or four very exalted people whom he envied, and for +everything in the world but half a dozen ideas of his own. That +was very well; she would have gone with him even there a long +distance; for he pointed out to her so much of the baseness and +shabbiness of life, opened her eyes so wide to the stupidity, the +depravity, the ignorance of mankind, that she had been properly +impressed with the infinite vulgarity of things and of the virtue +of keeping one's self unspotted by it. But this base, if noble +world, it appeared, was after all what one was to live for; one +was to keep it forever in one's eye, in order not to enlighten or +convert or redeem it, but to extract from it some recognition of +one's own superiority. On the one hand it was despicable, but +on the other it afforded a standard. Osmond had talked to Isabel +about his renunciation, his indifference, the ease with which he +dispensed with the usual aids to success; and all this had seemed +to her admirable. She had thought it a grand indifference, an +exquisite independence. But indifference was really the last of his +qualities; she had never seen any one who thought so much of +others. For herself, avowedly, the world had always interested her +and the study of her fellow creatures been her constant passion. +She would have been willing, however, to renounce all her +curiosities and sympathies for the sake of a personal life, if +the person concerned had only been able to make her believe it +was a gain! This at least was her present conviction; and the +thing certainly would have been easier than to care for society +as Osmond cared for it. + +He was unable to live without it, and she saw that he had never +really done so; he had looked at it out of his window even when he +appeared to be most detached from it. He had his ideal, just as +she had tried to have hers; only it was strange that people should +seek for justice in such different quarters. His ideal was a +conception of high prosperity and propriety, of the aristocratic +life, which she now saw that he deemed himself always, in essence +at least, to have led. He had never lapsed from it for an hour; he +would never have recovered from the shame of doing so. That again +was very well; here too she would have agreed; but they attached +such different ideas, such different associations and desires, to +the same formulas. Her notion of the aristocratic life was simply +the union of great knowledge with great liberty; the knowledge +would give one a sense of duty and the liberty a sense of +enjoyment. But for Osmond it was altogether a thing of forms, a +conscious, calculated attitude. He was fond of the old, the +consecrated, the transmitted; so was she, but she pretended to do +what she chose with it. He had an immense esteem for tradition; he +had told her once that the best thing in the world was to have it, +but that if one was so unfortunate as not to have it one must +immediately proceed to make it. She knew that he meant by this +that she hadn't it, but that he was better off; though from what +source he had derived his traditions she never learned. He had a +very large collection of them, however; that was very certain, +and after a little she began to see. The great thing was to act +in accordance with them; the great thing not only for him but for +her. Isabel had an undefined conviction that to serve for another +person than their proprietor traditions must be of a thoroughly +superior kind; but she nevertheless assented to this intimation +that she too must march to the stately music that floated down +from unknown periods in her husband's past; she who of old had +been so free of step, so desultory, so devious, so much the +reverse of processional. There were certain things they must +do, a certain posture they must take, certain people they must +know and not know. When she saw this rigid system close about her, +draped though it was in pictured tapestries, that sense of +darkness and suffocation of which I have spoken took possession of +her; she seemed shut up with an odour of mould and decay. She had +resisted of course; at first very humorously, ironically, +tenderly; then, as the situation grew more serious, eagerly, +passionately, pleadingly. She had pleaded the cause of freedom, of +doing as they chose, of not caring for the aspect and denomination +of their life--the cause of other instincts and longings, of +quite another ideal. + +Then it was that her husband's personality, touched as it never +had been, stepped forth and stood erect. The things she had said +were answered only by his scorn, and she could see he was +ineffably ashamed of her. What did he think of her--that she was +base, vulgar, ignoble? He at least knew now that she had no +traditions! It had not been in hsis prevision of things that she +should reveal such flatness; her sentiments were worthy of a +radical newspaper or a Unitarian preacher. The real offence, as +she ultimately perceived, was her having a mind of her own at +all. Her mind was to be his--attached to his own like a small +garden-plot to a deer-park. He would rake the soil gently and +water the flowers; he would weed the beds and gather an +occasional nosegay. It would be a pretty piece of property for a +proprietor already far-reaching. He didn't wish her to be stupid. +On the contrary, it was because she was clever that she had +pleased him. But he expected her intelligence to operate +altogether in his favour, and so far from desiring her mind to be +a blank he had flattered himself that it would be richly +receptive. He had expected his wife to feel with him and for him, +to enter into his opinions, his ambitions, his preferences; and +Isabel was obliged to confess that this was no great insolence on +the part of a man so accomplished and a husband originally at +least so tender. But there were certain things she could never +take in. To begin with, they were hideously unclean. She was not +a daughter of the Puritans, but for all that she believed in such +a thing as chastity and even as decency. It would appear that +Osmond was far from doing anything of the sort; some of his +traditions made her push back her skirts. Did all women have +lovers? Did they all lie and even the best have their price? +Were there only three or four that didn't deceive their husbands? +When Isabel heard such things she felt a greater scorn for them +than for the gossip of a village parlour--a scorn that kept its +freshness in a very tainted air. There was the taint of her +sister-in-law: did her husband judge only by the Countess Gemini? +This lady very often lied, and she had practised deceptions that +were not simply verbal. It was enough to find these facts assumed +among Osmond's traditions--it was enough without giving them such +a general extension. It was her scorn of his assumptions, it was +this that made him draw himself up. He had plenty of contempt, +and it was proper his wife should be as well furnished; but that +she should turn the hot light of her disdain upon his own +conception of things--this was a danger he had not allowed for. +He believed he should have regulated her emotions before she came +to it; and Isabel could easily imagine how his ears had scorched +on his discovering he had been too confident. When one had a wife +who gave one that sensation there was nothing left but to hate +her. + +She was morally certain now that this feeling of hatred, which at +first had been a refuge and a refreshment, had become the +occupation and comfort of his life. The feeling was deep, because +it was sincere; he had had the revelation that she could after all +dispense with him. If to herself the idea was startling, if it +presented itself at first as a kind of infidelity, a capacity for +pollution, what infinite effect might it not be expected to have +had upon HIM? It was very simple; he despised her; she had no +traditions and the moral horizon of a Unitarian minister. Poor +Isabel, who had never been able to understand Unitarianism! This +was the certitude she had been living with now for a time that she +had ceased to measure. What was coming--what was before them? That +was her constant question. What would he do--what ought SHE to do? +When a man hated his wife what did it lead to? She didn't hate +him, that she was sure of, for every little while she felt a +passionate wish to give him a pleasant surprise. Very often, +however, she felt afraid, and it used to come over her, as I have +intimated, that she had deceived him at the very first. They were +strangely married, at all events, and it was a horrible life. +Until that morning he had scarcely spoken to her for a week; his +manner was as dry as a burned-out fire. She knew there was a +special reason; he was displeased at Ralph Touchett's staying on +in Rome. He thought she saw too much of her cousin--he had told +her a week before it was indecent she should go to him at his +hotel. He would have said more than this if Ralph's invalid state +had not appeared to make it brutal to denounce him; but having had +to contain himself had only deepened his disgust. Isabel read all +this as she would have read the hour on the clock-face; she was as +perfectly aware that the sight of her interest in her cousin +stirred her husband's rage as if Osmond had locked her into her +room--which she was sure was what he wanted to do. It was her +honest belief that on the whole she was not defiant, but she +certainly couldn't pretend to be indifferent to Ralph. She +believed he was dying at last and that she should never see him +again, and this gave her a tenderness for him that she had never +known before. Nothing was a pleasure to her now; how could +anything be a pleasure to a woman who knew that she had thrown +away her life? There was an everlasting weight on her heart-- +there was a livid light on everything. But Ralph's little visit +was a lamp in the darkness; for the hour that she sat with him +her ache for herself became somehow her ache for HIM. She felt +to-day as if he had been her brother. She had never had a +brother, but if she had and she were in trouble and he were +dying, he would be dear to her as Ralph was. Ah yes, if Gilbert +was jealous of her there was perhaps some reason; it didn't make +Gilbert look better to sit for half an hour with Ralph. It was +not that they talked of him--it was not that she complained. His +name was never uttered between them. It was simply that Ralph was +generous and that her husband was not. There was something in +Ralph's talk, in his smile, in the mere fact of his being in +Rome, that made the blasted circle round which she walked more +spacious. He made her feel the good of the world; he made her +feel what might have been. He was after all as intelligent as +Osmond--quite apart from his being better. And thus it seemed to +her an act of devotion to conceal her misery from him. She +concealed it elaborately; she was perpetually, in their talk, +hanging out curtains and before her again--it lived before her +again,--it had never had time to die--that morning in the garden +at Florence when he had warned her against Osmond. She had only +to close her eyes to see the place, to hear his voice, to feel +the warm, sweet air. How could he have known? What a mystery, +what a wonder of wisdom! As intelligent as Gilbert? He was much +more intelligent--to arrive at such a judgement as that. Gilbert +had never been so deep, so just. She had told him then that from +her at least he should never know if he was right; and this was +what she was taking care of now. It gave her plenty to do; there +was passion, exaltation, religion in it. Women find their religion +sometimes in strange exercises, and Isabel at present, in playing +a part before her cousin, had an idea that she was doing him a +kindness. It would have been a kindness perhaps if he had been for +a single instant a dupe. As it was, the kindness consisted mainly +in trying to make him believe that he had once wounded her greatly +and that the event had put him to shame, but that, as she was very +generous and he was so ill, she bore him no grudge and even +considerately forbore to flaunt her happiness in his face. Ralph +smiled to himself, as he lay on his sofa, at this extraordinary +form of consideration; but he forgave her for having forgiven him. +She didn't wish him to have the pain of knowing she was unhappy: +that was the great thing, and it didn't matter that such knowledge +would rather have righted him. + +For herself, she lingered in the soundless saloon long after the +fire had gone out. There was no danger of her feeling the cold; +she was in a fever. She heard the small hours strike, and then the +great ones, but her vigil took no heed of time. Her mind, assailed +by visions, was in a state of extraordinary activity, and her +visions might as well come to her there, where she sat up to meet +them, as on her pillow, to make a mockery of rest. As I have +said, she believed she was not defiant, and what could be a +better proof of it than that she should linger there half the +night, trying to persuade herself that there was no reason why +Pansy shouldn't be married as you would put a letter in the +post-office? When the clock struck four she got up; she was +going to bed at last, for the lamp had long since gone out and +the candles burned down to their sockets. But even then she +stopped again in the middle of the room and stood there gazing at +a remembered vision--that of her husband and Madame Merle +unconsciously and familiarly associated. + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +Three nights after this she took Pansy to a great party, to which +Osmond, who never went to dances, did not accompany them. Pansy +was as ready for a dance as ever; she was not of a generalising +turn and had not extended to other pleasures the interdict she +had seen placed on those of love. If she was biding her time or +hoping to circumvent her father she must have had a prevision of +success. Isabel thought this unlikely; it was much more likely +that Pansy had simply determined to be a good girl. She had never +had such a chance, and she had a proper esteem for chances. She +carried herself no less attentively than usual and kept no less +anxious an eye upon her vaporous skirts; she held her bouquet +very tight and counted over the flowers for the twentieth time. +She made Isabel feel old; it seemed so long since she had been in +a flutter about a ball. Pansy, who was greatly admired, was never +in want of partners, and very soon after their arrival she gave +Isabel, who was not dancing, her bouquet to hold. Isabel had +rendered her this service for some minutes when she became aware +of the near presence of Edward Rosier. He stood before her; he +had lost his affable smile and wore a look of almost military +resolution. The change in his appearance would have made Isabel +smile if she had not felt his case to be at bottom a hard one: he +had always smelt so much more of heliotrope than of gunpowder. He +looked at her a moment somewhat fiercely, as if to notify her he +was dangerous, and then dropped his eyes on her bouquet. After he +had inspected it his glance softened and he said quickly: "It's +all pansies; it must be hers!" + +Isabel smiled kindly. "Yes, it's hers; she gave it to me to +hold." + +"May I hold it a little, Mrs. Osmond?" the poor young man asked. + +"No, I can't trust you; I'm afraid you wouldn't give it back." + +"I'm not sure that I should; I should leave the house with it +instantly. But may I not at least have a single flower?" + +Isabel hesitated a moment, and then, smiling still, held out the +bouquet. "Choose one yourself. It's frightful what I'm doing for +you." + +"Ah, if you do no more than this, Mrs. Osmond!" Rosier exclaimed +with his glass in one eye, carefully choosing his flower. + +"Don't put it into your button-hole," she said. "Don't for the +world!" + +"I should like her to see it. She has refused to dance with me, +but I wish to show her that I believe in her still." + +"It's very well to show it to her, but it's out of place to show +it to others. Her father has told her not to dance with you." + +"And is that all YOU can do for me? I expected more from you, +Mrs. Osmond," said the young man in a tone of fine general +reference. "You know our acquaintance goes back very far--quite +into the days of our innocent childhood." + +"Don't make me out too old," Isabel patiently answered. "You come +back to that very often, and I've never denied it. But I must +tell you that, old friends as we are, if you had done me the +honour to ask me to marry you I should have refused you on the +spot." + +"Ah, you don't esteem me then. Say at once that you think me a +mere Parisian trifler!" + +"I esteem you very much, but I'm not in love with you. What I +mean by that, of course, is that I'm not in love with you for +Pansy." + +"Very good; I see. You pity me--that's all." And Edward Rosier +looked all round, inconsequently, with his single glass. It was a +revelation to him that people shouldn't be more pleased; but he +was at least too proud to show that the deficiency struck him as +general. + +Isabel for a moment said nothing. His manner and appearance had +not the dignity of the deepest tragedy; his little glass, among +other things, was against that. But she suddenly felt touched; +her own unhappiness, after all, had something in common with his, +and it came over her, more than before, that here, in +recognisable, if not in romantic form, was the most affecting +thing in the world--young love struggling with adversity. "Would +you really be very kind to her?" she finally asked in a low tone. + +He dropped his eyes devoutly and raised the little flower that he +held in his fingers to his lips. Then he looked at her. "You pity +me; but don't you pity HER a little?" + +"I don't know; I'm not sure. She'll always enjoy life." + +"It will depend on what you call life!" Mr. Rosier effectively +said. "She won't enjoy being tortured." + +"There'll be nothing of that." + +"I'm glad to hear it. She knows what she's about. You'll see." + +"I think she does, and she'll never disobey her father. But she's +coming back to me," Isabel added, "and I must beg you to go +away." + +Rosier lingered a moment till Pansy came in sight on the arm of +her cavalier; he stood just long enough to look her in the face. +Then he walked away, holding up his head; and the manner in which +he achieved this sacrifice to expediency convinced Isabel he was +very much in love. + +Pansy, who seldom got disarranged in dancing, looking perfectly +fresh and cool after this exercise, waited a moment and then took +back her bouquet. Isabel watched her and saw she was counting the +flowers; whereupon she said to herself that decidedly there were +deeper forces at play than she had recognised. Pansy had seen +Rosier turn away, but she said nothing to Isabel about him; she +talked only of her partner, after he had made his bow and +retired; of the music, the floor, the rare misfortune of having +already torn her dress. Isabel was sure, however, she had +discovered her lover to have abstracted a flower; though this +knowledge was not needed to account for the dutiful grace with +which she responded to the appeal of her next partner. That +perfect amenity under acute constraint was part of a larger +system. She was again led forth by a flushed young man, this time +carrying her bouquet; and she had not been absent many minutes +when Isabel saw Lord Warburton advancing through the crowd. He +presently drew near and bade her good-evening; she had not seen +him since the day before. He looked about him, and then "Where's +the little maid?" he asked. It was in this manner that he had +formed the harmless habit of alluding to Miss Osmond. + +"She's dancing," said Isabel. "You'll see her somewhere." + +He looked among the dancers and at last caught Pansy's eye. "She +sees me, but she won't notice me," he then remarked. "Are you not +dancing?" + +"As you see, I'm a wall-flower." + +"Won't you dance with me?" + +"Thank you; I'd rather you should dance with the little maid." + +"One needn't prevent the other--especially as she's engaged." + +"She's not engaged for everything, and you can reserve yourself. +She dances very hard, and you'll be the fresher." + +"She dances beautifully," said Lord Warburton, following her with +his eyes. "Ah, at last," he added, "she has given me a smile." He +stood there with his handsome, easy, important physiognomy; and +as Isabel observed him it came over her, as it had done before, +that it was strange a man of his mettle should take an interest +in a little maid. It struck her as a great incongruity; neither +Pansy's small fascinations, nor his own kindness, his good-nature, +not even his need for amusement, which was extreme and constant, +were sufficient to account for it. "I should like to dance with +you," he went on in a moment, turning back to Isabel; "but I +think I like even better to talk with you." + +"Yes, it's better, and it's more worthy of your dignity. Great +statesmen oughtn't to waltz." + +"Don't be cruel. Why did you recommend me then to dance with Miss +Osmond?" + +"Ah, that's different. If you danced with her it would look +simply like a piece of kindness--as if you were doing it for her +amusement. If you dance with me you'll look as if you were doing +it for your own." + +"And pray haven't I a right to amuse myself?" + +"No, not with the affairs of the British Empire on your hands." + +"The British Empire be hanged! You're always laughing at it." + +"Amuse yourself with talking to me," said Isabel. + +"I'm not sure it's really a recreation. You're too pointed; I've +always to be defending myself. And you strike me as more than +usually dangerous to-night. Will you absolutely not dance?" + +"I can't leave my place. Pansy must find me here." + +He was silent a little. "You're wonderfully good to her," he said +suddenly. + +Isabel stared a little and smiled. "Can you imagine one's not +being?" + +"No indeed. I know how one is charmed with her. But you must have +done a great deal for her." + +"I've taken her out with me," said Isabel, smiling still. "And +I've seen that she has proper clothes." + +"Your society must have been a great benefit to her. You've +talked to her, advised her, helped her to develop." + +"Ah yes, if she isn't the rose she has lived near it." + +She laughed, and her companion did as much; but there was a +certain visible preoccupation in his face which interfered with +complete hilarity. "We all try to live as near it as we can," he +said after a moment's hesitation. + +Isabel turned away; Pansy was about to be restored to her, and +she welcomed the diversion. We know how much she liked Lord +Warburton; she thought him pleasanter even than the sum of his +merits warranted; there was something in his friendship that +appeared a kind of resource in case of indefinite need; it was +like having a large balance at the bank. She felt happier when he +was in the room; there was something reassuring in his approach; +the sound of his voice reminded her of the beneficence of nature. +Yet for all that it didn't suit her that he should be too near +her, that he should take too much of her good-will for granted. +She was afraid of that; she averted herself from it; she wished +he wouldn't. She felt that if he should come too near, as it +were, it might be in her to flash out and bid him keep his +distance. Pansy came back to Isabel with another rent in her +skirt, which was the inevitable consequence of the first and +which she displayed to Isabel with serious eyes. There were too +many gentlemen in uniform; they wore those dreadful spurs, which +were fatal to the dresses of little maids. It hereupon became +apparent that the resources of women are innumerable. Isabel +devoted herself to Pansy's desecrated drapery; she fumbled for a +pin and repaired the injury; she smiled and listened to her +account of her adventures. Her attention, her sympathy were +immediate and active; and they were in direct proportion to a +sentiment with which they were in no way connected--a lively +conjecture as to whether Lord Warburton might be trying to make +love to her. It was not simply his words just then; it was others +as well; it was the reference and the continuity. This was what +she thought about while she pinned up Pansy's dress. If it were +so, as she feared, he was of course unwitting; he himself had not +taken account of his intention. But this made it none the more +auspicious, made the situation none less impossible. The sooner +he should get back into right relations with things the better. +He immediately began to talk to Pansy--on whom it was certainly +mystifying to see that he dropped a smile of chastened devotion. +Pansy replied, as usual, with a little air of conscientious +aspiration; he had to bend toward her a good deal in conversation, +and her eyes, as usual, wandered up and down his robust person as +if he had offered it to her for exhibition. She always seemed a +little frightened; yet her fright was not of the painful +character that suggests dislike; on the contrary, she looked as +if she knew that he knew she liked him. Isabel left them together +a little and wandered toward a friend whom she saw near and with +whom she talked till the music of the following dance began, for +which she knew Pansy to be also engaged. The girl joined her +presently, with a little fluttered flush, and Isabel, who +scrupulously took Osmond's view of his daughter's complete +dependence, consigned her, as a precious and momentary loan, to +her appointed partner. About all this matter she had her own +imaginations, her own reserves; there were moments when Pansy's +extreme adhesiveness made each of them, to her sense, look +foolish. But Osmond had given her a sort of tableau of her +position as his daughter's duenna, which consisted of gracious +alternations of concession and contraction; and there were +directions of his which she liked to think she obeyed to the +letter. Perhaps, as regards some of them, it was because her +doing so appeared to reduce them to the absurd. + +After Pansy had been led away, she found Lord Warburton drawing +near her again. She rested her eyes on him steadily; she wished +she could sound his thoughts. But he had no appearance of +confusion. "She has promised to dance with me later," he said. + +"I'm glad of that. I suppose you've engaged her for the cotillion." + +At this he looked a little awkward. "No, I didn't ask her for +that. It's a quadrille." + +"Ah, you're not clever!" said Isabel almost angrily. "I told her +to keep the cotillion in case you should ask for it." + +"Poor little maid, fancy that!" And Lord Warburton laughed +frankly. "Of course I will if you like." + +"If I like? Oh, if you dance with her only because I like it--!" + +"I'm afraid I bore her. She seems to have a lot of young fellows +on her book." + +Isabel dropped her eyes, reflecting rapidly; Lord Warburton stood +there looking at her and she felt his eyes on her face. She felt +much inclined to ask him to remove them. She didn't do so, +however; she only said to him, after a minute, with her own +raised: "Please let me understand." + +"Understand what?" + +"You told me ten days ago that you'd like to marry my +stepdaughter. You've not forgotten it!" + +"Forgotten it? I wrote to Mr. Osmond about it this morning." + +"Ah," said Isabel, "he didn't mention to me that he had heard +from you." + +Lord Warburton stammered a little. "I--I didn't send my letter." + +"Perhaps you forgot THAT." + +"No, I wasn't satisfied with it. It's an awkward sort of letter +to write, you know. But I shall send it to-night." + +"At three o'clock in the morning?" + +"I mean later, in the course of the day." + +"Very good. You still wish then to marry her?" + +"Very much indeed." + +"Aren't you afraid that you'll bore her?" And as her companion +stared at this enquiry Isabel added: "If she can't dance with you +for half an hour how will she be able to dance with you for +life?" + +"Ah," said Lord Warburton readily, "I'll let her dance with other +people! About the cotillion, the fact is I thought that you-- +that you--" + +"That I would do it with you? I told you I'd do nothing." + +"Exactly; so that while it's going on I might find some quiet +corner where we may sit down and talk." + +"Oh," said Isabel gravely, "you're much too considerate of me." + +When the cotillion came Pansy was found to have engaged herself, +thinking, in perfect humility, that Lord Warburton had no +intentions. Isabel recommended him to seek another partner, but +he assured her that he would dance with no one but herself. As, +however, she had, in spite of the remonstrances of her hostess, +declined other invitations on the ground that she was not dancing +at all, it was not possible for her to make an exception in Lord +Warburton's favour. + +"After all I don't care to dance," he said; "it's a barbarous +amusement: I'd much rather talk." And he intimated that he had +discovered exactly the corner he had been looking for--a quiet +nook in one of the smaller rooms, where the music would come to +them faintly and not interfere with conversation. Isabel had +decided to let him carry out his idea; she wished to be +satisfied. She wandered away from the ball-room with him, though +she knew her husband desired she should not lose sight of his +daughter. It was with his daughter's pretendant, however; that +would make it right for Osmond. On her way out of the ball-room +she came upon Edward Rosier, who was standing in a doorway, with +folded arms, looking at the dance in the attitude of a young man +without illusions. She stopped a moment and asked him if he were +not dancing. + +"Certainly not, if I can't dance with HER!" he answered. + +"You had better go away then," said Isabel with the manner of +good counsel. + +"I shall not go till she does!" And he let Lord Warburton pass +without giving him a look. + +This nobleman, however, had noticed the melancholy youth, and he +asked Isabel who her dismal friend was, remarking that he had +seen him somewhere before. + +"It's the young man I've told you about, who's in love with +Pansy." + +"Ah yes, I remember. He looks rather bad." + +"He has reason. My husband won't listen to him." + +"What's the matter with him?" Lord Warburton enquired. "He seems +very harmless." + +"He hasn't money enough, and he isn't very clever." + +Lord Warburton listened with interest; he seemed struck with this +account of Edward Rosier. "Dear me; he looked a well-set-up young +fellow." + +"So he is, but my husband's very particular." + +"Oh, I see." And Lord Warburton paused a moment. "How much money +has he got?" he then ventured to ask. + +"Some forty thousand francs a year." + +"Sixteen hundred pounds? Ah, but that's very good, you know." + +"So I think. My husband, however, has larger ideas." + +"Yes; I've noticed that your husband has very large ideas. Is he +really an idiot, the young man?" + +"An idiot? Not in the least; he's charming. When he was twelve +years old I myself was in love with him." + +"He doesn't look much more than twelve to-day," Lord Warburton +rejoined vaguely, looking about him. Then with more point, "Don't +you think we might sit here?" he asked. + +"Wherever you please." The room was a sort of boudoir, pervaded +by a subdued, rose-coloured light; a lady and gentleman moved out +of it as our friends came in. "It's very kind of you to take such +an interest in Mr. Rosier," Isabel said. + +"He seems to me rather ill-treated. He had a face a yard long. I +wondered what ailed him." + +"You're a just man," said Isabel. "You've a kind thought even for +a rival." + +Lord Warburton suddenly turned with a stare. "A rival! Do you +call him my rival?" + +"Surely--if you both wish to marry the same person." + +"Yes--but since he has no chance!" + +"I like you, however that may be, for putting your self in his +place. It shows imagination." + +"You like me for it?" And Lord Warburton looked at her with an +uncertain eye. "I think you mean you're laughing at me for it." + +"Yes, I'm laughing at you a little. But I like you as somebody to +laugh at." + +"Ah well, then, let me enter into his situation a little more. +What do you suppose one could do for him?" + +"Since I have been praising your imagination I'll leave you to +imagine that yourself," Isabel said. "Pansy too would like you +for that." + +"Miss Osmond? Ah, she, I flatter myself, likes me already." + +"Very much, I think." + +He waited a little; he was still questioning her face. "Well +then, I don't understand you. You don't mean that she cares for +him?" + +A quick blush sprang to his brow. "You told me she would have no +wish apart from her father's, and as I've gathered that he would +favour me--!" He paused a little and then suggested "Don't you +see?" through his blush. + +"Yes, I told you she has an immense wish to please her father, +and that it would probably take her very far." + +"That seems to me a very proper feeling," said Lord Warburton. + +"Certainly; it's a very proper feeling." Isabel remained silent +for some moments; the room continued empty; the sound of the +music reached them with its richness softened by the interposing +apartments. Then at last she said: "But it hardly strikes me as +the sort of feeling to which a man would wish to be indebted for +a wife." + +"I don't know; if the wife's a good one and he thinks she does +well!" + +"Yes, of course you must think that." + +"I do; I can't help it. You call that very British, of course." + +"No, I don't. I think Pansy would do wonderfully well to marry +you, and I don't know who should know it better than you. But +you're not in love." + +"Ah, yes I am, Mrs. Osmond!" + +Isabel shook her head. "You like to think you are while you sit +here with me. But that's not how you strike me." + +"I'm not like the young man in the doorway. I admit that. But +what makes it so unnatural? Could any one in the world be more +loveable than Miss Osmond?" + +"No one, possibly. But love has nothing to do with good reasons." + +"I don't agree with you. I'm delighted to have good reasons." + +"Of course you are. If you were really in love you wouldn't care +a straw for them." + +"Ah, really in love--really in love!" Lord Warburton exclaimed, +folding his arms, leaning back his head and stretching himself a +little. "You must remember that I'm forty-two years old. I won't +pretend I'm as I once was." + +"Well, if you're sure," said Isabel, "it's all right." + +He answered nothing; he sat there, with his head back, looking +before him. Abruptly, however, he changed his position; he turned +quickly to his friend. "Why are you so unwilling, so sceptical?" +She met his eyes, and for a moment they looked straight at each +other. If she wished to be satisfied she saw something that +satisfied her; she saw in his expression the gleam of an idea +that she was uneasy on her own account--that she was perhaps even +in fear. It showed a suspicion, not a hope, but such as it was it +told her what she wanted to know. Not for an instant should he +suspect her of detecting in his proposal of marrying her +step-daughter an implication of increased nearness to herself, or +of thinking it, on such a betrayal, ominous. In that brief, +extremely personal gaze, however, deeper meanings passed between +them than they were conscious of at the moment. + +"My dear Lord Warburton," she said, smiling, "you may do, so far +as I'm concerned, whatever comes into your head." + +And with this she got up and wandered into the adjoining room, +where, within her companion's view, she was immediately addressed +by a pair of gentlemen, high personages in the Roman world, who +met her as if they had been looking for her. While she talked +with them she found herself regretting she had moved; it looked a +little like running away--all the more as Lord Warburton didn't +follow her. She was glad of this, however, and at any rate she +was satisfied. She was so well satisfied that when, in passing +back into the ball-room, she found Edward Rosier still planted in +the doorway, she stopped and spoke to him again. "You did right +not to go away. I've some comfort for you." + +"I need it," the young man softly wailed, "when I see you so +awfully thick with him!" + +"Don't speak of him; I'll do what I can for you. I'm afraid it +won't be much, but what I can I'll do." + +He looked at her with gloomy obliqueness. "What has suddenly +brought you round?" + +"The sense that you are an inconvenience in doorways!" she +answered, smiling as she passed him. Half an hour later she took +leave, with Pansy, and at the foot of the staircase the two +ladies, with many other departing guests, waited a while for +their carriage. Just as it approached Lord Warburton came out of +the house and assisted them to reach their vehicle. He stood a +moment at the door, asking Pansy if she had amused herself; and +she, having answered him, fell back with a little air of fatigue. +Then Isabel, at the window, detaining him by a movement of her +finger, murmured gently: "Don't forget to send your letter to her +father!" + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + +The Countess Gemini was often extremely bored--bored, in her own +phrase, to extinction. She had not been extinguished, however, +and she struggled bravely enough with her destiny, which had been +to marry an unaccommodating Florentine who insisted upon living +in his native town, where he enjoyed such consideration as might +attach to a gentleman whose talent for losing at cards had not +the merit of being incidental to an obliging disposition. The +Count Gemini was not liked even by those who won from him; and he +bore a name which, having a measurable value in Florence, was, +like the local coin of the old Italian states, without currency +in other parts of the peninsula. In Rome he was simply a very +dull Florentine, and it is not remarkable that he should not have +cared to pay frequent visits to a place where, to carry it off, +his dulness needed more explanation than was convenient. The +Countess lived with her eyes upon Rome, and it was the constant +grievance of her life that she had not an habitation there. She +was ashamed to say how seldom she had been allowed to visit that +city; it scarcely made the matter better that there were other +members of the Florentine nobility who never had been there at +all. She went whenever she could; that was all she could say. Or +rather not all, but all she said she could say. In fact she had +much more to say about it, and had often set forth the reasons +why she hated Florence and wished to end her days in the shadow +of Saint Peter's. They are reasons, however, that do not closely +concern us, and were usually summed up in the declaration that +Rome, in short, was the Eternal City and that Florence was simply +a pretty little place like any other. The Countess apparently +needed to connect the idea of eternity with her amusements. She +was convinced that society was infinitely more interesting in +Rome, where you met celebrities all winter at evening parties. At +Florence there were no celebrities; none at least that one had +heard of. Since her brother's marriage her impatience had greatly +increased; she was so sure his wife had a more brilliant life +than herself. She was not so intellectual as Isabel, but she was +intellectual enough to do justice to Rome--not to the ruins and +the catacombs, not even perhaps to the monuments and museums, the +church ceremonies and the scenery; but certainly to all the rest. +She heard a great deal about her sister-in-law and knew perfectly +that Isabel was having a beautiful time. She had indeed seen it +for herself on the only occasion on which she had enjoyed the +hospitality of Palazzo Roccanera. She had spent a week there +during the first winter of her brother's marriage, but she had +not been encouraged to renew this satisfaction. Osmond didn't +want her--that she was perfectly aware of; but she would have +gone all the same, for after all she didn't care two straws about +Osmond. It was her husband who wouldn't let her, and the money +question was always a trouble. Isabel had been very nice; the +Countess, who had liked her sister-in-law from the first, had not +been blinded by envy to Isabel's personal merits. She had always +observed that she got on better with clever women than with silly +ones like herself; the silly ones could never understand her +wisdom, whereas the clever ones--the really clever ones--always +understood her silliness. It appeared to her that, different as +they were in appearance and general style, Isabel and she had +somewhere a patch of common ground that they would set their feet +upon at last. It was not very large, but it was firm, and they +should both know it when once they had really touched it. And +then she lived, with Mrs. Osmond, under the influence of a +pleasant surprise; she was constantly expecting that Isabel would +"look down" on her, and she as constantly saw this operation +postponed. She asked herself when it would begin, like +fire-works, or Lent, or the opera season; not that she cared +much, but she wondered what kept it in abeyance. Her +sister-in-law regarded her with none but level glances and +expressed for the poor Countess as little contempt as admiration. +In reality Isabel would as soon have thought of despising her as +of passing a moral judgement on a grasshopper. She was not +indifferent to her husband's sister, however; she was rather a +little afraid of her. She wondered at her; she thought her very +extraordinary. The Countess seemed to her to have no soul; she +was like a bright rare shell, with a polished surface and a +remarkably pink lip, in which something would rattle when you +shook it. This rattle was apparently the Countess's spiritual +principle, a little loose nut that tumbled about inside of her. +She was too odd for disdain, too anomalous for comparisons. +Isabel would have invited her again (there was no question of +inviting the Count); but Osmond, after his marriage, had not +scrupled to say frankly that Amy was a fool of the worst species +--a fool whose folly had the irrepressibility of genius. He said +at another time that she had no heart; and he added in a moment +that she had given it all away--in small pieces, like a frosted +wedding-cake. The fact of not having been asked was of course +another obstacle to the Countess's going again to Rome; but at +the period with which this history has now to deal she was in +receipt of an invitation to spend several weeks at Palazzo +Roccanera. The proposal had come from Osmond himself, who wrote +to his sister that she must be prepared to be very quiet. Whether +or no she found in this phrase all the meaning he had put into it +I am unable to say; but she accepted the invitation on any terms. +She was curious, moreover; for one of the impressions of her +former visit had been that her brother had found his match. +Before the marriage she had been sorry for Isabel, so sorry as to +have had serious thoughts--if any of the Countess's thoughts were +serious--of putting her on her guard. But she had let that pass, +and after a little she was reassured. Osmond was as lofty as +ever, but his wife would not be an easy victim. The Countess was +not very exact at measurements, but it seemed to her that if +Isabel should draw herself up she would be the taller spirit of +the two. What she wanted to learn now was whether Isabel had +drawn herself up; it would give her immense pleasure to see +Osmond overtopped. + +Several days before she was to start for Rome a servant brought +her the card of a visitor--a card with the simple superscription +"Henrietta C. Stackpole." The Countess pressed her finger-tips to +her forehead; she didn't remember to have known any such +Henrietta as that. The servant then remarked that the lady had +requested him to say that if the Countess should not recognise +her name she would know her well enough on seeing her. By the +time she appeared before her visitor she had in fact reminded +herself that there was once a literary lady at Mrs. Touchett's; +the only woman of letters she had ever encountered--that is the +only modern one, since she was the daughter of a defunct poetess. +She recognised Miss Stackpole immediately, the more so that Miss +Stackpole seemed perfectly unchanged; and the Countess, who was +thoroughly good-natured, thought it rather fine to be called on +by a person of that sort of distinction. She wondered if Miss +Stackpole had come on account of her mother--whether she had +heard of the American Corinne. Her mother was not at all like +Isabel's friend; the Countess could see at a glance that this +lady was much more contemporary; and she received an impression +of the improvements that were taking place--chiefly in distant +countries--in the character (the professional character) of +literary ladies. Her mother had been used to wear a Roman scarf +thrown over a pair of shoulders timorously bared of their tight +black velvet (oh the old clothes!) and a gold laurel-wreath set +upon a multitude of glossy ringlets. She had spoken softly and +vaguely, with the accent of her "Creole" ancestors, as she always +confessed; she sighed a great deal and was not at all +enterprising. But Henrietta, the Countess could see, was always +closely buttoned and compactly braided; there was something brisk +and business-like in her appearance; her manner was almost +conscientiously familiar. It was as impossible to imagine her +ever vaguely sighing as to imagine a letter posted without its +address. The Countess could not but feel that the correspondent +of the Interviewer was much more in the movement than the +American Corinne. She explained that she had called on the +Countess because she was the only person she knew in Florence, +and that when she visited a foreign city she liked to see +something more than superficial travellers. She knew Mrs. +Touchett, but Mrs. Touchett was in America, and even if she had +been in Florence Henrietta would not have put herself out for +her, since Mrs. Touchett was not one of her admirations. + +"Do you mean by that that I am?" the Countess graciously asked. + +"Well, I like you better than I do her," said Miss Stackpole. "I +seem to remember that when I saw you before you were very +interesting. I don't know whether it was an accident or whether +it's your usual style. At any rate I was a good deal struck with +what you said. I made use of it afterwards in print." + +"Dear me!" cried the Countess, staring and half-alarmed; "I had +no idea I ever said anything remarkable! I wish I had known it at +the time." + +"It was about the position of woman in this city," Miss Stackpole +remarked. "You threw a good deal of light upon it." + +"The position of woman's very uncomfortable. Is that what you +mean? And you wrote it down and published it?" the Countess went +on. "Ah, do let me see it!" + +"I'll write to them to send you the paper if you like," Henrietta +said. "I didn't mention your name; I only said a lady of high +rank. And then I quoted your views." + +The Countess threw herself hastily backward, tossing up her +clasped hands. "Do you know I'm rather sorry you didn't mention +my name? I should have rather liked to see my name in the papers. +I forget what my views were; I have so many! But I'm not ashamed +of them. I'm not at all like my brother--I suppose you know my +brother? He thinks it a kind of scandal to be put in the papers; +if you were to quote him he'd never forgive you." + +"He needn't be afraid; I shall never refer to him," said Miss +Stackpole with bland dryness. "That's another reason," she added, +"why I wanted to come to see you. You know Mr. Osmond married my +dearest friend." + +"Ah, yes; you were a friend of Isabel's. I was trying to think +what I knew about you." + +"I'm quite willing to be known by that," Henrietta declared. "But +that isn't what your brother likes to know me by. He has tried to +break up my relations with Isabel." + +"Don't permit it," said the Countess. + +"That's what I want to talk about. I'm going to Rome." + +"So am I!" the Countess cried. "We'll go together." + +"With great pleasure. And when I write about my journey I'll +mention you by name as my companion." + +The Countess sprang from her chair and came and sat on the sofa +beside her visitor. "Ah, you must send me the paper! My husband +won't like it, but he need never see it. Besides, he doesn't know +how to read." + +Henrietta's large eyes became immense. "Doesn't know how to read? +May I put that into my letter?" + +"Into your letter?" + +"In the Interviewer. That's my paper." + +"Oh yes, if you like; with his name. Are you going to stay with +Isabel?" + +Henrietta held up her head, gazing a little in silence at her +hostess. "She has not asked me. I wrote to her I was coming, and +she answered that she would engage a room for me at a pension. +She gave no reason." + +The Countess listened with extreme interest. "The reason's Osmond," +she pregnantly remarked. + +"Isabel ought to make a stand," said Miss Stackpole. "I'm afraid +she has changed a great deal. I told her she would." + +"I'm sorry to hear it; I hoped she would have her own way. Why +doesn't my brother like you?" the Countess ingenuously added. + +"I don't know and I don't care. He's perfectly welcome not to +like me; I don't want every one to like me; I should think less +of myself if some people did. A journalist can't hope to do much +good unless he gets a good deal hated; that's the way he knows +how his work goes on. And it's just the same for a lady. But I +didn't expect it of Isabel." + +"Do you mean that she hates you?" the Countess enquired. + +"I don't know; I want to see. That's what I'm going to Rome for." + +"Dear me, what a tiresome errand!" the Countess exclaimed. + +"She doesn't write to me in the same way; it's easy to see +there's a difference. If you know anything," Miss Stackpole went +on, "I should like to hear it beforehand, so as to decide on the +line I shall take." + +The Countess thrust out her under lip and gave a gradual shrug. +"I know very little; I see and hear very little of Osmond. He +doesn't like me any better than he appears to like you." + +"Yet you're not a lady correspondent," said Henrietta pensively. + +"Oh, he has plenty of reasons. Nevertheless they've invited me-- +I'm to stay in the house!" And the Countess smiled almost +fiercely; her exultation, for the moment, took little account of +Miss Stackpole's disappointment. + +This lady, however, regarded it very placidly. "I shouldn't have +gone if she HAD asked me. That is I think I shouldn't; and I'm +glad I hadn't to make up my mind. It would have been a very +difficult question. I shouldn't have liked to turn away from her, +and yet I shouldn't have been happy under her roof. A pension +will suit me very well. But that's not all." + +"Rome's very good just now," said the Countess; "there are all +sorts of brilliant people. Did you ever hear of Lord Warburton?" + +"Hear of him? I know him very well. Do you consider him very +brilliant?" Henrietta enquired. + +"I don't know him, but I'm told he's extremely grand seigneur. +He's making love to Isabel." + +"Making love to her?" + +"So I'm told; I don't know the details," said the Countess lightly. +"But Isabel's pretty safe." + +Henrietta gazed earnestly at her companion; for a moment she said +nothing. "When do you go to Rome?" she enquired abruptly. + +"Not for a week, I'm afraid." + +"I shall go to-morrow," Henrietta said. "I think I had better not +wait." + +"Dear me, I'm sorry; I'm having some dresses made. I'm told +Isabel receives immensely. But I shall see you there; I shall +call on you at your pension." Henrietta sat still--she was lost +in thought; and suddenly the Countess cried: "Ah, but if you +don't go with me you can't describe our journey!" + +Miss Stackpole seemed unmoved by this consideration; she was +thinking of something else and presently expressed it. "I'm not +sure that I understand you about Lord Warburton." + +"Understand me? I mean he's very nice, that's all." + +"Do you consider it nice to make love to married women?" +Henrietta enquired with unprecedented distinctness. + +The Countess stared, and then with a little violent laugh: "It's +certain all the nice men do it. Get married and you'll see!" she +added. + +"That idea would be enough to prevent me," said Miss Stackpole. +"I should want my own husband; I shouldn't want any one else's. +Do you mean that Isabel's guilty--guilty--?" And she paused a +little, choosing her expression. + +"Do I mean she's guilty? Oh dear no, not yet, I hope. I only mean +that Osmond's very tiresome and that Lord Warburton, as I hear, +is a great deal at the house. I'm afraid you're scandalised." + +"No, I'm just anxious," Henrietta said. + +"Ah, you're not very complimentary to Isabel! You should have +more confidence. I'll tell you," the Countess added quickly: "if +it will be a comfort to you I engage to draw him off." + +Miss Stackpole answered at first only with the deeper solemnity +of her gaze. "You don't understand me," she said after a while. +"I haven't the idea you seem to suppose. I'm not afraid for +Isabel--in that way. I'm only afraid she's unhappy--that's what I +want to get at." + +The Countess gave a dozen turns of the head; she looked impatient +and sarcastic. "That may very well be; for my part I should like +to know whether Osmond is." Miss Stackpole had begun a little to +bore her. + +"If she's really changed that must be at the bottom of it," +Henrietta went on. + +"You'll see; she'll tell you," said the Countess. + +"Ah, she may NOT tell me--that's what I'm afraid of!" + +"Well, if Osmond isn't amusing himself--in his own old way--I +flatter myself I shall discover it," the Countess rejoined. + +"I don't care for that," said Henrietta. + +"I do immensely! If Isabel's unhappy I'm very sorry for her, but +I can't help it. I might tell her something that would make her +worse, but I can't tell her anything that would console her. What +did she go and marry him for? If she had listened to me she'd +have got rid of him. I'll forgive her, however, if I find she has +made things hot for him! If she has simply allowed him to trample +upon her I don't know that I shall even pity her. But I don't +think that's very likely. I count upon finding that if she's +miserable she has at least made HIM so." + +Henrietta got up; these seemed to her, naturally, very dreadful +expectations. She honestly believed she had no desire to see Mr. +Osmond unhappy; and indeed he could not be for her the subject of +a flight of fancy. She was on the whole rather disappointed in +the Countess, whose mind moved in a narrower circle than she had +imagined, though with a capacity for coarseness even there. "It +will be better if they love each other," she said for +edification. + +"They can't. He can't love any one." + +"I presumed that was the case. But it only aggravates my fear for +Isabel. I shall positively start to-morrow." + +"Isabel certainly has devotees," said the Countess, smiling very +vividly. "I declare I don't pity her." + +"It may be I can't assist her," Miss Stackpole pursued, as if it +were well not to have illusions. + +"You can have wanted to, at any rate; that's something. I +believe that's what you came from America for," the Countess +suddenly added. + +"Yes, I wanted to look after her," Henrietta said serenely. + +Her hostess stood there smiling at her with small bright eyes and +an eager-looking nose; with cheeks into each of which a flush had +come. "Ah, that's very pretty c'est bien gentil! Isn't it what +they call friendship?" + +"I don't know what they call it. I thought I had better come." + +"She's very happy--she's very fortunate," the Countess went on. +"She has others besides." And then she broke out passionately. +"She's more fortunate than I! I'm as unhappy as she--I've a very +bad husband; he's a great deal worse than Osmond. And I've no +friends. I thought I had, but they're gone. No one, man or woman, +would do for me what you've done for her." + +Henrietta was touched; there was nature in this bitter effusion. +She gazed at her companion a moment, and then: "Look here, +Countess, I'll do anything for you that you like. I'll wait over +and travel with you." + +"Never mind," the Countess answered with a quick change of tone: +"only describe me in the newspaper!" + +Henrietta, before leaving her, however, was obliged to make her +understand that she could give no fictitious representation of +her journey to Rome. Miss Stackpole was a strictly veracious +reporter. On quitting her she took the way to the Lung' Arno, +the sunny quay beside the yellow river where the bright-faced +inns familiar to tourists stand all in a row. She had learned her +way before this through the streets of Florence (she was very +quick in such matters), and was therefore able to turn with great +decision of step out of the little square which forms the +approach to the bridge of the Holy Trinity. She proceeded to the +left, toward the Ponte Vecchio, and stopped in front of one of +the hotels which overlook that delightful structure. Here she +drew forth a small pocket-book, took from it a card and a pencil +and, after meditating a moment, wrote a few words. It is our +privilege to look over her shoulder, and if we exercise it we may +read the brief query: "Could I see you this evening for a few +moments on a very important matter?" Henrietta added that she +should start on the morrow for Rome. Armed with this little +document she approached the porter, who now had taken up his +station in the doorway, and asked if Mr. Goodwood were at home. +The porter replied, as porters always reply, that he had gone out +about twenty minutes before; whereupon Henrietta presented her +card and begged it might be handed him on his return. She left +the inn and pursued her course along the quay to the severe +portico of the Uffizi, through which she presently reached the +entrance of the famous gallery of paintings. Making her way in, +she ascended the high staircase which leads to the upper +chambers. The long corridor, glazed on one side and decorated +with antique busts, which gives admission to these apartments, +presented an empty vista in which the bright winter light +twinkled upon the marble floor. The gallery is very cold and +during the midwinter weeks but scantily visited. Miss Stackpole +may appear more ardent in her quest of artistic beauty than she +has hitherto struck us as being, but she had after all her +preferences and admirations. One of the latter was the little +Correggio of the Tribune--the Virgin kneeling down before the +sacred infant, who lies in a litter of straw, and clapping her +hands to him while he delightedly laughs and crows. Henrietta had +a special devotion to this intimate scene--she thought it the +most beautiful picture in the world. On her way, at present, from +New York to Rome, she was spending but three days in Florence, +and yet reminded herself that they must not elapse without her +paying another visit to her favourite work of art. She had a +great sense of beauty in all ways, and it involved a good many +intellectual obligations. She was about to turn into the Tribune +when a gentleman came out of it; whereupon she gave a little +exclamation and stood before Caspar Goodwood. + +"I've just been at your hotel," she said. "I left a card for +you." + +"I'm very much honoured," Caspar Goodwood answered as if he +really meant it. + +"It was not to honour you I did it; I've called on you before and +I know you don't like it. It was to talk to you a little about +something." + +He looked for a moment at the buckle in her hat. "I shall be very +glad to hear what you wish to say." + +"You don't like to talk with me," said Henrietta. "But I don't +care for that; I don't talk for your amusement. I wrote a word to +ask you to come and see me; but since I've met you here this will +do as well." + +"I was just going away," Goodwood stated; "but of course I'll +stop." He was civil, but not enthusiastic. + +Henrietta, however, never looked for great professions, and she +was so much in earnest that she was thankful he would listen to +her on any terms. She asked him first, none the less, if he had +seen all the pictures. + +"All I want to. I've been here an hour." + +"I wonder if you've seen my Correggio," said Henrietta. "I came +up on purpose to have a look at it." She went into the Tribune +and he slowly accompanied her. + +"I suppose I've seen it, but I didn't know it was yours. I don't +remember pictures--especially that sort." She had pointed out her +favourite work, and he asked her if it was about Correggio she +wished to talk with him. + +"No," said Henrietta, "it's about something less harmonious!" +They had the small, brilliant room, a splendid cabinet of +treasures, to themselves; there was only a custode hovering +about the Medicean Venus. "I want you to do me a favour," Miss +Stackpole went on. + +Caspar Goodwood frowned a little, but he expressed no +embarrassment at the sense of not looking eager. His face was +that of a much older man than our earlier friend. "I'm sure it's +something I shan't like," he said rather loudly. + +"No, I don't think you'll like it. If you did it would be no +favour." + +"Well, let's hear it," he went on in the tone of a man quite +conscious of his patience. + +"You may say there's no particular reason why you should do me a +favour. Indeed I only know of one: the fact that if you'd let me +I'd gladly do you one." Her soft, exact tone, in which there was +no attempt at effect, had an extreme sincerity; and her +companion, though he presented rather a hard surface, couldn't help +being touched by it. When he was touched he rarely showed it, +however, by the usual signs; he neither blushed, nor looked away, +nor looked conscious. He only fixed his attention more directly; +he seemed to consider with added firmness. Henrietta continued +therefore disinterestedly, without the sense of an advantage. "I +may say now, indeed--it seems a good time--that if I've ever +annoyed you (and I think sometimes I have) it's because I knew I +was willing to suffer annoyance for you. I've troubled you-- +doubtless. But Is'd TAKE trouble for you." + +Goodwood hesitated. "You're taking trouble now." + +"Yes, I am--some. I want you to consider whether it's better on +the whole that you should go to Rome." + +"I thought you were going to say that!" he answered rather +artlessly. + +"You HAVE considered it then?" + +"Of course I have, very carefully. I've looked all round it. +Otherwise I shouldn't have come so far as this. That's what I +stayed in Paris two months for. I was thinking it over." + +"I'm afraid you decided as you liked. You decided it was best +because you were so much attracted." + +"Best for whom, do you mean?" Goodwood demanded. + +"Well, for yourself first. For Mrs. Osmond next." + +"Oh, it won't do HER any good! I don't flatter myself that." + +"Won't it do her some harm?--that's the question." + +"I don't see what it will matter to her. I'm nothing to Mrs. +Osmond. But if you want to know, I do want to see her myself." + +"Yes, and that's why you go." + +"Of course it is. Could there be a better reason?" + +"How will it help you?--that's what I want to know," said Miss +Stackpole. + +"That's just what I can't tell you. It's just what I was thinking +about in Paris." + +"It will make you more discontented." + +"Why do you say 'more' so?" Goodwood asked rather sternly. "How +do you know I'm discontented?" + +"Well," said Henrietta, hesitating a little, "you seem never to +have cared for another." + +"How do you know what I care for?" he cried with a big blush. +"Just now I care to go to Rome." + +Henrietta looked at him in silence, with a sad yet luminous +expression. "Well," she observed at last, "I only wanted to tell +you what I think; I had it on my mind. Of course you think it's +none of my business. But nothing is any one's business, on that +principle." + +"It's very kind of you; I'm greatly obliged to you for your +interest," said Caspar Goodwood. "I shall go to Rome and I shan't +hurt Mrs. Osmond." + +"You won't hurt her, perhaps. But will you help her?--that's the +real issue." + +"Is she in need of help?" he asked slowly, with a penetrating +look. + +"Most women always are," said Henrietta, with conscientious +evasiveness and generalising less hopefully than usual. "If you +go to Rome," she added, "I hope you'll be a true friend--snot a +selfish one!" And she turned off and began to look at the +pictures. + +Caspar Goodwood let her go and stood watching her while she +wandered round the room; but after a moment he rejoined her. +"You've heard something about her here," he then resumed. "I +should like to know what you've heard." + +Henrietta had never prevaricated in her life, and, though on this +occasion there might have been a fitness in doing so, she +decided, after thinking some minutes, to make no superficial +exception. "Yes, I've heard," she answered; "but as I don't want +you to go to Rome I won't tell you." + +"Just as you please. I shall see for myself," he said. Then +inconsistently, for him, "You've heard she's unhappy!" he added. + +"Oh, you won't see that!" Henrietta exclaimed. + +"I hope not. When do you start?" + +"To-morrow, by the evening train. And you?" + +Goodwood hung back; he had no desire to make his journey to Rome +in Miss Stackpole's company. His indifference to this advantage +was not of the same character as Gilbert Osmond's, but it had at +this moment an equal distinctness. It was rather a tribute to +Miss Stackpole's virtues than a reference to her faults. He +thought her very remarkable, very brilliant, and he had, in +theory, no objection to the class to which she belonged. Lady +correspondents appeared to him a part of the natural scheme of +things in a progressive country, and though he never read their +letters he supposed that they ministered somehow to social +prosperity. But it was this very eminence of their position that +made him wish Miss Stackpole didn't take so much for granted. She +took for granted that he was always ready for some allusion to +Mrs. Osmond; she had done so when they met in Paris, six weeks +after his arrival in Europe, and she had repeated the assumption +with every successive opportunity. He had no wish whatever to +allude to Mrs. Osmond; he was NOT always thinking of her; he was +perfectly sure of that. He was the most reserved, the least +colloquial of men, and this enquiring authoress was constantly +flashing her lantern into the quiet darkness of his soul. He +wished she didn't care so much; he even wished, though it might +seem rather brutal of him, that she would leave him alone. In +spite of this, however, he just now made other reflections--which +show how widely different, in effect, his ill-humour was from +Gilbert Osmond's. He desired to go immediately to Rome; he would +have liked to go alone, in the night-train. He hated the European +railway-carriages, in which one sat for hours in a vise, knee to +knee and nose to nose with a foreigner to whom one presently +found one's self objecting with all the added vehemence of one's +wish to have the window open; and if they were worse at night +even than by day, at least at night one could sleep and dream of +an American saloon-car. But he couldn't take a night-train when +Miss Stackpole was starting in the morning; it struck him that +this would be an insult to an unprotected woman. Nor could he +wait until after she had gone unless he should wait longer than +he had patience for. It wouldn't do to start the next day. She +worried him; she oppressed him; the idea of spending the day in a +European railway-carriage with her offered a complication of +irritations. Still, she was a lady travelling alone; it was his +duty to put himself out for her. There could be no two questions +about that; it was a perfectly clear necessity. He looked +extremely grave for some moments and then said, wholly without +the flourish of gallantry but in a tone of extreme distinctness, +"Of course if you're going to-morrow I'll go too, as I may be of +assistance to you." + +"Well, Mr. Goodwood, I should hope so!" Henrietta returned +imperturbably. + + + +CHAPTER XLV + +I have already had reason to say that Isabel knew her husband to +be displeased by the continuance of Ralph's visit to Rome. That +knowledge was very present to her as she went to her cousin's +hotel the day after she had invited Lord Warburton to give a +tangible proof of his sincerity; and at this moment, as at +others, she had a sufficient perception of the sources of +Osmond's opposition. He wished her to have no freedom of mind, +and he knew perfectly well that Ralph was an apostle of freedom. +It was just because he was this, Isabel said to herself, that it +was a refreshment to go and see him. It will be perceived that +she partook of this refreshment in spite of her husband's +aversion to it, that is partook of it, as she flattered herself, +discreetly. She had not as yet undertaken to act in direct +opposition to his wishes; he was her appointed and inscribed +master; she gazed at moments with a sort of incredulous blankness +at this fact. It weighed upon her imagination, however; +constantly present to her mind were all the traditionary +decencies and sanctities of marriage. The idea of violating them +filled her with shame as well as with dread, for on giving +herself away she had lost sight of this contingency in the +perfect belief that her husband's intentions were as generous as +her own. She seemed to see, none the less, the rapid approach +of the day when she should have to take back something she had +solemnly bestown. Such a ceremony would be odious and monstrous; +she tried to shut her eyes to it meanwhile. Osmond would do +nothing to help it by beginning first; he would put that burden +upon her to the end. He had not yet formally forbidden her to +call upon Ralph; but she felt sure that unless Ralph should very +soon depart this prohibition would come. How could poor Ralph +depart? The weather as yet made it impossible. She could +perfectly understand her husband's wish for the event; she +didn't, to be just, see how he COULD like her to be with her +cousin. Ralph never said a word against him, but Osmond's sore, +mute protest was none the less founded. If he should positively +interpose, if he should put forth his authority, she would have +to decide, and that wouldn't be easy. The prospect made her heart +beat and her cheeks burn, as I say, in advance; there were +moments when, in her wish to avoid an open rupture, she found +herself wishing Ralph would start even at a risk. And it was of +no use that, when catching herself in this state of mind, she +called herself a feeble spirit, a coward. It was not that she +loved Ralph less, but that almost anything seemed preferable to +repudiating the most serious act--the single sacred act--of her +life. That appeared to make the whole future hideous. To break +with Osmond once would be to break for ever; any open +acknowledgement of irreconcilable needs would be an admission +that their whole attempt had proved a failure. For them there +could be no condonement, no compromise, no easy forgetfulness, no +formal readjustment. They had attempted only one thing, but that +one thing was to have been exquisite. Once they missed it nothing +else would do; there was no conceivable substitute for that +success. For the moment, Isabel went to the Hotel de Paris as +often as she thought well; the measure of propriety was in the +canon of taste, and there couldn't have been a better proof that +morality was, so to speak, a matter of earnest appreciation. +Isabel's application of that measure had been particularly free +to-day, for in addition to the general truth that she couldn't +leave Ralph to die alone she had something important to ask of +him. This indeed was Gilbert's business as well as her own. + +She came very soon to what she wished to speak of. "I want you to +answer me a question. It's about Lord Warburton." + +"I think I guess your question," Ralph answered from his +arm-chair, out of which his thin legs protruded at greater length +than ever. + +"Very possibly you guess it. Please then answer it." + +"Oh, I don't say I can do that." + +"You're intimate with him," she said; "you've a great deal of +observation of him." + +"Very true. But think how he must dissimulate!" + +"Why should he dissimulate? That's not his nature." + +"Ah, you must remember that the circumstances are peculiar," said +Ralph with an air of private amusement. + +"To a certain extent--yes. But is he really in love?" + +"Very much, I think. I can make that out." + +"Ah!" said Isabel with a certain dryness. + +Ralph looked at her as if his mild hilarity had been touched with +mystification. "You say that as if you were disappointed." + +Isabel got up, slowly smoothing her gloves and eyeing them +thoughtfully. "It's after all no business of mine." + +"You're very philosophic," said her cousin. And then in a moment: +"May I enquire what you're talking about?" + +Isabel stared. "I thought you knew. Lord Warburton tells me he +wants, of all things in the world, to marry Pansy. I've told you +that before, without eliciting a comment from you. You might risk +one this morning, I think. Is it your belief that he really cares +for her?" + +"Ah, for Pansy, no!" cried Ralph very positively. + +"But you said just now he did." + +Ralph waited a moment. "That he cared for you, Mrs. Osmond." + +Isabel shook her head gravely. "That's nonsense, you know." + +"Of course it is. But the nonsense is Warburton's, not mine." + +"That would be very tiresome." She spoke, as she flattered +herself, with much subtlety. + +"I ought to tell you indeed," Ralph went on, "that to me he has +denied it." + +"It's very good of you to talk about it together! Has he also +told you that he's in love with Pansy?" + +"He has spoken very well of her--very properly. He has let me +know, of course, that he thinks she would do very well at +Lockleigh." + +"Does he really think it?" + +"Ah, what Warburton really thinks--!" said Ralph. + +Isabel fell to smoothing her gloves again; they were long, loose +gloves on which she could freely expend herself. Soon, however, +she looked up, and then, "Ah, Ralph, you give me no help!" she +cried abruptly and passionately. + +It was the first time she had alluded to the need for help, and +the words shook her cousin with their violence. He gave a long +murmur of relief, of pity, of tenderness; it seemed to him that +at last the gulf between them had been bridged. It was this that +made him exclaim in a moment: "How unhappy you must be!" + +He had no sooner spoken than she recovered her self-possession, +and the first use she made of it was to pretend she had not heard +him. "When I talk of your helping me I talk great nonsense," she +said with a quick smile. "The idea of my troubling you with my +domestic embarrassments! The matter's very simple; Lord Warburton +must get on by himself. I can't undertake to see him through." + +"He ought to succeed easily," said Ralph. + +Isabel debated. "Yes--but he has not always succeeded." + +"Very true. You know, however, how that always surprised me. Is +Miss Osmond capable of giving us a surprise?" + +"It will come from him, rather. I seem to see that after all +he'll let the matter drop." + +"He'll do nothing dishonourable," said Ralph. + +"I'm very sure of that. Nothing can be more honourable than for +him to leave the poor child alone. She cares for another person, +and it's cruel to attempt to bribe her by magnificent offers to +give him up." + +"Cruel to the other person perhaps--the one she cares for. But +Warburton isn't obliged to mind that." + +"No, cruel to her," said Isabel. "She would be very unhappy if +she were to allow herself to be persuaded to desert poor Mr. +Rosier. That idea seems to amuse you; of course you're not in +love with him. He has the merit--for Pansy--of being in love with +Pansy. She can see at a glance that Lord Warburton isn't." + +"He'd be very good to her," said Ralph. + +"He has been good to her already. Fortunately, however, he has +not said a word to disturb her. He could come and bid her +good-bye to-morrow with perfect propriety." + +"How would your husband like that?" + +"Not at all; and he may be right in not liking it. Only he must +obtain satisfaction himself." + +"Has he commissioned you to obtain it?" Ralph ventured to ask. + +"It was natural that as an old friend of Lord Warburton's--an +older friend, that is, than Gilbert--I should take an interest in +his intentions." + +"Take an interest in his renouncing them, you mean?" + +Isabel hesitated, frowning a little. "Let me understand. Are you +pleading his cause?" + +"Not in the least. I'm very glad he shouldn't become your +stepdaughter's husband. It makes such a very queer relation to +you!" said Ralph, smiling. "But I'm rather nervous lest your +husband should think you haven't pushed him enough." + +Isabel found herself able to smile as well as he. "He knows me +well enough not to have expected me to push. He himself has no +intention of pushing, I presume. I'm not afraid I shall not be +able to justify myself!" she said lightly. + +Her mask had dropped for an instant, but she had put it on again, +to Ralph's infinite disappointment. He had caught a glimpse of +her natural face and he wished immensely to look into it. He had +an almost savage desire to hear her complain of her husband--hear +her say that she should be held accountable for Lord Warburton's +defection. Ralph was certain that this was her situation; he knew +by instinct, in advance, the form that in such an event Osmond's +displeasure would take. It could only take the meanest and +cruellest. He would have liked to warn Isabel of it--to let her +see at least how he judged for her and how he knew. It little +mattered that Isabel would know much better; it was for his own +satisfaction more than for hers that he longed to show her he was +not deceived. He tried and tried again to make her betray Osmond; +he felt cold-blooded, cruel, dishonourable almost, in doing so. +But it scarcely mattered, for be only failed. What had she come +for then, and why did she seem almost to offer him a chance to +violate their tacit convention? Why did she ask him his advice if +she gave him no liberty to answer her? How could they talk of her +domestic embarrassments, as it pleased her humorously to +designate them, if the principal factor was not to be mentioned? +These contradictions were themselves but an indication of her +trouble, and her cry for help, just before, was the only thing he +was bound to consider. "You'll be decidedly at variance, all the +same," he said in a moment. And as she answered nothing, looking +as if she scarce understood, "You'll find yourselves thinking +very differently," he continued. + +"That may easily happen, among the most united couples!" She took +up her parasol; he saw she was nervous, afraid of what he might +say. "It's a matter we can hardly quarrel about, however," she +added; "for almost all the interest is on his side. That's very +natural. Pansy's after all his daughter--not mine." And she put +out her hand to wish him goodbye. + +Ralph took an inward resolution that she shouldn't leave him +without his letting her know that he knew everything: it seemed +too great an opportunity to lose. "Do you know what his interest +will make him say?" he asked as he took her hand. She shook her +head, rather dryly--not discouragingly--and he went on. "It will +make him say that your want of zeal is owing to jealousy." He +stopped a moment; her face made him afraid. + +"To jealousy?" + +"To jealousy of his daughter." + +She blushed red and threw back her head. "You're not kind," she +said in a voice that he had never heard on her lips. + +"Be frank with me and you'll see," he answered. + +But she made no reply; she only pulled her hand out of his own, +which he tried still to hold, and rapidly withdrew from the room. +She made up her mind to speak to Pansy, and she took an occasion +on the same day, going to the girl's room before dinner. Pansy +was already dressed; she was always in advance of the time: it +seemed to illustrate her pretty patience and the graceful +stillness with which she could sit and wait. At present she was +seated, in her fresh array, before the bed-room fire; she had +blown out her candles on the completion of her toilet, in +accordance with the economical habits in which she had been brought +up sand which she was now more careful than ever to observe; so that +the room was lighted only by a couple of logs. The rooms in +Palazzo Roccanera were as spacious as they were numerous, and +Pansy's virginal bower was an immense chamber with a dark, +heavily-timbered ceiling. Its diminutive mistress, in the midst +of it, appeared but a speck of humanity, and as she got up, with +quick deference, to welcome Isabel, the latter was more than ever +struck with her shy sincerity. Isabel had a difficult task--the +only thing was to perform it as simply as possible. She felt +bitter and angry, but she warned herself against betraying this +heat. She was afraid even of looking too grave, or at least too +stern; she was afraid of causing alarm. Put Pansy seemed to have +guessed she had come more or less as a confessor; for after she +had moved the chair in which she had been sitting a little nearer +to the fire and Isabel had taken her place in it, she kneeled +down on a cushion in front of her, looking up and resting her +clasped hands on her stepmother's knees. What Isabel wished to do +was to hear from her own lips that her mind was not occupied with +Lord Warburton; but if she desired the assurance she felt herself +by no means at liberty to provoke it. The girl's father would +have qualified this as rank treachery; and indeed Isabel knew +that if Pansy should display the smallest germ of a disposition +to encourage Lord Warburton her own duty was to hold her tongue. +It was difficult to interrogate without appearing to suggest; +Pansy's supreme simplicity, an innocence even more complete than +Isabel had yet judged it, gave to the most tentative enquiry +something of the effect of an admonition. As she knelt there in +the vague firelight, with her pretty dress dimly shining, her +hands folded half in appeal and half in submission, her soft +eyes, raised and fixed, full of the seriousness of the situation, +she looked to Isabel like a childish martyr decked out for +sacrifice and scarcely presuming even to hope to avert it. When +Isabel said to her that she had never yet spoken to her of what +might have been going on in relation to her getting married, but +that her silence had not been indifference or ignorance, had only +been the desire to leave her at liberty, Pansy bent forward, +raised her face nearer and nearer, and with a little murmur which +evidently expressed a deep longing, answered that she had greatly +wished her to speak and that she begged her to advise her now. + +"It's difficult for me to advise you," Isabel returned. "I don't +know how I can undertake that. That's for your father; you must +get his advice and, above all, you must act on it." + +At this Pansy dropped her eyes; for a moment she said nothing. "I +think I should like your advice better than papa's," she +presently remarked. + +"That's not as it should be," said Isabel coldly. "I love you +very much, but your father loves you better." + +"It isn't because you love me--it's because you're a lady," Pansy +answered with the air of saying something very reasonable. "A +lady can advise a young girl better than a man." + +"I advise you then to pay the greatest respect to your father's +wishes." + +"Ah yes," said the child eagerly, "I must do that." + +"But if I speak to you now about your getting married it's not +for your own sake, it's for mine," Isabel went on. "If I try to +learn from you what you expect, what you desire, it's only that I +may act accordingly." + +Pansy stared, and then very quickly, "Will you do everything I +want?" she asked. + +"Before I say yes I must know what such things are." + +Pansy presently told her that the only thing she wanted in life +was to marry Mr. Rosier. He had asked her and she had told him +she would do so if her papa would allow it. Now her papa +wouldn't allow it. + +"Very well then, it's impossible," Isabel pronounced. + +"Yes, it's impossible," said Pansy without a sigh and with the +same extreme attention in her clear little face. + +"You must think of something else then," Isabel went on; but +Pansy, sighing at this, told her that she had attempted that feat +without the least success. + +"You think of those who think of you," she said with a faint +smile. "I know Mr. Rosier thinks of me." + +"He ought not to," said Isabel loftily. "Your father has +expressly requested he shouldn't." + +"He can't help it, because he knows I think of HIM." + +"You shouldn't think of him. There's some excuse for him, +perhaps; but there's none for you." + +"I wish you would try to find one," the girl exclaimed as if she +were praying to the Madonna. + +"I should be very sorry to attempt it," said the Madonna with +unusual frigidity. "If you knew some one else was thinking of +you, would you think of him?" + +"No one can think of me as Mr. Rosier does; no one has the +right." + +"Ah, but I don't admit Mr. Rosier's right!" Isabel hypocritically +cried. + +Pansy only gazed at her, evidently much puzzled; and Isabel, +taking advantage of it, began to represent to her the wretched +consequences of disobeying her father. At this Pansy stopped her +with the assurance that she would never disobey him, would never +marry without his consent. And she announced, in the serenest, +simplest tone, that, though she might never marry Mr. Rosier, she +would never cease to think of him. She appeared to have accepted +the idea of eternal singleness; but Isabel of course was free to +reflect that she had no conception of its meaning. She was +perfectly sincere; she was prepared to give up her lover. This +might seem an important step toward taking another, but for +Pansy, evidently, it failed to lead in that direction. She felt +no bitterness toward her father; there was no bitterness in her +heart; there was only the sweetness of fidelity to Edward Rosier, +and a strange, exquisite intimation that she could prove it +better by remaining single than even by marrying him. + +"Your father would like you to make a better marriage," said +Isabel. "Mr. Rosier's fortune is not at all large." + +"How do you mean better--if that would be good enough? And I have +myself so little money; why should I look for a fortune?" + +"Your having so little is a reason for looking for more." With +which Isabel was grateful for the dimness of the room; she felt +as if her face were hideously insincere. It was what she was +doing for Osmond; it was what one had to do for Osmond! Pansy's +solemn eyes, fixed on her own, almost embarrassed her; she was +ashamed to think she had made so light of the girl's preference. + +"What should you like me to do?" her companion softly demanded. + +The question was a terrible one, and Isabel took refuge in +timorous vagueness. "To remember all the pleasure it's in your +power to give your father." + +"To marry some one else, you mean--if he should ask me?" + +For a moment Isabel's answer caused itself to be waited for; then +she heard herself utter it in the stillness that Pansy's +attention seemed to make. "Yes--to marry some one else." + +The child's eyes grew more penetrating; Isabel believed she was +doubting her sincerity, and the impression took force from her +slowly getting up from her cushion. She stood there a moment with +her small hands unclasped and then quavered out: "Well, I hope no +one will ask me!" + +"There has been a question of that. Some one else would have been +ready to ask you." + +"I don't think he can have been ready," said Pansy. + +"It would appear so if he had been sure he'd succeed." + +"If he had been sure? Then he wasn't ready!" + +Isabel thought this rather sharp; she also got up and stood a +moment looking into the fire. "Lord Warburton has shown you great +attention," she resumed; "of course you know it's of him I +speak." She found herself, against her expectation, almost placed +in the position of justifying herself; which led her to introduce +this nobleman more crudely than she had intended. + +"He has been very kind to me, and I like him very much. But if +you mean that he'll propose for me I think you're mistaken." + +"Perhaps I am. But your father would like it extremely." + +Pansy shook her head with a little wise smile. "Lord Warburton +won't propose simply to please papa." + +"Your father would like you to encourage him," Isabel went on +mechanically. + +"How can I encourage him?" + +"I don't know. Your father must tell you that." + +Pansy said nothing for a moment; she only continued to smile as +if she were in possession of a bright assurance. "There's no +danger--no danger!" she declared at last. + +There was a conviction in the way she said this, and a felicity +in her believing it, which conduced to Isabel's awkwardness. She +felt accused of dishonesty, and the idea was disgusting. To +repair her self-respect she was on the point of saying that Lord +Warburton had let her know that there was a danger. But she +didn't; she only said--in her embarrassment rather wide of the +mark--that he surely had been most kind, most friendly. + +"Yes, he has been very kind," Pansy answered. "That's what I like +him for." + +"Why then is the difficulty so great?" + +"I've always felt sure of his knowing that I don't want--what did +you say I should do?--to encourage him. He knows I don't want to +marry, and he wants me to know that he therefore won't trouble +me. That's the meaning of his kindness. It's as if he said to me: +'I like you very much, but if it doesn't please you I'll never +say it again.' I think that's very kind, very noble," Pansy went +on with deepening positiveness. "That is all we've said to each +other. And he doesn't care for me either. Ah no, there's no +danger." + +Isabel was touched with wonder at the depths of perception of +which this submissive little person was capable; she felt afraid +of Pansy's wisdom--began almost to retreat before it. "You must +tell your father that," she remarked reservedly. + +"I think I'd rather not," Pansy unreservedly answered. + +"You oughtn't to let him have false hopes." + +"Perhaps not; but it will be good for me that he should. So long +as he believes that Lord Warburton intends anything of the kind +you say, papa won't propose any one else. And that will be an +advantage for me," said the child very lucidly. + +There was something brilliant in her lucidity, and it made her +companion draw a long breath. It relieved this friend of a heavy +responsibility. Pansy had a sufficient illumination of her own, +and Isabel felt that she herself just now had no light to spare +from her small stock. Nevertheless it still clung to her that she +must be loyal to Osmond, that she was on her honour in dealing +with his daughter. Under the influence of this sentiment she +threw out another suggestion before she retired--a suggestion +with which it seemed to her that she should have done her utmost. + +"Your father takes for granted at least that you would like to +marry a nobleman." + +Pansy stood in the open doorway; she had drawn back the curtain +for Isabel to pass. "I think Mr. Rosier looks like one!" she +remarked very gravely. + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + +Lord Warburton was not seen in Mrs. Osmond's drawing-room for +several days, and Isabel couldn't fail to observe that her +husband said nothing to her about having received a letter from +him. She couldn't fail to observe, either, that Osmond was in a +state of expectancy and that, though it was not agreeable to him +to betray it, he thought their distinguished friend kept him +waiting quite too long. At the end of four days he alluded to his +absence. + +"What has become of Warburton? What does he mean by treating one +like a tradesman with a bill?" + +"I know nothing about him," Isabel said. "I saw him last Friday +at the German ball. He told me then that he meant to write to +you." + +"He has never written to me." + +"So I supposed, from your not having told me." + +"He's an odd fish," said Osmond comprehensively. And on Isabel's +making no rejoinder he went on to enquire whether it took his +lordship five days to indite a letter. "Does he form his words +with such difficulty?" + +"I don't know," Isabel was reduced to replying. "I've never had a +letter from him." + +"Never had a letter? I had an idea that you were at one time in +intimate correspondence." + +She answered that this had not been the case, and let the +conversation drop. On the morrow, however, coming into the +drawing-room late in the afternoon, her husband took it up again. + +"When Lord Warburton told you of his intention of writing what +did you say to him?" he asked. + +She just faltered. "I think I told him not to forget it. + +"Did you believe there was a danger of that?" + +"As you say, he's an odd fish." + +"Apparently he has forgotten it," said Osmond. "Be so good as to +remind him." + +"Should you like me to write to him?" she demanded. + +"I've no objection whatever." + +"You expect too much of me." + +"Ah yes, I expect a great deal of you." + +"I'm afraid I shall disappoint you," said Isabel. + +"My expectations have survived a good deal of disappointment." + +"Of course I know that. Think how I must have disappointed +myself! If you really wish hands laid on Lord Warburton you must +lay them yourself." + +For a couple of minutes Osmond answered nothing; then he said: +"That won't be easy, with you working against me." + +Isabel started; she felt herself beginning to tremble. He had a +way of looking at her through half-closed eyelids, as if he were +thinking of her but scarcely saw her, which seemed to her to have +a wonderfully cruel intention. It appeared to recognise her as a +disagreeable necessity of thought, but to ignore her for the time +as a presence. That effect had never been so marked as now. "I +think you accuse me of something very base," she returned. + +"I accuse you of not being trustworthy. If he doesn't after all +come forward it will be because you've kept him off. I don't know +that it's base: it is the kind of thing a woman always thinks she +may do. I've no doubt you've the finest ideas about it." + +"I told you I would do what I could," she went on. + +"Yes, that gained you time." + +It came over her, after he had said this, that she had once +thought him beautiful. "How much you must want to make sure of +him!" she exclaimed in a moment. + +She had no sooner spoken than she perceived the full reach of her +words, of which she had not been conscious in uttering them. They +made a comparison between Osmond and herself, recalled the fact +that she had once held this coveted treasure in her hand and felt +herself rich enough to let it fall. A momentary exultation took +possession of her--a horrible delight in having wounded him; for +his face instantly told her that none of the force of her +exclamation was lost. He expressed nothing otherwise, however; he +only said quickly: "Yes, I want it immensely." + +At this moment a servant came in to usher a visitor, and he was +followed the next by Lord Warburton, who received a visible check +on seeing Osmond. He looked rapidly from the master of the house +to the mistress; a movement that seemed to denote a reluctance to +interrupt or even a perception of ominous conditions. Then he +advanced, with his English address, in which a vague shyness +seemed to offer itself as an element of good-breeding; in which +the only defect was a difficulty in achieving transitions. Osmond +was embarrassed; he found nothing to say; but Isabel remarked, +promptly enough, that they had been in the act of talking about +their visitor. Upon this her husband added that they hadn't known +what was become of him--they had been afraid he had gone away. +"No," he explained, smiling and looking at Osmond; "I'm only on +the point of going." And then he mentioned that he found himself +suddenly recalled to England: he should start on the morrow or +the day after. "I'm awfully sorry to leave poor Touchett!" he +ended by exclaiming. + +For a moment neither of his companions spoke; Osmond only leaned +back in his chair, listening. Isabel didn't look at him; she +could only fancy how he looked. Her eyes were on their visitor's +face, where they were the more free to rest that those of his +lordship carefully avoided them. Yet Isabel was sure that had she +met his glance she would have found it expressive. "You had +better take poor Touchett with you," she heard her husband say, +lightly enough, in a moment. + +"He had better wait for warmer weather," Lord Warburton answered. +"I shouldn't advise him to travel just now." + +He sat there a quarter of an hour, talking as if he might not +soon see them again--unless indeed they should come to England, a +course he strongly recommended. Why shouldn't they come to +England in the autumn?--that struck him as a very happy thought. +It would give him such pleasure to do what he could for them--to +have them come and spend a month with him. Osmond, by his own +admission, had been to England but once; which was an absurd +state of things for a man of his leisure and intelligence. It was +just the country for him--he would be sure to get on well there. +Then Lord Warburton asked Isabel if she remembered what a good +time she had had there and if she didn't want to try it again. +Didn't she want to see Gardencourt once more? Gardencourt was +really very good. Touchett didn't take proper care of it, but it +was the sort of place you could hardly spoil by letting it alone. +Why didn't they come and pay Touchett a visit? He surely must +have asked them. Hadn't asked them? What an ill-mannered wretch! +--and Lord Warburton promised to give the master of Gardencourt a +piece of his mind. Of course it was a mere accident; he would be +delighted to have them. Spending a month with Touchett and a +month with himself, and seeing all the rest of the people they +must know there, they really wouldn't find it half bad. Lord +Warburton added that it would amuse Miss Osmond as well, who had +told him that she had never been to England and whom he had +assured it was a country she deserved to see. Of course she +didn't need to go to England to be admired--that was her fate +everywhere; but she would be an immense success there, she +certainly would, if that was any inducement. He asked if she were +not at home: couldn't he say good-bye? Not that he liked +good-byes--he always funked them. When he left England the other +day he hadn't said good-bye to a two-legged creature. He had had +half a mind to leave Rome without troubling Mrs. Osmond for a +final interview. What could be more dreary than final interviews? +One never said the things one wanted--one remembered them all an +hour afterwards. On the other hand one usually said a lot of +things one shouldn't, simply from a sense that one had to say +something. Such a sense was upsetting; it muddled one's wits. He +had it at present, and that was the effect it produced on him. If +Mrs. Osmond didn't think he spoke as he ought she must set it +down to agitation; it was no light thing to part with Mrs. +Osmond. He was really very sorry to be going. He had thought of +writing to her instead of calling--but he would write to her at +any rate, to tell her a lot of things that would be sure to occur +to him as soon as he had left the house. They must think +seriously about coming to Lockleigh. + +If there was anything awkward in the conditions of his visit or +in the announcement of his departure it failed to come to the +surface. Lord Warburton talked about his agitation; but he showed +it in no other manner, and Isabel saw that since he had +determined on a retreat he was capable of executing it gallantly. +She was very glad for him; she liked him quite well enough to +wish him to appear to carry a thing off. He would do that on any +occasion--not from impudence but simply from the habit of +success; and Isabel felt it out of her husband's power to +frustrate this faculty. A complex operation, as she sat there, +went on in her mind. On one side she listened to their visitor; +said what was proper to him; read, more or less, between the +lines of what he said himself; and wondered how he would have +spoken if he had found her alone. On the other she had a perfect +consciousness of Osmond's emotion. She felt almost sorry for him; +he was condemned to the sharp pain of loss without the relief of +cursing. He had had a great hope, and now, as he saw it vanish +into smoke, he was obliged to sit and smile and twirl his thumbs. +Not that he troubled himself to smile very brightly; he treated +their friend on the whole to as vacant a countenance as so clever +a man could very well wear. It was indeed a part of Osmond's +cleverness that he could look consummately uncompromised. His +present appearance, however, was not a confession of +disappointment; it was simply a part of Osmond's habitual system, +which was to be inexpressive exactly in proportion as he was +really intent. He had been intent on this prize from the first; +but he had never allowed his eagerness to irradiate his refined +face. He had treated his possible son-in-law as he treated every +one--with an air of being interested in him only for his own +advantage, not for any profit to a person already so generally, +so perfectly provided as Gilbert Osmond. He would give no sign +now of an inward rage which was the result of a vanished prospect +of gain--not the faintest nor subtlest. Isabel could be sure of +that, if it was any satisfaction to her. Strangely, very +strangely, it was a satisfaction; she wished Lord Warburton to +triumph before her husband, and at the same time she wished her +husband to be very superior before Lord Warburton. Osmond, in his +way, was admirable; he had, like their visitor, the advantage of +an acquired habit. It was not that of succeeding, but it was +something almost as good--that of not attempting. As he leaned +back in his place, listening but vaguely to the other's friendly +offers and suppressed explanations--as if it were only proper to +assume that they were addressed essentially to his wife--he had +at least (since so little else was left him) the comfort of +thinking how well he personally had kept out of it, and how the +air of indifference, which he was now able to wear, had the added +beauty of consistency. It was something to be able to look as if +the leave-taker's movements had no relation to his own mind. The +latter did well, certainly; but Osmond's performance was in its +very nature more finished. Lord Warburton's position was after +all an easy one; there was no reason in the world why he shouldn't +leave Rome. He had had beneficent inclinations, but they had +stopped short of fruition; he had never committed himself, and +his honour was safe. Osmond appeared to take but a moderate +interest in the proposal that they should go and stay with him +and in his allusion to the success Pansy might extract from their +visit. He murmured a recognition, but left Isabel to say that it +was a matter requiring grave consideration. Isabel, even while +she made this remark, could see the great vista which had +suddenly opened out in her husband's mind, with Pansy's little +figure marching up the middle of it. + +Lord Warburton had asked leave to bid good-bye to Pansy, but +neither Isabel nor Osmond had made any motion to send for her. He +had the air of giving out that his visit must be short; he sat on +a small chair, as if it were only for a moment, keeping his hat +in his hand. But he stayed and stayed; Isabel wondered what he +was waiting for. She believed it was not to see Pansy; she had an +impression that on the whole he would rather not see Pansy. It +was of course to see herself alone--he had something to say to +her. Isabel had no great wish to hear it, for she was afraid it +would be an explanation, and she could perfectly dispense with +explanations. Osmond, however, presently got up, like a man of +good taste to whom it had occurred that so inveterate a visitor +might wish to say just the last word of all to the ladies. "I've +a letter to write before dinner," he said; "you must excuse me. +I'll see if my daughter's disengaged, and if she is she shall +know you're here. Of course when you come to Rome you'll always +look us up. Mrs. Osmond will talk to you about the English +expedition: she decides all those things." + +The nod with which, instead of a hand-shake, he wound up this +little speech was perhaps rather a meagre form of salutation; but +on the whole it was all the occasion demanded. Isabel reflected +that after he left the room Lord Warburton would have no pretext +for saying, "Your husband's very angry"; which would have been +extremely disagreeable to her. Nevertheless, if he had done so, +she would have said: "Oh, don't be anxious. He doesn't hate you: +it's me that he hates!" + +It was only when they had been left alone together that her +friend showed a certain vague awkwardness--sitting down in +another chair, handling two or three of the objects that were +near him. "I hope he'll make Miss Osmond come," he presently +remarked. "I want very much to see her." + +"I'm glad it's the last time," said Isabel. + +"So am I. She doesn't care for me." + +"No, she doesn't care for you." + +"I don't wonder at it," he returned. Then he added with +inconsequence: "You'll come to England, won't you?" + +"I think we had better not." + +"Ah, you owe me a visit. Don't you remember that you were to have +come to Lockleigh once, and you never did?" + +"Everything's changed since then," said Isabel. + +"Not changed for the worse, surely--as far as we're concerned. To +see you under my roof"--and he hung fire but an instant--"would +be a great satisfaction." + +She had feared an explanation; but that was the only one that +occurred. They talked a little of Ralph, and in another moment +Pansy came in, already dressed for dinner and with a little red +spot in either cheek. She shook hands with Lord Warburton and +stood looking up into his face with a fixed smile--a smile that +Isabel knew, though his lordship probably never suspected it, to +be near akin to a burst of tears. + +"I'm going away," he said. "I want to bid you good-bye." + +"Good-bye, Lord Warburton." Her voice perceptibly trembled. + +"And I want to tell you how much I wish you may be very happy." + +"Thank you, Lord Warburton," Pansy answered. + +He lingered a moment and gave a glance at Isabel. "You ought to +be very happy--you've got a guardian angel." + +"I'm sure I shall be happy," said Pansy in the tone of a person +whose certainties were always cheerful. + +"Such a conviction as that will take you a great way. But if it +should ever fail you, remember--remember--" And her interlocutor +stammered a little. "Think of me sometimes, you know!" he said +with a vague laugh. Then he shook hands with Isabel in silence, +and presently he was gone. + +When he had left the room she expected an effusion of tears from +her stepdaughter; but Pansy in fact treated her to something very +different. + +"I think you ARE my guardian angel!" she exclaimed very sweetly. + +Isabel shook her head. "I'm not an angel of any kind. I'm at the +most your good friend." + +"You're a very good friend then--to have asked papa to be gentle +with me." + +"I've asked your father nothing," said Isabel, wondering. + +"He told me just now to come to the drawing-room, and then he +gave me a very kind kiss." + +"Ah," said Isabel, "that was quite his own idea!" + +She recognised the idea perfectly; it was very characteristic, +and she was to see a great deal more of it. Even with Pansy he +couldn't put himself the least in the wrong. They were +dining out that day, and after their dinner they went to another +entertainment; so that it was not till late in the evening that +Isabel saw him alone. When Pansy kissed him before going to bed +he returned her embrace with even more than his usual +munificence, and Isabel wondered if he meant it as a hint that +his daughter had been injured by the machinations of her +stepmother. It was a partial expression, at any rate, of what he +continued to expect of his wife. She was about to follow Pansy, +but he remarked that he wished she would remain; he had +something to say to her. Then he walked about the drawing-room a +little, while she stood waiting in her cloak. + +"I don't understand what you wish to do," he said in a moment. "I +should like to know--so that I may know how to act." + +"Just now I wish to go to bed. I'm very tired." + +"Sit down and rest; I shall not keep you long. Not there--take a +comfortable place." And he arranged a multitude of cushions that +were scattered in picturesque disorder upon a vast divan. This +was not, however, where she seated herself; she dropped into the +nearest chair. The fire had gone out; the lights in the great +room were few. She drew her cloak about her; she felt mortally +cold. "I think you're trying to humiliate me," Osmond went on. +"It's a most absurd undertaking." + +"I haven't the least idea what you mean," she returned. + +"You've played a very deep game; you've managed it beautifully." + +"What is it that I've managed?" + +"You've not quite settled it, however; we shall see him again." +And he stopped in front of her, with his hands in his pockets, +looking down at her thoughtfully, in his usual way, which seemed +meant to let her know that she was not an object, but only a +rather disagreeable incident, of thought. + +"If you mean that Lord Warburton's under an obligation to come +back you're wrong," Isabel said. "He's under none whatever." + +"That's just what I complain of. But when I say he'll come back I +don't mean he'll come from a sense of duty." + +"There's nothing else to make him. I think he has quite exhausted +Rome." + +"Ah no, that's a shallow judgement. Rome's inexhaustible." And +Osmond began to walk about again. "However, about that perhaps +there's no hurry," he added. "It's rather a good idea of his that +we should go to England. If it were not for the fear of finding +your cousin there I think I should try to persuade you." + +"It may be that you'll not find my cousin," said Isabel. + +"I should like to be sure of it. However, I shall be as sure as +possible. At the same time I should like to see his house, that +you told me so much about at one time: what do you call it?-- +Gardencourt. It must be a charming thing. And then, you know, +I've a devotion to the memory of your uncle: you made me take a +great fancy to him. I should like to see where he lived and died. +That indeed is a detail. Your friend was right. Pansy ought to +see England." + +"I've no doubt she would enjoy it," said Isabel. + +"But that's a long time hence; next autumn's far off," Osmond +continued; "and meantime there are things that more nearly +interest us. Do you think me so very proud?" he suddenly asked. + +"I think you very strange." + +"You don't understand me." + +"No, not even when you insult me." + +"I don't insult you; I'm incapable of it. I merely speak of +certain facts, and if the allusion's an injury to you the fault's +not mine. It's surely a fact that you have kept all this matter +quite in your own hands." + +"Are you going back to Lord Warburton?" Isabel asked. "I'm very +tired of his name." + +"You shall hear it again before we've done with it." + +She had spoken of his insulting her, but it suddenly seemed to +her that this ceased to be a pain. He was going down--down; the +vision of such a fall made her almost giddy: that was the only +pain. He was too strange, too different; he didn't touch her. +Still, the working of his morbid passion was extraordinary, and +she felt a rising curiosity to know in what light he saw himself +justified. "I might say to you that I judge you've nothing to say +to me that's worth hearing," she returned in a moment. "But I +should perhaps be wrong. There's a thing that would be worth my +hearing--to know in the plainest words of what it is you accuse +me." + +"Of having prevented Pansy's marriage to Warburton. Are those +words plain enough?" + +"On the contrary, I took a great interest in it. I told you so; +and when you told me that you counted on me--that I think was +what you said--I accepted the obligation. I was a fool to do so, +but I did it." + +"You pretended to do it, and you even pretended reluctance to +make me more willing to trust you. Then you began to use your +ingenuity to get him out of the way." + +"I think I see what you mean," said Isabel. + +"Where's the letter you told me he had written me?" her husband +demanded. + +"I haven't the least idea; I haven't asked him." + +"You stopped it on the way," said Osmond. + +Isabel slowly got up; standing there in her white cloak, which +covered her to her feet, she might have represented the angel of +disdain, first cousin to that of pity. "Oh, Gilbert, for a man +who was so fine--!" she exclaimed in a long murmur. + +"I was never so fine as you. You've done everything you wanted. +You've got him out of the say without appearing to do so, and +you've placed me in the position in which you wished to see me-- +that of a man who has tried to marry his daughter to a lord, but +has grotesquely failed." + +"Pansy doesn't care for him. She's very glad he's gone," Isabel +said. + +"That has nothing to do with the matter." + +"And he doesn't care for Pansy." + +"That won't do; you told me he did. I don't know why you wanted +this particular satisfaction," Osmond continued; "you might have +taken some other. It doesn't seem to me that I've been +presumptuous--that I have taken too much for granted. I've been +very modest about it, very quiet. The idea didn't originate with +me. He began to show that he liked her before I ever thought of +it. I left it all to you." + +"Yes, you were very glad to leave it to me. After this you must +attend to such things yourself." + +He looked at her a moment; then he turned away. "I thought you +were very fond of my daughter." + +"I've never been more so than to-day." + +"Your affection is attended with immense limitations. However, +that perhaps is natural." + +"Is this all you wished to say to me?" Isabel asked, taking a +candle that stood on one of the tables. + +"Are you satisfied? Am I sufficiently disappointed?" + +"I don't think that on the whole you're disappointed. You've had +another opportunity to try to stupefy me." + +"It's not that. It's proved that Pansy can aim high." + +"Poor little Pansy!" said Isabel as she turned away with her +candle. + + + +CHAPTER XLVII + +It was from Henrietta Stackpole that she learned how Caspar +Goodwood had come to Rome; an event that took place three days +after Lord Warburton's departure. This latter fact had been +preceded by an incident of some importance to Isabel--the +temporary absence, once again, of Madame Merle, who had gone to +Naples to stay with a friend, the happy possessor of a villa at +Posilippo. Madame Merle had ceased to minister to Isabel's +happiness, who found herself wondering whether the most discreet +of women might not also by chance be the most dangerous. +Sometimes, at night, she had strange visions; she seemed to see +her husband and her friend--his friend--in dim, indistinguishable +combination. It seemed to her that she had not done with her; +this lady had something in reserve. Isabel's imagination applied +itself actively to this elusive point, but every now and then it +was checked by a nameless dread, so that when the charming woman +was away from Rome she had almost a consciousness of respite. She +had already learned from Miss Stackpole that Caspar Goodwood was +in Europe, Henrietta having written to make it known to her +immediately after meeting him in Paris. He himself never wrote to +Isabel, and though he was in Europe she thought it very possible +he might not desire to see her. Their last interview, before her +marriage, had had quite the character of a complete rupture; if +she remembered rightly he had said he wished to take his last +look at her. Since then he had been the most discordant survival +of her earlier time--the only one in fact with which a permanent +pain was associated. He had left her that morning with a sense of +the most superfluous of shocks: it was like a collision between +vessels in broad daylight. There had been no mist, no hidden +current to excuse it, and she herself had only wished to steer +wide. He had bumped against her prow, however, while her hand was +on the tiller, and--to complete the metaphor--had given the +lighter vessel a strain which still occasionally betrayed itself +in a faint creaking. It had been horrid to see him, because he +represented the only serious harm that (to her belief) she had +ever done in the world: he was the only person with an +unsatisfied claim on her. She had made him unhappy, she couldn't +help it; and his unhappiness was a grim reality. She had cried +with rage, after he had left her, at--she hardly knew what: she +tried to think it had been at his want of consideration. He had +come to her with his unhappiness when her own bliss was so +perfect; he had done his best to darken the brightness of those +pure rays. He had not been violent, and yet there had been a +violence in the impression. There had been a violence at any rate +in something somewhere; perhaps it was only in her own fit of +weeping and in that after-sense of the same which had lasted +three or four days. + +The effect of his final appeal had in short faded away, and all +the first year of her marriage he had dropped out of her books. +He was a thankless subject of reference; it was disagreeable to +have to think of a person who was sore and sombre about you and +whom you could yet do nothing to relieve. It would have been +different if she had been able to doubt, even a little, of his +unreconciled state, as she doubted of Lord Warburton's; +unfortunately it was beyond question, and this aggressive, +uncompromising look of it was just what made it unattractive. She +could never say to herself that here was a sufferer who had +compensations, as she was able to say in the case of her English +suitor. She had no faith in Mr. Goodwood's compensations and no +esteem for them. A cotton factory was not a compensation for +anything--least of all for having failed to marry Isabel Archer. +And yet, beyond that, she hardly knew what he had--save of course +his intrinsic qualities. Oh, he was intrinsic enough; she never +thought of his even looking for artificial aids. If he extended +his business--that, to the best of her belief, was the only form +exertion could take with him--it would be because it was an +enterprising thing, or good for the business; not in the least +because he might hope it would overlay the past. This gave his +figure a kind of bareness and bleakness which made the accident +of meeting it in memory or in apprehension a peculiar concussion; +it was deficient in the social drapery commonly muffling, in an +overcivilized age, the sharpness of human contacts. His perfect +silence, moreover, the fact that she never heard from him and +very seldom heard any mention of him, deepened this impression of +his loneliness. She asked Lily for news of him, from time to +time; but Lily knew nothing of Boston--her imagination was all +bounded on the east by Madison Avenue. As time went on Isabel had +thought of him oftener, and with fewer restrictions; she had had +more than once the idea of writing to him. She had never told her +husband about him--never let Osmond know of his visits to her in +Florence; a reserve not dictated in the early period by a want of +confidence in Osmond, but simply by the consideration that the +young man's disappointment was not her secret but his own. It +would be wrong of her, she had believed, to convey it to another, +and Mr. Goodwood's affairs could have, after all, little interest +for Gilbert. When it had come to the point she had never written +to him; it seemed to her that, considering his grievance, the +least she could do was to let him alone. Nevertheless she would +have been glad to be in some way nearer to him. It was not that +it ever occurred to her that she might have married him; even +after the consequences of her actual union had grown vivid to her +that particular reflection, though she indulged in so many, had +not had the assurance to present itself. But on finding herself +in trouble he had become a member of that circle of things with +which she wished to set herself right. I have mentioned how +passionately she needed to feel that her unhappiness should not +have come to her through her own fault. She had no near prospect +of dying, and yet she wished to make her peace with the world-- +to put her spiritual affairs in order. It came back to her from +time to time that there was an account still to be settled with +Caspar, and she saw herself disposed or able to settle it to-day +on terms easier for him than ever before. Still, when she learned +he was coming to Rome she felt all afraid; it would be more +disagreeable for him than for any one else to make out--since he +WOULD make it out, as over a falsified balance-sheet or something +of that sort--the intimate disarray of her affairs. Deep in her +breast she believed that he had invested his all in her happiness, +while the others had invested only a part. He was one more person +from whom she should have to conceal her stress. She was reassured, +however, after he arrived in Rome, for he spent several days +without coming to see her. + +Henrietta Stackpole, it may well be imagined, was more punctual, +and Isabel was largely favoured with the society of her friend. +She threw herself into it, for now that she had made such a point +of keeping her conscience clear, that was one way of proving she +had not been superficial--the more so as the years, in their +flight, had rather enriched than blighted those peculiarities +which had been humorously criticised by persons less interested +than Isabel, and which were still marked enough to give loyalty a +spice of heroism. Henrietta was as keen and quick and fresh as +ever, and as neat and bright and fair. Her remarkably open eyes, +lighted like great glazed railway-stations, had put up no +shutters; her attire had lost none of its crispness, her opinions +none of their national reference. She was by no means quite +unchanged, however it struck Isabel she had grown vague. Of old +she had never been vague; though undertaking many enquiries at +once, she had managed to be entire and pointed about each. She +had a reason for everything she did; she fairly bristled with +motives. Formerly, when she came to Europe it was because she +wished to see it, but now, having already seen it, she had no +such excuse. She didn't for a moment pretend that the desire to +examine decaying civilisations had anything to do with her +present enterprise; her journey was rather an expression of her +independence of the old world than of a sense of further +obligations to it. "It's nothing to come to Europe," she said to +Isabel; "it doesn't seem to me one needs so many reasons for +that. It is something to stay at home; this is much more +important." It was not therefore with a sense of doing anything +very important that she treated herself to another pilgrimage to +Rome; she had seen the place before and carefully inspected it; +her present act was simply a sign of familiarity, of her knowing +all about it, of her having as good a right as any one else to be +there. This was all very well, and Henrietta was restless; she +had a perfect right to be restless too, if one came to that. But +she had after all a better reason for coming to Rome than that +she cared for it so little. Her friend easily recognised it, and +with it the worth of the other's fidelity. She had crossed the +stormy ocean in midwinter because she had guessed that Isabel was +sad. Henrietta guessed a great deal, but she had never guessed so +happily as that. Isabel's satisfactions just now were few, but +even if they had been more numerous there would still have been +something of individual joy in her sense of being justified in +having always thought highly of Henrietta. She had made large +concessions with regard to her, and had yet insisted that, with +all abatements, she was very valuable. It was not her own +triumph, however, that she found good; it was simply the relief +of confessing to this confidant, the first person to whom she had +owned it, that she was not in the least at her ease. Henrietta +had herself approached this point with the smallest possible +delay, and had accused her to her face of being wretched. She was +a woman, she was a sister; she was not Ralph, nor Lord Warburton, +nor Caspar Goodwood, and Isabel could speak. + +"Yes, I'm wretched," she said very mildly. She hated to hear +herself say it; she tried to say it as judicially as possible. + +"What does he do to you?" Henrietta asked, frowning as if she +were enquiring into the operations of a quack doctor. + +"He does nothing. But he doesn't like me." + +"He's very hard to please!" cried Miss Stackpole. "Why don't you +leave him?" + +"I can't change that way," Isabel said. + +"Why not, I should like to know? You won't confess that you've +made a mistake. You're too proud." + +"I don't know whether I'm too proud. But I can't publish my +mistake. I don't think that's decent. I'd much rather die." + +"You won't think so always," said Henrietta. + +"I don't know what great unhappiness might bring me to; but it +seems to me I shall always be ashamed. One must accept one's +deeds. I married him before all the world; I was perfectly free; +it was impossible to do anything more deliberate. One can't +change that way," Isabel repeated. + +"You HAVE changed, in spite of the impossibility. I hope you +don't mean to say you like him." + +Isabel debated. "No, I don't like him. I can tell you, because +I'm weary of my secret. But that's enough; I can't announce it on +the housetops." + +Henrietta gave a laugh. "Don't you think you're rather too +considerate?" + +"It's not of him that I'm considerate--it's of myself!" Isabel +answered. + +It was not surprising Gilbert Osmond should not have taken +comfort in Miss Stackpole; his instinct had naturally set him in +opposition to a young lady capable of advising his wife to +withdraw from the conjugal roof. When she arrived in Rome he had +said to Isabel that he hoped she would leave her friend the +interviewer alone; and Isabel had answered that he at least had +nothing to fear from her. She said to Henrietta that as Osmond +didn't like her she couldn't invite her to dine, but they could +easily see each other in other ways. Isabel received Miss +Stackpole freely in her own sitting-room, and took her repeatedly +to drive, face to face with Pansy, who, bending a little forward, +on the opposite seat of the carriage, gazed at the celebrated +authoress with a respectful attention which Henrietta +occasionally found irritating. She complained to Isabel that Miss +Osmond had a little look as if she should remember everything one +said. "I don't want to be remembered that way," Miss Stackpole +declared; "I consider that my conversation refers only to the +moment, like the morning papers. Your stepdaughter, as she sits +there, looks as if she kept all the back numbers and would bring +them out some day against me." She could not teach herself to +think favourably of Pansy, whose absence of initiative, of +conversation, of personal claims, seemed to her, in a girl of +twenty, unnatural and even uncanny. Isabel presently saw that +Osmond would have liked her to urge a little the cause of her +friend, insist a little upon his receiving her, so that he might +appear to suffer for good manners' sake. Her immediate acceptance +of his objections put him too much in the wrong--it being in +effect one of the disadvantages of expressing contempt that you +cannot enjoy at the same time the credit of expressing sympathy. +Osmond held to his credit, and yet he held to his objections-- +all of which were elements difficult to reconcile. The right +thing would have been that Miss Stackpole should come to dine at +Palazzo Roccanera once or twice, so that (in spite of his +superficial civility, always so great) she might judge for +herself how little pleasure it gave him. From the moment, +however, that both the ladies were so unaccommodating, there was +nothing for Osmond but to wish the lady from New York would take +herself off. It was surprising how little satisfaction he got +from his wife's friends; he took occasion to call Isabel's +attention to it. + +"You're certainly not fortunate in your intimates; I wish you +might make a new collection," he said to her one morning in +reference to nothing visible at the moment, but in a tone of ripe +reflection which deprived the remark of all brutal abruptness. +"It's as if you had taken the trouble to pick out the people in +the world that I have least in common with. Your cousin I have +always thought a conceited ass--besides his being the most +ill-favoured animal I know. Then it's insufferably tiresome that +one can't tell him so; one must spare him on account of his +health. His health seems to me the best part of him; it gives him +privileges enjoyed by no one else. If he's so desperately ill +there's only one way to prove it; but he seems to have no mind +for that. I can't say much more for the great Warburton. When one +really thinks of it, the cool insolence of that performance was +something rare! He comes and looks at one's daughter as if she +were a suite of apartments; he tries the door-handles and looks +out of the windows, raps on the walls and almost thinks he'll +take the place. Will you be so good as to draw up a lease? Then, +on the whole, he decides that the rooms are too small; he +doesn't think he could live on a third floor; he must look out +for a piano nobile. And he goes away after having got a month's +lodging in the poor little apartment for nothing. Miss Stackpole, +however, is your most wonderful invention. She strikes me as a +kind of monster. One hasn't a nerve in one's body that she +doesn't set quivering. You know I never have admitted that she's +a woman. Do you know what she reminds me of? Of a new steel pen-- +the most odious thing in nature. She talks as a steel pen writes; +aren't her letters, by the way, on ruled paper? She thinks and +moves and walks and looks exactly as she talks. You may say that +she doesn't hurt me, inasmuch as I don't see her. I don't see +her, but I hear her; I hear her all day long. Her voice is in my +ears; I can't get rid of it. I know exactly what she says, and +every inflexion of the tone in which she says it. She says +charming things about me, and they give you great comfort. I +don't like at all to think she talks about me--I feel as I should +feel if I knew the footman were wearing my hat." + +Henrietta talked about Gilbert Osmond, as his wife assured him, +rather less than he suspected. She had plenty of other subjects, +in two of which the reader may be supposed to be especially +interested. She let her friend know that Caspar Goodwood had +discovered for himself that she was unhappy, though indeed her +ingenuity was unable to suggest what comfort he hoped to give her +by coming to Rome and yet not calling on her. They met him twice +in the street, but he had no appearance of seeing them; they were +driving, and he had a habit of looking straight in front of him, +as if he proposed to take in but one object at a time. Isabel +could have fancied she had seen him the day before; it must have +been with just that face and step that he had walked out of Mrs. +Touchett's door at the close of their last interview. He was +dressed just as he had been dressed on that day, Isabel +remembered the colour of his cravat; and yet in spite of this +familiar look there was a strangeness in his figure too, +something that made her feel it afresh to be rather terrible he +should have come to Rome. He looked bigger and more overtopping +than of old, and in those days he certainly reached high enough. +She noticed that the people whom he passed looked back after him; +but he went straight forward, lifting above them a face like a +February sky. + +Miss Stackpole's other topic was very different; she gave Isabel +the latest news about Mr. Bantling. He had been out in the United +States the year before, and she was happy to say she had been +able to show him considerable attention. She didn't know how much +he had enjoyed it, but she would undertake to say it had done him +good; he wasn't the same man when he left as he had been when be +came. It had opened his eyes and shown him that England wasn't +everything. He had been very much liked in most places, and +thought extremely simple--more simple than the English were +commonly supposed to be. There were people who had thought him +affected; she didn't know whether they meant that his simplicity +was an affectation. Some of his questions were too discouraging; +he thought all the chambermaids were farmers' daughters--or all +the farmers' daughters were chambermaids--she couldn't exactly +remember which. He hadn't seemed able to grasp the great school +system; it had been really too much for him. On the whole he had +behaved as if there were too much of everything--as if he could +only take in a small part. The part he had chosen was the hotel +system and the river navigation. He had seemed really fascinated +with the hotels; he had a photograph of every one he had visited. +But the river steamers were his principal interest; he wanted to +do nothing but sail on the big boats. They had travelled together +from New York to Milwaukee, stopping at the most interesting +cities on the route; and whenever they started afresh he had +wanted to know if they could go by the steamer. He seemed to have +no idea of geography--had an impression that Baltimore was a +Western city and was perpetually expecting to arrive at the +Mississippi. He appeared never to have heard of any river in +America but the Mississippi and was unprepared to recognise +the existence of the Hudson, though obliged to confess at last +that it was fully equal to the Rhine. They had spent some +pleasant hours in the palace-cars; he was always ordering +ice-cream from the coloured man. He could never get used to that +idea--that you could get ice-cream in the cars. Of course you +couldn't, nor fans, nor candy, nor anything in the English cars! +He found the heat quite overwhelming, and she had told him she +indeed expected it was the biggest he had ever experienced. He +was now in England, hunting--"hunting round" Henrietta called it. +These amusements were those of the American red men; we had left +that behind long ago, the pleasures of the chase. It seemed to be +generally believed in England that we wore tomahawks and +feathers; but such a costume was more in keeping with English +habits. Mr. Bantling would not have time to join her in Italy, +but when she should go to Paris again he expected to come over. +He wanted very much to see Versailles again; he was very fond of +the ancient regime. They didn't agree about that, but that was +what she liked Versailles for, that you could see the ancient +regime had been swept away. There were no dukes and marquises +there now; she remembered on the contrary one day when there were +five American families, walking all round. Mr. Bantling was very +anxious that she should take up the subject of England again, and +he thought she might get on better with it now; England had +changed a good deal within two or three years. He was determined +that if she went there he should go to see his sister, Lady +Pensil, and that this time the invitation should come to her +straight. The mystery about that other one had never been +explained. + +Caspar Goodwood came at last to Palazzo Roccanera; he had written +Isabel a note beforehand, to ask leave. This was promptly +granted; she would be at home at six o'clock that afternoon. She +spent the day wondering what he was coming for--what good he +expected to get of it. He had presented himself hitherto as a +person destitute of the faculty of compromise, who would take +what he had asked for or take nothing. Isabel's hospitality, +however, raised no questions, and she found no great difficulty +in appearing happy enough to deceive him. It was her conviction +at least that she deceived him, made him say to himself that he +had been misinformed. But she also saw, so she believed, that he +was not disappointed, as some other men, she was sure, would have +been; he had not come to Rome to look for an opportunity. She +never found out what he had come for; he offered her no +explanation; there could be none but the very simple one that he +wanted to see her. In other words he had come for his amusement. +Isabel followed up this induction with a good deal of eagerness, +and was delighted to have found a formula that would lay the +ghost of this gentleman's ancient grievance. If he had come to +Rome for his amusement this was exactly what she wanted; for if +he cared for amusement he had got over his heartache. If he had +got over his heartache everything was as it should be and her +responsibilities were at an end. It was true that he took his +recreation a little stiffly, but he had never been loose and easy +and she had every reason to believe he was satisfied with what he +saw. Henrietta was not in his confidence, though he was in hers, +and Isabel consequently received no side-light upon his state of +mind. He was open to little conversation on general topics; it +came back to her that she had said of him once, years before, +"Mr. Goodwood speaks a good deal, but he doesn't talk." He spoke +a good deal now, but he talked perhaps as little as ever; +considering, that is, how much there was in Rome to talk about. +His arrival was not calculated to simplify her relations with her +husband, for if Mr. Osmond didn't like her friends Mr. Goodwood +had no claim upon his attention save as having been one of the +first of them. There was nothing for her to say of him but that +he was the very oldest; this rather meagre synthesis exhausted +the facts. She had been obliged to introduce him to Gilbert; it +was impossible she should not ask him to dinner, to her Thursday +evenings, of which she had grown very weary, but to which her +husband still held for the sake not so much of inviting people as +of not inviting them. + +To the Thursdays Mr. Goodwood came regularly, solemnly, rather +early; he appeared to regard them with a good deal of gravity. +Isabel every now and then had a moment of anger; there was +something so literal about him; she thought he might know that +she didn't know what to do with him. But she couldn't call him +stupid; he was not that in the least; he was only extraordinarily +honest. To be as honest as that made a man very different from +most people; one had to be almost equally honest with HIM. She +made this latter reflection at the very time she was flattering +herself she had persuaded him that she was the most light-hearted +of women. He never threw any doubt on this point, never asked her +any personal questions. He got on much better with Osmond than +had seemed probable. Osmond had a great dislike to being counted +on; in such a case be had an irresistible need of disappointing +you. It was in virtue of this principle that he gave himself the +entertainment of taking a fancy to a perpendicular Bostonian whom +he bad been depended upon to treat with coldness. He asked Isabel +if Mr. Goodwood also had wanted to marry her, and expressed +surprise at her not having accepted him. It would have been an +excellent thing, like living under some tall belfry which would +strike all the hours and make a queer vibration in the upper air. +He declared he liked to talk with the great Goodwood; it wasn't +easy at first, you had to climb up an interminable steep +staircase up to the top of the tower; but when you got there you +had a big view and felt a little fresh breeze. Osmond, as we +know, had delightful qualities, and he gave Caspar Goodwood the +benefit of them all. Isabel could see that Mr. Goodwood thought +better of her husband than he had ever wished to; he had given +her the impression that morning in Florence of being inaccessible +to a good impression. Gilbert asked him repeatedly to dinner, and +Mr. Goodwood smoked a cigar with him afterwards and even desired +to be shown his collections. Gilbert said to Isabel that he was +very original; he was as strong and of as good a style as an +English portmanteau,--he had plenty of straps and buckles which +would never wear out, and a capital patent lock. Caspar Goodwood +took to riding on the Campagna and devoted much time to this +exercise; it was therefore mainly in the evening that Isabel saw +him. She bethought herself of saying to him one day that if he +were willing he could render her a service. And then she added +smiling: + +"I don't know, however, what right I have to ask a service of +you." + +"You're the person in the world who has most right," he answered. +"I've given you assurances that I've never given any one else." + +The service was that he should go and see her cousin Ralph, who +was ill at the Hotel de Paris, alone, and be as kind to him as +possible. Mr. Goodwood had never seen him, but he would know who +the poor fellow was; if she was not mistaken Ralph had once +invited him to Gardencourt. Caspar remembered the invitation +perfectly, and, though he was not supposed to be a man of +imagination, had enough to put himself in the place of a poor +gentleman who lay dying at a Roman inn. He called at the Hotel de +Paris and, on being shown into the presence of the master of +Gardencourt, found Miss Stackpole sitting beside his sofa. A +singular change had in fact occurred in this lady's relations +with Ralph Touchett. She had not been asked by Isabel to go and +see him, but on hearing that he was too ill to come out had +immediately gone of her own motion. After this she had paid him a +daily visit--always under the conviction that they were great +enemies. "Oh yes, we're intimate enemies," Ralph used to say; and +he accused her freely--as freely as the humour of it would allow +--of coming to worry him to death. In reality they became +excellent friends, Henrietta much wondering that she should never +have liked him before. Ralph liked her exactly as much as he had +always done; he had never doubted for a moment that she was an +excellent fellow. They talked about everything and always +differed; about everything, that is, but Isabel--a topic as to +which Ralph always had a thin forefinger on his lips. Mr. +Bantling on the other hand proved a great resource; Ralph was +capable of discussing Mr. Bantling with Henrietta for hours. +Discussion was stimulated of course by their inevitable +difference of view--Ralph having amused himself with taking the +ground that the genial ex-guardsman was a regular Machiavelli. +Caspar Goodwood could contribute nothing to such a debate; but +after he had been left alone with his host he found there were +various other matters they could take up. It must be admitted +that the lady who had just gone out was not one of these; Caspar +granted all Miss Stackpole's merits in advance, but had no +further remark to make about her. Neither, after the first +allusions, did the two men expatiate upon Mrs. Osmond--a theme in +which Goodwood perceived as many dangers as Ralph. He felt very +sorry for that unclassable personage; he couldn't bear to see a +pleasant man, so pleasant for all his queerness, so beyond +anything to be done. There was always something to be done, for +Goodwood, and he did it in this case by repeating several times +his visit to the Hotel de Paris. It seemed to Isabel that she had +been very clever; she had artfully disposed of the superfluous +Caspar. She had given him an occupation; she had converted him +into a caretaker of Ralph. She had a plan of making him travel +northward with her cousin as soon as the first mild weather +should allow it. Lord Warburton had brought Ralph to Rome and Mr. +Goodwood should take him away. There seemed a happy symmetry in +this, and she was now intensely eager that Ralph should depart. +She had a constant fear he would die there before her eyes and a +horror of the occurrence of this event at an inn, by her door, +which he had so rarely entered. Ralph must sink to his last rest +in his own dear house, in one of those deep, dim chambers of +Gardencourt where the dark ivy would cluster round the edges of +the glimmering window. There seemed to Isabel in these days +something sacred in Gardencourt; no chapter of the past was more +perfectly irrecoverable. When she thought of the months she had +spent there the tears rose to her eyes. She flattered herself, as +I say, upon her ingenuity, but she had need of all she could +muster; for several events occurred which seemed to confront and +defy her. The Countess Gemini arrived from Florence--arrived with +her trunks, her dresses, her chatter, her falsehoods, her +frivolity, the strange, the unholy legend of the number of her +lovers. Edward Rosier, who had been away somewhere,--no one, not +even Pansy, knew where,--reappeared in Rome and began to write +her long letters, which she never answered. Madame Merle returned +from Naples and said to her with a strange smile: "What on earth +did you do with Lord Warburton?" As if it were any business of +hers! + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII + +One day, toward the end of February, Ralph Touchett made up his +mind to return to England. He had his own reasons for this +decision, which he was not bound to communicate; but Henrietta +Stackpole, to whom he mentioned his intention, flattered herself +that she guessed them. She forbore to express them, however; she +only said, after a moment, as she sat by his sofa: "I suppose you +know you can't go alone?" + +"I've no idea of doing that," Ralph answered. "I shall have people +with me." + +"What do you mean by 'people'? Servants whom you pay?" + +"Ah," said Ralph jocosely, "after all, they're human beings." + +"Are there any women among them?" Miss Stackpole desired to know. + +"You speak as if I had a dozen! No, I confess I haven't a +soubrette in my employment." + +"Well," said Henrietta calmly, "you can't go to England that way. +You must have a woman's care." + +"I've had so much of yours for the past fortnight that it will +last me a good while." + +"You've not had enough of it yet. I guess I'll go with you," said +Henrietta. + +"Go with me?" Ralph slowly raised himself from his sofa. + +"Yes, I know you don't like me, but I'll go with you all the +same. It would be better for your health to lie down again." + +Ralph looked at her a little; then he slowly relapsed. "I like +you very much," he said in a moment. + +Miss Stackpole gave one of her infrequent laughs. "You needn't +think that by saying that you can buy me off. I'll go with you, +and what is more I'll take care of you." + +"You're a very good woman," said Ralph. + +"Wait till I get you safely home before you say that. It won't be +easy. But you had better go, all the same." + +Before she left him, Ralph said to her: "Do you really mean to +take care of me?" + +"Well, I mean to try." + +"I notify you then that I submit. Oh, I submit!" And it was +perhaps a sign of submission that a few minutes after she had +left him alone he burst into a loud fit of laughter. It seemed to +him so inconsequent, such a conclusive proof of his having +abdicated all functions and renounced all exercise, that he +should start on a journey across Europe under the supervision of +Miss Stackpole. And the great oddity was that the prospect +pleased him; he was gratefully, luxuriously passive. He felt even +impatient to start; and indeed he had an immense longing to see +his own house again. The end of everything was at hand; it seemed +to him he could stretch out his arm and touch the goal. But he +wanted to die at home; it was the only wish he had left--to +extend himself in the large quiet room where he had last seen his +father lie, and close his eyes upon the summer dawn. + +That same day Caspar Goodwood came to see him, and he informed +his visitor that Miss Stackpole had taken him up and was to +conduct him back to England. "Ah then," said Caspar, "I'm afraid +I shall be a fifth wheel to the coach. Mrs. Osmond has made me +promise to go with you." + +"Good heavens--it's the golden age! You're all too kind." + +"The kindness on my part is to her; it's hardly to you." + +"Granting that, SHE'S kind," smiled Ralph. + +"To get people to go with you? Yes, that's a sort of kindness," +Goodwood answered without lending himself to the joke. "For +myself, however," he added, "I'll go so far as to say that I +would much rather travel with you and Miss Stackpole than with +Miss Stackpole alone." + +"And you'd rather stay here than do either," said Ralph. "There's +really no need of your coming. Henrietta's extraordinarily +efficient." + +"I'm sure of that. But I've promised Mrs. Osmond." + +"You can easily get her to let you off." + +"She wouldn't let me off for the world. She wants me to look +after you, but that isn't the principal thing. The principal +thing is that she wants me to leave Rome." + +"Ah, you see too much in it," Ralph suggested. + +"I bore her," Goodwood went on; "she has nothing to say to me, so +she invented that." + +"Oh then, if it's a convenience to her I certainly will take you +with me. Though I don't see why it should be a convenience," +Ralph added in a moment. + +"Well," said Caspar Goodwood simply, "she thinks I'm watching +her." + +"Watching her?" + +"Trying to make out if she's happy." + +"That's easy to make out," said Ralph. "She's the most visibly +happy woman I know." + +"Exactly so; I'm satisfied," Goodwood answered dryly. For all his +dryness, however, he had more to say. "I've been watching her; I +was an old friend and it seemed to me I had the right. She +pretends to be happy; that was what she undertook to be; and I +thought I should like to see for myself what it amounts to. I've +seen," he continued with a harsh ring in his voice, "and I don't +want to see any more. I'm now quite ready to go." + +"Do you know it strikes me as about time you should?" Ralph +rejoined. And this was the only conversation these gentlemen had +about Isabel Osmond. + +Henrietta made her preparations for departure, and among them she +found it proper to say a few words to the Countess Gemini, who +returned at Miss Stackpole's pension the visit which this lady +had paid her in Florence. + +"You were very wrong about Lord Warburton," she remarked to the +Countess. "I think it right you should know that." + +"About his making love to Isabel? My poor lady, he was at her +house three times a day. He has left traces of his passage!" the +Countess cried. + +"He wished to marry your niece; that's why he came to the house." + +The Countess stared, and then with an inconsiderate laugh: "Is +that the story that Isabel tells? It isn't bad, as such things +go. If he wishes to marry my niece, pray why doesn't he do it? +Perhaps he has gone to buy the wedding-ring and will come back +with it next month, after I'm gone." + +"No, he'll not come back. Miss Osmond doesn't wish to marry him." + +"She's very accommodating! I knew she was fond of Isabel, but I +didn't know she carried it so far." + +"I don't understand you," said Henrietta coldly, and reflecting +that the Countess was unpleasantly perverse. "I really must stick +to my point--that Isabel never encouraged the attentions of Lord +Warburton." + +"My dear friend, what do you and I know about it? All we know is +that my brother's capable of everything." + +"I don't know what your brother's capable of," said Henrietta +with dignity. + +"It's not her encouraging Warburton that I complain of; it's her +sending him away. I want particularly to see him. Do you suppose +she thought I would make him faithless?" the Countess continued +with audacious insistence. "However, she's only keeping him, one +can feel that. The house is full of him there; he's quite in the +air. Oh yes, he has left traces; I'm sure I shall see him yet." + +"Well," said Henrietta after a little, with one of those +inspirations which had made the fortune of her letters to the +Interviewer, "perhaps he'll be more successful with you than with +Isabel!" + +When she told her friend of the offer she had made Ralph Isabel +replied that she could have done nothing that would have pleased +her more. It had always been her faith that at bottom Ralph and +this young woman were made to understand each other. "I don't +care whether he understands me or not," Henrietta declared. "The +great thing is that he shouldn't die in the cars." + +"He won't do that," Isabel said, shaking her head with an +extension of faith. + +"He won't if I can help it. I see you want us all to go. I don't +know what you want to do." + +"I want to be alone," said Isabel. + +"You won't be that so long as you've so much company at home." + +"Ah, they're part of the comedy. You others are spectators." + +"Do you call it a comedy, Isabel Archer?" Henrietta rather grimly +asked. + +"The tragedy then if you like. You're all looking at me; it makes +me uncomfortable." + +Henrietta engaged in this act for a while. "You're like the +stricken deer, seeking the innermost shade. Oh, you do give me +such a sense of helplessness!" she broke out. + +"I'm not at all helpless. There are many things I mean to do." + +"It's not you I'm speaking of; it's myself. It's too much, having +come on purpose, to leave you just as I find you." + +"You don't do that; you leave me much refreshed," Isabel said. + +"Very mild refreshment--sour lemonade! I want you to promise me +something." + +"I can't do that. I shall never make another promise. I made such +a solemn one four years ago, and I've succeeded so ill in keeping +it." + +"You've had no encouragement. In this case I should give you the +greatest. Leave your husband before the worst comes; that's what +I want you to promise." + +"The worst? What do you call the worst?" + +"Before your character gets spoiled." + +"Do you mean my disposition? It won't get spoiled," Isabel +answered, smiling. "I'm taking very good care of it. I'm +extremely struck," she added, turning away, "with the off-hand +way in which you speak of a woman's leaving her husband. It's +easy to see you've never had one!" + +"Well," said Henrietta as if she were beginning an argument, +"nothing is more common in our Western cities, and it's to them, +after all, that we must look in the future." Her argument, +however, does not concern this history, which has too many other +threads to unwind. She announced to Ralph Touchett that she was +ready to leave Rome by any train he might designate, and Ralph +immediately pulled himself together for departure. Isabel went to +see him at the last, and he made the same remark that Henrietta +had made. It struck him that Isabel was uncommonly glad to get +rid of them all. + +For all answer to this she gently laid her hand on his, and said +in a low tone, with a quick smile: "My dear Ralph--!" + +It was answer enough, and he was quite contented. But he went on +in the same way, jocosely, ingenuously: "I've seen less of you +than I might, but it's better than nothing. And then I've heard a +great deal about you." + +"I don't know from whom, leading the life you've done." + +"From the voices of the air! Oh, from no one else; I never let +other people speak of you. They always say you're 'charming,' and +that's so flat." + +"I might have seen more of you certainly," Isabel said. "But when +one's married one has so much occupation." + +"Fortunately I'm not married. When you come to see me in England +I shall be able to entertain you with all the freedom of a +bachelor." He continued to talk as if they should certainly meet +again, and succeeded in making the assumption appear almost just. +He made no allusion to his term being near, to the probability +that he should not outlast the summer. If he preferred it so, +Isabel was willing enough; the reality was sufficiently distinct +without their erecting finger-posts in conversation. That had +been well enough for the earlier time, though about this, as +about his other affairs, Ralph had never been egotistic. Isabel +spoke of his journey, of the stages into which he should divide +it, of the precautions he should take. "Henrietta's my greatest +precaution," he went on. "The conscience of that woman's sublime." + +"Certainly she'll be very conscientious." + +"Will be? She has been! It's only because she thinks it's her +duty that she goes with me. There's a conception of duty for +you." + +"Yes, it's a generous one," said Isabel, "and it makes me deeply +ashamed. I ought to go with you, you know." + +"Your husband wouldn't like that." + +"No, he wouldn't like it. But I might go, all the same." + +"I'm startled by the boldness of your imagination. Fancy my being +a cause of disagreement between a lady and her husband!" + +"That's why I don't go," said Isabel simply--yet not very +lucidly. + +Ralph understood well enough, however. "I should think so, with +all those occupations you speak of." + +"It isn't that. I'm afraid," said Isabel. After a pause she +repeated, as if to make herself, rather than him, hear the words: +"I'm afraid." + +Ralph could hardly tell what her tone meant; it was so strangely +deliberate--apparently so void of emotion. Did she wish to do +public penance for a fault of which she had not been convicted? +or were her words simply an attempt at enlightened self-analysis? +However this might be, Ralph could not resist so easy an +opportunity. "Afraid of your husband?" + +"Afraid of myself!" she said, getting up. She stood there a +moment and then added: "If I were afraid of my husband that would +be simply my duty. That's what women are expected to be." + +"Ah yes," laughed Ralph; "but to make up for it there's always +some man awfully afraid of some woman!" + +She gave no heed to this pleasantry, but suddenly took a +different turn. "With Henrietta at the head of your little band," +she exclaimed abruptly, "there will be nothing left for Mr. +Goodwood!" + +"Ah, my dear Isabel," Ralph answered, "he's used to that. There +is nothing left for Mr. Goodwood." + +She coloured and then observed, quickly, that she must leave him. +They stood together a moment; both her hands were in both of his. +"You've been my best friend," she said. + +"It was for you that I wanted--that I wanted to live. But I'm of +no use to you." + +Then it came over her more poignantly that she should not see him +again. She could not accept that; she could not part with him +that way. "If you should send for me I'd come," she said at last. + +"Your husband won't consent to that." + +"Oh yes, I can arrange it." + +"I shall keep that for my last pleasure!" said Ralph. + +In answer to which she simply kissed him. It was a Thursday, and +that evening Caspar Goodwood came to Palazzo Roccanera. He was +among the first to arrive, and he spent some time in conversation +with Gilbert Osmond, who almost always was present when his wife +received. They sat down together, and Osmond, talkative, +communicative, expansive, seemed possessed with a kind of +intellectual gaiety. He leaned back with his legs crossed, +lounging and chatting, while Goodwood, more restless, but not at +all lively, shifted his position, played with his hat, made the +little sofa creak beneath him. Osmond's face wore a sharp, +aggressive smile; he was as a man whose perceptions have been +quickened by good news. He remarked to Goodwood that he was sorry +they were to lose him; he himself should particularly miss him. +He saw so few intelligent men--they were surprisingly scarce in +Rome. He must be sure to come back; there was something very +refreshing, to an inveterate Italian like himself, in talking +with a genuine outsider. + +"I'm very fond of Rome, you know," Osmond said; "but there's +nothing I like better than to meet people who haven't that +superstition. The modern world's after all very fine. Now you're +thoroughly modern and yet are not at all common. So many of the +moderns we see are such very poor stuff. If they're the children +of the future we're willing to die young. Of course the ancients +too are often very tiresome. My wife and I like everything that's +really new--not the mere pretence of it. There's nothing new, +unfortunately, in ignorance and stupidity. We see plenty of that +in forms that offer themselves as a revelation of progress, of +light. A revelation of vulgarity! There's a certain kind of +vulgarity which I believe is really new; I don't think there ever +was anything like it before. Indeed I don't find vulgarity, at +all, before the present century. You see a faint menace of it +here and there in the last, but to-day the air has grown so dense +that delicate things are literally not recognised. Now, we've +liked you--!" With which he hesitated a moment, laying his hand +gently on Goodwood's knee and smiling with a mixture of assurance +and embarrassment. "I'm going to say something extremely offensive +and patronising, but you must let me have the satisfaction of it. +We've liked you because--because you've reconciled us a little to +the future. If there are to be a certain number of people like +you--a la bonne heure! I'm talking for my wife as well as for +myself, you see. She speaks for me, my wife; why shouldn't I +speak for her? We're as united, you know, as the candlestick and +the snuffers. Am I assuming too much when I say that I think I've +understood from you that your occupations have been--a-- +commercial? There's a danger in that, you know; but it's the way +you have escaped that strikes us. Excuse me if my little +compliment seems in execrable taste; fortunately my wife doesn't +hear me. What I mean is that you might have been--a--what I was +mentioning just now. The whole American world was in a conspiracy +to make you so. But you resisted, you've something about you that +saved you. And yet you're so modern, so modern; the most modern +man we know! We shall always be delighted to see you again." + +I have said that Osmond was in good humour, and these remarks +will give ample evidence of the fact. They were infinitely more +personal than he usually cared to be, and if Caspar Goodwood had +attended to them more closely he might have thought that the +defence of delicacy was in rather odd hands. We may believe, +however, that Osmond knew very well what he was about, and that +if he chose to use the tone of patronage with a grossness not in +his habits he had an excellent reason for the escapade. Goodwood +had only a vague sense that he was laying it on somehow; he +scarcely knew where the mixture was applied. Indeed he scarcely +knew what Osmond was talking about; he wanted to be alone with +Isabel, and that idea spoke louder to him than her husband's +perfectly-pitched voice. He watched her talking with other people +and wondered when she would be at liberty and whether he might +ask her to go into one of the other rooms. His humour was not, +like Osmond's, of the best; there was an element of dull rage in +his consciousness of things. Up to this time he had not disliked +Osmond personally; he had only thought him very well-informed and +obliging and more than he had supposed like the person whom +Isabel Archer would naturally marry. His host had won in the open +field a great advantage over him, and Goodwood had too strong a +sense of fair play to have been moved to underrate him on that +account. He had not tried positively to think well of him; this +was a flight of sentimental benevolence of which, even in the +days when he came nearest to reconciling himself to what had +happened, Goodwood was quite incapable. He accepted him as rather +a brilliant personage of the amateurish kind, afflicted with a +redundancy of leisure which it amused him to work off in little +refinements of conversation. But he only half trusted him; he +could never make out why the deuce Osmond should lavish +refinements of any sort upon HIM. It made him suspect that he +found some private entertainment in it, and it ministered to a +general impression that his triumphant rival had in his +composition a streak of perversity. He knew indeed that Osmond +could have no reason to wish him evil; he had nothing to fear +from him. He had carried off a supreme advantage and could afford +to be kind to a man who had lost everything. It was true that +Goodwood had at times grimly wished he were dead and would have +liked to kill him; but Osmond had no means of knowing this, for +practice had made the younger man perfect in the art of appearing +inaccessible to-day to any violent emotion. He cultivated this +art in order to deceive himself, but it was others that he +deceived first. He cultivated it, moreover, with very limited +success; of which there could be no better proof than the deep, +dumb irritation that reigned in his soul when he heard Osmond +speak of his wife's feelings as if he were commissioned to answer +for them. + +That was all he had had an ear for in what his host said to him +this evening; he had been conscious that Osmond made more of a +point even than usual of referring to the conjugal harmony +prevailing at Palazzo Roccanera. He had been more careful than +ever to speak as if he and his wife had all things in sweet +community and it were as natural to each of them to say "we" as +to say "I". In all this there was an air of intention that had +puzzled and angered our poor Bostonian, who could only reflect +for his comfort that Mrs. Osmond's relations with her husband +were none of his business. He had no proof whatever that her +husband misrepresented her, and if he judged her by the surface +of things was bound to believe that she liked her life. She had +never given him the faintest sign of discontent. Miss Stackpole +had told him that she had lost her illusions, but writing for the +papers had made Miss Stackpole sensational. She was too fond of +early news. Moreover, since her arrival in Rome she had been much +on her guard; she had pretty well ceased to flash her lantern at +him. This indeed, it may be said for her, would have been quite +against her conscience. She had now seen the reality of Isabel's +situation, and it had inspired her with a just reserve. Whatever +could be done to improve it the most useful form of assistance +would not be to inflame her former lovers with a sense of her +wrongs. Miss Stackpole continued to take a deep interest in the +state of Mr. Goodwood's feelings, but she showed it at present +only by sending him choice extracts, humorous and other, from the +American journals, of which she received several by every post +and which she always perused with a pair of scissors in her hand. +The articles she cut out she placed in an envelope addressed to +Mr. Goodwood, which she left with her own hand at his hotel. He +never asked her a question about Isabel: hadn't he come five +thousand miles to see for himself? He was thus not in the least +authorised to think Mrs. Osmond unhappy; but the very absence of +authorisation operated as an irritant, ministered to the harsh- +ness with which, in spite of his theory that he had ceased to +care, he now recognised that, so far as she was concerned, the +future had nothing more for him. He had not even the satisfaction +of knowing the truth; apparently he could not even be trusted to +respect her if she WERE unhappy. He was hopeless, helpless, +useless. To this last character she had called his attention by +her ingenious plan for making him leave Rome. He had no objection +whatever to doing what he could for her cousin, but it made him +grind his teeth to think that of all the services she might have +asked of him this was the one she had been eager to select. There +had been no danger of her choosing one that would have kept him +in Rome. + +To-night what he was chiefly thinking of was that he was to leave +her to-morrow and that he had gained nothing by coming but the +knowledge that he was as little wanted as ever. About herself he +had gained no knowledge; she was imperturbable, inscrutable, +impenetrable. He felt the old bitterness, which he had tried so +hard to swallow, rise again in his throat, and he knew there are +disappointments that last as long as life. Osmond went on +talking; Goodwood was vaguely aware that he was touching again +upon his perfect intimacy with his wife. It seemed to him for a +moment that the man had a kind of demonic imagination; it was +impossible that without malice he should have selected so unusual +a topic. But what did it matter, after all, whether he were +demonic or not, and whether she loved him or hated him? She might +hate him to the death without one's gaining a straw one's self. +"You travel, by the by, with Ralph Touchett," Osmond said. "I +suppose that means you'll move slowly?" + +"I don't know. I shall do just as he likes." + +"You're very accommodating. We're immensely obliged to you; you +must really let me say it. My wife has probably expressed to you +what we feel. Touchett has been on our minds all winter; it has +looked more than once as if he would never leave Rome. He ought +never to have come; it's worse than an imprudence for people in +that state to travel; it's a kind of indelicacy. I wouldn't for +the world be under such an obligation to Touchett as he has been +to--to my wife and me. Other people inevitably have to look after +him, and every one isn't so generous as you." + +"I've nothing else to do," Caspar said dryly. + +Osmond looked at him a moment askance. "You ought to marry, and +then you'd have plenty to do! It's true that in that case you +wouldn't be quite so available for deeds of mercy." + +"Do you find that as a married man you're so much occupied?" the +young man mechanically asked. + +"Ah, you see, being married's in itself an occupation. It isn't +always active; it's often passive; but that takes even more +attention. Then my wife and I do so many things together. We +read, we study, we make music, we walk, we drive--we talk even, +as when we first knew each other. I delight, to this hour, in my +wife's conversation. If you're ever bored take my advice and get +married. Your wife indeed may bore you, in that case; but you'll +never bore yourself. You'll always have something to say to +yourself--always have a subject of reflection." + +"I'm not bored," said Goodwood. "I've plenty to think about and +to say to myself." + +"More than to say to others!" Osmond exclaimed with a light +laugh. "Where shall you go next? I mean after you've consigned +Touchett to his natural caretakers--I believe his mother's at +last coming back to look after him. That little lady's superb; +she neglects her duties with a finish--! Perhaps you'll spend the +summer in England?" + +"I don't know. I've no plans." + +"Happy man! That's a little bleak, but it's very free." + +"Oh yes, I'm very free." + +"Free to come back to Rome I hope," said Osmond as he saw a group +of new visitors enter the room. "Remember that when you do come +we count on you!" + +Goodwood had meant to go away early, but the evening elapsed +without his having a chance to speak to Isabel otherwise than as +one of several associated interlocutors. There was something +perverse in the inveteracy with which she avoided him; his +unquenchable rancour discovered an intention where there was +certainly no appearance of one. There was absolutely no appearance +of one. She met his eyes with her clear hospitable smile, which +seemed almost to ask that he would come and help her to entertain +some of her visitors. To such suggestions, however, he opposed +but a stiff impatience. He wandered about and waited; he talked +to the few people he knew, who found him for the first time +rather self-contradictory. This was indeed rare with Caspar +Goodwood, though he often contradicted others. There was often +music at Palazzo Roccanera, and it was usually very good. Under +cover of the music he managed to contain himself; but toward the +end, when he saw the people beginning to go, he drew near to +Isabel and asked her in a low tone if he might not speak to her +in one of the other rooms, which he had just assured himself was +empty. She smiled as if she wished to oblige him but found her +self absolutely prevented. "I'm afraid it's impossible. People +are saying good-night, and I must be where they can see me." + +"I shall wait till they are all gone then." + +She hesitated a moment. "Ah, that will be delightful!" she +exclaimed. + +And he waited, though it took a long time yet. There were several +people, at the end, who seemed tethered to the carpet. The +Countess Gemini, who was never herself till midnight, as she +said, displayed no consciousness that the entertainment was over; +she had still a little circle of gentlemen in front of the fire, +who every now and then broke into a united laugh. Osmond had +disappeared--he never bade good-bye to people; and as the +Countess was extending her range, according to her custom at this +period of the evening, Isabel had sent Pansy to bed. Isabel sat a +little apart; she too appeared to wish her sister-in-law would +sound a lower note and let the last loiterers depart in peace. + +"May I not say a word to you now?" Goodwood presently asked her. +She got up immediately, smiling. "Certainly, we'll go somewhere +else if you like." They went together, leaving the Countess with +her little circle, and for a moment after they had crossed the +threshold neither of them spoke. Isabel would not sit down; she +stood in the middle of the room slowly fanning herself; she had +for him the same familiar grace. She seemed to wait for him to +speak. Now that he was alone with her all the passion he had +never stifled surged into his senses; it hummed in his eyes +and made things swim round him. The bright, empty room grew dim +and blurred, and through the heaving veil he felt her hover +before him with gleaming eyes and parted lips. If he had seen +more distinctly he would have perceived her smile was fixed and a +trifle forced--that she was frightened at what she saw in his own +face. "I suppose you wish to bid me goodbye?" she said. + +"Yes--but I don't like it. I don't want to leave Rome," he +answered with almost plaintive honesty. + +"I can well imagine. It's wonderfully good of you. I can't tell +you how kind I think you." + +For a moment more he said nothing. "With a few words like that +you make me go." + +"You must come back some day," she brightly returned. + +"Some day? You mean as long a time hence as possible." + +"Oh no; I don't mean all that." + +"What do you mean? I don't understand! But I said I'd go, and +I'll go," Goodwood added. + +"Come back whenever you like," said Isabel with attempted +lightness. + +"I don't care a straw for your cousin!" Caspar broke out. + +"Is that what you wished to tell me?" + +"No, no; I didn't want to tell you anything; I wanted to ask +you--" he paused a moment, and then--"what have you really made +of your life?" he said, in a low, quick tone. He paused again, +as if for an answer; but she said nothing, and he went on: "I +can't understand, I can't penetrate you! What am I to believe-- +what do you want me to think?" Still she said nothing; she only +stood looking at him, now quite without pretending to ease. "I'm +told you're unhappy, and if you are I should like to know it. +That would be something for me. But you yourself say you're +happy, and you're somehow so still, so smooth, so hard. You're +completely changed. You conceal everything; I haven't really come +near you." + +"You come very near," Isabel said gently, but in a tone of +warning. + +"And yet I don't touch you! I want to know the truth. Have you +done well?" + +"You ask a great deal." + +"Yes--I've always asked a great deal. Of course you won't tell +me. I shall never know if you can help it. And then it's none of +my business." He had spoken with a visible effort to control +himself, to give a considerate form to an inconsiderate state of +mind. But the sense that it was his last chance, that he loved +her and had lost her, that she would think him a fool whatever he +should say, suddenly gave him a lash and added a deep vibration +to his low voice. "You're perfectly inscrutable, and that's what +makes me think you've something to hide. I tell you I don't care +a straw for your cousin, but I don't mean that I don't like him. +I mean that it isn't because I like him that I go away with him. +I'd go if he were an idiot and you should have asked me. If you +should ask me I'd go to Siberia tomorrow. Why do you want me to +leave the place? You must have some reason for that; if you were +as contented as you pretend you are you wouldn't care. I'd rather +know the truth about you, even if it's damnable, than have come +here for nothing. That isn't what I came for. I thought I +shouldn't care. I came because I wanted to assure myself that I +needn't think of you any more. I haven't thought of anything else, +and you're quite right to wish me to go away. But if I must go, +there's no harm in my letting myself out for a single moment, is +there? If you're really hurt--if HE hurts you--nothing I say will +hurt you. When I tell you I love you it's simply what I came for. +I thought it was for something else; but it was for that. I +shouldn't say it if I didn't believe I should never see you again. +It's the last time--let me pluck a single flower! I've no right to +say that, I know; and you've no right to listen. But you don't +listen; you never listen, you're always thinking of something else. +After this I must go, of course; so I shall at least have a +reason. Your asking me is no reason, not a real one. I can't +judge by your husband," he went on irrelevantly, almost +incoherently; "I don't understand him; he tells me you adore each +other. Why does he tell me that? What business is it of mine? +When I say that to you, you look strange. But you always look +strange. Yes, you've something to hide. It's none of my business +--very true. But I love you," said Caspar Goodwood. + +As he said, she looked strange. She turned her eyes to the door +by which they had entered and raised her fan as if in warning. + +"You've behaved so well; don't spoil it," she uttered softly. + +"No one hears me. It's wonderful what you tried to put me off +with. I love you as I've never loved you." + +"I know it. I knew it as soon as you consented to go." + +"You can't help it--of course not. You would if you could, but you +can't, unfortunately. Unfortunately for me, I mean. I ask nothing +--nothing, that is, I shouldn't. But I do ask one sole +satisfaction:--that you tell me--that you tell me--!" + +"That I tell you what?" + +"Whether I may pity you." + +"Should you like that?" Isabel asked, trying to smile again. + +"To pity you? Most assuredly! That at least would be doing +something. I'd give my life to it." + +She raised her fan to her face, which it covered all except her +eyes. They rested a moment on his. "Don't give your life to it; +but give a thought to it every now and then." And with that she +went back to the Countess Gemini. + + + +CHAPTER XLIX + +Madame Merle had not made her appearance at Palazzo Roccanera on +the evening of that Thursday of which I have narrated some of the +incidents, and Isabel, though she observed her absence, was not +surprised by it. Things had passed between them which added no +stimulus to sociability, and to appreciate which we must glance a +little backward. It has been mentioned that Madame Merle returned +from Naples shortly after Lord Warburton had left Rome, and that +on her first meeting with Isabel (whom, to do her justice, she +came immediately to see) her first utterance had been an enquiry +as to the whereabouts of this nobleman, for whom she appeared to +hold her dear friend accountable. + +"Please don't talk of him," said Isabel for answer; "we've heard +so much of him of late." + +Madame Merle bent her head on one side a little, protestingly, +and smiled at the left corner of her mouth. "You've heard, yes. +But you must remember that I've not, in Naples. I hoped to find +him here and to be able to congratulate Pansy." + +"You may congratulate Pansy still; but not on marrying Lord +Warburton." + +"How you say that! Don't you know I had set my heart on it?" +Madame Merle asked with a great deal of spirit, but still with +the intonation of good-humour. + +Isabel was discomposed, but she was determined to be good-humoured +too. "You shouldn't have gone to Naples then. You should have +stayed here to watch the affair." + +"I had too much confidence in you. But do you think it's too late?" + +"You had better ask Pansy," said Isabel. + +"I shall ask her what you've said to her." + +These words seemed to justify the impulse of self-defence aroused +on Isabel's part by her perceiving that her visitor's attitude was +a critical one. Madame Merle, as we know, had been very discreet +hitherto; she had never criticised; she had been markedly afraid +of intermeddling. But apparently she had only reserved herself for +this occasion, since she now had a dangerous quickness in her eye +and an air of irritation which even her admirable ease was not +able to transmute. She had suffered a disappointment which excited +Isabel's surprise--our heroine having no knowledge of her zealous +interest in Pansy's marriage; and she betrayed it in a manner +which quickened Mrs. Osmond's alarm. More clearly than ever before +Isabel heard a cold, mocking voice proceed from she knew not +where, in the dim void that surrounded her, and declare that this +bright, strong, definite, worldly woman, this incarnation of the +practical, the personal, the immediate, was a powerful agent in +her destiny. She was nearer to her than Isabel had yet discovered, +and her nearness was not the charming accident she had so long +supposed. The sense of accident indeed had died within her that +day when she happened to be struck with the manner in which the +wonderful lady and her own husband sat together in private. No +definite suspicion had as yet taken its place; but it was enough +to make her view this friend with a different eye, to have been +led to reflect that there was more intention in her past +behaviour than she had allowed for at the time. Ah yes, there had +been intention, there had been intention, Isabel said to herself; +and she seemed to wake from a long pernicious dream. What was it +that brought home to her that Madame Merle's intention had not +been good? Nothing but the mistrust which had lately taken body +and which married itself now to the fruitful wonder produced by +her visitor's challenge on behalf of poor Pansy. There was +something in this challenge which had at the very outset excited +an answering defiance; a nameless vitality which she could see to +have been absent from her friend's professions of delicacy and +caution. Madame Merle had been unwilling to interfere, certainly, +but only so long as there was nothing to interfere with. It will +perhaps seem to the reader that Isabel went fast in casting +doubt, on mere suspicion, on a sincerity proved by several years +of good offices. She moved quickly indeed, and with reason, for a +strange truth was filtering into her soul. Madame Merle's +interest was identical with Osmond's: that was enough. "I think +Pansy will tell you nothing that will make you more angry," she +said in answer to her companion's last remark. + +"I'm not in the least angry. I've only a great desire to retrieve +the situation. Do you consider that Warburton has left us for +ever?" + +"I can't tell you; I don't understand you. It's all over; please +let it rest. Osmond has talked to me a great deal about it, and +I've nothing more to say or to hear. I've no doubt," Isabel +added, "that he'll be very happy to discuss the subject with +you." + +"I know what he thinks; he came to see me last evening." + +"As soon as you had arrived? Then you know all about it and you +needn't apply to me for information." + +"It isn't information I want. At bottom it's sympathy. I had set +my heart on that marriage; the idea did what so few things do-- +it satisfied the imagination." + +"Your imagination, yes. But not that of the persons concerned." + +"You mean by that of course that I'm not concerned. Of course not +directly. But when one's such an old friend one can't help having +something at stake. You forget how long I've known Pansy. You +mean, of course," Madame Merle added, "that YOU are one of the +persons concerned." + +"No; that's the last thing I mean. I'm very weary of it all." + +Madame Merle hesitated a little. "Ah yes, your work's done." + +"Take care what you say," said Isabel very gravely. + +"Oh, I take care; never perhaps more than when it appears least. +Your husband judges you severely." + +Isabel made for a moment no answer to this; she felt choked with +bitterness. It was not the insolence of Madame Merle's informing +her that Osmond had been taking her into his confidence as +against his wife that struck her most; for she was not quick to +believe that this was meant for insolence. Madame Merle was very +rarely insolent, and only when it was exactly right. It was not +right now, or at least it was not right yet. What touched Isabel +like a drop of corrosive acid upon an open wound was the knowledge +that Osmond dishonoured her in his words as well as in his +thoughts. "Should you like to know how I judge HIM?" she asked +at last. + +"No, because you'd never tell me. And it would be painful for me +to know." + +There was a pause, and for the first time since she had known her +Isabel thought Madame Merle disagreeable. She wished she would +leave her. "Remember how attractive Pansy is, and don't despair," +she said abruptly, with a desire that this should close their +interview. + +But Madame Merle's expansive presence underwent no contraction. +She only gathered her mantle about her and, with the movement, +scattered upon the air a faint, agreeable fragrance. "I don't +despair; I feel encouraged. And I didn't come to scold you; I +came if possible to learn the truth. I know you'll tell it if I +ask you. It's an immense blessing with you that one can count +upon that. No, you won't believe what a comfort I take in it." + +"What truth do you speak of?" Isabel asked, wondering. + +"Just this: whether Lord Warburton changed his mind quite of his +own movement or because you recommended it. To please himself I +mean, or to please you. Think of the confidence I must still +have in you, in spite of having lost a little of it," Madame +Merle continued with a smile, "to ask such a question as that!" +She sat looking at her friend, to judge the effect of her words, +and then went on: "Now don't be heroic, don't be unreasonable, +don't take offence. It seems to me I do you an honour in speaking +so. I don't know another woman to whom I would do it. I haven't +the least idea that any other woman would tell me the truth. And +don't you see how well it is that your husband should know it? +It's true that he doesn't appear to have had any tact whatever +in trying to extract it; he has indulged in gratuitous +suppositions. But that doesn't alter the fact that it would make +a difference in his view of his daughter's prospects to know +distinctly what really occurred. If Lord Warburton simply got +tired of the poor child, that's one thing, and it's a pity. If he +gave her up to please you it's another. That's a pity too, but in +a different way. Then, in the latter case, you'd perhaps resign +yourself to not being pleased--to simply seeing your +step-daughter married. Let him off--let us have him!" + +Madame Merle had proceeded very deliberately, watching her +companion and apparently thinking she could proceed safely. As +she went on Isabel grew pale; she clasped her hands more tightly +in her lap. It was not that her visitor had at last thought it +the right time to be insolent; for this was not what was most +apparent. It was a worse horror than that. "Who are you--what are +you?" Isabel murmured. "What have you to do with my husband?" +It was strange that for the moment she drew as near to him as if +she had loved him. + +"Ah then, you take it heroically! I'm very sorry. Don't think, +however, that I shall do so." + +"What have you to do with me?" Isabel went on. + +Madame Merle slowly got up, stroking her muff, but not removing +her eyes from Isabel's face. "Everything!" she answered. + +Isabel sat there looking up at her, without rising; her face was +almost a prayer to be enlightened. But the light of this woman's +eyes seemed only a darkness. "Oh misery!" she murmured at last; +and she fell back, covering her face with her hands. It had come +over her like a high-surging wave that Mrs. Touchett was right. +Madame Merle had married her. Before she uncovered her face again +that lady had left the room. + +Isabel took a drive alone that afternoon; she wished to be far +away, under the sky, where she could descend from her carriage +and tread upon the daisies. She had long before this taken old +Rome into her confidence, for in a world of ruins the ruin of her +happiness seemed a less unnatural catastrophe. She rested her +weariness upon things that had crumbled for centuries and yet +still were upright; she dropped her secret sadness into the +silence of lonely places, where its very modern quality detached +itself and grew objective, so that as she sat in a sun-warmed +angle on a winter's day, or stood in a mouldy church to which no +one came, she could almost smile at it and think of its +smallness. Small it was, in the large Roman record, and her +haunting sense of the continuity of the human lot easily carried +her from the less to the greater. She had become deeply, tenderly +acquainted with Rome; it interfused and moderated her passion. +But she had grown to think of it chiefly as the place where +people had suffered. This was what came to her in the starved +churches, where the marble columns, transferred from pagan ruins, +seemed to offer her a companionship in endurance and the musty +incense to be a compound of long-unanswered prayers. There was no +gentler nor less consistent heretic than Isabel; the firmest of +worshippers, gazing at dark altar-pictures or clustered candles, +could not have felt more intimately the suggestiveness of these +objects nor have been more liable at such moments to a spiritual +visitation. Pansy, as we know, was almost always her companion, +and of late the Countess Gemini, balancing a pink parasol, had +lent brilliancy to their equipage; but she still occasionally +found herself alone when it suited her mood and where it suited +the place. On such occasions she had several resorts; the most +accessible of which perhaps was a seat on the low parapet which +edges the wide grassy space before the high, cold front of Saint +John Lateran, whence you look across the Campagna at the +far-trailing outline of the Alban Mount and at that mighty plain, +between, which is still so full of all that has passed from it. +After the departure of her cousin and his companions she roamed +more than usual; she carried her sombre spirit from one familiar +shrine to the other. Even when Pansy and the Countess were with +her she felt the touch of a vanished world. The carriage, leaving +the walls of Rome behind, rolled through narrow lanes where the +wild honeysuckle had begun to tangle itself in the hedges, or +waited for her in quiet places where the fields lay near, while +she strolled further and further over the flower-freckled turf, or +sat on a stone that had once had a use and gazed through the veil +of her personal sadness at the splendid sadness of the scene--at +the dense, warm light, the far gradations and soft confusions of +colour, the motionless shepherds in lonely attitudes, the hills +where the cloud-shadows had the lightness of a blush. + +On the afternoon I began with speaking of, she had taken a +resolution not to think of Madame Merle; but the resolution +proved vain, and this lady's image hovered constantly before her. +She asked herself, with an almost childlike horror of the +supposition, whether to this intimate friend of several years the +great historical epithet of wicked were to be applied. She knew +the idea only by the Bible and other literary works; to the best +of her belief she had had no personal acquaintance with +wickedness. She had desired a large acquaintance with human life, +and in spite of her having flattered herself that she cultivated +it with some success this elementary privilege had been denied +her. Perhaps it was not wicked--in the historic sense--to be even +deeply false; for that was what Madame Merle had been--deeply, +deeply, deeply. Isabel's Aunt Lydia had made this discovery long +before, and had mentioned it to her niece; but Isabel had +flattered herself at this time that she had a much richer view of +things, especially of the spontaneity of her own career and the +nobleness of her own interpretations, than poor stiffly-reasoning +Mrs. Touchett. Madame Merle had done what she wanted; she had +brought about the union of her two friends; a reflection which +could not fail to make it a matter of wonder that she should so +much have desired such an event. There were people who had the +match-making passion, like the votaries of art for art; but +Madame Merle, great artist as she was, was scarcely one of these. +She thought too ill of marriage, too ill even of life; she had +desired that particular marriage but had not desired others. She +had therefore had a conception of gain, and Isabel asked herself +where she had found her profit. It took her naturally a long time +to discover, and even then her discovery was imperfect. It came +back to her that Madame Merle, though she had seemed to like her +from their first meeting at Gardencourt, had been doubly +affectionate after Mr. Touchett's death and after learning that +her young friend had been subject to the good old man's charity. +She had found her profit not in the gross device of borrowing +money, but in the more refined idea of introducing one of her +intimates to the young woman's fresh and ingenuous fortune. She +had naturally chosen her closest intimate, and it was already +vivid enough to Isabel that Gilbert occupied this position. She +found herself confronted in this manner with the conviction that +the man in the world whom she had supposed to be the least sordid +had married her, like a vulgar adventurer, for her money. Strange +to say, it had never before occurred to her; if she had thought a +good deal of harm of Osmond she had not done him this particular +injury. This was the worst she could think of, and she had been +saying to herself that the worst was still to come. A man might +marry a woman for her money perfectly well; the thing was often +done. But at least he should let her know. She wondered whether, +since he had wanted her money, her money would now satisfy him. +Would he take her money and let her go Ah, if Mr. Touchett's +great charity would but help her to-day it would be blessed +indeed! It was not slow to occur to her that if Madame Merle had +wished to do Gilbert a service his recognition to her of the boon +must have lost its warmth. What must be his feelings to-day in +regard to his too zealous benefactress, and what expression must +they have found on the part of such a master of irony? It is a +singular, but a characteristic, fact that before Isabel returned +from her silent drive she had broken its silence by the soft +exclamation: "Poor, poor Madame Merle!" + +Her compassion would perhaps have been justified if on this same +afternoon she had been concealed behind one of the valuable +curtains of time-softened damask which dressed the interesting +little salon of the lady to whom it referred; the +carefully-arranged apartment to which we once paid a visit in +company with the discreet Mr. Rosier. In that apartment, towards +six o'clock, Gilbert Osmond was seated, and his hostess stood +before him as Isabel had seen her stand on an occasion +commemorated in this history with an emphasis appropriate not so +much to its apparent as to its real importance. + +"I don't believe you're unhappy; I believe you like it," said +Madame Merle. + +"Did I say I was unhappy?" Osmond asked with a face grave +enough to suggest that he might have been. + +"No, but you don't say the contrary, as you ought in common +gratitude." + +"Don't talk about gratitude," he returned dryly. "And don't +aggravate me," he added in a moment. + +Madame Merle slowly seated herself, with her arms folded and her +white hands arranged as a support to one of them and an ornament, +as it were, to the other. She looked exquisitely calm but +impressively sad. "On your side, don't try to frighten me. I +wonder if you guess some of my thoughts." + +"I trouble about them no more than I can help. I've quite +enough of my own." + +"That's because they're so delightful." + +Osmond rested his head against the back of his chair and looked +at his companion with a cynical directness which seemed also +partly an expression of fatigue. "You do aggravate me," he +remarked in a moment. "I'm very tired." + +"Eh moi donc!" cried Madame Merle. + +"With you it's because you fatigue yourself. With me it's not my +own fault." + +"When I fatigue myself it's for you. I've given you an interest. +That's a great gift." + +"Do you call it an interest?" Osmond enquired with detachment. + +"Certainly, since it helps you to pass your time." + +"The time has never seemed longer to me than this winter." + +"You've never looked better; you've never been so agreeable, so +brilliant." + +"Damn my brilliancy!" he thoughtfully murmured. "How little, +after all, you know me!" + +"If I don't know you I know nothing," smiled Madame Merle. +"You've the feeling of complete success." + +"No, I shall not have that till I've made you stop judging me." + +"I did that long ago. I speak from old knowledge. But you express +yourself more too." + +Osmond just hung fire. "I wish you'd express yourself less!" + +"You wish to condemn me to silence? Remember that I've never +been a chatterbox. At any rate there are three or four things I +should like to say to you first. Your wife doesn't know what to +do with herself," she went on with a change of tone. + +"Pardon me; she knows perfectly. She has a line sharply drawn. +She means to carry out her ideas." + +"Her ideas to-day must be remarkable." + +"Certainly they are. She has more of them than ever." + +"She was unable to show me any this morning," said Madame Merle. +"She seemed in a very simple, almost in a stupid, state of mind. +She was completely bewildered." + +"You had better say at once that she was pathetic." + +"Ah no, I don't want to encourage you too much." + +He still had his head against the cushion behind him; the ankle +of one foot rested on the other knee. So he sat for a while. "I +should like to know what's the matter with you," he said at last. + +"The matter--the matter--!" And here Madame Merle stopped. Then +she went on with a sudden outbreak of passion, a burst of summer +thunder in a clear sky: "The matter is that I would give my right +hand to be able to weep, and that I can't!" + +"What good would it do you to weep?" + +"It would make me feel as I felt before I knew you." + +"If I've dried your tears, that's something. But I've seen you +shed them." + +"Oh, I believe you'll make me cry still. I mean make me howl like +a wolf. I've a great hope, I've a great need, of that. I was vile +this morning; I was horrid," she said. + +"If Isabel was in the stupid state of mind you mention she +probably didn't perceive it," Osmond answered. + +"It was precisely my deviltry that stupefied her. I couldn't help +it; I was full of something bad. Perhaps it was something good; +I don't know. You've not only dried up my tears; you've dried up +my soul." + +"It's not I then that am responsible for my wife's condition," +Osmond said. "It's pleasant to think that I shall get the benefit +of your influence upon her. Don't you know the soul is an +immortal principle? How can it suffer alteration?" + +"I don't believe at all that it's an immortal principle. I +believe it can perfectly be destroyed. That's what has happened +to mine, which was a very good one to start with; and it's you I +have to thank for it. You're VERY bad," she added with gravity in +her emphasis. + +"Is this the way we're to end?" Osmond asked with the same +studied coldness. + +"I don't know how we're to end. I wish I did--How do bad people +end?--especially as to their COMMON crimes. You have made me as +bad as yourself." + +"I don't understand you. You seem to me quite good enough," said +Osmond, his conscious indifference giving an extreme effect to +the words. + +Madame Merle's self-possession tended on the contrary to +diminish, and she was nearer losing it than on any occasion on +which we have had the pleasure of meeting her. The glow of her +eye turners sombre; her smile betrayed a painful effort. +"Good enough for anything that I've done with myself? I suppose +that's what you mean." + +"Good enough to be always charming!" Osmond exclaimed, smiling +too. + +"Oh God!" his companion murmured; and, sitting there in her ripe +freshness, she had recourse to the same gesture she had provoked +on Isabel's part in the morning: she bent her face and covered it +with her hands. + +"Are you going to weep after all?" Osmond asked; and on her +remaining motionless he went on: "Have I ever complained to you?" + +She dropped her hands quickly. "No, you've taken your revenge +otherwise--you have taken it on HER." + +Osmond threw back his head further; he looked a while at the +ceiling and might have been supposed to be appealing, in an +informal way, to the heavenly powers. "Oh, the imagination of +women! It's always vulgar, at bottom. You talk of revenge like a +third-rate novelist." + +"Of course you haven't complained. You've enjoyed your triumph +too much." + +"I'm rather curious to know what you call my triumph." + +"You've made your wife afraid of you." + +Osmond changed his position; he leaned forward, resting his +elbows on his knees and looking a while at a beautiful old +Persian rug, at his feet. He had an air of refusing to accept any +one's valuation of anything, even of time, and of preferring to +abide by his own; a peculiarity which made him at moments an +irritating person to converse with. "Isabel's not afraid of me, +and it's not what I wish," he said at last. "To what do you want +to provoke me when you say such things as that?" + +"I've thought over all the harm you can do me," Madame Merle +answered. "Your wife was afraid of me this morning, but in me it +was really you she feared." + +"You may have said things that were in very bad taste; I'm not +responsible for that. I didn't see the use of your going to see +her at all: you're capable of acting without her. I've not made +you afraid of me that I can see," he went on; "how then should I +have made her? You're at least as brave. I can't think where +you've picked up such rubbish; one might suppose you knew me by +this time." He got up as he spoke and walked to the chimney, +where he stood a moment bending his eye, as if he had seen them +for the first time, on the delicate specimens of rare porcelain +with which it was covered. He took up a small cup and held it in +his hand; then, still holding it and leaning his arm on the +mantel, he pursued: "You always see too much ins everything; you +overdo it; you lose sight of the real. I'm much simpler than you +think." + +"I think you're very simple." And Madame Merle kept her eye on +her cup. "I've come to that with time. I judged you, as I say, of +old; but it's only since your marriage that I've understood you. +I've seen better what you have been to your wife than I ever saw +what you were for me. Please be very careful of that precious +object." + +"It already has a wee bit of a tiny crack," said Osmond dryly as +he put it down. "If you didn't understand me before I married it +was cruelly rash of you to put me into such a box. However, I +took a fancy to my box myself; I thought it would be a +comfortable fit. I asked very little; I only asked that she +should like me." + +"That she should like you so much!" + +"So much, of course; in such a case one asks the maximum. That +she should adore me, if you will. Oh yes, I wanted that." + +"I never adored you," said Madame Merle. + +"Ah, but you pretended to!" + +"It's true that you never accused me of being a comfortable fit," +Madame Merle went on. + +"My wife has declined--declined to do anything of the sort," +said Osmond. "If you're determined to make a tragedy of that, the +tragedy's hardly for her." + +"The tragedy's for me!" Madame Merle exclaimed, rising with a +long low sigh but having a glance at the same time for the +contents of her mantel-shelf. + +"It appears that I'm to be severely taught the disadvantages of a +false position." + +"You express yourself like a sentence in a copybook. We must look +for our comfort where we can find it. If my wife doesn't like me, +at least my child does. I shall look for compensations in Pansy. +Fortunately I haven't a fault to find with her." + +"Ah," she said softly, "if I had a child--!" + +Osmond waited, and then, with a little formal air, "The children +of others may be a great interest!" he announced. + +"You're more like a copy-book than I. There's something after all +that holds us together." + +"Is it the idea of the harm I may do you?" Osmond asked. + +"No; it's the idea of the good I may do for you. It's that," +Madame Merle pursued, "that made me so jealous of Isabel. I want +it to be MY work," she added, with her face, which had grown hard +and bitter, relaxing to its habit of smoothness. + +Her friend took up his hat and his umbrella, and after giving the +former article two or three strokes with his coat-cuff, "On the +whole, I think," he said, "you had better leave it to me." + +After he had left her she went, the first thing, and lifted from +the mantel-shelf the attenuated coffee-cup in which he had +mentioned the existence of a crack; but she looked at it rather +abstractedly. "Have I been so vile all for nothing?" she vaguely +wailed. + + + +CHAPTER L + +As the Countess Gemini was not acquainted with the ancient +monuments Isabel occasionally offered to introduce her to these +interesting relics and to give their afternoon drive an +antiquarian aim. The Countess, who professed to think her +sister-in-law a prodigy of learning, never made an objection, and +gazed at masses of Roman brickwork as patiently as if they had +been mounds of modern drapery. She had not the historic sense, +though she had in some directions the anecdotic, and as regards +herself the apologetic, but she was so delighted to be in Rome +that she only desired to float with the current. She would gladly +have passed an hour every day in the damp darkness of the Baths +of Titus if it had been a condition of her remaining at Palazzo +Roccanera. Isabel, however, was not a severe cicerone; she used +to visit the ruins chiefly because they offered an excuse for +talking about other matters than the love affairs of the ladies of +Florence, as to which her companion was never weary of offering +information. It must be added that during these visits the +Countess forbade herself every form of active research; her +preference was to sit in the carriage and exclaim that everything +was most interesting. It was in this manner that she had hitherto +examined the Coliseum, to the infinite regret of her niece, who-- +with all the respect that she owed her--could not see why she +should not descend from the vehicle and enter the building. Pansy +had so little chance to ramble that her view of the case was not +wholly disinterested; it may be divined that she had a secret +hope that, once inside, her parents' guest might be induced to +climb to the upper tiers. There came a day when the Countess +announced her willingness to undertake this feat--a mild +afternoon in March when the windy month expressed itself in +occasional puffs of spring. The three ladies went into the +Coliseum together, but Isabel left her companions to wander over +the place. She had often ascended to those desolate ledges from +which the Roman crowd used to bellow applause and where now the +wild flowers (when they are allowed) bloom in the deep crevices; +and to-day she felt weary and disposed to sit in the despoiled +arena. It made an intermission too, for the Countess often asked +more from one's attention than she gave in return; and Isabel +believed that when she was alone with her niece she let the dust +gather for a moment on the ancient scandals of the Arnide. She so +remained below therefore, while Pansy guided her undiscriminating +aunt to the steep brick staircase at the foot of which the +custodian unlocks the tall wooden gate. The great enclosure was +half in shadow; the western sun brought out the pale red tone of +the great blocks of travertine--the latent colour that is the +only living element in the immense ruin. Here and there wandered +a peasant or a tourist, looking up at the far sky-line where, in +the clear stillness, a multitude of swallows kept circling and +plunging. Isabel presently became aware that one of the other +visitors, planted in the middle of the arena, had turned his +attention to her own person and was looking at her with a certain +little poise of the head which she had some weeks before perceived +to be characteristic of baffled but indestructible purpose. Such +an attitude, to-day, could belong only to Mr. Edward Rosier; and +this gentleman proved in fact to have been considering the +question of speaking to her. When he had assured himself that she +was unaccompanied he drew near, remarking that though she would +not answer his letters she would perhaps not wholly close her +ears to his spoken eloquence. She replied that her stepdaughter +was close at hand and that she could only give him five minutes; +whereupon he took out his watch and sat down upon a broken block. + +"It's very soon told," said Edward Rosier. "I've sold all my +bibelots!" Isabel gave instinctively an exclamation of horror; it +was as if he had told her he had had all his teeth drawn. "I've +sold them by auction at the Hotel Drouot," he went on. "The sale +took place three days ago, and they've telegraphed me the result. +It's magnificent." + +"I'm glad to hear it; but I wish you had kept your pretty things." + +"I have the money instead--fifty thousand dollars. Will Mr. Osmond +think me rich enough now?" + +"Is it for that you did it?" Isabel asked gently. + +"For what else in the world could it be? That's the only thing I +think of. I went to Paris and made my arrangements. I couldn't +stop for the sale; I couldn't have seen them going off; I think +it would have killed me. But I put them into good hands, and they +brought high prices. I should tell you I have kept my enamels. +Now I have the money in my pocket, and he can't say I'm poor!" +the young man exclaimed defiantly. + +"He'll say now that you're not wise," said Isabel, as if Gilbert +Osmond had never said this before. + +Rosier gave her a sharp look. "Do you mean that without my +bibelots I'm nothing? Do you mean they were the best thing about +me? That's what they told me in Paris; oh they were very frank +about it. But they hadn't seen HER!" + +"My dear friend, you deserve to succeed," said Isabel very +kindly. + +"You say that so sadly that it's the same as if you said I +shouldn't." And he questioned her eyes with the clear trepidation +of his own. He had the air of a man who knows he has been the +talk of Paris for a week and is full half a head taller in +consequence, but who also has a painful suspicion that in spite +of this increase of stature one or two persons still have the +perversity to think him diminutive. "I know what happened here +while I was away," he went on; "What does Mr. Osmond expect after +she has refused Lord Warburton?" + +Isabel debated. "That she'll marry another nobleman." + +"What other nobleman?" + +"One that he'll pick out." + +Rosier slowly got up, putting his watch into his waistcoat-pocket. +"You're laughing at some one, but this time I don't think it's at +me." + +"I didn't mean to laugh," said Isabel. "I laugh very seldom. Now +you had better go away." + +"I feel very safe!" Rosier declared without moving. This might +be; but it evidently made him feel more so to make the +announcement in rather a loud voice, balancing himself a little +complacently on his toes and looking all round the Coliseum as if +it were filled with an audience. Suddenly Isabel saw him change +colour; there was more of an audience than he had suspected. She +turned and perceived that her two companions had returned from +their excursion. "You must really go away," she said quickly. +"Ah, my dear lady, pity me!" Edward Rosier murmured in a voice +strangely at variance with the announcement I have just quoted. +And then he added eagerly, like a man who in the midst of his +misery is seized by a happy thought: "Is that lady the Countess +Gemini? I've a great desire to be presented to her." + +Isabel looked at him a moment. "She has no influence with her +brother." + +"Ah, what a monster you make him out!" And Rosier faced the +Countess, who advanced, in front of Pansy, with an animation +partly due perhaps to the fact that she perceived her sister-in-law +to be engaged in conversation with a very pretty young man. + +"I'm glad you've kept your enamels!" Isabel called as she left +him. She went straight to Pansy, who, on seeing Edward Rosier, +had stopped short, with lowered eyes. "We'll go back to the +carriage," she said gently. + +"Yes, it's getting late," Pansy returned more gently still. And +she went on without a murmur, without faltering or glancing back. +Isabel, however, allowing herself this last liberty, saw that a +meeting had immediately taken place between the Countess and Mr. +Rosier. He had removed his hat and was bowing and smiling; he had +evidently introduced himself, while the Countess's expressive +back displayed to Isabel's eye a gracious inclination. These +facts, none the less, were presently lost to sight, for Isabel +and Pansy took their places again in the carriage. Pansy, who +faced her stepmother, at first kept her eyes fixed on her lap; +then she raised them and rested them on Isabel's. There shone out +of each of them a little melancholy ray--a spark of timid passion +which touched Isabel to the heart. At the same time a wave of +envy passed over her soul, as she compared the tremulous longing, +the definite ideal of the child with her own dry despair. "Poor +little Pansy!" she affectionately said. + +"Oh never mind!" Pansy answered in the tone of eager apology. +And then there was a silence; the Countess was a long time coming. +"Did you show your aunt everything, and did she enjoy it?" Isabel +asked at last. + +"Yes, I showed her everything. I think she was very much pleased." + +"And you're not tired, I hope." + +"Oh no, thank you, I'm not tired." + +The Countess still remained behind, so that Isabel requested the +footman to go into the Coliseum and tell her they were waiting. +He presently returned with the announcement that the Signora +Contessa begged them not to wait--she would come home in a cab! + +About a week after this lady's quick sympathies had enlisted +themselves with Mr. Rosier, Isabel, going rather late to dress +for dinner, found Pansy sitting in her room. The girl seemed to +have been awaiting her; she got up from her low chair. "Pardon my +taking the liberty," she said in a small voice. "It will be the +last--for some time." + +Her voice was strange, and her eyes, widely opened, had an +excited, frightened look. "You're not going away!" Isabel +exclaimed. + +"I'm going to the convent." + +"To the convent?" + +Pansy drew nearer, till she was near enough to put her arms round +Isabel and rest her head on her shoulder. She stood this way a +moment, perfectly still; but her companion could feel her +tremble. The quiver of her little body expressed everything she +was unable to say. Isabel nevertheless pressed her. "Why are you +going to the convent?" + +"Because papa thinks it best. He says a young girl's better, +every now and then, for making a little retreat. He says the +world, always the world, is very bad for a young girl. This is +just a chance for a little seclusion--a little reflexion." Pansy +spoke in short detached sentences, as if she could scarce trust +herself; and then she added with a triumph of self-control: "I +think papa's right; I've been so much in the world this winter." + +Her announcement had a strange effect on Isabel; it seemed to +carry a larger meaning than the girl herself knew. "When was this +decided?" she asked. "I've heard nothing of it." + +"Papa told me half an hour ago; he thought it better it shouldn't +be too much talked about in advance. Madame Catherine's to come +for me at a quarter past seven, and I'm only to take two frocks. +It's only for a few weeks; I'm sure it will be very good. I shall +find all those ladies who used to be so kind to me, and I shall +see the little girls who are being educated. I'm very fond of +little girls," said Pansy with an effect of diminutive grandeur. +"And I'm also very fond of Mother Catherine. I shall be very quiet +and think a great deal." + +Isabel listened to her, holding her breath; she was almost +awe-struck. "Think of ME sometimes." + +"Ah, come and see me soon!" cried Pansy; and the cry was very +different from the heroic remarks of which she had just delivered +herself. + +Isabel could say nothing more; she understood nothing; she only +felt how little she yet knew her husband. Her answer to his +daughter was a long, tender kiss. + +Half an hour later she learned from her maid that Madame +Catherine had arrived in a cab and had departed again with the +signorina. On going to the drawing-room before dinner she found +the Countess Gemini alone, and this lady characterised the +incident by exclaiming, with a wonderful toss of the head, "En +voila, ma chere, une pose!" But if it was an affectation she +was at a loss to see what her husband affected. She could only +dimly perceive that he had more traditions than she supposed. It +had become her habit to be so careful as to what she said to him +that, strange as it may appear, she hesitated, for several +minutes after he had come in, to allude to his daughter's sudden +departure: she spoke of it only after they were seated at table. +But she had forbidden herself ever to ask Osmond a question. All +she could do was to make a declaration, and there was one that +came very naturally. "I shall miss Pansy very much." + +He looked a while, with his head inclined a little, at the basket +of flowers in the middle of the table. "Ah yes," he said at last, +"I had thought of that. You must go and see her, you know; but +not too often. I dare say you wonder why I sent her to the good +sisters; but I doubt if I can make you understand. It doesn't +matter; don't trouble yourself about it. That's why I had not +spoken of it. I didn't believe you would enter into it. But I've +always had the idea; I've always thought it a part of the +education of one's daughter. One's daughter should be fresh and +fair; she should be innocent and gentle. With the manners of the +present time she is liable to become so dusty and crumpled. +Pansy's a little dusty, a little dishevelled; she has knocked +about too much. This bustling, pushing rabble that calls itself +society--one should take her out of it occasionally. Convents are +very quiet, very convenient, very salutary. I like to think of +her there, in the old garden, under the arcade, among those +tranquil virtuous women. Many of them are gentlewomen born; +several of them are noble. She will have her books and her +drawing, she will have her piano. I've made the most liberal +arrangements. There is to be nothing ascetic; there's just to be +a certain little sense of sequestration. She'll have time to +think, and there's something I want her to think about." Osmond +spoke deliberately, reasonably, still with his head on one side, +as if he were looking at the basket of flowers. His tone, +however, was that of a man not so much offering an explanation as +putting a thing into words--almost into pictures--to see, +himself, how it would look. He considered a while the picture he +had evoked and seemed greatly pleased with it. And then he went +on: "The Catholics are very wise after all. The convent is a +great institution; we can't do without it; it corresponds to an +essential need in families, in society. It's a school of good +manners; it's a school of repose. Oh, I don't want to detach my +daughter from the world," he added; "I don't want to make her fix +her thoughts on any other. This one's very well, as SHE should +take it, and she may think of it as much as she likes. Only she +must think of it in the right way." + +Isabel gave an extreme attention to this little sketch; she found +it indeed intensely interesting. It seemed to show her how far +her husband's desire to be effective was capable of going--to the +point of playing theoretic tricks on the delicate organism of his +daughter. She could not understand his purpose, no--not wholly; +but she understood it better than he supposed or desired, inasmuch +as she was convinced that the whole proceeding was an elaborate +mystification, addressed to herself and destined to act upon her +imagination. He had wanted to do something sudden and arbitrary, +something unexpected and refined; to mark the difference between +his sympathies and her own, and show that if he regarded his +daughter as a precious work of art it was natural he should be +more and more careful about the finishing touches. If he wished +to be effective he had succeeded; the incident struck a chill +into Isabel's heart. Pansy had known the convent in her childhood +and had found a happy home there; she was fond of the good +sisters, who were very fond of her, and there was therefore for +the moment no definite hardship in her lot. But all the same the +girl had taken fright; the impression her father desired to make +would evidently be sharp enough. The old Protestant tradition had +never faded from Isabel's imagination, and as her thoughts +attached themselves to this striking example of her husband's +genius--she sat looking, like him, at the basket of flowers--poor +little Pansy became the heroine of a tragedy. Osmond wished it to +be known that he shrank from nothing, and his wife found it hard +to pretend to eat her dinner. There was a certain relief +presently, in hearing the high, strained voice of her +sister-in-law. The Countess too, apparently, had been thinking +the thing out, but had arrived at a different conclusion +from Isabel. + +"It's very absurd, my dear Osmond," she said, "to invent so many +pretty reasons for poor Pansy's banishment. Why, don't you say at +once that you want to get her out of my way? Haven't you +discovered that I think very well of Mr. Rosier? I do indeed; he +seems to me simpaticissimo. He has made me believe in true love; +I never did before! Of course you've made up your mind that with +those convictions I'm dreadful company for Pansy." + +Osmond took a sip of a glass of wine; he looked perfectly +good-humoured. "My dear Amy," he answered, smiling as if he were +uttering a piece of gallantry, "I don't know anything about your +convictions, but if I suspected that they interfere with mine it +would be much simpler to banish YOU." + + + +CHAPTER LI + +The Countess was not banished, but she felt the insecurity of her +tenure of her brother's hospitality. A week after this incident +Isabel received a telegram from England, dated from Gardencourt +and bearing the stamp of Mrs. Touchett's authorship. "Ralph +cannot last many days," it ran, "and if convenient would like to +see you. Wishes me to say that you must come only if you've not +other duties. Say, for myself, that you used to talk a good deal +about your duty and to wonder what it was; shall be curious to +see whether you've found it out. Ralph is really dying, and +there's no other company." Isabel was prepared for this news, +having received from Henrietta Stackpole a detailed account of +her journey to England with her appreciative patient. Ralph had +arrived more dead than alive, but she had managed to convey him +to Gardencourt, where he had taken to his bed, which, as Miss +Stackpole wrote, he evidently would never leave again. She added +that she had really had two patients on her hands instead of one, +inasmuch as Mr. Goodwood, who had been of no earthly use, was +quite as ailing, in a different way, as Mr. Touchett. Afterwards +she wrote that she had been obliged to surrender the field to +Mrs. Touchett, who had just returned from America and had +promptly given her to understand that she didn't wish any +interviewing at Gardencourt. Isabel had written to her aunt shortly +after Ralph came to Rome, letting her know of his critical +condition and suggesting that she should lose no time in returning +to Europe. Mrs. Touchett had telegraphed an acknowledgement of +this admonition, and the only further news Isabel received from +her was the second telegram I have just quoted. + +Isabel stood a moment looking at the latter missive; then, +thrusting it into her pocket, she went straight to the door of +her husband's study. Here she again paused an instant, after +which she opened the door and went in. Osmond was seated at the +table near the window with a folio volume before him, propped +against a pile of books. This volume was open at a page of small +coloured plates, and Isabel presently saw that he had been +copying from it the drawing of an antique coin. A box of +water-colours and fine brushes lay before him, and he had already +transferred to a sheet of immaculate paper the delicate, +finely-tinted disk. His back was turned toward the door, but he +recognised his wife without looking round. + +"Excuse me for disturbing you," she said. + +"When I come to your room I always knock," he answered, going on +with his work. + +"I forgot; I had something else to think of. My cousin's dying." + +"Ah, I don't believe that," said Osmond, looking at his drawing +through a magnifying glass. "He was dying when we married; he'll +outlive us all." + +Isabel gave herself no time, no thought, to appreciate the +careful cynicism of this declaration; she simply went on quickly, +full of her own intention "My aunt has telegraphed for me; I must +go to Gardencourt." + +"Why must you go to Gardencourt?" Osmond asked in the tone of +impartial curiosity. + +"To see Ralph before he dies." + +To this, for some time, he made no rejoinder; he continued to +give his chief attention to his work, which was of a sort that +would brook no negligence. "I don't see the need of it," he said +at last. "He came to see you here. I didn't like that; I thought +his being in Rome a great mistake. But I tolerated it because it +was to be the last time you should see him. Now you tell me it's +not to have been the last. Ah, you're not grateful!" + +"What am I to be grateful for?" + +Gilbert Osmond laid down his little implements, blew a speck of +dust from his drawing, slowly got up, and for the first time +looked at his wife. "For my not having interfered while he was +here." + +"Oh yes, I am. I remember perfectly how distinctly you let me +know you didn't like it. I was very glad when he went away." + +"Leave him alone then. Don't run after him." + +Isabel turned her eyes away from him; they rested upon his little +drawing. "I must go to England," she said, with a full +consciousness that her tone might strike an irritable man of +taste as stupidly obstinate. + +"I shall not like it if you do," Osmond remarked. + +"Why should I mind that? You won't like it if I don't. You like +nothing I do or don't do. You pretend to think I lie." + +Osmond turned slightly pale; he gave a cold smile. "That's why +you must go then? Not to see your cousin, but to take a revenge +on me." + +"I know nothing about revenge." + +"I do," said Osmond. "Don't give me an occasion." + +"You're only too eager to take one. You wish immensely that I +would commit some folly." + +"I should be gratified in that case if you disobeyed me." + +"If I disobeyed you?" said Isabel in a low tone which had the +effect of mildness. + +"Let it be clear. If you leave Rome to-day it will be a piece of +the most deliberate, the most calculated, opposition." + +"How can you call it calculated? I received my aunt's telegram +but three minutes ago." + +"You calculate rapidly; it's a great accomplishment. I don't see +why we should prolong our discussion; you know my wish." And he +stood there as if he expected to see her withdraw. + +But she never moved; she couldn't move, strange as it may seem; +she still wished to justify herself; he had the power, in an +extraordinary degree, of making her feel this need. There was +something in her imagination he could always appeal to against +her judgement. "You've no reason for such a wish," said Isabel, +"and I've every reason for going. I can't tell you how unjust you +seem to me. But I think you know. It's your own opposition that's +calculated. It's malignant." + +She had never uttered her worst thought to her husband before, +and the sensation of hearing it was evidently new to Osmond. But +he showed no surprise, and his coolness was apparently a proof +that he had believed his wife would in fact be unable to resist +for ever his ingenious endeavour to draw her out. "It's all the +more intense then," he answered. And he added almost as if he +were giving her a friendly counsel: "This is a very important +matter." She recognised that; she was fully conscious of the +weight of the occasion; she knew that between them they had +arrived at a crisis. Its gravity made her careful; she said +nothing, and he went on. "You say I've no reason? I have the very +best. I dislike, from the bottom of my soul, what you intend to +do. It's dishonourable; it's indelicate; it's indecent. Your +cousin is nothing whatever to me, and I'm under no obligation to +make concessions to him. I've already made the very handsomest. +Your relations with him, while he was here, kept me on pins and +needles; but I let that pass, because from week to week I +expected him to go. I've never liked him and he has never liked +me. That's why you like him--because he hates me," said Osmond +with a quick, barely audible tremor in his voice. "I've an ideal +of what my wife should do and should not do. She should not +travel across Europe alone, in defiance of my deepest desire, to +sit at the bedside of other men. Your cousin's nothing to you; +he's nothing to us. You smile most expressively when I talk about +US, but I assure you that WE, WE, Mrs. Osmond, is all I know. I +take our marriage seriously; you appear to have found a way of +not doing so. I'm not aware that we're divorced or separated; for +me we're indissolubly united. You are nearer to me than any human +creature, and I'm nearer to you. It may be a disagreeable +proximity; it's one, at any rate, of our own deliberate making. +You don't like to be reminded of that, I know; but I'm perfectly +willing, because--because--" And he paused a moment, looking as if +he had something to say which would be very much to the point. +"Because I think we should accept the consequences of our +actions, and what I value most in life is the honour of a thing!" + +He spoke gravely and almost gently; the accent of sarcasm had +dropped out of his tone. It had a gravity which checked his +wife's quick emotion; the resolution with which she had entered +the room found itself caught in a mesh of fine threads. His last +words were not a command, they constituted a kind of appeal; and, +though she felt that any expression of respect on his part could +only be a refinement of egotism, they represented something +transcendent and absolute, like the sign of the cross or the flag +of one's country. He spoke in the name of something sacred and +precious--the observance of a magnificent form. They were as +perfectly apart in feeling as two disillusioned lovers had ever +been; but they had never yet separated in act. Isabel had not +changed; her old passion for justice still abode within her; and +now, in the very thick of her sense of her husband's blasphemous +sophistry, it began to throb to a tune which for a moment +promised him the victory. It came over her that in his wish to +preserve appearances he was after all sincere, and that this, as +far as it went, was a merit. Ten minutes before she had felt all +the joy of irreflective action--a joy to which she had so long +been a stranger; but action had been suddenly changed to slow +renunciation, transformed by the blight of Osmond's touch. If she +must renounce, however, she would let him know she was a victim +rather than a dupe. "I know you're a master of the art of +mockery," she said. "How can you speak of an indissoluble union +--how can you speak of your being contented? Where's our union +when you accuse me of falsity? Where's your contentment when you +have nothing but hideous suspicion in your heart?" + +"It is in our living decently together, in spite of such +drawbacks." + +"We don't live decently together!" cried Isabel. + +"Indeed we don't if you go to England." + +"That's very little; that's nothing. I might do much more." + +He raised his eyebrows and even his shoulders a little: he had +lived long enough in Italy to catch this trick. "Ah, if you've +come to threaten me I prefer my drawing." And he walked back to +his table, where he took up the sheet of paper on which he had +been working and stood studying it. + +"I suppose that if I go you'll not expect me to come back," said +Isabel. + +He turned quickly round, and she could see this movement at least +was not designed. He looked at her a little, and then, "Are you +out of your mind?" he enquired. + +"How can it be anything but a rupture?" she went on; "especially +if all you say is true?" She was unable to see how it could be +anything but a rupture; she sincerely wished to know what else it +might be. + +He sat down before his table. "I really can't argue with you on +the hypothesis of your defying me," he said. And he took up one +of his little brushes again. + +She lingered but a moment longer; long enough to embrace with her +eye his whole deliberately indifferent yet most expressive +figure; after which she quickly left the room. Her faculties, her +energy, her passion, were all dispersed again; she felt as if a +cold, dark mist had suddenly encompassed her. Osmond possessed in +a supreme degree the art of eliciting any weakness. On her way +back to her room she found the Countess Gemini standing in the +open doorway of a little parlour in which a small collection of +heterogeneous books had been arranged. The Countess had an open +volume in her hand; she appeared to have been glancing down a +page which failed to strike her as interesting. At the sound of +Isabel's step she raised her head. + +"Ah my dear," she said, "you, who are so literary, do tell me +some amusing book to read! Everything here's of a dreariness--! +Do you think this would do me any good?" + +Isabel glanced at the title of the volume she held out, but +without reading or understanding it. "I'm afraid I can't advise +you. I've had bad news. My cousin, Ralph Touchett, is dying." + +The Countess threw down her book. "Ah, he was so simpatico. I'm +awfully sorry for you." + +"You would be sorrier still if you knew." + +"What is there to know? You look very badly," the Countess added. +"You must have been with Osmond." + +Half an hour before Isabel would have listened very coldly to an +intimation that she should ever feel a desire for the sympathy of +her sister-in-law, and there can be no better proof of her +present embarrassment than the fact that she almost clutched at +this lady's fluttering attention. "I've been with Osmond," she +said, while the Countess's bright eyes glittered at her. + +"I'm sure then he has been odious!" the Countess cried. "Did he +say he was glad poor Mr. Touchett's dying?" + +"He said it's impossible I should go to England." + +The Countess's mind, when her interests were concerned, was +agile; she already foresaw the extinction of any further +brightness in her visit to Rome. Ralph Touchett would die, Isabel +would go into mourning, and then there would be no more +dinner-parties. Such a prospect produced for a moment in her +countenance an expressive grimace; but this rapid, picturesque +play of feature was her only tribute to disappointment. After +all, she reflected, the game was almost played out; she had +already overstayed her invitation. And then she cared enough for +Isabel's trouble to forget her own, and she saw that Isabel's +trouble was deep. + +It seemed deeper than the mere death of a cousin, and the +Countess had no hesitation in connecting her exasperating brother +with the expression of her sister-in-law's eyes. Her heart beat +with an almost joyous expectation, for if she had wished to see +Osmond overtopped the conditions looked favourable now. Of course +if Isabel should go to England she herself would immediately +leave Palazzo Roccanera; nothing would induce her to remain there +with Osmond. Nevertheless she felt an immense desire to hear that +Isabel would go to England. "Nothing's impossible for you, my +dear," she said caressingly. "Why else are you rich and clever +and good?" + +"Why indeed? I feel stupidly weak." + +"Why does Osmond say it's impossible?" the Countess asked in a +tone which sufficiently declared that she couldn't imagine. + +From the moment she thus began to question her, however, Isabel +drew back; she disengaged her hand, which the Countess had +affectionately taken. But she answered this enquiry with frank +bitterness. "Because we're so happy together that we can't +separate even for a fortnight." + +"Ah," cried the Countess while Isabel turned away, "when I want +to make a journey my husband simply tells me I can have no +money!" + +Isabel went to her room, where she walked up and down for an +hour. It may appear to some readers that she gave herself much +trouble, and it is certain that for a woman of a high spirit she +had allowed herself easily to be arrested. It seemed to her that +only now she fully measured the great undertaking of matrimony. +Marriage meant that in such a case as this, when one had to +choose, one chose as a matter of course for one's husband. "I'm +afraid--yes, I'm afraid," she said to herself more than once, +stopping short in her walk. But what she was afraid of was not +her husband--his displeasure, his hatred, his revenge; it was not +even her own later judgement of her conduct a consideration which +had often held her in check; it was simply the violence there +would be in going when Osmond wished her to remain. A gulf of +difference had opened between them, but nevertheless it was his +desire that she should stay, it was a horror to him that she +should go. She knew the nervous fineness with which he could feel +an objection. What he thought of her she knew, what he was +capable of saying to her she had felt; yet they were married, for +all that, and marriage meant that a woman should cleave to the +man with whom, uttering tremendous vows, she had stood at the +altar. She sank down on her sofa at last and buried her head in a +pile of cushions. + +When she raised her head again the Countess Gemini hovered before +her. She had come in all unperceived; she had a strange smile on +her thin lips and her whole face had grown in an hour a shining +intimation. She lived assuredly, it might be said, at the window +of her spirit, but now she was leaning far out. "I knocked," she +began, "but you didn't answer me. So I ventured in. I've been +looking at you for the past five minutes. You're very unhappy." + +"Yes; but I don't think you can comfort me." + +"Will you give me leave to try?" And the Countess sat down on +the sofa beside her. She continued to smile, and there was +something communicative and exultant in her expression. She +appeared to have a deal to say, and it occurred to Isabel for the +first time that her sister-in-law might say something really +human. She made play with her glittering eyes, in which there was +an unpleasant fascination. "After all," she soon resumed, "I must +tell you, to begin with, that I don't understand your state of +mind. You seem to have so many scruples, so many reasons, so many +ties. When I discovered, ten years ago, that my husband's dearest +wish was to make me miserable--of late he has simply let me alone +--ah, it was a wonderful simplification! My poor Isabel, you're +not simple enough." + +"No, I'm not simple enough," said Isabel. + +"There's something I want you to know," the Countess declared-- +"because I think you ought to know it. Perhaps you do; perhaps +you've guessed it. But if you have, all I can say is that I +understand still less why you shouldn't do as you like." + +"What do you wish me to know?" Isabel felt a foreboding that made +her heart beat faster. The Countess was about to justify herself, +and this alone was portentous. + +But she was nevertheless disposed to play a little with her +subject. "In your place I should have guessed it ages ago. Have +you never really suspected?" + +"I've guessed nothing. What should I have suspected? I don't know +what you mean." + +"That's because you've such a beastly pure mind. I never saw a +woman with such a pure mind!" cried the Countess. + +Isabel slowly got up. "You're going to tell me something +horrible." + +"You can call it by whatever name you will!" And the Countess +rose also, while her gathered perversity grew vivid and dreadful. +She stood a moment in a sort of glare of intention and, as seemed +to Isabel even then, of ugliness; after which she said: "My first +sister-in-law had no children." + +Isabel stared back at her; the announcement was an anticlimax. +"Your first sister-in-law?" + +"I suppose you know at least, if one may mention it, that Osmond +has been married before! I've never spoken to you of his wife; I +thought it mightn't be decent or respectful. But others, less +particular, must have done so. The poor little woman lived hardly +three years and died childless. It wasn't till after her death +that Pansy arrived." + +Isabel's brow had contracted to a frown; her lips were parted in +pale, vague wonder. She was trying to follow; there seemed so +much more to follow than she could see. "Pansy's not my husband's +child then?" + +"Your husband's--in perfection! But no one else's husband's. Some +one else's wife's. Ah, my good Isabel," cried the Countess, "with +you one must dot one's i's!" + +"I don't understand. Whose wife's?" Isabel asked. + +"The wife of a horrid little Swiss who died--how long?--a dozen, +more than fifteen, years ago. He never recognised Miss Pansy, nor, +knowing what he was about, would have anything to say to her; and +there was no reason why he should. Osmond did, and that was better; +though he had to fit on afterwards the whole rigmarole of his own +wife's having died in childbirth, and of his having, in grief and +horror, banished the little girl from his sight for as long as +possible before taking her home from nurse. His wife had really +died, you know, of quite another matter and in quite another place: +in the Piedmontese mountains, where they had gone, one August, +because her health appeared to require the air, but where she was +suddenly taken worse-- fatally ill. The story passed, sufficiently; +it was covered by the appearances so long as nobody heeded, as +nobody cared to look into it. But of course I knew--without +researches," the Countess lucidly proceeded; "as also, you'll +understand, without a word said between us--I mean between Osmond +and me. Don't you see him looking at me, in silence, that way, to +settle it?--that is to settle ME if I should say anything. I said +nothing, right or left--never a word to a creature, if you can +believe that of me: on my honour, my dear, I speak of the thing to +you now, after all this time, as I've never, never spoken. It was +to be enough for me, from the first, that the child was my +niece--from the moment she was my brother's daughter. As for her +veritable mother--!" But with this Pansy's wonderful aunt +dropped--as, involuntarily, from the impression of her +sister-in-law's face, out of which more eyes might have seemed to +look at her than she had ever had to meet. + +She had spoken no name, yet Isabel could but check, on her own +lips, an echo of the unspoken. She sank to her seat again, +hanging her head. "Why have you told me this?" she asked in a +voice the Countess hardly recognised. + +"Because I've been so bored with your not knowing. I've been +bored, frankly, my dear, with not having told you; as if, +stupidly, all this time I couldn't have managed! Ca me depasse, +if you don't mind my saying so, the things, all round you, that +you've appeared to succeed in not knowing. It's a sort of +assistance--aid to innocent ignorance--that I've always been a +bad hand at rendering; and in this connexion, that of keeping +quiet for my brother, my virtue has at any rate finally found +itself exhausted. It's not a black lie, moreover, you know," the +Countess inimitably added. "The facts are exactly what I tell +you." + +"I had no idea," said Isabel presently; and looked up at her in a +manner that doubtless matched the apparent witlessness of this +confession. + +"So I believed--though it was hard to believe. Had it never +occurred to you that he was for six or seven years her lover?" + +"I don't know. Things HAVE occurred to me, and perhaps that was +what they all meant." + +"She has been wonderfully clever, she has been magnificent, about +Pansy!" the Countess, before all this view of it, cried. + +"Oh, no idea, for me," Isabel went on, "ever DEFINITELY took that +form." She appeared to be making out to herself what had been and +what hadn't. "And as it is--I don't understand." + +She spoke as one troubled and puzzled, yet the poor Countess +seemed to have seen her revelation fall below its +possibilities of effect. She had expected to kindle some +responsive blaze, but had barely extracted a spark. Isabel showed +as scarce more impressed than she might have been, as a young +woman of approved imagination, with some fine sinister passage of +public history. "Don't you recognise how the child could never +pass for HER husband's?--that is with M. Merle himself," her +companion resumed. "They had been separated too long for that, +and he had gone to some far country--I think to South America. If +she had ever had children--which I'm not sure of--she had lost +them. The conditions happened to make it workable, under stress +(I mean at so awkward a pinch), that Osmond should acknowledge +the little girl. His wife was dead--very true; but she had not +been dead too long to put a certain accommodation of dates out of +the question--from the moment, I mean, that suspicion wasn't +started; which was what they had to take care of. What was more +natural than that poor Mrs. Osmond, at a distance and for a world +not troubling about trifles, should have left behind her, +poverina, the pledge of her brief happiness that had cost her +her life? With the aid of a change of residence--Osmond had been +living with her at Naples at the time of their stay in the Alps, +and he in due course left it for ever--the whole history was +successfully set going. My poor sister-in-law, in her grave, +couldn't help herself, and the real mother, to save HER skin, +renounced all visible property in the child." + +"Ah, poor, poor woman!" cried Isabel, who herewith burst into +tears. It was a long time since she had shed any; she had +suffered a high reaction from weeping. But now they flowed with +an abundance in which the Countess Gemini found only another +discomfiture. + +"It's very kind of you to pity her!" she discordantly laughed. +"Yes indeed, you have a way of your own--!" + +"He must have been false to his wife--and so very soon!" said +Isabel with a sudden check. + +"That's all that's wanting--that you should take up her cause!" +the Countess went on. "I quite agree with you, however, that it +was much too soon." + +"But to me, to me--?" And Isabel hesitated as if she had not +heard; as if her question--though it was sufficiently there in +her eyes--were all for herself. + +"To you he has been faithful? Well, it depends, my dear, on what +you call faithful. When he married you he was no longer the lover +of another woman--SUCH a lover as he had been, cara mia, +between their risks and their precautions, while the thing +lasted! That state of affairs had passed away; the lady had +repented, or at all events, for reasons of her own, drawn back: +she had always had, too, a worship of appearances so intense that +even Osmond himself had got bored with it. You may therefore +imagine what it was--when he couldn't patch it on conveniently to +ANY of those he goes in for! But the whole past was between +them." + +"Yes," Isabel mechanically echoed, "the whole past is between +them." + +"Ah, this later past is nothing. But for six or seven years, as I +say, they had kept it up." + +She was silent a little. "Why then did she want him to marry +me?" + +"Ah my dear, that's her superiority! Because you had money; and +because she believed you would be good to Pansy." + +"Poor woman--and Pansy who doesn't like her!" cried Isabel. + +"That's the reason she wanted some one whom Pansy would like. She +knows it; she knows everything." + +"Will she know that you've told me this?" + +"That will depend upon whether you tell her. She's prepared for +it, and do you know what she counts upon for her defence? On your +believing that I lie. Perhaps you do; don't make yourself +uncomfortable to hide it. Only, as it happens this time, I don't. +I've told plenty of little idiotic fibs, but they've never hurt +any one but myself." + +Isabel sat staring at her companion's story as at a bale of +fantastic wares some strolling gypsy might have unpacked on the +carpet at her feet. "Why did Osmond never marry her?" she finally +asked. + +"Because she had no money." The Countess had an answer for +everything, and if she lied she lied well. "No one knows, no one +has ever known, what she lives on, or how she has got all those +beautiful things. I don't believe Osmond himself knows. Besides, +she wouldn't have married him." + +"How can she have loved him then?" + +"She doesn't love him in that way. She did at first, and then, I +suppose, she would have married him; but at that time her husband +was living. By the time M. Merle had rejoined--I won't say his +ancestors, because he never had any--her relations with Osmond +had changed, and she had grown more ambitious. Besides, she has +never had, about him," the Countess went on, leaving Isabel to +wince for it so tragically afterwards--"she HAD never had, what +you might call any illusions of INTELLIGENCE. She hoped she might +marry a great man; that has always been her idea. She has waited +and watched and plotted and prayed; but she has never succeeded. +I don't call Madame Merle a success, you know. I don't know what +she may accomplish yet, but at present she has very little to +show. The only tangible result she has ever achieved--except, of +course, getting to know every one and staying with them free of +expense--has been her bringing you and Osmond together. Oh, she +did that, my dear; you needn't look as if you doubted it. I've +watched them for years; I know everything--everything. I'm +thought a great scatterbrain, but I've had enough application of +mind to follow up those two. She hates me, and her way of showing +it is to pretend to be for ever defending me. When people say +I've had fifteen lovers she looks horrified and declares that +quite half of them were never proved. She has been afraid of me +for years, and she has taken great comfort in the vile, false +things people have said about me. She has been afraid I'd expose +her, and she threatened me one day when Osmond began to pay his +court to you. It was at his house in Florence; do you remember +that afternoon when she brought you there and we had tea in the +garden? She let me know then that if I should tell tales two +could play at that game. She pretends there's a good deal more to +tell about me than about her. It would be an interesting +comparison! I don't care a fig what she may say, simply because I +know YOU don't care a fig. You can't trouble your head about me +less than you do already. So she may take her revenge as she +chooses; I don't think she'll frighten you very much. Her great +idea has been to be tremendously irreproachable--a kind of +full-blown lily--the incarnation of propriety. She has always +worshipped that god. There should be no scandal about Caesar's +wife, you know; and, as I say, she has always hoped to marry +Caesar. That was one reason she wouldn't marry Osmond; the fear +that on seeing her with Pansy people would put things together-- +would even see a resemblance. She has had a terror lest the +mother should betray herself. She has been awfully careful; the +mother has never done so." + +"Yes, yes, the mother has done so," said Isabel, who had listened +to all this with a face more and more wan. "She betrayed herself +to me the other day, though I didn't recognise her. There +appeared to have been a chance of Pansy's making a great +marriage, and in her disappointment at its not coming off she +almost dropped the mask." + +"Ah, that's where she'd dish herself!" cried the Countess. "She +has failed so dreadfully that she's determined her daughter shall +make it up." + +Isabel started at the words "her daughter," which her guest threw +off so familiarly. "It seems very wonderful," she murmured; and +in this bewildering impression she had almost lost her sense of +being personally touched by the story. + +"Now don't go and turn against the poor innocent child!" the +Countess went on. "She's very nice, in spite of her deplorable +origin. I myself have liked Pansy; not, naturally, because she +was hers, but because she had become yours." + +"Yes, she has become mine. And how the poor woman must have +suffered at seeing me--!" Isabel exclaimed while she flushed at +the thought. + +"I don't believe she has suffered; on the contrary, she has +enjoyed. Osmond's marriage has given his daughter a great little +lift. Before that she lived in a hole. And do you know what the +mother thought? That you might take such a fancy to the child +that you'd do something for her. Osmond of course could never +give her a portion. Osmond was really extremely poor; but of +course you know all about that. Ah, my dear," cried the Countess, +"why did you ever inherit money?" She stopped a moment as if she +saw something singular in Isabel's face. "Don't tell me now that +you'll give her a dot. You're capable of that, but I would refuse +to believe it. Don't try to be too good. Be a little easy and +natural and nasty; feel a little wicked, for the comfort of it, +once in your life!" + +"It's very strange. I suppose I ought to know, but I'm sorry," +Isabel said. "I'm much obliged to you." + +"Yes, you seem to be!" cried the Countess with a mocking laugh. +"Perhaps you are--perhaps you're not. You don't take it as I +should have thought." + +"How should I take it?" Isabel asked. + +"Well, I should say as a woman who has been made use of." Isabel +made no answer to this; she only listened, and the Countess went +on. "They've always been bound to each other; they remained so +even after she broke off--or HE did. But he has always been more +for her than she has been for him. When their little carnival was +over they made a bargain that each should give the other complete +liberty, but that each should also do everything possible to help +the other on. You may ask me how I know such a thing as that. I +know it by the way they've behaved. Now see how much better women +are than men! She has found a wife for Osmond, but Osmond has +never lifted a little finger for HER. She has worked for him, +plotted for him, suffered for him; she has even more than once +found money for him; and the end of it is that he's tired of her. +She's an old habit; there are moments when he needs her, but on +the whole he wouldn't miss her if she were removed. And, what's +more, today she knows it. So you needn't be jealous!" the +Countess added humorously. + +Isabel rose from her sofa again; she felt bruised and scant of +breath; her head was humming with new knowledge. "I'm much +obliged to you," she repeated. And then she added abruptly, in +quite a different tone: "How do you know all this?" + +This enquiry appeared to ruffle the Countess more than Isabel's +expression of gratitude pleased her. She gave her companion a +bold stare, with which, "Let us assume that I've invented it!" +she cried. She too, however, suddenly changed her tone and, +laying her hand on Isabel's arm, said with the penetration of her +sharp bright smile: "Now will you give up your journey?" + +Isabel started a little; she turned away. But she felt weak and +in a moment had to lay her arm upon the mantel-shelf for support. +She stood a minute so, and then upon her arm she dropped her +dizzy head, with closed eyes and pale lips. + +"I've done wrong to speak--I've made you ill!" the Countess +cried. + +"Ah, I must see Ralph!" Isabel wailed; not in resentment, not in +the quick passion her companion had looked for; but in a tone of +far-reaching, infinite sadness. + + + +CHAPTER LII + +There was a train for Turin and Paris that evening; and after the +Countess had left her Isabel had a rapid and decisive conference +with her maid, who was discreet, devoted and active. After this +she thought (except of her journey) only of one thing. She must +go and see Pansy; from her she couldn't turn away. She had not +seen her yet, as Osmond had given her to understand that it was +too soon to begin. She drove at five o'clock to a high floor in a +narrow street in the quarter of the Piazza Navona, and was +admitted by the portress of the convent, a genial and obsequious +person. Isabel had been at this institution before; she had come +with Pansy to see the sisters. She knew they were good women, and +she saw that the large rooms were clean and cheerful and that the +well-used garden had sun for winter and shade for spring. But she +disliked the place, which affronted and almost frightened her; +not for the world would she have spent a night there. It produced +to-day more than before the impression of a well-appointed +prison; for it was not possible to pretend Pansy was free to +leave it. This innocent creature had been presented to her in a +new and violent light, but the secondary effect of the revelation +was to make her reach out a hand. + +The portress left her to wait in the parlour of the convent while +she went to make it known that there was a visitor for the dear +young lady. The parlour was a vast, cold apartment, with +new-looking furniture; a large clean stove of white porcelain, +unlighted, a collection of wax flowers under glass, and a series +of engravings from religious pictures on the walls. On the other +occasion Isabel had thought it less like Rome than like +Philadelphia, but to-day she made no reflexions; the apartment +only seemed to her very empty and very soundless. The portress +returned at the end of some five minutes, ushering in another +person. Isabel got up, expecting to see one of the ladies of the +sisterhood, but to her extreme surprise found herself confronted +with Madame Merle. The effect was strange, for Madame Merle was +already so present to her vision that her appearance in the flesh +was like suddenly, and rather awfully, seeing a painted picture +move. Isabel had been thinking all day of her falsity, her +audacity, her ability, her probable suffering; and these dark +things seemed to flash with a sudden light as she entered the +room. Her being there at all had the character of ugly evidence, +of handwritings, of profaned relics, of grim things produced in +court. It made Isabel feel faint; if it had been necessary to +speak on the spot she would have been quite unable. But no such +necessity was distinct to her; it seemed to her indeed that she +had absolutely nothing to say to Madame Merle. In one's relations +with this lady, however, there were never any absolute +necessities; she had a manner which carried off not only her own +deficiencies but those of other people. But she was different +from usual; she came in slowly, behind the portress, and Isabel +instantly perceived that she was not likely to depend upon her +habitual resources. For her too the occasion was exceptional, and +she had undertaken to treat it by the light of the moment. This +gave her a peculiar gravity; she pretended not even to smile, and +though Isabel saw that she was more than ever playing a part it +seemed to her that on the whole the wonderful woman had never +been so natural. She looked at her young friend from head to +foot, but not harshly nor defiantly; with a cold gentleness +rather, and an absence of any air of allusion to their last +meeting. It was as if she had wished to mark a distinction. She +had been irritated then, she was reconciled now. + +"You can leave us alone," she said to the portress; "in five +minutes this lady will ring for you." And then she turned to +Isabel, who, after noting what has just been mentioned, had +ceased to notice and had let her eyes wander as far as the limits +of the room would allow. She wished never to look at Madame Merle +again. "You're surprised to find me here, and I'm afraid you're +not pleased," this lady went on. "You don't see why I should have +come; it's as if I had anticipated you. I confess I've been +rather indiscreet--I ought to have asked your permission." There +was none of the oblique movement of irony in this; it was said +simply and mildly; but Isabel, far afloat on a sea of wonder and +pain, could not have told herself with what intention it was +uttered. "But I've not been sitting long," Madame Merle +continued; "that is I've not been long with Pansy. I came to see +her because it occurred to me this afternoon that she must be +rather lonely and perhaps even a little miserable. It may be good +for a small girl; I know so little about small girls; I can't +tell. At any rate it's a little dismal. Therefore I came--on the +chance. I knew of course that you'd come, and her father as well; +still, I had not been told other visitors were forbidden. The +good woman--what's her name? Madame Catherine--made no objection +whatever. I stayed twenty minutes with Pansy; she has a charming +little room, not in the least conventual, with a piano and +flowers. She has arranged it delightfully; she has so much taste. +Of course it's all none of my business, but I feel happier since +I've seen her. She may even have a maid if she likes; but of +course she has no occasion to dress. She wears a little black +frock; she looks so charming. I went afterwards to see Mother +Catherine, who has a very good room too; I assure you I don't +find the poor sisters at all monastic. Mother Catherine has a +most coquettish little toilet-table, with something that looked +uncommonly like a bottle of eau-de-Cologne. She speaks +delightfully of Pansy; says it's a great happiness for them to +have her. She's a little saint of heaven and a model to the +oldest of them. Just as I was leaving Madame Catherine the +portress came to say to her that there was a lady for the +signorina. Of course I knew it must be you, and I asked her to +let me go and receive you in her place. She demurred greatly--I +must tell you that--and said it was her duty to notify the Mother +Superior; it was of such high importance that you should be +treated with respect. I requested her to let the Mother Superior +alone and asked her how she supposed I would treat you!" + +So Madame Merle went on, with much of the brilliancy of a woman +who had long been a mistress of the art of conversation. But +there were phases and gradations in her speech, not one of which +was lost upon Isabel's ear, though her eyes were absent from her +companion's face. She had not proceeded far before Isabel noted a +sudden break in her voice, a lapse in her continuity, which was +in itself a complete drama. This subtle modulation marked a +momentous discovery--the perception of an entirely new attitude +on the part of her listener. Madame Merle had guessed in the +space of an instant that everything was at end between them, and +in the space of another instant she had guessed the reason why. +The person who stood there was not the same one she had seen +hitherto, but was a very different person--a person who knew her +secret. This discovery was tremendous, and from the moment she +made it the most accomplished of women faltered and lost her +courage. But only for that moment. Then the conscious stream of +her perfect manner gathered itself again and flowed on as +smoothly as might be to the end. But it was only because she had +the end in view that she was able to proceed. She had been +touched with a point that made her quiver, and she needed all the +alertness of her will to repress her agitation. Her only safety +was in her not betraying herself. She resisted this, but the +startled quality of her voice refused to improve--she couldn't +help it--while she heard herself say she hardly knew what. The +tide of her confidence ebbed, and she was able only just to glide +into port, faintly grazing the bottom. + +Isabel saw it all as distinctly as if it had been reflected in a +large clear glass. It might have been a great moment for her, for +it might have been a moment of triumph. That Madame Merle had +lost her pluck and saw before her the phantom of exposure--this +in itself was a revenge, this in itself was almost the promise of +a brighter day. And for a moment during which she stood +apparently looking out of the window, with her back half-turned, +Isabel enjoyed that knowledge. On the other side of the window +lay the garden of the convent; but this is not what she saw; she +saw nothing of the budding plants and the glowing afternoon. She +saw, in the crude light of that revelation which had already +become a part of experience and to which the very frailty of the +vessel in which it had been offered her only gave an intrinsic +price, the dry staring fact that she had been an applied handled +hung-up tool, as senseless and convenient as mere shaped wood and +iron. All the bitterness of this knowledge surged into her soul +again; it was as if she felt on her lips the taste of dishonour. +There was a moment during which, if she had turned and spoken, +she would have said something that would hiss like a lash. But +she closed her eyes, and then the hideous vision dropped. What +remained was the cleverest woman in the world standing there +within a few feet of her and knowing as little what to think as +the meanest. Isabel's only revenge was to be silent still--to +leave Madame Merle in this unprecedented situation. She left her +there for a period that must have seemed long to this lady, who +at last seated herself with a movement which was in itself a +confession of helplessness. Then Isabel turned slow eyes, looking +down at her. Madame Merle was very pale; her own eyes covered +Isabel's face. She might see what she would, but her danger was +over. Isabel would never accuse her, never reproach her; perhaps +because she never would give her the opportunity to defend +herself. + +"I'm come to bid Pansy good-bye," our young woman said at last. +"I go to England to-night." + +"Go to England to-night!" Madame Merle repeated sitting there and +looking up at her. + +"I'm going to Gardencourt. Ralph Touchett's dying." + +"Ah, you'll feel that." Madame Merle recovered herself; she had a +chance to express sympathy. "Do you go alone?" + +"Yes; without my husband." + +Madame Merle gave a low vague murmur; a sort of recognition of +the general sadness of things. "Mr. Touchett never liked me, but +I'm sorry he's dying. Shall you see his mother?" + +"Yes; she has returned from America." + +"She used to be very kind to me; but she has changed. Others too +have changed," said Madame Merle with a quiet noble pathos. She +paused a moment, then added: "And you'll see dear old Gardencourt +again!" + +"I shall not enjoy it much," Isabel answered. + +"Naturally--in your grief. But it's on the whole, of all the +houses I know, and I know many, the one I should have liked best +to live in. I don't venture to send a message to the people," +Madame Merle added; "but I should like to give my love to the +place." + +Isabel turned away. "I had better go to Pansy. I've not much +time." + +While she looked about her for the proper egress, the door opened +and admitted one of the ladies of the house, who advanced with a +discreet smile, gently rubbing, under her long loose sleeves, a +pair of plump white hands. Isabel recognised Madame Catherine, +whose acquaintance she had already made, and begged that she +would immediately let her see Miss Osmond. Madame Catherine +looked doubly discreet, but smiled very blandly and said: "It +will be good for her to see you. I'll take you to her myself." +Then she directed her pleased guarded vision to Madame Merle. + +"Will you let me remain a little?" this lady asked. "It's so good +to be here." + +"You may remain always if you like!" And the good sister gave a +knowing laugh. + +She led Isabel out of the room, through several corridors, and up +a long staircase. All these departments were solid and bare, +light and clean; so, thought Isabel, are the great penal +establishments. Madame Catherine gently pushed open the door of +Pansy's room and ushered in the visitor; then stood smiling with +folded hands while the two others met and embraced. + +"She's glad to see you," she repeated; "it will do her good." And +she placed the best chair carefully for Isabel. But she made no +movement to seat herself; she seemed ready to retire. "How does +this dear child look?" she asked of Isabel, lingering a moment. + +"She looks pale," Isabel answered. + +"That's the pleasure of seeing you. She's very happy. Elle +eclaire la maison," said the good sister. + +Pansy wore, as Madame Merle had said, a little black dress; it +was perhaps this that made her look pale. "They're very good to +me--they think of everything!" she exclaimed with all her +customary eagerness to accommodate. + +"We think of you always--you're a precious charge," Madame +Catherine remarked in the tone of a woman with whom benevolence +was a habit and whose conception of duty was the acceptance of +every care. It fell with a leaden weight on Isabel's ears; it +seemed to represent the surrender of a personality, the authority +of the Church. + +When Madame Catherine had left them together Pansy kneeled down +and hid her head in her stepmother's lap. So she remained some +moments, while Isabel gently stroked her hair. Then she got up, +averting her face and looking about the room. "Don't you think +I've arranged it well? I've everything I have at home." + +"It's very pretty; you're very comfortable." Isabel scarcely knew +what she could say to her. On the one hand she couldn't let her +think she had come to pity her, and on the other it would be a +dull mockery to pretend to rejoice with her. So she simply added +after a moment: "I've come to bid you good-bye. I'm going to +England." + +Pansy's white little face turned red. "To England! Not to come +back?" + +"I don't know when I shall come back." + +"Ah, I'm sorry," Pansy breathed with faintness. She spoke as if +she had no right to criticise; but her tone expressed a depth of +disappointment. + +"My cousin, Mr. Touchett, is very ill; he'll probably die. I wish +to see him," Isabel said. + +"Ah yes; you told me he would die. Of course you must go. And +will papa go?" + +"No; I shall go alone." + +For a moment the girl said nothing. Isabel had often wondered +what she thought of the apparent relations of her father with his +wife; but never by a glance, by an intimation, had she let it be +seen that she deemed them deficient in an air of intimacy. She +made her reflexions, Isabel was sure; and she must have had a +conviction that there were husbands and wives who were more +intimate than that. But Pansy was not indiscreet even in thought; +she would as little have ventured to judge her gentle stepmother +as to criticise her magnificent father. Her heart may have stood +almost as still as it would have done had she seen two of the +saints in the great picture in the convent chapel turn their +painted heads and shake them at each other. But as in this latter +case she would (for very solemnity's sake) never have mentioned +the awful phenomenon, so she put away all knowledge of the secrets +of larger lives than her own. "You'll be very far away," she +presently went on. + +"Yes; I shall be far away. But it will scarcely matter," Isabel +explained; "since so long as you're here I can't be called near +you." + +"Yes, but you can come and see me; though you've not come very +often." + +"I've not come because your father forbade it. To-day I bring +nothing with me. I can't amuse you." + +"I'm not to be amused. That's not what papa wishes." + +"Then it hardly matters whether I'm in Rome or in England." + +"You're not happy, Mrs. Osmond," said Pansy. + +"Not very. But it doesn't matter." + +"That's what I say to myself. What does it matter? But I should +like to come out." + +"I wish indeed you might." + +"Don't leave me here," Pansy went on gently. + +Isabel said nothing for a minute; her heart beat fast. "Will you +come away with me now?" she asked. + +Pansy looked at her pleadingly. "Did papa tell you to bring me?" + +"No; it's my own proposal." + +"I think I had better wait then. Did papa send me no message?" + +"I don't think he knew I was coming." + +"He thinks I've not had enough," said Pansy. "But I have. The +ladies are very kind to me and the little girls come to see me. +There are some very little ones--such charming children. Then my +room--you can see for yourself. All that's very delightful. But +I've had enough. Papa wished me to think a little--and I've +thought a great deal." + +"What have you thought?" + +"Well, that I must never displease papa." + +"You knew that before." + +"Yes; but I know it better. I'll do anything--I'll do anything," +said Pansy. Then, as she heard her own words, a deep, pure blush +came into her face. Isabel read the meaning of it; she saw the +poor girl had been vanquished. It was well that Mr. Edward Rosier +had kept his enamels! Isabel looked into her eyes and saw there +mainly a prayer to be treated easily. She laid her hand on +Pansy's as if to let her know that her look conveyed no diminution +of esteem; for the collapse of the girl's momentary resistance +(mute and modest thought it had been) seemed only her tribute to +the truth of things. She didn't presume to judge others, but she +had judged herself; she had seen the reality. She had no vocation +for struggling with combinations; in the solemnity of +sequestration there was something that overwhelmed her. She bowed +her pretty head to authority and only asked of authority to be +merciful. Yes; it was very well that Edward Rosier had reserved a +few articles! + +Isabel got up; her time was rapidly shortening. "Good-bye then. I +leave Rome to-night." + +Pansy took hold of her dress; there was a sudden change in the +child's face. "You look strange, you frighten me." + +"Oh, I'm very harmless," said Isabel. + +"Perhaps you won't come back?" + +"Perhaps not. I can't tell." + +"Ah, Mrs. Osmond, you won't leave me!" + +Isabel now saw she had guessed everything. "My dear child, what +can I do for you?" she asked. + +"I don't know--but I'm happier when I think of you." + +"You can always think of me." + +"Not when you're so far. I'm a little afraid," said Pansy. + +"What are you afraid of?" + +"Of papa--a little. And of Madame Merle. She has just been to see +me." + +"You must not say that," Isabel observed. + +"Oh, I'll do everything they want. Only if you're here I shall do +it more easily." + +Isabel considered. "I won't desert you," she said at last. +"Good-bye, my child." + +Then they held each other a moment in a silent embrace, like two +sisters; and afterwards Pansy walked along the corridor with her +visitor to the top of the staircase. "Madame Merle has been +here," she remarked as they went; and as Isabel answered nothing +she added abruptly: "I don't like Madame Merle!" + +Isabel hesitated, then stopped. "You must never say that--that +you don't like Madame Merle." + +Pansy looked at her in wonder; but wonder with Pansy had never +been a reason for non-compliance. "I never will again," she said +with exquisite gentleness. At the top of the staircase they had +to separate, as it appeared to be part of the mild but very +definite discipline under which Pansy lived that she should not +go down. Isabel descended, and when she reached the bottom the +girl was standing above. "You'll come back?" she called out in a +voice that Isabel remembered afterwards. + +"Yes--I'll come back." + +Madame Catherine met Mrs. Osmond below and conducted her to the +door of the parlour, outside of which the two stood talking a +minute. "I won't go in," said the good sister. "Madame Merle's +waiting for you." + +At this announcement Isabel stiffened; she was on the point of +asking if there were no other egress from the convent. But a +moment's reflexion assured her that she would do well not to +betray to the worthy nun her desire to avoid Pansy's other +friend. Her companion grasped her arm very gently and, fixing her +a moment with wise, benevolent eyes, said in French and almost +familiarly: "Eh bien, chere Madame, qu'en pensez-vous?" + +"About my step-daughter? Oh, it would take long to tell you." + +"We think it's enough," Madame Catherine distinctly observed. And +she pushed open the door of the parlour. + +Madame Merle was sitting just as Isabel had left her, like a +woman so absorbed in thought that she had not moved a little +finger. As Madame Catherine closed the door she got up, and +Isabel saw that she had been thinking to some purpose. She had +recovered her balance; she was in full possession of her +resources. "I found I wished to wait for you," she said urbanely. +"But it's not to talk about Pansy." + +Isabel wondered what it could be to talk about, and in spite of +Madame Merle's declaration she answered after a moment: "Madame +Catherine says it's enough." + +"Yes; it also seems to me enough. I wanted to ask you another +word about poor Mr. Touchett," Madame Merle added. "Have you +reason to believe that he's really at his last?" + +"I've no information but a telegram. Unfortunately it only +confirms a probability." + +"I'm going to ask you a strange question," said Madame Merle. +"Are you very fond of your cousin?" And she gave a smile as +strange as her utterance. + +"Yes, I'm very fond of him. But I don't understand you." + +She just hung fire. "It's rather hard to explain. Something has +occurred to me which may not have occurred to you, and I give you +the benefit of my idea. Your cousin did you once a great service. +Have you never guessed it?" + +"He has done me many services." + +"Yes; but one was much above the rest. He made you a rich woman." + +"HE made me--?" + +Madame Merle appearing to see herself successful, she went on +more triumphantly: "He imparted to you that extra lustre which +was required to make you a brilliant match. At bottom it's him +you've to thank." She stopped; there was something in Isabel's +eyes. + +"I don't understand you. It was my uncle's money." + +"Yes; it was your uncle's money, but it was your cousin's idea. +He brought his father over to it. Ah, my dear, the sum was +large!" + +Isabel stood staring; she seemed to-day to live in a world +illumined by lurid flashes. "I don't know why you say such +things. I don't know what you know." + +"I know nothing but what I've guessed. But I've guessed that." + +Isabel went to the door and, when she had opened it, stood a +moment with her hand on the latch. Then she said--it was her only +revenge: "I believed it was you I had to thank!" + +Madame Merle dropped her eyes; she stood there in a kind of proud +penance. "You're very unhappy, I know. But I'm more so." + +"Yes; I can believe that. I think I should like never to see you +again." + +Madame Merle raised her eyes. "I shall go to America," she +quietly remarked while Isabel passed out. + + + +CHAPTER LIII + +It was not with surprise, it was with a feeling which in other +circumstances would have had much of the effect of joy, that as +Isabel descended from the Paris Mail at Charing Cross she stepped +into the arms, as it were--or at any rate into the hands--of +Henrietta Stackpole. She had telegraphed to her friend from +Turin, and though she had not definitely said to herself that +Henrietta would meet her, she had felt her telegram would produce +some helpful result. On her long journey from Rome her mind had +been given up to vagueness; she was unable to question the +future. She performed this journey with sightless eyes and took +little pleasure in the countries she traversed, decked out though +they were in the richest freshness of spring. Her thoughts +followed their course through other countries--strange-looking, +dimly-lighted, pathless lands, in which there was no change of +seasons, but only, as it seemed, a perpetual dreariness of +winter. She had plenty to think about; but it was neither +reflexion nor conscious purpose that filled her mind. +Disconnected visions passed through it, and sudden dull gleams of +memory, of expectation. The past and the future came and went at +their will, but she saw them only in fitful images, which rose +and fell by a logic of their own. It was extraordinary the things +she remembered. Now that she was in the secret, now that she knew +something that so much concerned her and the eclipse of which had +made life resemble an attempt to play whist with an imperfect +pack of cards, the truth of things, their mutual relations, their +meaning, and for the most part their horror, rose before her with +a kind of architectural vastness. She remembered a thousand +trifles; they started to life with the spontaneity of a shiver. +She had thought them trifles at the time; now she saw that they +had been weighted with lead. Yet even now they were trifles after +all, for of what use was it to her to understand them? Nothing +seemed of use to her to-day. All purpose, all intention, was +suspended; all desire too save the single desire to reach her +much-embracing refuge. Gardencourt had been her starting-point, +and to those muffled chambers it was at least a temporary +solution to return. She had gone forth in her strength; she would +come back in her weakness, and if the place had been a rest to +her before, it would be a sanctuary now. She envied Ralph his +dying, for if one were thinking of rest that was the most perfect +of all. To cease utterly, to give it all up and not know anything +more--this idea was as sweet as the vision of a cool bath in a +marble tank, in a darkened chamber, in a hot land. + +She had moments indeed in her journey from Rome which were almost +as good as being dead. She sat in her corner, so motionless, so +passive, simply with the sense of being carried, so detached from +hope and regret, that she recalled to herself one of those +Etruscan figures couched upon the receptacle of their ashes. +There was nothing to regret now--that was all over. Not only the +time of her folly, but the time of her repentance was far. The +only thing to regret was that Madame Merle had been so--well, so +unimaginable. Just here her intelligence dropped, from literal +inability to say what it was that Madame Merle had been. Whatever +it was it was for Madame Merle herself to regret it; and +doubtless she would do so in America, where she had announced she +was going. It concerned Isabel no more; she only had an +impression that she should never again see Madame Merle. This +impression carried her into the future, of which from time to +time she had a mutilated glimpse. She saw herself, in the distant +years, still in the attitude of a woman who had her life to live, +and these intimations contradicted the spirit of the present +hour. It might be desirable to get quite away, really away, +further away than little grey-green England, but this privilege +was evidently to be denied her. Deep in her soul--deeper than any +appetite for renunciation--was the sense that life would be her +business for a long time to come. And at moments there was +something inspiring, almost enlivening, in the conviction. It was +a proof of strength--it was a proof she should some day be happy +again. It couldn't be she was to live only to suffer; she was +still young, after all, and a great many things might happen to +her yet. To live only to suffer--only to feel the injury of life +repeated and enlarged--it seemed to her she was too valuable, too +capable, for that. Then she wondered if it were vain and stupid +to think so well of herself. When had it even been a guarantee to +be valuable? Wasn't all history full of the destruction of +precious things? Wasn't it much more probable that if one were +fine one would suffer? It involved then perhaps an admission that +one had a certain grossness; but Isabel recognised, as it passed +before her eyes, the quick vague shadow of a long future. She +should never escape; she should last to the end. Then the middle +years wrapped her about again and the grey curtain of her +indifference closed her in. + +Henrietta kissed her, as Henrietta usually kissed, as if she were +afraid she should be caught doing it; and then Isabel stood there +in the crowd, looking about her, looking for her servant. She +asked nothing; she wished to wait. She had a sudden perception +that she should be helped. She rejoiced Henrietta had come; there +was something terrible in an arrival in London. The dusky, smoky, +far-arching vault of the station, the strange, livid light, the +dense, dark, pushing crowd, filled her with a nervous fear and +made her put her arm into her friend's. She remembered she had +once liked these things; they seemed part of a mighty spectacle +in which there was something that touched her. She remembered how +she walked away from Euston, in the winter dusk, in the crowded +streets, five years before. She could not have done that to-day, +and the incident came before her as the deed of another person. + +"It's too beautiful that you should have come," said Henrietta, +looking at her as if she thought Isabel might be prepared to +challenge the proposition. "If you hadn't--if you hadn't; well, I +don't know," remarked Miss Stackpole, hinting ominously at her +powers of disapproval. + +Isabel looked about without seeing her maid. Her eyes rested on +another figure, however, which she felt she had seen before; and +in a moment she recognised the genial countenance of Mr. +Bantling. He stood a little apart, and it was not in the power of +the multitude that pressed about him to make him yield an inch of +the ground he had taken--that of abstracting himself discreetly +while the two ladies performed their embraces. + +"There's Mr. Bantling," said Isabel, gently, irrelevantly, +scarcely caring much now whether she should find her maid or not. + +"Oh yes, he goes everywhere with me. Come here, Mr. Bantling!" +Henrietta exclaimed. Whereupon the gallant bachelor advanced with +a smile--a smile tempered, however, by the gravity of the +occasion. "Isn't it lovely she has come?" Henrietta asked. "He +knows all about it," she added; "we had quite a discussion. He +said you wouldn't, I said you would." + +"I thought you always agreed," Isabel smiled in return. She felt +she could smile now; she had seen in an instant, in Mr. +Bantling's brave eyes, that he had good news for her. They seemed +to say he wished her to remember he was an old friend of her +cousin--that he understood, that it was all right. Isabel gave +him her hand; she thought of him, extravagantly, as a beautiful +blameless knight. + +"Oh, I always agree," said Mr. Bantling. "But she doesn't, you +know." + +"Didn't I tell you that a maid was a nuisance?" Henrietta +enquired. "Your young lady has probably remained at Calais." + +"I don't care," said Isabel, looking at Mr. Bantling, whom she +had never found so interesting. + +"Stay with her while I go and see," Henrietta commanded, leaving +the two for a moment together. + +They stood there at first in silence, and then Mr. Bantling asked +Isabel how it had been on the Channel. + +"Very fine. No, I believe it was very rough," she said, to her +companion's obvious surprise. After which she added: "You've been +to Gardencourt, I know." + +"Now how do you know that?" + +"I can't tell you--except that you look like a person who has +been to Gardencourt." + +"Do you think I look awfully sad? It's awfully sad there, you +know." + +"I don't believe you ever look awfully sad. You look awfully +kind," said Isabel with a breadth that cost her no effort. It +seemed to her she should never again feel a superficial +embarrassment. + +Poor Mr. Bantling, however, was still in this inferior stage. He +blushed a good deal and laughed, he assured her that he was often +very blue, and that when he was blue he was awfully fierce. "You +can ask Miss Stackpole, you know. I was at Gardencourt two days +ago." + +"Did you see my cousin?" + +"Only for a little. But he had been seeing people; Warburton had +been there the day before. Ralph was just the same as usual, +except that he was in bed and that he looks tremendously ill and +that he can't speak," Mr. Bantling pursued. "He was awfully +jolly and funny all the same. He was just as clever as ever. It's +awfully wretched." + +Even in the crowded, noisy station this simple picture was vivid. +"Was that late in the day?" + +"Yes; I went on purpose. We thought you'd like to know." + +"I'm greatly obliged to you. Can I go down tonight?" + +"Ah, I don't think SHE'LL let you go," said Mr. Bantling. "She +wants you to stop with her. I made Touchett's man promise to +telegraph me to-day, and I found the telegram an hour ago at my +club. 'Quiet and easy,' that's what it says, and it's dated two +o'clock. So you see you can wait till to-morrow. You must be +awfully tired." + +"Yes, I'm awfully tired. And I thank you again." + +"Oh," said Mr. Bantling, "We were certain you would like the last +news." On which Isabel vaguely noted that he and Henrietta seemed +after all to agree. Miss Stackpole came back with Isabel's maid, +whom she had caught in the act of proving her utility. This +excellent person, instead of losing herself in the crowd, had +simply attended to her mistress's luggage, so that the latter was +now at liberty to leave the station. "You know you're not to +think of going to the country to-night," Henrietta remarked to +her. "It doesn't matter whether there's a train or not. You're to +come straight to me in Wimpole Street. There isn't a corner to be +had in London, but I've got you one all the same. It isn't a +Roman palace, but it will do for a night." + +"I'll do whatever you wish," Isabel said. + +"You'll come and answer a few questions; that's what I wish." + +"She doesn't say anything about dinner, does she, Mrs. Osmond?" +Mr. Bantling enquired jocosely. + +Henrietta fixed him a moment with her speculative gaze. "I see +you're in a great hurry to get your own. You'll be at the +Paddington Station to-morrow morning at ten." + +"Don't come for my sake, Mr. Bantling," said Isabel. + +"He'll come for mine," Henrietta declared as she ushered her +friend into a cab. And later, in a large dusky parlour in Wimpole +Street--to do her justice there had been dinner enough--she asked +those questions to which she had alluded at the station. "Did +your husband make you a scene about your coming?" That was Miss +Stackpole's first enquiry. + +"No; I can't say he made a scene." + +"He didn't object then?" + +"Yes, he objected very much. But it was not what you'd call a +scene." + +"What was it then?" + +"It was a very quiet conversation." + +Henrietta for a moment regarded her guest. "It must have been +hellish," she then remarked. And Isabel didn't deny that it had +been hellish. But she confined herself to answering Henrietta's +questions, which was easy, as they were tolerably definite. For +the present she offered her no new information. "Well," said Miss +Stackpole at last, "I've only one criticism to make. I don't see +why you promised little Miss Osmond to go back." + +"I'm not sure I myself see now," Isabel replied. "But I did +then." + +"If you've forgotten your reason perhaps you won't return." + +Isabel waited a moment. "Perhaps I shall find another." + +"You'll certainly never find a good one." + +"In default of a better my having promised will do," Isabel +suggested. + +"Yes; that's why I hate it." + +"Don't speak of it now. I've a little time. Coming away was a +complication, but what will going back be?" + +"You must remember, after all, that he won't make you a scene!" +said Henrietta with much intention. + +"He will, though," Isabel answered gravely. "It won't be the +scene of a moment; it will be a scene of the rest of my life." + +For some minutes the two women sat and considered this remainder, +and then Miss Stackpole, to change the subject, as Isabel had +requested, announced abruptly: "I've been to stay with Lady +Pensil!" + +"Ah, the invitation came at last!" + +"Yes; it took five years. But this time she wanted to see me." + +"Naturally enough." + +"It was more natural than I think you know," said Henrietta, who +fixed her eyes on a distant point. And then she added, turning +suddenly: "Isabel Archer, I beg your pardon. You don't know why? +Because I criticised you, and yet I've gone further than you. Mr. +Osmond, at least, was born on the other side!" + +It was a moment before Isabel grasped her meaning; this sense was +so modestly, or at least so ingeniously, veiled. Isabel's mind +was not possessed at present with the comicality of things; but +she greeted with a quick laugh the image that her companion had +raised. She immediately recovered herself, however, and with the +right excess of intensity, "Henrietta Stackpole," she asked, "are +you going to give up your country?" + +"Yes, my poor Isabel, I am. I won't pretend to deny it; I look +the fact: in the face. I'm going to marry Mr. Bantling and locate +right here in London." + +"It seems very strange," said Isabel, smiling now. + +"Well yes, I suppose it does. I've come to it little by little. I +think I know what I'm doing; but I don't know as I can explain." + +"One can't explain one's marriage," Isabel answered. "And yours +doesn't need to be explained. Mr. Bantling isn't a riddle." + +"No, he isn't a bad pun--or even a high flight of American +humour. He has a beautiful nature," Henrietta went on. "I've +studied him for many years and I see right through him. He's as +clear as the style of a good prospectus. He's not intellectual, +but he appreciates intellect. On the other hand he doesn't +exaggerate its claims. I sometimes think we do in the United +States." + +"Ah," said Isabel, "you're changed indeed! It's the first time +I've ever heard you say anything against your native land." + +"I only say that we're too infatuated with mere brain-power; +that, after all, isn't a vulgar fault. But I AM changed; a woman +has to change a good deal to marry." + +"I hope you'll be very happy. You will at last--over here--see +something of the inner life." + +Henrietta gave a little significant sigh. "That's the key to the +mystery, I believe. I couldn't endure to be kept off. Now I've as +good a right as any one!" she added with artless elation. +Isabel was duly diverted, but there was a certain melancholy in +her view. Henrietta, after all, had confessed herself human and +feminine, Henrietta whom she had hitherto regarded as a light +keen flame, a disembodied voice. It was a disappointment to find +she had personal susceptibilities, that she was subject to common +passions, and that her intimacy with Mr. Bantling had not been +completely original. There was a want of originality in her +marrying him--there was even a kind of stupidity; and for a +moment, to Isabel's sense, the dreariness of the world took on a +deeper tinge. A little later indeed she reflected that Mr. +Bantling himself at least was original. But she didn't see how +Henrietta could give up her country. She herself had relaxed her +hold of it, but it had never been her country as it had been +Henrietta's. She presently asked her if she had enjoyed her visit +to Lady Pensil. + +"Oh yes," said Henrietta, "she didn't know what to make of me." + +"And was that very enjoyable?" + +"Very much so, because she's supposed to be a master mind. She +thinks she knows everything; but she doesn't understand a woman +of my modern type. It would be so much easier for her if I were +only a little better or a little worse. She's so puzzled; I +believe she thinks it's my duty to go and do something immoral. +She thinks it's immoral that I should marry her brother; but, +after all, that isn't immoral enough. And she'll never understand +my mixture--never!" + +"She's not so intelligent as her brother then," said Isabel. "He +appears to have understood." + +"Oh no, he hasn't!" cried Miss Stackpole with decision. "I really +believe that's what he wants to marry me for--just to find out +the mystery and the proportions of it. That's a fixed idea--a +kind of fascination." + +"It's very good in you to humour it." + +"Oh well," said Henrietta, "I've something to find out too!" And +Isabel saw that she had not renounced an allegiance, but planned +an attack. She was at last about to grapple in earnest with +England. + +Isabel also perceived, however, on the morrow, at the Paddington +Station, where she found herself, at ten o'clock, in the company +both of Miss Stackpole and Mr. Bantling, that the gentleman bore +his perplexities lightly. If he had not found out everything he +had found out at least the great point--that Miss Stackpole would +not be wanting in initiative. It was evident that in the +selection of a wife he had been on his guard against this +deficiency. + +"Henrietta has told me, and I'm very glad," Isabel said as she +gave him her hand. + +"I dare say you think it awfully odd," Mr. Bantling replied, +resting on his neat umbrella. + +"Yes, I think it awfully odd." + +"You can't think it so awfully odd as I do. But I've always +rather liked striking out a line," said Mr. Bantling serenely. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV + +Isabel's arrival at Gardencourt on this second occasion was even +quieter than it had been on the first. Ralph Touchett kept but a +small household, and to the new servants Mrs. Osmond was a +stranger; so that instead of being conducted to her own apartment +she was coldly shown into the drawing-room and left to wait while +her name was carried up to her aunt. She waited a long time; Mrs. +Touchett appeared in no hurry to come to her. She grew impatient +at last; she grew nervous and scared--as scared as if the objects +about her had begun to show for conscious things, watching her +trouble with grotesque grimaces. The day was dark and cold; the +dusk was thick in the corners of the wide brown rooms. The house +was perfectly still--with a stillness that Isabel remembered; it +had filled all the place for days before the death of her uncle. +She left the drawing-room and wandered about--strolled into the +library and along the gallery of pictures, where, in the deep +silence, her footstep made an echo. Nothing was changed; she +recognised everything she had seen years before; it might have +been only yesterday she had stood there. She envied the security +of valuable "pieces" which change by no hair's breadth, only grow +in value, while their owners lose inch by inch youth, happiness, +beauty; and she became aware that she was walking about as her +aunt had done on the day she had come to see her in Albany. She +was changed enough since then--that had been the beginning. It +suddenly struck her that if her Aunt Lydia had not come that day +in just that way and found her alone, everything might have been +different. She might have had another life and she might have +been a woman more blest. She stopped in the gallery in front of a +small picture--a charming and precious Bonington--upon which her +eyes rested a long time. But she was not looking at the picture; +she was wondering whether if her aunt had not come that day in +Albany she would have married Caspar Goodwood. + +Mrs. Touchett appeared at last, just after Isabel had returned to +the big uninhabited drawing-room. She looked a good deal older, +but her eye was as bright as ever and her head as erect; her thin +lips seemed a repository of latent meanings. She wore a little +grey dress of the most undecorated fashion, and Isabel wondered, +as she had wondered the first time, if her remarkable kinswoman +resembled more a queen-regent or the matron of a gaol. Her lips +felt very thin indeed on Isabel's hot cheek. + +"I've kept you waiting because I've been sitting with Ralph," +Mrs. Touchett said. "The nurse had gone to luncheon and I had +taken her place. He has a man who's supposed to look after him, +but the man's good for nothing; he's always looking out of the +window--as if there were anything to see! I didn't wish to move, +because Ralph seemed to be sleeping and I was afraid the sound +would disturb him. I waited till the nurse came back. I remembered +you knew the house." + +"I find I know it better even than I thought; I've been walking +everywhere," Isabel answered. And then she asked if Ralph slept +much. + +"He lies with his eyes closed; he doesn't move. But I'm not sure +that it's always sleep." + +"Will he see me? Can he speak to me?" + +Mrs. Touchett declined the office of saying. "You can try him," +was the limit of her extravagance. And then she offered to +conduct Isabel to her room. "I thought they had taken you there; +but it's not my house, it's Ralph's; and I don't know what they +do. They must at least have taken your luggage; I don't suppose +you've brought much. Not that I care, however. I believe they've +given you the same room you had before; when Ralph heard you were +coming he said you must have that one." + +"Did he say anything else?" + +"Ah, my dear, he doesn't chatter as he used!" cried Mrs. Touchett +as she preceded her niece up the staircase. + +It was the same room, and something told Isabel it had not been +slept in since she occupied it. Her luggage was there and was not +voluminous; Mrs. Touchett sat down a moment with her eyes upon +it. "Is there really no hope?" our young woman asked as she stood +before her. + +"None whatever. There never has been. It has not been a +successful life." + +"No--it has only been a beautiful one." Isabel found herself +already contradicting her aunt; she was irritated by her dryness. + +"I don't know what you mean by that; there's no beauty without +health. That is a very odd dress to travel in." + +Isabel glanced at her garment. "I left Rome at an hour's notice; +I took the first that came." + +"Your sisters, in America, wished to know how you dress. That +seemed to be their principal interest. I wasn't able to tell them +--but they seemed to have the right idea: that you never wear +anything less than black brocade." + +"They think I'm more brilliant than I am; I'm afraid to tell them +the truth," said Isabel. "Lily wrote me you had dined with her." + +"She invited me four times, and I went once. After the second +time she should have let me alone. The dinner was very good; it +must have been expensive. Her husband has a very bad manner. Did +I enjoy my visit to America? Why should I have enjoyed it? I +didn't go for my pleasure." + +These were interesting items, but Mrs. Touchett soon left her +niece, whom she was to meet in half an hour at the midday meal. +For this repast the two ladies faced each other at an abbreviated +table in the melancholy dining-room. Here, after a little, Isabel +saw her aunt not to be so dry as she appeared, and her old pity +for the poor woman's inexpressiveness, her want of regret, of +disappointment, came back to her. Unmistakeably she would have +found it a blessing to-day to be able to feel a defeat, a mistake, +even a shame or two. She wondered if she were not even missing +those enrichments of consciousness and privately trying-- +reaching out for some aftertaste of life, dregs of the banquet; +the testimony of pain or the cold recreation of remorse. On the +other hand perhaps she was afraid; if she should begin to know +remorse at all it might take her too far. Isabel could perceive, +however, how it had come over her dimly that she had failed of +something, that she saw herself in the future as an old woman +without memories. Her little sharp face looked tragical. She told +her niece that Ralph had as yet not moved, but that he probably +would be able to see her before dinner. And then in a moment she +added that he had seen Lord Warburton the day before; an +announcement which startled Isabel a little, as it seemed an +intimation that this personage was in the neighbourhood and that +an accident might bring them together. Such an accident would not +be happy; she had not come to England to struggle again with Lord +Warburton. She none the less presently said to her aunt that he +had been very kind to Ralph; she had seen something of that in +Rome. + +"He has something else to think of now," Mrs. Touchett returned. +And she paused with a gaze like a gimlet. + +Isabel saw she meant something, and instantly guessed what she +meant. But her reply concealed her guess; her heart beat faster +and she wished to gain a moment. "Ah yes--the House of Lords and +all that." + +"He's not thinking of the Lords; he's thinking of the ladies. At +least he's thinking of one of them; he told Ralph he's engaged to +be married." + +"Ah, to be married!" Isabel mildly exclaimed. + +"Unless he breaks it off. He seemed to think Ralph would like to +know. Poor Ralph can't go to the wedding, though I believe it's +to take place very soon. + +"And who's the young lady?" + +"A member of the aristocracy; Lady Flora, Lady Felicia-- +something of that sort." + +"I'm very glad," Isabel said. "It must be a sudden decision." + +"Sudden enough, I believe; a courtship of three weeks. It has +only just been made public." + +"I'm very glad," Isabel repeated with a larger emphasis. She knew +her aunt was watching her--looking for the signs of some imputed +soreness, and the desire to prevent her companion from seeing +anything of this kind enabled her to speak in the tone of quick +satisfaction, the tone almost of relief. Mrs. Touchett of course +followed the tradition that ladies, even married ones, regard the +marriage of their old lovers as an offence to themselves. +Isabel's first care therefore was to show that however that might +be in general she was not offended now. But meanwhile, as I say, +her heart beat faster; and if she sat for some moments thoughtful +--she presently forgot Mrs. Touchett's observation--it was not +because she had lost an admirer. Her imagination had traversed +half Europe; it halted, panting, and even trembling a little, in +the city of Rome. She figured herself announcing to her husband +that Lord Warburton was to lead a bride to the altar, and she was +of course not aware how extremely wan she must have looked while +she made this intellectual effort. But at last she collected +herself and said to her aunt: "He was sure to do it some time or +other." + +Mrs. Touchett was silent; then she gave a sharp little shake of +the head. "Ah, my dear, you're beyond me!" she cried suddenly. +They went on with their luncheon in silence; Isabel felt as if +she had heard of Lord Warburton's death. She had known him only +as a suitor, and now that was all over. He was dead for poor +Pansy; by Pansy he might have lived. A servant had been hovering +about; at last Mrs. Touchett requested him to leave them alone. +She had finished her meal; she sat with her hands folded on the +edge of the table. "I should like to ask you three questions," +she observed when the servant had gone. + +"Three are a great many." + +"I can't do with less; I've been thinking. They're all very good +ones." + +"That's what I'm afraid of. The best questions are the worst," +Isabel answered. Mrs. Touchett had pushed back her chair, and as +her niece left the table and walked, rather consciously, to one +of the deep windows, she felt herself followed by her eyes. + +"Have you ever been sorry you didn't marry Lord Warburton?" Mrs. +Touchett enquired. + +Isabel shook her head slowly, but not heavily. "No, dear aunt." + +"Good. I ought to tell you that I propose to believe what you +say." + +"Your believing me's an immense temptation," she declared, +smiling still. + +"A temptation to lie? I don't recommend you to do that, for when +I'm misinformed I'm as dangerous as a poisoned rat. I don't mean +to crow over you." + +"It's my husband who doesn't get on with me," said Isabel. + +"I could have told him he wouldn't. I don't call that crowing +over YOU," Mrs. Touchett added. "Do you still like Serena Merle?" +she went on. + +"Not as I once did. But it doesn't matter, for she's going to +America." + +"To America? She must have done something very bad." + +"Yes--very bad." + +"May I ask what it is?" + +"She made a convenience of me." + +"Ah," cried Mrs. Touchett, "so she did of me! She does of every +one." + +"She'll make a convenience of America," said Isabel, smiling +again and glad that her aunt's questions were over. + +It was not till the evening that she was able to see Ralph. He +had been dozing all day; at least he had been lying unconscious. +The doctor was there, but after a while went away--the local +doctor, who had attended his father and whom Ralph liked. He came +three or four times a day; he was deeply interested in his +patient. Ralph had had Sir Matthew Hope, but he had got tired of +this celebrated man, to whom he had asked his mother to send word +he was now dead and was therefore without further need of medical +advice. Mrs. Touchett had simply written to Sir Matthew that her +son disliked him. On the day of Isabel's arrival Ralph gave no +sign, as I have related, for many hours; but toward evening he +raised himself and said he knew that she had come. + +How he knew was not apparent, inasmuch as for fear of exciting +him no one had offered the information. Isabel came in and sat by +his bed in the dim light; there was only a shaded candle in a +corner of the room. She told the nurse she might go--she herself +would sit with him for the rest of the evening. He had opened his +eyes and recognised her, and had moved his hand, which lay +helpless beside him, so that she might take it. But he was unable +to speak; he closed his eyes again and remained perfectly still, +only keeping her hand in his own. She sat with him a long time-- +till the nurse came back; but he gave no further sign. He might +have passed away while she looked at him; he was already the +figure and pattern of death. She had thought him far gone in +Rome, and this was worse; there was but one change possible now. +There was a strange tranquillity in his face; it was as still as +the lid of a box. With this he was a mere lattice of bones; when +he opened his eyes to greet her it was as if she were looking +into immeasurable space. It was not till midnight that the nurse +came back; but the hours, to Isabel, had not seemed long; it was +exactly what she had come for. If she had come simply to wait she +found ample occasion, for he lay three days in a kind of grateful +silence. He recognised her and at moments seemed to wish to +speak; but he found no voice. Then he closed his eyes again, as +if he too were waiting for something--for something that +certainly would come. He was so absolutely quiet that it seemed +to her what was coming had already arrived; and yet she never +lost the sense that they were still together. But they were not +always together; there were other hours that she passed in +wandering through the empty house and listening for a voice that +was not poor Ralph's. She had a constant fear; she thought it +possible her husband would write to her. But he remained silent, +and she only got a letter from Florence and from the Countess +Gemini. Ralph, however, spoke at last--on the evening of the +third day. + +"I feel better to-night," he murmured, abruptly, in the soundless +dimness of her vigil; "I think I can say something." She sank +upon her knees beside his pillow; took his thin hand in her own; +begged him not to make an effort--not to tire himself. His face +was of necessity serious--it was incapable of the muscular play +of a smile; but its owner apparently had not lost a perception of +incongruities. "What does it matter if I'm tired when I've all +eternity to rest? There's no harm in making an effort when it's +the very last of all. Don't people always feel better just before +the end? I've often heard of that; it's what I was waiting for. +Ever since you've been here I thought it would come. I tried two +or three times; I was afraid you'd get tired of sitting there." +He spoke slowly, with painful breaks and long pauses; his voice +seemed to come from a distance. When he ceased he lay with his +face turned to Isabel and his large unwinking eyes open into her +own. "It was very good of you to come," he went on. "I thought +you would; but I wasn't sure." + +"I was not sure either till I came," said Isabel. + +"You've been like an angel beside my bed. You know they talk +about the angel of death. It's the most beautiful of all. You've +been like that; as if you were waiting for me." + +"I was not waiting for your death; I was waiting for--for this. +This is not death, dear Ralph." + +"Not for you--no. There's nothing makes us feel so much alive as +to see others die. That's the sensation of life--the sense that +we remain. I've had it--even I. But now I'm of no use but to give +it to others. With me it's all over." And then he paused. Isabel +bowed her head further, till it rested on the two hands that were +clasped upon his own. She couldn't see him now; but his far-away +voice was close to her ear. "Isabel," he went on suddenly, "I +wish it were over for you." She answered nothing; she had burst +into sobs; she remained so, with her buried face. He lay silent, +listening to her sobs; at last he gave a long groan. "Ah, what is +it you have done for me?" + +"What is it you did for me?" she cried, her now extreme agitation +half smothered by her attitude. She had lost all her shame, all +wish to hide things. Now he must know; she wished him to know, +for it brought them supremely together, and he was beyond the +reach of pain. "You did something once--you know it. O Ralph, +you've been everything! What have I done for you--what can I do +to-day? I would die if you could live. But I don't wish you to +live; I would die myself, not to lose you." Her voice was as +broken as his own and full of tears and anguish. + +"You won't lose me--you'll keep me. Keep me in your heart; I +shall be nearer to you than I've ever been. Dear Isabel, life is +better; for in life there's love. Death is good--but there's no +love." + +"I never thanked you--I never spoke--I never was what I should +be!" Isabel went on. She felt a passionate need to cry out and +accuse herself, to let her sorrow possess her. All her troubles, +for the moment, became single and melted together into this +present pain. "What must you have thought of me? Yet how could I +know? I never knew, and I only know to-day because there are +people less stupid than I." + +"Don't mind people," said Ralph. "I think I'm glad to leave +people." + +She raised her head and her clasped hands; she seemed for a +moment to pray to him. "Is it true--is it true?" she asked. + +"True that you've been stupid? Oh no," said Ralph with a sensible +intention of wit. + +"That you made me rich--that all I have is yours?" + +He turned away his head, and for some time said nothing. Then at +last: "Ah, don't speak of that--that was not happy." Slowly he +moved his face toward her again, and they once more saw each +other. "But for that--but for that--!" And he paused. "I believe +I ruined you," he wailed. + +She was full of the sense that he was beyond the reach of pain; +he seemed already so little of this world. But even if she had +not had it she would still have spoken, for nothing mattered now +but the only knowledge that was not pure anguish--the knowledge +that they were looking at the truth together. + +"He married me for the money," she said. She wished to say +everything; she was afraid he might die before she had done so. +He gazed at her a little, and for the first time his fixed eyes +lowered their lids. But he raised them in a moment, and then, "He +was greatly in love with you," he answered. + +"Yes, he was in love with me. But he wouldn't have married me if +I had been poor. I don't hurt you in saying that. How can I? I +only want you to understand. I always tried to keep you from +understanding; but that's all over." + +"I always understood," said Ralph. + +"I thought you did, and I didn't like it. But now I like it." + +"You don't hurt me--you make me very happy." And as Ralph said +this there was an extraordinary gladness in his voice. She bent +her head again, and pressed her lips to the back of his hand. "I +always understood," he continued, "though it was so strange--so +pitiful. You wanted to look at life for yourself--but you were +not allowed; you were punished for your wish. You were ground in +the very mill of the conventional!" + +"Oh yes, I've been punished," Isabel sobbed. + +He listened to her a little, and then continued: "Was he very bad +about your coming?" + +"He made it very hard for me. But I don't care." + +"It is all over then between you?" + +"Oh no; I don't think anything's over." + +"Are you going back to him ?" Ralph gasped. + +"I don't know--I can't tell. I shall stay here as long as I may. +I don't want to think--I needn't think. I don't care for anything +but you, and that's enough for the present. It will last a little +yet. Here on my knees, with you dying in my arms, I'm happier +than I have been for a long time. And I want you to be happy-- +not to think of anything sad; only to feel that I'm near you and +I love you. Why should there be pain--? In such hours as this +what have we to do with pain? That's not the deepest thing; +there's something deeper." + +Ralph evidently found from moment to moment greater difficulty in +speaking; he had to wait longer to collect himself. At first he +appeared to make no response to these last words; he let a long +time elapse. Then he murmured simply: "You must stay here." + +"I should like to stay--as long as seems right." + +"As seems right-- as seems right?" He repeated her words. "Yes, +you think a great deal about that." + +"Of course one must. You're very tired," said Isabel. + +"I'm very tired. You said just now that pain's not the deepest +thing. No--no. But it's very deep. If I could stay--" + +"For me you'll always be here," she softly interrupted. It was +easy to interrupt him. + +But he went on, after a moment: "It passes, after all; it's +passing now. But love remains. I don't know why we should suffer +so much. Perhaps I shall find out. There are many things in life. +You're very young." + +"I feel very old," said Isabel. + +"You'll grow young again. That's how I see you. I don't believe-- +I don't believe--" But he stopped again; his strength failed him. + +She begged him to be quiet now. "We needn't speak to understand +each other," she said. + +"I don't believe that such a generous mistake as yours can hurt +you for more than a little." + +"Oh Ralph, I'm very happy now," she cried through her tears. + +"And remember this," he continued, "that if you've been hated +you've also been loved. Ah but, Isabel--ADORED!" he just audibly +and lingeringly breathed. + +"Oh my brother!" she cried with a movement of still deeper +prostration. + + + +CHAPTER LV + +He had told her, the first evening she ever spent at Gardencourt, +that if she should live to suffer enough she might some day see +the ghost with which the old house was duly provided. She +apparently had fulfilled the necessary condition; for the next +morning, in the cold, faint dawn, she knew that a spirit was +standing by her bed. She had lain down without undressing, it +being her belief that Ralph would not outlast the night. She had +no inclination to sleep; she was waiting, and such waiting was +wakeful. But she closed her eyes; she believed that as the night +wore on she should hear a knock at her door. She heard no knock, +but at the time the darkness began vaguely to grow grey she +started up from her pillow as abruptly as if she had received a +summons. It seemed to her for an instant that he was standing +there--a vague, hovering figure in the vagueness of the room. She +stared a moment; she saw his white face--his kind eyes; then she +saw there was nothing. She was not afraid; she was only sure. She +quitted the place and in her certainty passed through dark +corridors and down a flight of oaken steps that shone in the +vague light of a hall-window. Outside Ralph's door she stopped a +moment, listening, but she seemed to hear only the hush that +filled it. She opened the door with a hand as gentle as if she +were lifting a veil from the face of the dead, and saw Mrs. +Touchett sitting motionless and upright beside the couch of her +son, with one of his hands in her own. The doctor was on the +other side, with poor Ralph's further wrist resting in his +professional fingers. The two nurses were at the foot between +them. Mrs. Touchett took no notice of Isabel, but the doctor +looked at her very hard; then he gently placed Ralph's hand in a +proper position, close beside him. The nurse looked at her very +hard too, and no one said a word; but Isabel only looked at what +she had come to see. It was fairer than Ralph had ever been in +life, and there was a strange resemblance to the face of his +father, which, six years before, she had seen lying on the same +pillow. She went to her aunt and put her arm around her; and Mrs. +Touchett, who as a general thing neither invited nor enjoyed +caresses, submitted for a moment to this one, rising, as might +be, to take it. But she was stiff and dry-eyed; her acute white +face was terrible. + +"Dear Aunt Lydia," Isabel murmured. + +"Go and thank God you've no child," said Mrs. Touchett, +disengaging herself. + +Three days after this a considerable number of people found time, +at the height of the London "season," to take a morning train +down to a quiet station in Berkshire and spend half an hour in a +small grey church which stood within an easy walk. It was in the +green burial-place of this edifice that Mrs. Touchett consigned +her son to earth. She stood herself at the edge of the grave, and +Isabel stood beside her; the sexton himself had not a more +practical interest in the scene than Mrs. Touchett. It was a +solemn occasion, but neither a harsh nor a heavy one; there was a +certain geniality in the appearance of things. The weather had +changed to fair; the day, one of the last of the treacherous +May-time, was warm and windless, and the air had the brightness +of the hawthorn and the blackbird. If it was sad to think of poor +Touchett, it was not too sad, since death, for him, had had no +violence. He had been dying so long; he was so ready; everything +had been so expected and prepared. There were tears in Isabel's +eyes, but they were not tears that blinded. She looked through +them at the beauty of the day, the splendour of nature, the +sweetness of the old English churchyard, the bowed heads of good +friends. Lord Warburton was there, and a group of gentlemen all +unknown to her, several of whom, as she afterwards learned, were +connected with the bank; and there were others whom she knew. +Miss Stackpole was among the first, with honest Mr. Bantling +beside her; and Caspar Goodwood, lifting his head higher than the +rest--bowing it rather less. During much of the time Isabel was +conscious of Mr. Goodwood's gaze; he looked at her somewhat +harder than he usually looked in public, while the others had +fixed their eyes upon the churchyard turf. But she never let him +see that she saw him; she thought of him only to wonder that he +was still in England. She found she had taken for granted that +after accompanying Ralph to Gardencourt he had gone away; she +remembered how little it was a country that pleased him. He was +there, however, very distinctly there; and something in his +attitude seemed to say that he was there with a complex intention. +She wouldn't meet his eyes, though there was doubtless sympathy +in them; he made her rather uneasy. With the dispersal of the +little group he disappeared, and the only person who came to +speak to her--though several spoke to Mrs. Touchett--was +Henrietta Stackpole. Henrietta had been crying. + +Ralph had said to Isabel that he hoped she would remain at +Gardencourt, and she made no immediate motion to leave the place. +She said to herself that it was but common charity to stay a +little with her aunt. It was fortunate she had so good a formula; +otherwise she might have been greatly in want of one. Her errand +was over; she had done what she had left her husband to do. She +had a husband in a foreign city, counting the hours of her +absence; in such a case one needed an excellent motive. He was +not one of the best husbands, but that didn't alter the case. +Certain obligations were involved in the very fact of marriage, +and were quite independent of the quantity of enjoyment extracted +from it. Isabel thought of her husband as little as might be; but +now that she was at a distance, beyond its spell, she thought +with a kind of spiritual shudder of Rome. There was a penetrating +chill in the image, and she drew back into the deepest shade of +Gardencourt. She lived from day to day, postponing, closing her +eyes, trying not to think. She knew she must decide, but she +decided nothing; her coming itself had not been a decision. On +that occasion she had simply started. Osmond gave no sound and +now evidently would give none; he would leave it all to her. From +Pansy she heard nothing, but that was very simple: her father had +told her not to write. + +Mrs. Touchett accepted Isabel's company, but offered her no +assistance; she appeared to be absorbed in considering, without +enthusiasm but with perfect lucidity, the new conveniences of her +own situation. Mrs. Touchett was not an optimist, but even from +painful occurrences she managed to extract a certain utility. +This consisted in the reflexion that, after all, such things +happened to other people and not to herself. Death was +disagreeable, but in this case it was her son's death, not her +own; she had never flattered herself that her own would be +disagreeable to any one but Mrs. Touchett. She was better off +than poor Ralph, who had left all the commodities of life behind +him, and indeed all the security; since the worst of dying was, +to Mrs. Touchett's mind, that it exposed one to be taken +advantage of. For herself she was on the spot; there was nothing +so good as that. She made known to Isabel very punctually--it was +the evening her son was buried--several of Ralph's testamentary +arrangements. He had told her everything, had consulted her about +everything. He left her no money; of course she had no need of +money. He left her the furniture of Gardencourt, exclusive of the +pictures and books and the use of the place for a year; after +which it was to be sold. The money produced by the sale was to +constitute an endowment for a hospital for poor persons suffering +from the malady of which he died; and of this portion of the will +Lord Warburton was appointed executor. The rest of his property, +which was to be withdrawn from the bank, was disposed of in +various bequests, several of them to those cousins in Vermont to +whom his father had already been so bountiful. Then there were a +number of small legacies. + +"Some of them are extremely peculiar," said Mrs. Touchett; "he +has left considerable sums to persons I never heard of. He gave +me a list, and I asked then who some of them were, and he told me +they were people who at various times had seemed to like him. +Apparently he thought you didn't like him, for he hasn't left you +a penny. It was his opinion that you had been handsomely treated +by his father, which I'm bound to say I think you were--though I +don't mean that I ever heard him complain of it. The pictures are +to be dispersed; he has distributed them about, one by one, as +little keepsakes. The most valuable of the collection goes to +Lord Warburton. And what do you think he has done with his +library? It sounds like a practical joke. He has left it to your +friend Miss Stackpole--'in recognition of her services to +literature.' Does he mean her following him up from Rome? Was +that a service to literature? It contains a great many rare and +valuable books, and as she can't carry it about the world in her +trunk he recommends her to sell it at auction. She will sell it +of course at Christie's, and with the proceeds she'll set up a +newspaper. Will that be a service to literature?" + +This question Isabel forbore to answer, as it exceeded the little +interrogatory to which she had deemed it necessary to submit on +her arrival. Besides, she had never been less interested in +literature than to-day, as she found when she occasionally took +down from the shelf one of the rare and valuable volumes of which +Mrs. Touchett had spoken. She was quite unable to read; her +attention had never been so little at her command. One afternoon, +in the library, about a week after the ceremony in the +churchyard, she was trying to fix it for an hour; but her eyes +often wandered from the book in her hand to the open window, +which looked down the long avenue. It was in this way that she +saw a modest vehicle approach the door and perceived Lord +Warburton sitting, in rather an uncomfortable attitude, in a +corner of it. He had always had a high standard of courtesy, and +it was therefore not remarkable, under the circumstances, that he +should have taken the trouble to come down from London to call on +Mrs. Touchett. It was of course Mrs. Touchett he had come to see, +and not Mrs. Osmond; and to prove to herself the validity of this +thesis Isabel presently stepped out of the house and wandered +away into the park. Since her arrival at Gardencourt she had been +but little out of doors, the weather being unfavourable for +visiting the grounds. This evening, however, was fine, and at +first it struck her as a happy thought to have come out. The +theory I have just mentioned was plausible enough, but it brought +her little rest, and if you had seen her pacing about you would +have said she had a bad conscience. She was not pacified when at +the end of a quarter of an hour, finding herself in view of the +house, she saw Mrs. Touchett emerge from the portico accompanied +by her visitor. Her aunt had evidently proposed to Lord Warburton +that they should come in search of her. She was in no humour for +visitors and, if she had had a chance, would have drawn back +behind one of the great trees. But she saw she had been seen and +that nothing was left her but to advance. As the lawn at +Gardencourt was a vast expanse this took some time; during which +she observed that, as he walked beside his hostess, Lord +Warburton kept his hands rather stiffly behind him and his eyes +upon the ground. Both persons apparently were silent; but Mrs. +Touchett's thin little glance, as she directed it toward Isabel, +had even at a distance an expression. It seemed to say with +cutting sharpness: "Here's the eminently amenable nobleman you +might have married!" When Lord Warburton lifted his own eyes, +however, that was not what they said. They only said "This is +rather awkward, you know, and I depend upon you to help me." He +was very grave, very proper and, for the first time since Isabel +had known him, greeted her without a smile. Even in his days of +distress he had always begun with a smile. He looked extremely +selfconscious. + +"Lord Warburton has been so good as to come out to see me," said +Mrs. Touchett. "He tells me he didn't know you were still here. I +know he's an old friend of yours, and as I was told you were not +in the house I brought him out to see for himself." + +"Oh, I saw there was a good train at 6.40, that would get me back +in time for dinner," Mrs. Touchett's companion rather +irrelevantly explained. "I'm so glad to find you've not gone." + +"I'm not here for long, you know," Isabel said with a certain +eagerness. + +"I suppose not; but I hope it's for some weeks. You came to +England sooner than--a--than you thought?" + +"Yes, I came very suddenly." + +Mrs. Touchett turned away as if she were looking at the condition +of the grounds, which indeed was not what it should be, while +Lord Warburton hesitated a little. Isabel fancied he had been on +the point of asking about her husband--rather confusedly--and +then had checked himself. He continued immitigably grave, +either because he thought it becoming in a place over which death +had just passed, or for more personal reasons. If he was +conscious of personal reasons it was very fortunate that he had +the cover of the former motive; he could make the most of that. +Isabel thought of all this. It was not that his face was sad, for +that was another matter; but it was strangely inexpressive. + +"My sisters would have been so glad to come if they had known you +were still here--if they had thought you would see them," Lord +Warburton went on. "Do kindly let them see you before you leave +England." + +"It would give me great pleasure; I have such a friendly +recollection of them." + +"I don't know whether you would come to Lockleigh for a day or +two? You know there's always that old promise." And his lordship +coloured a little as he made this suggestion, which gave his face +a somewhat more familiar air. "Perhaps I'm not right in saying +that just now; of course you're not thinking of visiting. But I +meant what would hardly be a visit. My sisters are to be at +Lockleigh at Whitsuntide for five days; and if you could come +then--as you say you're not to be very long in England--I would +see that there should be literally no one else." + +Isabel wondered if not even the young lady he was to marry would +be there with her mamma; but she did not express this idea. + +"Thank you extremely," she contented herself with saying; "I'm +afraid I hardly know about Whitsuntide." + +"But I have your promise--haven't I?--for some other time." + +There was an interrogation in this; but Isabel let it pass. She +looked at her interlocutor a moment, and the result of her +observation was that--as had happened before--she felt sorry for +him. "Take care you don't miss your train," she said. And then +she added: "I wish you every happiness." + +He blushed again, more than before, and he looked at his watch. +"Ah yes, 6.40; I haven't much time, but I've a fly at the door. +Thank you very much." It was not apparent whether the thanks +applied to her having reminded him of his train or to the more +sentimental remark. "Good-bye, Mrs. Osmond; good-bye." He shook +hands with her, without meeting her eyes, and then he turned to +Mrs. Touchett, who had wandered back to them. With her his +parting was equally brief; and in a moment the two ladies saw him +move with long steps across the lawn. + +"Are you very sure he's to be married?" Isabel asked of her aunt. + +"I can't be surer than he; but he seems sure. I congratulated +him, and he accepted it." + +"Ah," said Isabel, "I give it up!"--while her aunt returned to +the house and to those avocations which the visitor had +interrupted. + +She gave it up, but she still thought of it--thought of it while +she strolled again under the great oaks whose shadows were long +upon the acres of turf. At the end of a few minutes she found +herself near a rustic bench, which, a moment after she had looked +at it, struck her as an object recognised. It was not simply that +she had seen it before, nor even that she had sat upon it; it was +that on this spot something important had happened to her--that +the place had an air of association. Then she remembered that she +had been sitting there, six years before, when a servant brought +her from the house the letter in which Caspar Goodwood informed +her that he had followed her to Europe; and that when she had +read the letter she looked up to hear Lord Warburton announcing +that he should like to marry her. It was indeed an historical, an +interesting, bench; she stood and looked at it as if it might +have something to say to her. She wouldn't sit down on it now-- +she felt rather afraid of it. She only stood before it, and while +she stood the past came back to her in one of those rushing waves +of emotion by which persons of sensibility are visited at odd +hours. The effect of this agitation was a sudden sense of being +very tired, under the influence of which she overcame her +scruples and sank into the rustic seat. I have said that she was +restless and unable to occupy herself; and whether or no, if you +had seen her there, you would have admired the justice of the +former epithet, you would at least have allowed that at this +moment she was the image of a victim of idleness. Her attitude +had a singular absence of purpose; her hands, hanging at her +sides, lost themselves in the folds of her black dress; her eyes +gazed vaguely before her. There was nothing to recall her to the +house; the two ladies, in their seclusion, dined early and had +tea at an indefinite hour. How long she had sat in this position +she could not have told you; but the twilight had grown thick +when she became aware that she was not alone. She quickly +straightened herself, glancing about, and then saw what had +become of her solitude. She was sharing it with Caspar Goodwood, +who stood looking at her, a few yards off, and whose footfall on +the unresonant turf, as he came near, she had not heard. It +occurred to her in the midst of this that it was just so Lord +Warburton had surprised her of old. + +She instantly rose, and as soon as Goodwood saw he was seen he +started forward. She had had time only to rise when, with a +motion that looked like violence, but felt like--she knew not +what, he grasped her by the wrist and made her sink again into +the seat. She closed her eyes; he had not hurt her; it was only a +touch, which she had obeyed. But there was something in his face +that she wished not to see. That was the way he had looked at her +the other day in the churchyard; only at present it was worse. He +said nothing at first; she only felt him close to her--beside her +on the bench and pressingly turned to her. It almost seemed to +her that no one had ever been so close to her as that. All this, +however, took but an instant, at the end of which she had +disengaged her wrist, turning her eyes upon her visitant. "You've +frightened me," she said. + +"I didn't mean to," he answered, "but if I did a little, no +matter. I came from London a while ago by the train, but I +couldn't come here directly. There was a man at the station who +got ahead of me. He took a fly that was there, and I heard him +give the order to drive here. I don't know who he was, but I +didn't want to come with him; I wanted to see you alone. So I've +been waiting and walking about. I've walked all over, and I was +just coming to the house when I saw you here. There was a keeper, +or someone, who met me; but that was all right, because I had +made his acquaintance when I came here with your cousin. Is that +gentleman gone? Are you really alone? I want to speak to you." +Goodwood spoke very fast; he was as excited as when they had +parted in Rome. Isabel had hoped that condition would subside; +and she shrank into herself as she perceived that, on the +contrary, he had only let out sail. She had a new sensation; he +had never produced it before; it was a feeling of danger. There +was indeed something really formidable in his resolution. She +gazed straight before her; he, with a hand on each knee, leaned +forward, looking deeply into her face. The twilight seemed to +darken round them. "I want to speak to you," he repeated; "I've +something particular to say. I don't want to trouble you--as I +did the other day in Rome. That was of no use; it only distressed +you. I couldn't help it; I knew I was wrong. But I'm not wrong +now; please don't think I am," he went on with his hard, deep +voice melting a moment into entreaty. "I came here to-day for a +purpose. It's very different. It was vain for me to speak to you +then; but now I can help you." + +She couldn't have told you whether it was because she was afraid, +or because such a voice in the darkness seemed of necessity a +boon; but she listened to him as she had never listened before; +his words dropped deep into her soul. They produced a sort of +stillness in all her being; and it was with an effort, in a +moment, that she answered him. "How can you help me?" she asked +in a low tone, as if she were taking what he had said seriously +enough to make the enquiry in confidence. + +"By inducing you to trust me. Now I know--to-day I know. Do you +remember what I asked you in Rome? Then I was quite in the dark. +But to-day I know on good authority; everything's clear to me +to-day. It was a good thing when you made me come away with your +cousin. He was a good man, a fine man, one of the best; he told +me how the case stands for you. He explained everything; he +guessed my sentiments. He was a member of your family and he left +you--so long as you should be in England--to my care," said +Goodwood as if he were making a great point. "Do you know what he +said to me the last time I saw him--as he lay there where he +died? He said: 'Do everything you can for her; do everything +she'll let you.'" + +Isabel suddenly got up. "You had no business to talk about me!" + +"Why not--why not, when we talked in that way?" he demanded, +following her fast. "And he was dying--when a man's dying it's +different." She checked the movement she had made to leave him; +she was listening more than ever; it was true that he was not the +same as that last time. That had been aimless, fruitless passion, +but at present he had an idea, which she scented in all her +being. "But it doesn't matter!" he exclaimed, pressing her still +harder, though now without touching a hem of her garment. "If +Touchett had never opened his mouth I should have known all the +same. I had only to look at you at your cousin's funeral to see +what's the matter with you. You can't deceive me any more; for +God's sake be honest with a man who's so honest with you. You're +the most unhappy of women, and your husband's the deadliest of +fiends." + +She turned on him as if he had struck her. "Are you mad?" she +cried. + +"I've never been so sane; I see the whole thing. Don't think it's +necessary to defend him. But I won't say another word against +him; I'll speak only of you," Goodwood added quickly. "How can +you pretend you're not heart-broken? You don't know what to do-- +you don't know where to turn. It's too late to play a part; +didn't you leave all that behind you in Rome? Touchett knew all +about it, and I knew it too--what it would cost you to come here. +It will have cost you your life? Say it will"--and he flared +almost into anger: "give me one word of truth! When I know such a +horror as that, how can I keep myself from wishing to save you? +What would you think of me if I should stand still and see you go +back to your reward? 'It's awful, what she'll have to pay for +it!'--that's what Touchett said to me. I may tell you that, +mayn't I? He was such a near relation!" cried Goodwood, making +his queer grim point again. "I'd sooner have been shot than let +another man say those things to me; but he was different; he +seemed to me to have the right. It was after he got home--when he +saw he was dying, and when I saw it too. I understand all about +it: you're afraid to go back. You're perfectly alone; you don't +know where to turn. You can't turn anywhere; you know that +perfectly. Now it is therefore that I want you to think of ME." + +"To think of 'you'?" Isabel said, standing before him in the +dusk. The idea of which she had caught a glimpse a few moments +before now loomed large. She threw back her head a little; she +stared at it as if it had been a comet in the sky. + +"You don't know where to turn. Turn straight to me. I want to +persuade you to trust me," Goodwood repeated. And then he paused +with his shining eyes. "Why should you go back--why should you go +through that ghastly form?" + +"To get away from you!" she answered. But this expressed only a +little of what she felt. The rest was that she had never been +loved before. She had believed it, but this was different; this +was the hot wind of the desert, at the approach of which the +others dropped dead, like mere sweet airs of the garden. It +wrapped her about; it lifted her off her feet, while the very +taste of it, as of something potent, acrid and strange, forced +open her set teeth. + +At first, in rejoinder to what she had said, it seemed to her +that he would break out into greater violence. But after an +instant he was perfectly quiet; he wished to prove he was sane, +that he had reasoned it all out. "I want to prevent that, and I +think I may, if you'll only for once listen to me. It's too +monstrous of you to think of sinking back into that misery, of +going to open your mouth to that poisoned air. It's you that are +out of your mind. Trust me as if I had the care of you. Why +shouldn't we be happy--when it's here before us, when it's so +easy? I'm yours for ever--for ever and ever. Here I stand; I'm as +firm as a rock. What have you to care about? You've no children; +that perhaps would be an obstacle. As it is you've nothing to +consider. You must save what you can of your life; you mustn't +lose it all simply because you've lost a part. It would be an +insult to you to assume that you care for the look of the thing, +for what people will say, for the bottomless idiocy of the world. +We've nothing to do with all that; we're quite out of it; we look +at things as they are. You took the great step in coming away; +the next is nothing; it's the natural one. I swear, as I stand +here, that a woman deliberately made to suffer is justified in +anything in life--in going down into the streets if that will +help her! I know how you suffer, and that's why I'm here. We can +do absolutely as we please; to whom under the sun do we owe +anything? What is it that holds us, what is it that has the +smallest right to interfere in such a question as this? Such a +question is between ourselves--and to say that is to settle it! +Were we born to rot in our misery--were we born to be afraid? I +never knew YOU afraid! If you'll only trust me, how little you +will be disappointed! The world's all before us--and the world's +very big. I know something about that." + +Isabel gave a long murmur, like a creature in pain; it was as if +he were pressing something that hurt her. + +"The world's very small," she said at random; she had an immense +desire to appear to resist. She said it at random, to hear +herself say something; but it was not what she meant. The world, +in truth, had never seemed so large; it seemed to open out, all +round her, to take the form of a mighty sea, where she floated in +fathomless waters. She had wanted help, and here was help; it had +come in a rushing torrent. I know not whether she believed +everything he said; but she believed just then that to let him +take her in his arms would be the next best thing to her dying. +This belief, for a moment, was a kind of rapture, in which she +felt herself sink and sink. In the movement she seemed to beat +with her feet, in order to catch herself, to feel something to +rest on. + +"Ah, be mine as I'm yours!" she heard her companion cry. He had +suddenly given up argument, and his voice seemed to come, harsh +and terrible, through a confusion of vaguer sounds. + +This however, of course, was but a subjective fact, as the +metaphysicians say; the confusion, the noise of waters, all the +rest of it, were in her own swimming head. In an instant she +became aware of this. "Do me the greatest kindness of all," she +panted. "I beseech you to go away!" + +"Ah, don't say that. Don't kill me!" he cried. + +She clasped her hands; her eyes were streaming with tears. "As +you love me, as you pity me, leave me alone!" + +He glared at her a moment through the dusk, and the next instant +she felt his arms about her and his lips on her own lips. His +kiss was like white lightning, a flash that spread, and spread +again, and stayed; and it was extraordinarily as if, while she +took it, she felt each thing in his hard manhood that had least +pleased her, each aggressive fact of his face, his figure, his +presence, justified of its intense identity and made one with +this act of possession. So had she heard of those wrecked and +under water following a train of images before they sink. But +when darkness returned she was free. She never looked about her; +she only darted from the spot. There were lights in the windows +of the house; they shone far across the lawn. In an +extraordinarily short time--for the distance was considerable-- +she had moved through the darkness (for she saw nothing) and +reached the door. Here only she paused. She looked all about her; +she listened a little; then she put her hand on the latch. She +had not known where to turn; but she knew now. There was a very +straight path. + +Two days afterwards Caspar Goodwood knocked at the door of the +house in Wimpole Street in which Henrietta Stackpole occupied +furnished lodgings. He had hardly removed his hand from the +knocker when the door was opened and Miss Stackpole herself stood +before him. She had on her hat and jacket; she was on the point +of going out. "Oh, good-morning," he said, "I was in hopes I +should find Mrs. Osmond." + +Henrietta kept him waiting a moment for her reply; but there was +a good deal of expression about Miss Stackpole even when she was +silent. "Pray what led you to suppose she was here?" + +"I went down to Gardencourt this morning, and the servant told me +she had come to London. He believed she was to come to you." + +Again Miss Stackpole held him--with an intention of perfect +kindness--in suspense. "She came here yesterday, and spent the +night. But this morning she started for Rome." + +Caspar Goodwood was not looking at her; his eyes were fastened on +the doorstep. "Oh, she started--?" he stammered. And without +finishing his phrase or looking up he stiffly averted himself. +But he couldn't otherwise move. + +Henrietta had come out, closing the door behind her, and now she +put out her hand and grasped his arm. "Look here, Mr. Goodwood," +she said; "just you wait!" + +On which he looked up at her--but only to guess, from her face, +with a revulsion, that she simply meant he was young. She stood +shining at him with that cheap comfort, and it added, on the spot, +thirty years to his life. She walked him away with her, however, +as if she had given him now the key to patience. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Portrait of a Lady, by Henry James + |